#sorry silver i have such a private soft spot for your father

[llondonfog]

🗡️

[madam-legba]

Obtorto Collo - Extract ch. 1

⟼“Professor Black told me to give you this.” 

Cutting straight to the point is the best way to tackle a problem, her father used to say. Just like ripping a band-aid. 

The witch at the other side of the table glances at the black card firmly held in Hermione’s fingers. A sigh escapes her lips at the realization of what her student is offering.

Eventually, the teacher collects it but much to Hermione’s chagrin, she doesn’t immediately look at the silver lines that appear on it as soon as McGonagall’s fingers scrape the edges of the card.

“What is this for?” 

“I…” Hermione tries, but stops as her brain fails to provide a proper answer. 

She what? Almost arrived late to Professor Black’s classroom? Successfully stopped the Professor’s Augurey skeleton from smashing on the ground? Didn’t manage to defend herself against a devious jinx? 

The only real explanation is,  because I’m a muggle-born, Hermione thinks. Yet, that’s old news, nothing McGonagall needs to be reminded about. 

“I find that when uncertain of where to start telling a story, the beginning works wonders.” 

A tight-lipped smile encourages Hermione.

The girl knows she won’t get much more from her Head of House, therefore she does as instructed. 

She starts with how she and Ron were already running almost late, and then proceeds to tell McGonagall about how she got caught in a silly fight with the usual group of Slytherins. She doesn’t fail to mention how Professor Black hadn’t allowed her to see Madam Pomfrey until the active part of the lesson started – of course, Black couldn’t risk to have a muggle-born like Hermione actually learning something. 

Professor McGonagall takes a deep inhale of air, her expression unreadable. Then she downs her gaze on the black card, and her eyebrows twitch.

Not a good sign, Hermione notes.

“Have a cup of tea, Granger.” 

“Professor…” 

“Have it. It’s as much comfort I can grant you.”

Hermione purses her lips, her appetite long lost for the happenings of the day. 

“I... Thank you, but I’m not hungry.” 

The look the Gryffindor Professor gives her seems to pierce directly into her soul.

“You must learn to pick your battles, Miss Granger.” McGonagall tells her, taking off her glasses. “I won’t school you about how, sometimes, the same behaviours are punished differently in our world.”

“Or at all,” Hermione says before she can stop herself. She knows Professor McGonagall has a soft spot for her, but she also knows the witch doesn’t want her to slip out on certain topics – those that can get her in trouble, even during private conversations. 

“Sorry.”

“You have very little to be sorry about, child. Yet I reckon you know best then to engage in ‘silly businesses’, as you earlier put it.”

“But I merely defended myself.” Hermione protests, allowing herself to show her exhasperation. “Poorly, also, considering how Bulstrode managed to get me all the same.”

For a fraction of a second, McGonagall’s lips part with a loud click, as if the woman is about to start an invective, but no other sound comes. 

Hermione likes to believe the witch was about to defend her, saying something along the lines of that’s not entirely your fault either, child, even if she knows her Head of House would never openly spite a colleague in their absence. 

“As for that, I’ll have a chat with… Professor Black.” At least, McGonagall doesn’t bother masking her disgust at the word professor. 

Hermione’s enthusiastic nod is shortly cut off by the witch’s next words.

“Whom you will be seeing…” Her hand lifts the black card closer to her eyes. “Every night for the week. At nine sharp. In her office.” 

Each sentence is like a dagger to her heart. Part of Hermione shatters at McGonagall’s words. 

“Every night?”

“For a week.” McGonagall repeats, matter-of-factly.

What you’ve just read is a sneak peek of a fanfic I’ve been working on.

AU in which:

☛The wizarding society follows the blood-purist theories of Charlson (On the origin of muggle-borns);

☛ Muggle-borns are taken away from their families at the first display of magical ability - they’re then entrusted to specific orphanages;

☛ Bellatrix Black is Professor for DADA;

☛ Hermione has been adopted by the Weasleys. 

☞ Hogwarts is a higher education school for witches and wizards from 17 to 24, in which only very few muggle-borns are even admitted.

Do let me know if you want to hear more about Obtorto Collo.

[songbirdsingingthings]

Pocket Watch - Levi Ackerman x Reader

A/N: I forgot to mention this! You are Erwin’s sister in this, but that doesn’t have to mean you are his biological sister! Feel free to interpret this fic in any way that you would like <3

WARNINGS: Angst, swearing, S3 spoilers, ends in fluff

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5K

It was dark outside, and it was pouring rain too. Even through the thick layer of glass that served as a window, you could hear the wind whipping with the storm and smattering the raindrops against the buildings. On the inside, where you were currently, was quite the contrast though. There was not a sound to be heard inside your quarters. The fire that once crackled in the brick laid fireplace had long since burned out and you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch - your eyes still trained on the charred wood that once harbored a flame. You hadn’t bothered to check the little pocket watch that had been shoved into your pocket earlier that day - you were quite sure that it would tell you it was far past your bedtime, but you just couldn’t bear to see the familiar golden thing.

First it was your father’s, but then he was killed, so it was passed onto your older brother. Erwin. He held it and kept it close to him with pride every day since then, making note to polish it on a regular basis so that its glint always shone strongly. Now it was covered in his blood. It was probably dry now, possibly even caked to the little clasp so that it couldn’t open properly anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to wash it off. You refused to even touch it. That moment when you saw the new cadet, you think his name was Floch, bring him upon that disheveled roof caused you to go silent. Your movements ceased as you watched your brother take labored breaths… dying. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the young members of the 104th division, Mikasa Ackerman and Eren Yeager, take a sharp inhale as they held their own dying friend. It was clear to anyone, that when the man holding the syringe that would grant life paused, an internal battle started to wage war in his mind. You don’t remember much - it was as if you were in a comatose state. All you know was that Erwin, your now dying big brother, reached into his breast pocket with what strength he had left, and shoved his little watch into your own. After that… a blur.

A quiet knock sounded on that measly wooden door that separated your office and adjoining bedroom from the rest of the building. You remain quiet. If they truly needed something, and were composed enough to talk to the girl who’s older brother just died, then they would come in without asking questions anyways. And that they did. The door creaked a bit and more light filtered into your office space through the opening, but went away just as quickly as it was closed. Footsteps made their way over to you and the person’s shadow was soon cast over you.

“Have you moved at all?” The voice was smooth and sullen. They knew the answer to the question as soon as they asked, you figured, but nonetheless it was spoken. As much as you thought you could answer, no words were able to be formed, much less a simple squeak. You simply opted to shake your head. With a sigh, they sat down next to you.“Have you eaten?” Another shake of the head. “Bathed?” You began to feel that your head would be moving like this forever if they kept asking you these questions. There was a beat of silence that passed through the two of you before they cupped your chin with their hand, rather roughly you might add, and wrenched your head so that it was looking at theirs. As soon as your Y/E/C eyes met his silver irises, you felt your body begin to thaw a little. Levi.

“My pocket,” you murmur, earning a confused expression from him.

“What about your pocket,” he says simply, his voice as gruff as ever. You come to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to bend to your wants, so you shakily reach your hand and grab Erwin’s pocket watch and drop it into Levi’s hands. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t recoil as the blood-caked watch meets his skin. Instead, he looks at it and then back up to you.

“Please take it.” Levi is quick to refuse.

“No. It’s yours, he gave it to you.”

“He would hate for it to be dirty, and we both know that you have a knack for cleanliness,” you quip, no humor present in your eyes. Levi huffs and takes out a little handkerchief and begins to gently rub away the dried blood.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. You stay still but your eyes go back to the charred log of wood.

“Levi,” you start but he is quick to interrupt.

“Y/N, I’m the one who killed him and now you’re giving me his prized possession. That makes me feel like an asshole.” He says, scowling to himself. As blunt as his words were, you knew he was hurting. Hurting like he was when his old friends were killed.

“You’re an asshole but not for what happened.” You say. “I… I don’t remember what he said.” You feel your eyes begin to well with tears. Why couldn’t you have cracked in private? Why did he have to be here?

“You mean before he…” Levi started, earning a nod from you. He didn’t know what Erwin had said either, letting silence grace the room.

“What happens when I forget?” You confess shakily, finally letting your eyes meet his again. Levi stops his movements and lets the pocket watch rest on the handkerchief, carefully placing it on the low coffee table in front of the two of you. “What happens when I forget what his face looked like, or what his voice used to sound like.” The tears finally broke from their prison and began to rush down your cheeks. Wordlessly, Levi brought you into his arms. Your cries became vocal now as you let everything out. No longer were you just the shell of yourself - no, you were now revealing it all to Levi. Your head fell onto his strong shoulder as your hands grasped onto his shirt, sobbing.

He could hear his heart break. Of course he was absolutely devastated at seeing Erwin, one of his closest confidants and last remaining friends meet his end, but to see you like this was a strike to his soul. You were like sunshine on a rainy day, as cliche as that might sound - always there to brighten his spirits on gruelling days when he was annoyed with everyone else. Now it seemed like you were one of those gray clouds up in the sky, void of the cheer you used to possess. He held you tighter and laid his chin on the top of your head. Levi felt his shoulder begin to grow damp but he didn’t care. Nor did he mind the fact that your dirt and mud stained hands were grabbing onto his pristine and newly laundered white shirt, surely making it dirty once more. Your cries began to die down a bit, now just shaky whimpers escaping your mouth. He presses a soft kiss onto your hair and moves his hands so that they’re cradling you.

“I’m gonna lift you up, ‘kay?” He mumbles. He feels your nods against his chest and stands, walking you over to your bedroom. You’re just sniffling now as he sets you down on your bed and starts to rummage through your clothing drawer, throwing you a new set of sleepwear along with a pair of clean panties. Much to your better judgement and current state of grief, you bark out a laugh. Levi turns around slowly, his eyes narrowed, thinking you’ve gone mad now. You raise your hands up in defense and shake your head, a small smile crossing your face.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… he would be fucking furious if he knew you were touching my panties.” You couldn’t help it now, you were snickering as you grabbed the fresh set of clothes. He gives you a deadpanned look, sighs, and walks out of your room.

“Just change, you brat.” He says, clearly tired. You slowly peel your uniform off of your body and let it pool on the floor. Stepping into the clean clothes slowly, you exhale and slump onto the bed and close your eyes.

“Okay,” you call softly. You see Levi step back in and make his way over to the side of your bed. He looks down at you, an unknown emotion swimming in his eyes.

“When the nightmares start, just knock. Doesn’t matter what time.” He says simply.

“How do you know they’ll start?” You inquire.

“They always do.” He murmurs, closing his eyes for a second. An unspoken agreement becomes solidified between the two of you as you hold his gaze. He gives you a nod before he leans down and gives you a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And what about this?” You ask, motioning between the two of you. Levi’s face remains neutral as he steps away.

“A conversation for another day.” You see his figure walk out of your room and into the office space.

“You keep that safe,” you say, regarding the pocket watch, “and clean.”

“Go to sleep, brat.” Levi calls back.

Just like Levi had predicted the nightmares did come, and didn’t stop for weeks on end. Both you and him had them about Erwin, and both you and him knocked on each other's doors when they came. But, whenever it happened, Levi pulled out the pocket watch so that you and him could listen to the faint ticking, letting you know that he would be with you, always. Although, he might not be as fond to know that you were all wrapped up in the captain’s arms.

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Begin Again | Thranduil

Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

Genre: Fluffy new beginnings

Warnings: ---

Words: ~2k

Note: If you’d like to be added to a tag list for any of my works, there’s a link on my page 💕 Also, I’m big dummy and lost the original request, so I couldn’t remember what all you wanted in this one-shot. So requester, whoever you are, I’m so sorry! And if you’d like another part to expand on your full request, please let me know!

  It’s strange.

  You’re whole life, you’ve always heard about how horrible it is for an elf to lose the one they love. It’s been described as feeling as though you’ve been ripped into two pieces, forced to live on without your second half. You’ve heard it feels like tiny needles stabbing into your heart until you can’t feel anything but a stifling anguish that seeps into your bones, poisoning your body from within until you eventually fade away.

  Yet you feel none of that. You feel nothing at all, like a soul wandering aimlessly for the rest of eternity, cursed with never finding a purpose or reason to stick around. But being forced to endure, none-the-less. You can sail, as an elf that’s your right, and perhaps you would find peace, wrapped in the warm embrace of Valinor as you forget all your fears and pain.

  But you don’t want to be happy, because being happy means you forget, and you're not ready to forget your beloved yet.

  The forest floor beneath you is damp from the rain that blessed Eryn Galen a few days ago. The mud sinks in between your toes as you nearly melt into the soft ground. The forest around you is lush and green, wrapping you in its warm embrace that allows for a moment of respite from your thoughts.

  The forest is empty, only the gentle sway of the trees and emerald leaves falling to the ground your company. You stare up at the sky that peaks through the canopy of leaves, the stars are out tonight and they burn brighter than you’ve ever seen them. And you wished to climb to the tops of the trees if only to feel the soft glow of moonlight on your skin.

  But that would be a foolish thing to do, a whimsy only a child would fulfill. So you simply stand in the clearing, selfishly hoarding the only spot you’ve discovered that the sky is visible.

  You thought yourself alone, something you covet more often than not. 

  And yet.

  “Forgive me, I did not realize this spot was currently occupied,” a baritone voice sounds behind you.

  Your heart pounds against your chest, the owner of the voice easily recognizable through your deep daydreams. Whirling around quicker than you’ve ever moved, you see King Thranduil standing at the edge of the clearing. He’s lacking the usual extravagant attire he usually dons, instead opting for a slightly more casual outfit. But he still wears clothes that could’ve been woven from silver and gold, the cloth glittering in the dim light.

  “My king,” you say, immediately bowing your head down in respect, thoroughly inspecting your dirtied feet. “I will take my leave.”

  “There is no need, it was I who interrupted you,” he moves further into the clearing and closer to you. His movements are smooth like a cat, his icy blue eyes lazily focusing on you.

  “Yet you are the king,” you reply, voice hardly above a whisper.

  King Thranduil is an intimidating figure, anyone within five feet of him would agree. Not in the way that lady Galadriel of Lothlorien is - her power so great you can’t help but feel suffocated, yet it is her kind smile that soothes even the most skittish. Lord Elrond carries himself with a warm presence, like a father he is kind and caring, but stern as well.

  No, King Thranduil carries a sense of tragedy with him that can’t be masked by his cold eyes or looming figure. He is the shining example of how horrible things could get for an elf when their other half passes. So far gone is he, they whisper, that not even his son can pull him from his melancholy.

  “Then as king, I order you to stay. It would be nice to have some company,” he responds, leaving no room for argument. So you nod your head in agreeance, but keep your head lowered, tracing every speck of mud covering your toes.

  “Would you not even look at your monarch?” he asks, but his voice isn’t laced with anger or malice and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think there’s a hint of humor in it.

  “I apologize, My King,” you say, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes meet his and for a second, you jolt, a sensation filling your body, something you haven’t felt in years.

  “I have never seen you before. How have I never seen you?” he questions, thick brows furrowing in frustration and confusion, but his eyes remain locked on you, as do yours.

  “Y/N, My King. I just arrived here a few moons ago from the Lorien,” you respond. He says nothing for a few moments, keeping his intense gaze locked on you. And for a brief second, you swear that he could read each and every thought that passes your brain, that’s he seen every memory you have.

  “Well then, allow me to formally welcome you to Eryn Galen, Lady Y/N. Tell me how have you found my kingdom, thus far?” he asks, sweeping his arm out in a grand gesture as he welcomes you.

  “It is very beautiful, My King. The trees are so tall and the leaves so green,” you say, glancing up towards the sky, enraptured by the emerald canopy above you.

  “Do they not have trees this tall in the Lorien? I was under the impression their forest was quite beautiful,” he replies, sharp eyes locked on you.

  “They do but not quite like here. Do not misunderstand me, the Lorien possesses great beauty, the mallorn tree is magnificent to look upon, but Eryn Galen offers a different beauty. I find myself in great need of change these days, it would seem.”

  “Perhaps one day you could humor me and tell me of what would need to warrant such a drastic change?” You turn to look at him, meeting his steely gaze, and he raises a single eyebrow at you. However before you can open your mouth to speak, he turns and leaves. Leaving you behind in the small clearing, and for a moment, your heart starts fluttering in a way it hasn’t in a long time.

  And you turn back around, watching the leaves dance through the sky, free from the confining grasp of the branches. A small smile rests on your face, losing yourself in daydreams you never thought you’d see again.

  “Lady Y/N, how lovely of you to join me,” King Thranduil's voice is crisp and clear, perfectly projecting across the large room. He sits languidly at a chair, carved from wood with delicate engraving dancing on the tops of them. A glass of wine in one hand and the other slung over the top of his chair, he is the picture of ease.

  “It is my pleasure to join you, My King,” you reply, lowering your gaze to the floor once he meets yours. With slow and tentative steps, you move towards the open space to his right, where a glass of wine already poured. Your heart is racing, sweat building up in the palms of your hands as you open and close them. What feels like a lifetime later, you reach the chair, a guard so still he could’ve been a statue, pulling it out for you as you sit in it. 

  “Thank you,” you quietly say as the guard pushes your chair forward.

  “Please, leave us” Thranduil’s voice is commanding and firm, not allowing any room for questions he does not wish to answer. Silently and quickly, every guard in the room filters out. And as their light footsteps disappear, you and Thranduil are left in the room...alone.

  A small burst of courage surges through you, your gaze leaving the fine china it was tracing over and over again to meet his gaze. His eyes are just as icy blue as you remember, but somehow they seem softer than they had been in the forest. Or perhaps the light is playing tricks on you.

  Everyone knows that elves only truly love once.

  Your mouth is dry, nerves suddenly overtaking you. What are you supposed to say; to do? You’ve never spent much time in the presence of royalty, often preferring to stay in the shadows, content with a simple life. Yet fate seems to have other plans for you. Or is this just simply Thranduil, and the gods have nothing to do with his intentions - whatever they may be?

  “Do not be so nervous. Please, drink. The food will be ready momentarily,” Thranduil says, motioning towards you with a wine goblet in hand. You nod, still silent as ever.

  With a shaky, damp hand, you reach towards your wine goblet, grasping the cold metal in your warm hands. Taking a deep breath, you pick it up, bringing it towards your lips. The wine is smooth as it pours down your throat, cool and soothing to the dessert inside your mouth. It’s slightly sweet, not at all holding the bitter aftertaste the wine of Man possesses.

  You set the glass down, turning your attention to Thranduil. He watches you with sharp eyes, an expectant look on his face.

  “It is very good, Your Grace,” you mutter, and in exchange for speaking so quietly, you manage to keep your voice steady.

  “Excellent.”

  You smile, and it’s all nerves and anxiety, closely resembling a grimace rather than a beaming grin. Your heart is fierce against your chest, and you fear in that moment he will hear it. But if he does, he doesn’t comment on it.

  “If I may be so bold, Your Grace, might I enquire as to why you’ve called me here?” Your voice is louder this time, but there’s a slight waver towards the end, betraying everything you feel.

  He’s silent for a moment as if he’s gathering his thoughts, figuring out a way to deliver whatever is running in his mind. You nearly crack, the apology for overstepping your boundaries on the tip of your tongue when he finally speaks.

  "Am I not allowed to simply get to know my subjects?" Thranduil asks, a sly smirk resting on his lips. He brings the goblet of wine to his lips, slowly sipping it. He lowers it slightly so that it rests just below his chin. 

"Of course, but I suppose I'm just curious as to why you've invited me to a private meal with you. Am I correct to assume you don't do this with every one of your subjects?" you say, your eyes wide like a doe, with hands in your lap. Your fingers intertwine with each other, a way to distract you from the anxiety in you. 

  Thranduil continues to watch you, an unreadable expression in his ocean eyes. He inhales deeply, leaning farther back into his chair. After a few moments of silence, he opens his mouth. 

  “I find myself wanting to get to know you better. I find you intriguing.” Your mind turns blank, all sense and reason leaving it. For a moment you don’t believe you’ve heard him correctly, not grasping that a king would be so curious about you.

  “I do not understand, what about me is so interesting? We’ve only met once, hardly having a full conversation,” you say. Your voice is firmer than before, drowning with disbelief.

  “Then it would seem you’ve made an impression.”

  You open your mouth, and then promptly close it, not sure how to proceed. Your heart is fluttering, though due to anxiety. Not this is something… different, a type of nervousness, but not due to fear. A light feeling that also leaves you light with giddiness and not weighed down by dread.

  But it can’t be.

  Elves only love once. Yet the mantra you’ve repeated over and over again seems to be losing its weight, the words no longer feeling as true as before.

  “Would it be alright, if I were to get to know you better, My Lady?” he asks, his voice softer than before, his fair face still neutral, yet less austere than it had been the first time you met.

  Elves only love once.

  And yet.

  “I would like that very much, Your Grace.” Your smile widens, less unsure than before, your eyes shining like starlight. The prospect of something new is exciting yet also terrifying at the same time. You should run and hide, fiercely guarding your already fragile heart like a dragon watches over its treasure hoard.

 Elves only love once. And yet.

  You push aside those fears, in favor of welcoming a chance at a new beginning.

  And yet.

o0o0o

Tags: 

@lunatichaotiche​ | @aearonnin​ | @emiliessketches​ | @vibratingbones​ | @moony-artnstuff​ | @ranhanabi777​ | @kenobiguacamole​ | @ceinelee​ | @thranduil​ | @samnblack​ | @abbiesthings​ | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit​ | @keijibum​ | @lifestylesleep​ | @lilith15000 | 

[sushiburritonoms]

okay fine, I’ll play. let’s see, something you can’t make sad (and no, that is NOT a challenge!)… Summer has me in a vacationy mood, so how about DinLuke number 30, tourist/knowledgeable local au? I’ll leave you to decide if Din is the reluctantly knowledgeable local, or if Luke is eager to show the hot dad and his son around

FINE. YOU WANT HAPPY, I'LL GIVE YOU HAPPY!!!

Wait, sorry that came out in my drama voice. *coughs*

30 of AU Ficlist: tourist/knowledgeable local au

Din was no longer a religious man, not since he gently but firmly broke away from his Mormon upbringing years ago. But there were some habits that were hard to break, especially for an exmo, and he couldn’t help but offer up a quick prayer to...something...before he set out on his hike with Luke. Maybe he was praying to Poli`ahu; she would be the most appropriate goddess, given where they were (and wouldn’t his adoptive mother have had a fit over that!).  He sent up a quick prayer for no rain, for clear skies, and, most importantly of all, no tourists.  That last was a big ask, even for the Goddess of Mauna Kea.

But it was the off season for the Big Island, and a weekday, so the trail was quiet.  It was a short hike, five miles roundtrip. It was practically nothing for the two of them. Din wasn’t trying to wear Luke out….yet.  That would hopefully--fingers crossed and prayers sent to all gay friendly gods/godesses out there--come later.

“It really is unbelievably beautiful here,” Luke said quietly as walked near the ocean.  He paused for a minute to close his eyes, tilting his face towards the sun, looking like some sort of god himself, especially with the way in which the light hit the highlights in his hair. A sun god, maybe. Din felt a wave of fierce affection and lust rush through him, like a burst of wind off the sea. His hand drifted down to his cargo shorts pocket, where he reassured himself that the small box he’d put there that morning was still there.

“I can’t believe you left,” Luke admitted as he opened his eyes. “If I was raised here, I’d never leave.”

Din had heard that before from many people. But coming from Luke it felt sincere and probably was, given his childhood history.  “You’d be surprised how quickly you get used to all this,” he said as he waved his arm at their picturesque surroundings. “You don’t notice after a while. The island is too small to spend your whole life here.”

He’d wanted more from his life and freedom from the expectation that he would settle down, marry a nice Mormon woman, and have a small army of children.  He’d always been fine with the children part, and even the marrying part. But the woman part had been the dealbreaker, and when he left the Big Island for the mainland he’d also left that childhood expectation behind.

Now he was back home, a decade later, and surprisingly it was almost how he’d originally expected his life to turn out. He had a son, he had love, and hopefully….

No. Best not to think about it, not to jinx it.  Instead, he waited until Luke had his fill of the ocean before they continued on their way.

“I can see why you didn’t want to bring Grogu,” Luke said as they carefully navigated a rocky curve.  “This isn’t very kid friendly.”

“There’s not much for him to do. The current here is too strong for him,” Din explained as he reached out a hand to Luke so he could help him across.

Luke pouted. “But I thought you were taking me to a secret beach so we could swim. Or...do something else.” Luke raised his eyebrows at him.

“I never said swimming would be involved,” Din said as he gave Luke’s ass a swat.  “We’re not doing what you’re thinking about doing either.” Yet. “This beach isn’t secret, it’s pretty famous.”  There were other more private beaches he could take Luke but that wasn’t the point. It had to be this beach for a specific reason.

“Almost there,” he added as he felt his nervousness begin to grow.  Din could see the ridge where they would begin their descent into the bay. “This area is called Puʻu Mahana; it’s an ancient cinder cone that erupted eons ago.”

“Hmm... I love it when you talk about eruptions,” Luke leered at him.  “I could listen to you talk nerdy all day.”

Din snorted.  “Shut up and get over here.”

“Alright geez, wait up. I--woah.” Luke stopped at the top of the ridge next to him and stared in amazement. “That’s beautiful.”

“Papakōlea beach,” Din said with satisfaction as he looked at the pristine and--miracle of miracles--completely empty sand. They were early enough so they had the bay to themselves. Everytime Din came to Papakōlea he was taken back by the bay’s contrast of colors, with light green cliffside melting away into bright blue water.

“It’s so green!” Luke exclaimed happily. “Is that grass on the sand?”

“Not quite,” Din chuckled as he led the way down the ragged cliffside, towards the old metal staircase built into the cliffside.  “Papakōlea is special because it’s one of the few green sand beaches in the world.”

“Wait? Green sand?!”  That was it, Din had lost Luke. His love ran ahead, hoping over rocks to clammer over to the staircase like a small child.  By the time Din had caught up, Luke was pulling up handfuls of sand and letting the small grains fall through his fingers.

“I never knew sand could be green! We should have brought Grogu! It’s his favorite color!” Luke beamed at him as he approached.

“And yours,” Din acknowledged with a nervous smile. It was rapidly becoming his favorite color too, after silver.

“What is it?” Luke asked. “Fossilized seaweed or something?”

Din snorted. “What? How the hell did they let you graduate from Cal again?!”

“I wasn’t a science major,” Luke retorted. “So why don’t you explain, Professor Djarin?” He leered at Din and oh fuck. He had to bring up his favorite roleplay right now, right when there was a 50% chance he was about to ruin one of the best things that had ever happened to him.

Din pushed aside vivid memories of Luke dressed as a slutty schoolboy out of his head with extreme effort. “Ah..it’s olivine,” he said, suddenly nervous.  “Tiny specs of olivine that is created by the volcano on the island. It’s a dense mineral so it tends to accumulate on the shore rather than be swept into the sea like most other deposits…” His voice trailed off as he saw the moment when Luke suddenly realized why he’d been brought to this particular beach.

“Olivine aka peridot,” Luke said slowly. He let the last of the grains of sand fall from his hand as he moved to touch the small, slender peridot gem that was always around his neck on a smooth silver chain.

Din had asked Luke in the very beginning of their relationship why he always wore the green gem around his neck. Luke had explained that the peridot was the last gift from his grandfather, Qui-Gon.

“He told me he was originally going to give it to my dad’s future wife, because it was a family heirloom. But my biological father never really got along great with my grandfather, and dad and father weren’t able to legally marry until after grandfather died.  So he gave it to me. I don’t know why he didn’t just give it to Leia, but when he died, I put it on and never really took it off.  I’ve always loved the color. Peridots are the stones of compassion and I think that’s just really nice.”

As their relationship grew Din realized that the peridot gem was a perfect description of Luke himself. Compassionate to a fault but also vibrant and full of life. He was spiritual, creative and strong; all characteristics of the gemstone according to the hippie websites Luke liked to frequent.  So when they decided to return to Din’s hometown of Kona for a vacation, Din immediately thought of Papakōlea beach. Olivine was a common mineral on the islands--they liked to market them as “Hawaii’s Diamonds”.

So where else could he bring Luke to propose to him?

“I need to ask you something,” he began. He pulled Luke further along until they were in a spot where Din could see the green sand and the crystal clear blue ocean. Blue and green, the colors that reminded Din of Luke.  “The day we met, you gave me the greatest gift of my life by saving Grogu’s life.  You came in like a superhero, flying in on your stupid skateboard and grabbing him from the path of that car. That could have been the worst day of my life and instead it was the third most important day.”

Luke stared at him with bright eyes that sparkled with unshed tears. “The third?”

“Second one was the moment they said that Grogu could stay, that I could start the adoption process,” Din acknowledged.

Luke nodded. “And the first?” He whispered.

Din took a deep breath and sent another wild prayer to  Poli`ahu or Peli; whoever was listening and had got him this far.

“I’m hoping the first is right now.” He slowly reached for the ring box in his pocket and got down on one knee.  The sand was rough against his bare skin and he was shaking--but so was Luke. There were tears slowly falling down his face and he was looking at Din as if he was the sun god and not him.  “Luke Skywalker,” he said slowly as he opened the ring box, “Would you--”

“YES!” Luke blurted out.

“--You have to let me finish!” Din said with a laugh.

“You’re taking too long!” Luke grabbed at Din’s hands and pulled them to his chest. “Yes, yes a hundred times yes! Of course I’ll marry you! I thought we pretty much were already.”

Din laughed, his voice cracking. “I want it to be official--”

“Of course you do. Can’t take the fear of God out of a exmo like you.” The softness of Luke’s voice tempered the teasing words.

“Hey this is scared land,” Din said somewhat seriously, “on this part of the island, it belongs to the goddess Poli`ahu.”

“Well, then with the grace of ‘Polly-hue’, I say yes, Din. I’ll marry you.”  Din had only a second to frown at Luke’s butchering of the Hawaiian language before he was dragged to standing. He ditched the ring box on the sand so he could put the ring onto Luke’s finger. It was a silver band embedded with koa wood and olivine, made by a local company on the island.  It sparkled perfectly against the backdrop of the sand but Din had only seconds to admire it before he was dragged into a searing kiss by his fiancé.  He tangled his hands into Luke’s hair and let all the love and relief he’d been carrying on their short hike pour out of his mouth and into the other half of his soul.

When they finally parted and pulled away, the light caught the peridot on Luke’s neck and shone brightly, like the slender gem was alive and winking at him.

--

Au List is here if you have a request

Previous answers:

19. parents meeting when they take their kids to class au

15: meeting in the E.R/A&E au

40: Soul destroying exes meeting again after not speaking for years au

25: Library/Avid Reader AU Part I

Library AU part II

[corvus--rex]

I very nearly used this one for the Prince prompt for Julance, and then came up with something different (not that I've posted it to ao3 yet, the magical au kinda got away from me and I've been trying to wrap it up). It's deeply sleeping and almost into semi-abandoned mostly because I'm just stuck (I personally suck at scene transitions). This one is a Human!Galtean Omegaverse with Omega Lance and Alpha Keith.

~*~*~*~

Keith hated these parties, even if it was in his honor. He always had. But being able to see Lance light up when they walked into the ballroom and then offering him his hand as an invitation to dance made it worth it. Especially when the offer was so excitedly accepted. When the familiar 3/4 time signature began, and the pair swept around the room wrapped up in the waltz and in each other, Keith was able to forget the reason for the party. He let himself get lost in Lance’s soft expressions and the love he held for the boy in his arms. Well, not boys anymore. No, they were both grown adults by then and not lovesick teenagers, but their feelings for each other had never lessened. And Keith was still in awe of the fact that Lance, his best friend since they were small children, despite their secondary sexes, not only loved him in return, but had accepted Keith’s proposal.

Accepted may have been an understatement. The night Keith proposed, in the heart of Lance’s favorite garden on the castle’s grounds, the Marmoran prince found himself tackled to the soft grass. His entire field of vision was taken up by an emotionally overwhelmed Lance, blocking out the stars that Keith felt paled in comparison to the Altean royal he was intensely proud to call his.

Lance, for his part, knew how much Keith hated these formal parties. But this one was all theirs. This was the party that formally announced to the kingdoms of Marmora and Altea and the rest of the world that the two royal families were to be joined through the marriage and mating of Alpha Crown Prince Keith of Marmora and Omega Prince Lance of Altea. Lance, and Keith as well, had been stunned to learn that their betrothal had been formalized when they were infants. Their parents were close friends, and the boys had grown up together, even attending the same boarding schools. And then, when the boys began dating on their own in their teens, their parents decided not to tell them, knowing that it really no longer mattered.

Both Lance and Keith were familiar with the music, and Keith slowed their pace with a twirl of his fiancé at the beginning of the closed cadence that marked the end of the dance. They came to a stop as the music died, sneaking a kiss when they knew no one was really paying attention. But of course, that night, everyone was paying attention to the recently engaged couple. There was no getting away from it. Lance’s older sister Allura had even commented on it, saying that it would finally take some attention away from her own engagement to Princess Romelle of Arus. But of course, as Crown Princess and Lance’s sister, Allura was there at the engagement party, Romelle right beside her.

That night, Lance proudly wore the last courting gift Keith had given him on the night he proposed. It was a simple band, inlaid with a brilliantly rich violet sapphire that graced the middle finger of his left hand. The stone itself, a marquise cut laid horizontally in the metal, was stunning, but the band was made of starlight silver, an alloy composed of white gold and luxite, a metal unique to Marmora. Truth be told, he rarely took it off, wearing it as a constant reminder of the Alpha who loved him.

Lance had already moved into Marmora’s royal residence and his own suite of rooms for the months leading up to his formal mating to Keith, but it was a well-known secret inside the castle that he hardly ever used the apartment, having instead already moved into Keith’s suite. Breakfast at the castle was almost always an informal affair, and house staff usually walked into the princes snuggled in bed together. Everyone also knew that Queen Krolia knew about her son and soon-to-be son-in-law’s sleeping arrangement and said nothing against it. That night, they had plans to slip away from the party when it was late enough and watch the fireworks from their private balcony. Their closest friends wanted to celebrate the engagement away from the crowded rooms of the party and had agreed to leave quietly one at a time to meet the princes upstairs.

But it wasn’t quite time for that yet. The party was still in full swing and the formal announcement had yet to be made. Keith knew his mother would be looking for them soon, and wanted to keep Lance to himself for as long as possible, even if he knew it was a lost cause. Case in point, the over-dressed figure of an Altean noble making her way toward them now that they had stepped away from the floor. Keith saw the exact moment when Lance died a little on seeing Lady Henrietta Remington-Blakely bustling her way over, her daughter Delphine following her mother with purpose.

Lady Remington-Blakely had always – and loudly – bemoaned the fact that Allura had been publicly off the market for years and that Lance wasn’t a “suitable match” as an Omega for her Beta daughter. Delphine, on the other hand, tried to distance herself from her mother’s whining as much as possible, and in doing so, had actually ingratiated herself with the royal family, winning a place at court over her mother. Delphine, therefore, had naturally been invited to the engagement party, her mother having the invitation extended out of courtesy. Delphine’s father, Baronet Simeon Remington-Blakely, had been invited as well, but the beleaguered noble was nowhere to be seen.

Delphine rushed the last several yards ahead of her mother, picking up her nearly floor-length skirt in a rather un-ladylike fashion. “I am so sorry, I couldn’t stop her,” she said to Lance as she approached.

Lance sighed. “It’s ok, Lady Delphine. It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but she’s been worse lately now that your engagement is being made publicly official tonight.”

Keith nodded to a spot over Delphine’s shoulder. “And here she comes.”

Lance seamlessly slipped into his public face. “Lady Remington-Blakely, thank you so much for coming all the way to Marmora to celebrate with us. How was the trip? Not too strenuous, I hope?”

Keith and Delphine caught each other’s eye and tried desperately not to laugh. Lance’s seemingly genuine greeting and following question caught Lady Henrietta off guard, causing the woman to deflate from whatever she had planned on verbally accosting him with. Neither of them missed the subtle wink he threw in their direction or the small sly curl to his fake smile.

“Oh, well, of course, your Highness,” Lady Henrietta stumbled, caught off guard by Lance preempting her, “No, the trip over was fine. We accompanied Count Fitzsimmons on his private jet.”

“And how is the dear Count? Still as…active as ever?”

Count Alistair “Allie” Fitzsimmons was a well-known party boy, and it actually surprised Lance that Lady Henrietta would be seen in public with him.

“Oh, yes, I suppose so. He was quite charming on our flight over.”

“Naturally. I would expect nothing less. And of course, the announcement of my forthcoming marriage and mating is so important to us and our beloved Altea. Altea and Marmora have been close friends and allies for quite some time now, and my marriage will further strengthen that bond. It certainly doesn’t hurt that I’ve been madly in love with her Crown Prince for years.”

Lance had been so invested in preventing whatever it was that Lady Henrietta had in mind that he hadn’t noticed Delphine slip away to retrieve her father until she returned with him.

“My apologies, Prince Lance,” Sir Simeon said as he approached, slightly out of breath.

“Oh, not at all. I was just telling your lovely wife Lady Henrietta how wonderful it is that you could be here in Marmora with us.”

“Of course, it’s our pleasure to be here for such an important event.” Sir Simeon had far more in common with his daughter than his wife. Lance had wondered on meeting them the first time how someone so genuine and caring could have ended up with such a self-important woman like Henrietta.

Delphine and Sir Simeon directed Lady Henrietta away from the royals, leaving them in momentary peace.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

[emma-nation]

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU) - Chapter 7

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x f!OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Notes: Thank you for all the reviews, follows and likes! It means a lot to me.

Trigger Warning: Language, abuse, blood and violence.

Castle Dimitrescu, Guest Room - Present Days

Two days had passed and I was still trying to process what was happening. How could my life change so drastically again? I could no longer count on my twin brother, who I considered to be my best friend, the person I trusted the most in the entire world. I was filled by the same emptiness, the same sorrow I felt when my mother died. My life was in the palm of his hands and he was letting me go.

"Relax your shoulders, love," Bela whispered softly in my ear. "You're so tense."

Bela was the only person who still made me smile in the middle of all that chaos. She was helping me to find any clues in the diaries, about Miranda and about Auryk too. But for that, we had to work really fast.

We were sneaking back in the village everyday, it wasn't safe to bring those notes to the castle where Bela's mother and sisters could easily find. I prayed the weather wouldn't change and temperatures remained high. In another case, we wouldn't be able to go to my house again and my time with Lady Dimitrescu was running out.

Meanwhile, we were also working on overcoming my intimacy issues. Being intimate without having sex yet. First, we undressed each other completely. I had to know her body and allow her to know mine. I looked at the perfection of Bela's features for a second, before I was invaded by a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. It was the first time I was seeing a woman, completely naked, in front of me.

When I looked at her again, she was gazing at my body like if she was admiring a masterpiece in an art exhibit. At first, I was shy. I blushed and crossed my arms, as if I had any reasons to hide myself. Bela smiled. In that moment I knew she was appreciating me and that made me feel better.

"You're gorgeous, aren't you?" Bela lifted up my chin, forcing me to look at her, to see it in her eyes she was being truthful on her words.

"No more than you," I gathered some courage to move forward and extend my hand, touching a little bit of her soft skin, her arms, her chest, her stomach... then I stopped.

"This is okay," she assured me. But she understood that, in that moment, it was enough for me.

We both entered the bathtub, where I positioned myself in front of Bela and allowed her to take care of me. She gently rubbed my body with a sponge, starting by my back. Then, she moved to my front, rubbing my breasts, my stomach, my tights. Though we were in silence, she seemed to understand my limits, my barriers. Noticing how stressed I looked, she decided to give me a massage. I relaxed my shoulders as she told, focusing myself completely on our moment together.

"It's my turn," I told her. "Let me take care of you?"

Bela nodded and switched positions with me. I offered her the same treatment she gave me, but I wasn't so confident, so precise. My shaking hands would often betray me and I was unsure if I was being too gentle or too rough. Yet, she seemed to be enjoying it. I gave a special attention on washing her hair, it was so beautiful, so soft. The way it barely grew on the spot around her scar was a sin. I hated Miranda even more for that.

She rested her head against my chest as I continued to massage her scalp.

"Does it hurt?" I softly traced her scar with my finger.

"It stings sometimes," she sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"Does it hurt?" Bela repeated my gesture, tracing the scar on my forearm.

"No," she never asked, yet I felt I should tell her how it happened. "Adrian told me he found me in the basement cutting myself, right after my mom died. But I don't remember."

"Trauma can block some painful memories."

I knew that very well. I realized how little I remembered the days after my mother's death. My last memory was seeing her mangled body being carried inside our house. Nothing else. I didn't remember her burial or if I managed to say goodbye. I couldn't remember if we had people visiting us or if I was alone with my father. Everything about those terrible days was a blur.

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Office - Present Days

When Lady Dimitrescu called her daughters for a private meeting that morning, Bela couldn't help feeling anxious and scared. Her mother was usually a woman of her word, but when it came to her reputation with Mother Miranda, she'd become completely blind by rage. Alcina really believed her when she suggested Aleena's brother could be responsible for stealing the Lords and also for the attack to the castle, even when the evidences pointed to the opposite.

"I told you so," while they waited outside, Cassandra was smirking deviously. She was determined to do anything to annoy Bela right in the morning. "It won't well for you. Our mother can't betray Mother Miranda and the other Lords because you've fallen in love with a stupid human girl."

"Shut up," Bela decided she wouldn't give in to her provocations. It was Cassandra's favorite manner to extract information from her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think we're stupid?" Still, her sister wouldn't stop. "Everyone, except for our mother, has noticed already. Me, Daniela, even Mrs. Volkov. Tell me, Bela. Will you keep pretending when we serve her on a silver plate tonight?"

Bela advanced in her sister's direction. Cassandra quickly dissolved into flies, she did the same. The corridor was a mess of flying insects and buzzing for a few minutes, before they had to shape back into their bodies. Now, she'd finally have the chance to inflict her sister some pain. She pinned Cassandra against the wall.

"Stop, you two," Daniela tried to intervene. "What the hell are you doing?"

Cassandra tried to throw a punch, but Bela was a little faster on her reflects, she grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm.

"What's your problem, Cassandra?" Bela angered. "You can't stand the idea she wasn't one of your trophy maidens, isn't it? Just leave me alone. Leave her alone too."

In that moment, they heard the door opening. Lady Dimitrescu appeared in the corridor, with an ugly snarl on her face.

"What the hell is going on here?" She yelled. "I thought I had daughters, but then I come here and you two are fighting like animals."

Daniela sighed relieved. This time, she wasn't included.

"I'm sorry, mother," Cassandra straightened her dress. "It's Bela who's being a bitch."

"You started it," Bela tried to grab her hair, but she deflected. "You're insulting me from the moment I arrived."

"The three of you! In my office, now!"

Bela couldn't feel guilty this time. Something inside her had changed. She didn't care if her mother was disappointed at her behavior, absolutely no one would touch Aleena. Especially Cassandra.

"It's all about that girl, mother," the middle sister proceeded to tell Alcina. "Bela is in love with her. They've been making out around the castle all the time."

"And this is none of your goddamn business!"

"It is, when your actions are putting us all in danger! Her brother..."

"Stop!" Lady Dimitrescu shouted, making they both go silent. "Is it going to be like this anytime a new woman steps inside this castle?"

No. Not for Bela. She didn't care about other women. Cassandra could have them if she wanted, as long as she stayed away from her girlfriend.

"I agree," Cassandra continued. "It has to end. I vote that we drain her tonight."

"CASSANDRA!" Alcina punched the desk, making her stop instantly. "I didn't call you here to talk about this girl."

A part of Bela was relieved, but she when her eyes crossed with her mother's, the feeling of anxiety started growing inside her. Now she knew about her relationship with Aleena. And her sisters too. She couldn't predict how they'd react.

"I'm going to another meeting with Mother Miranda tonight. I expect to find this castle intact when I return. If I discover my daughters are fighting in my absence, I'll be truly disappointed."

"Yes, mother," Daniela said. "No one is going to fight anymore. Right?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes at the youngest sister. Bela only gave her an annoyed look.

So that was the reason of their visit to Lady Dimitrescu's office. For now, Aleena was safe. They still had a few days to gather information about Mother Miranda and whatever she was planning. Bela was about to leave after her sisters when her mother called her back. She froze.

"Bela, you stay. We need to talk."

"Yes, mother?" She sat in front of her mother again.

"What were you and Cassandra fighting about?"

"I-I... uh, it's true. I'm in love with Aleena."

Bela decided it was time to stop lying. After all her mother was the person she trusted the most in this world, besides Aleena. Lady Dimitrescu stared at her face emotionless. Bela couldn't figure out what she could be thinking. She looked down, avoiding her mother's intense gaze.

"It's different this time," she explained. Although Alcina never bothered when they got involved with women, she hated the mess it usually caused. Sometimes Cassandra would slaughter her partners in her bedroom or some other place too hard to be cleaned. Daniela fell in love too easily, always having her heart broken when she discovered the subject of her affection was only using her to escape the castle and the fate every servant usually had. In this process, a lot of other things would break too. Such as the castle's furniture and the servant's bones. "I'm doing things right. I even asked her to be my girlfriend."

Bela wouldn't get involved with women so often as her sisters, but when she did, it surely never ended well. They'd become disappointed when they found out she didn't reciprocate their feelings. There would be a lot of arguing, tears and some of them would even dare to call her mother for a talk. In the end, they always died anyways.

She had never been in love before. Until now.

"Girlfriend?!" Lady Dimitrescu eyes widened in surprise and she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. Bela finally knew what what her mother should be thinking about. The woman she once loved. "Oh Bela..."

"She makes me happy, mother. Like I've never been before."

"And this is exactly what concerns me, daughter. You know how it ends."

"It doesn't have to end that way. I'm controlling my instincts very well and..."

"But she's human and young. She's going to study abroad, meet new people who are just like her. Then, she'll forget you ever existed."

That was the one thing Bela had accepted since the moment she decided to kiss Aleena. Soon, they'd be saying goodbye and there would be nothing left for her, only the memories. Yet, it was worthy. Every moment by Aleena's side was precious.

"I know that," she assured Lady Dimitrescu. "Mother, the only thing I want is your word you're letting her go by the end of this week. Whatever her brother did, Aleena's innocent."

"Okay, daughter," her mother's hand touched hers. The corners of her mouth curled up in a small smile. "I promise you. As long as you promise me you and Cassandra will stop fighting."

"Okay, I'll ignore her provocations. I promise."

"You know your sister, Bela. Cassandra is very attached to our family. She's only jealous most of your attention is being dedicated to Aleena."

"Yeah, I know."

Bela held her mother's hand and smiled back at her.

"Girlfriend..." she was still muttering to herself and shaking her head in denial as Bela stood up and started to walk away. "Well, I suppose there were worse options."

As she opened the office's door, ready to leave, Alcina spoke:

"Bela, take care."

"I will."

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Guest Room - Present Days

I asked my breakfast to be served in my room. Going to the dining room all by myself was pointless, as Bela and her sisters were reunited with their mother in her office. I wondered what they could be discussing. Was it about me or Auryk?

Anyways, our time was running out. I only had until the end of the week to prove my brother's innocence and expose Miranda's betrayal against the Four Lords. There was only one problem, if Auryk wasn't stealing from the Lords, he wasn't involved in something good either. The manner he spoke to me on the phone, it seemed dangerous and secretive.

And there was Bela. Everytime I remembered the page I ripped off from those diaries I'd feel my chest tightening a little bit. I wouldn't let my brother, and whoever he was working for, lay a finger on her. From the moment I arrived, she was nothing but sweet to me. She always did everything to protect me and I was willing to do the same.

Mrs. Volkov entered the room, bringing a tray of food. She locked the door behind her.

"Ms. Novak, I'd like to speak to you in private for a moment," she asked.

I nodded in agreement.

"I couldn't help noticing Ms. Bela coming and leaving this room very often lately."

"Yes," now I could understand why Cassandra was always threatening the staff with her knifes. Even if Mrs. Volkov was trying to protect me, what I did inside my room was none of her business. I feared she'd tell Alcina. "We're working on a personal issue of mine. And I'd appreciate if this information stays between us only."

"My mouth is shut, Ms. Novak. I only beg you to be careful, I've seen many girls like you going missing or being dragged to the dungeons after getting involved with the mistress' daughters."

Of course she had to remind me of the fact my girlfriend probably has had enough partners to fill both sides of a book page.

"Thank you for your concern."

And of course she had to run right into 'Ms. Bela' as she opened the door to leave.

"Mrs. Volkov," she greeted, polite as she always was. Sometimes I wondered if Bela was so well mannered even when she was killing her victims. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Everything's fine, Ms. Bela. I was only serving Ms. Novak her breakfast."

"Thank you. I suppose we're good for now. I call you if we need anything else."

Bela shut the door, immediately forcing the woman to go away. I asked her to lock it, just in case.

"Good morning, love," she sat by my side at the table and pressed a kiss on my cheek. "I hope you saved me some because I'm starving."

"Hey, didn't you just have breakfast with your mom?"

"Not actually, I refused it. I was waiting to have breakfast with you, like we do every morning."

She smiled, causing butterflies in my stomach.

"Aren't you sweet?" I was kinda expecting her to come. I even asked Mrs. Volkov for an extra cup and plate. I passed it to Bela. "I was hoping you'd come."

I retributed her kiss.

"So, what are doing today?" She wanted to know. "Are we coming back to your house? Or would you like to do something different?"

"I wish, but we have to finish reading the diaries. I only have a few days left before your mom decides what she wants to do to me."

"I spoke to her. She's letting you go by the end of the week."

"Is she?" I asked, to be sure.

Bela nodded in response.

I should be happy with the information, Lady Dimitrescu wasn't going to kill me after all. But I wasn't. I was expecting her to protest and keep me as a prisoner for weeks, months, maybe years as it seemed Auryk wasn't coming back. I wanted to be stuck in that castle for the rest of my life, as long as I had Bela by my side.

"She has a meeting with Mother Miranda tonight," she added. "She usually doesn't come back until the morning. We should do something special."

"Like what?"

"Like a date?"

The concept of having a date was a little bit difficult when you lived in a village that wasn't even in the maps Your options were very limited: going to the nearest town, going to the pub or do something at home. The first two options could not end well as we'd be going too far from the castle or if any villagers recognized Bela.

We could stay in my house and order some food, there was this restaurant in town that would deliver even in that hellhole of a place. We could also watch movies and make out on the couch.

Maybe more. I was desperate for more. Especially now I knew we'd be separated soon. I wanted to enjoy every second of your moments together. Yet, I was insecure. I couldn't help thinking of Mrs. Volkov comment regarding Bela's level of experience.

"I think I have something in mind," I grabbed Bela's hand. "Ready?"

----------

Eastern Europe, Aleena's House - Present Days

We rod to the village as were doing every day. I was always concerned some other villager could see me and recognize me. At this point, everybody should know about what happened to me. They'd instantly connect the dots if they saw Bela. When we arrived to my house again, I was relieved. Almost. Until I saw the front door had been forced open.

"Oh fuck," I quickly took my daggers before taking another step into the house. "Somebody broke into my house. They may still be in there."

Bela took some kind of blade from her boots too.

"What? I have my tricks too, love." She asked, noticing I was surprised. "Cassandra isn't the only good hunter."

We carefully opened the door. Before I could even do anything, Bela grabbed me and covered my mouth. Her senses were probably detecting something nearby.

"Shhhh," she pointed to her ears. "I can hear something... in the basement."

"But not all of us are vampires," I muttered. When I noticed, Bela had already vanished, turning into flies. I followed her to the basement, after grabbing a rifle. Before I even got there, I already heard a male voice screaming.

"What the fuck?! What are you freaks even doing here?!"

I recognized it before I could even see the figure. But I waited until I was downstairs to confront him.

"Heisenberg. I could ask you the same," I spoke, pointing the rifle at him even if I knew it was useless. "What are you doing here?"

"You," he turned around from the hidden cabinet where the weapons were stored. "Weren't you trapped at Lady Super Sized Bitch's castle?"

"Have some respect talking about my mother," Bela shaped back into her body. "Not that she has any talking about you. So I guess you both are even."

"Oh great, and you brought one of the daughters with you. At least it's the decent one."

"Are you going to explain what you're doing in my house?" I angered. There was a good reason of why that man was there again. Coincidentally when he had a meeting with Miranda later that day. "Let me guess. You're searching for something to take to the Highest Bitch In Charge tonight. Am I right?"

"Wait, wait..." Heisenberg showed his hand as a sign of truce. I lowered the rifle. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Are you searching for something to take to Mother Miranda in the meeting tonight? Because many things are going missing, under mysterious circumstances that are strangely connected to her."

"Do you think Mother Miranda is the one stealing from the Lords?"

I told him about my conversation with Auryk and his suspicions about Miranda's involvement in the situation.

"I knew it!" Heisenberg kicked away an old wooden chair, shattering it to pieces. I shot Bela a confused glance but she also had no idea of what was going on. "I fucking knew it! She's been plotting against us. I always warned my siblings this day would come but they never believed me."

"We're searching for evidence against her," I explained. "To find out what's her plan. Do you have any ideas?"

"Are you sure you can trust her?" He pointed at Bela. "Her mother is the one who kisses Miranda's ass the most. After Moreau, of course."

"Absolutely," I told. "Bela's with me on the matter."

"Sit down, the two of you, and I'll tell you what I know."

We sat on the armchairs we had down the basement. Heisenberg pulled a bottle of whiskey from one of Adrian's secret hideouts. He was about to take a sip directly from the bottle, but I made him serve all of us. Something told me I'd need alcohol to deal with that conversation.

"All these years serving her and we're only her tests subjects, girl. We were all declared a failure upon bitch Miranda's eyes. Me, Lady Super Sized Bitch, the Moronic Freak, the Ugly-Ass Psycho Doll and even this..." Bela scowled at him, letting him know she wouldn't appreciate any offensive nicknames he could have for her, "this girl and her sisters. We're trapped in this village, being forced to decades of humiliation and servitude."

"Are you telling me you don't worship Miranda like your siblings and the villagers?" I tried to understand.

"No!" Heisenberg shouted. "Can't you see? She has taken everything from me. My humanity, my dignity! And now she has found the perfect vessel for her experiments, she's planning to get rid of us."

I drank the entire cup of whiskey in one sip. I looked at Bela, I could see that deep down she shared the same feelings for Miranda as Heisenberg. She tried to follow me, but judging by her face, she wasn't used to that kind of drink.

"I know what it feels like," she took off her helmet, showing the scar on her head and also the tattoo. "I also hate how she treats my mother and she's always too blind to see it. Whenever she returns from a meeting, I can read it on her face. She's disappointed at herself. She's miserable. She's always feeling she isn't enough for Mother Miranda's purposes."

"Fuck! This is what I'm talking about! Look what she's done to you. Don't you think it's time we end this?"

"Okay," I interrupted their moment of mutual pain. "She really fucked up with you guys, so we need to find a manner to stop whatever she's planning."

"Your father," Heisenberg pointed to me. "That bastard also shared my feelings of revenge and hate against that bitch, but for some reason he never accepted to join forces. I knew he had some diaries that contained some important information, do you happen to know where they are?"

Before I could answer, Bela stepped in and spoke for me.

"This is what we've been searching for," she lied. She looked at me, giving me a signal we shouldn't trust Heisenberg completely yet. "Apparently, Aleena's brother has taken it with him."

"And where's the little criminal?"

"I don't know," I said. "Last time we spoke he was acting shady as fuck. Whatever he's involved with, it's not good."

"Hmmm, drugs probably."

"No! I'm pretty sure my brother isn't... what's a vessel, by the way? You said Miranda has found a perfect one for her experiments."

"A person who can achieve a perfect mutation," it was Bela who answered my question. "One without any flaws, any side effects. Unlike me, the Lords or any person that has turned into a Lycan."

"Exactly," Heisenberg added. "One with a body that will be able to revive her daughter."

"What the fuck..." I always knew Miranda was crazy, but not at that point. All those years, she had been misleading the villagers, the Lords only for her personal uses. "And who's this person? Where are they?"

"I don't know, kid. This is what I'm trying to find. If I destroy the vessel, there will be no ritual. And with the right proof in hands I can lead a rebellion against Miranda."

"You can count on me," I extended my hand to Heisenberg. "If I discover anything, I let you know."

"Smart girl," he shook my hand. "You'll have my full support if you need to escape that demonic castle."

"She doesn't!" Bela angered. "Mother is letting her go."

"Okay. If you need anything else then..." Heisenberg shrugged. Then he looked at Bela. "What about you, little Dimitrescu girl? Can we count on you?"

"Of course," she also extended her hand. "But you can't comment a word about this meeting with my mother tonight. She trusts Miranda above anything, she's going to blow up our plans."

----------

Eastern Europe, Aleena's Bedroom - Present Days

While Aleena was taking a shower, Bela caught herself reading the diaries they found. Such a skilled predator should be proud of her achievements. The reports about her family were gruesome, terrifying, tragic. They were called many things, 'witches', 'monsters', 'abominations'...

"Psychotic bitches," definitely the most creative, a name given by Adrian Novak. Bela never had a personal encounter with Aleena's father, but she had definitely heard nasty stories about him, through Lady Dimitrescu and through Aleena herself. She thought of an appropriate nickname for him too and smirked. "Stupid manthing."

She closed the diary and walked to the mirror. Aleena told her to wear one of her clothes. She looked like a normal girl, one of Aleena's age, maybe two or three years older.

If it wasn't for that scar. That damn scar. When she woke up after the transformation, one of the first things she did was asking her mother how she had gotten it. Was it the reason she died? Later, she found out it was the reason why she was still alive. Something had been implanted in her brain, to transform her into... that. What about that tattoo? Young people had tattoos everywhere but certainly not on their foreheads. She was marked as one of the Dimitrescu daughters. Wherever she went, people would recognize her by that. Especially in the village. Countless times she and her sisters had caused panic among those people.

This was why Aleena couldn't take her out for a date. She couldn't take her to the pub, to meet her friends and do other things couples usually did. Bela clenched her fists in rage and frustration.

"Hey," Aleena left the bathroom, wrapped around a towel. "Sorry for taking so long. You look amazing, by the way."

Before heading to her wardrobe, she passed through Bela and planted a small kiss on her lips. She could live like that forever.

In fact, if the weather suddenly changed and the temperature dropped by the next day, she'd be stuck with Aleena in that house for days, months or even years. She could cook and clean the house while she was out for work. She could even find a manner to earn some money herself. She could be an artist and sell paintings. Or maybe a writer, she was a good one. Maybe she even had money already, after all she was the Countess' eldest daughter.

The idea excited Bela a lot... until she looked at Aleena's desk. If she was stuck in that house with her, she'd be giving up on her dreams of living in California and study in that Art Institute. And Aleena deserved that. More than any person she ever met.

It wouldn't last and she knew it. She always knew it.

"Selfish psychotic bitch," she muttered to herself as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

----------

Eastern Europe, Aleena's Living Room - Present Days

I couldn't take my mind off my conversation with Heisenberg. I didn't even know how I was supposed to feel. I already hated Miranda before, but now I got the confirmation of the things Bela told me. She was nothing more than an experiment gone wrong and that woman was about to get rid of her and the others. I also thought about Alcina and Donna, who had no idea of what she was planning and trusted her blindly.

I also wondered, who was her perfect vessel? Was it someone from the village? Was it someone she had kidnapped? A million questions were going through my mind.

As soon as I finished getting dressed, Bela had sunk into one of her bad moods, where she became quiet and introspective, after acting normal all day. I already knew her enough to know something happened while I was in the shower and it was consuming her inside. Because as her own mother described, Bela felt everything very intensely.

"Would you like to go back to the castle?" We were in the living room, waiting for our dinner to be delivered. "We can go after dinner if you want."

"No," she said. I had turned on Auryk's video game console. Bela was quite curious about the game I was playing. Her eyes moved quickly as she observed every detail on the screen. "Not yet."

"Do you need to feed?"

"No, I'm okay."

I paused the game. Whatever happened, nothing seemed to distract Bela from it. She was quiet as in the morning she fought her mom or that night in her bedroom, before we kissed for the first time.

"Okay... why don't you tell me what happened? I left you alone in my room for some minutes and now you're upset."

Bela took a deep breath, as if she was trying to recompose herself and leave her emotions aside for the night.

"I'm not upset, love," she told me. "I'm focused."

"On what?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

"If you don't move to the left side, like this," Bela took the controller from my hands, unpausing the game and making a move herself. "You're going to get yourself killed."

And she was right. Apparently her vampire senses worked for literally anything.

"Know what?" I turned off the console. "I'm done with this for the night. I already know I wouldn't be able to beat you if we played against each other anyways."

"What a sore loser," Bela finally let out a laugh. Mission accomplished, I was able to get her out of her bad mood.

"We'll see about that later."

"Will we?"

She lay on top of me, staring deeply into my eyes in an attempt to look dangerous. She pressed her lips against mine and I wrapped my arms around her body pulling her as closer as possible. Bela deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue inside my mouth. The way her tongue massaged mine, the way our bodies were moving together, the way my hands were exploring every inch of her perfect body... I was feeling things I had never experienced before. A heat that spread through every part of me. She finished her kiss biting my lower lip, leaving me stunned, breathless.

"I'm sorry, I got too carried away," she said, when we stopped. "We're almost setting ourselves on fire here."

"No, I want more," as I gazed into her beautiful golden yellow eyes, I couldn't be more sure. "I want us to burn."

Bela raised one eyebrow suggestively, as if she was trying to confirm what I had just told her. I let out a small laugh and nodded in confirmation.

"Then..." she pressed another kiss on my lips, "we should head back to your bedroom. Don't you think?"

I was about to give her an answer when the door bell rang. It was the delivery service bringing our dinner.

"Fuck, I had totally forgotten," I took a deep breath, trying to recompose myself.

"We can resume from where stopped later, if you want."

----------

I wanted it. I definitely wanted it, but I was too nervous for my own sake. If I didn't calm down, I'd end up ruining things. I remembered the night I invited a girl I was dating to my house. Even after having a lot of alcohol to calm my nerves and get me in the mood, I panicked. I panicked and locked myself in the bathroom until she went away. Needless to say she never wanted to see me again.

To try to distract myself, after dinner I sat down on my desk, reading carefully a page of the diary in front of me. The calligraphy was barely readable. Apparently that one belonged to my grandfather, Erik Novak, during his teenage years.

"March 13, 1962

The Lycan attacks have intensified during these days. It's almost impossible to even leave the house. My poor sister, Astrid, has been attacked while she was outside tending for the animals. We don't expect her to survive. The infection has spread to her whole body. Father suggested we put an end to her misery. Mother is still hoping for a miracle. We called Mother Miranda for guidance."

I felt a shiver going down my spine. It was almost like I could watch that scene playing in my mind, like a movie. I held the picture of Astrid, her beautiful dark hair and soft facial features. Such a terrible fate she was victim of. Why did my family still insisted on living in that goddamn place for generations after such a tragedy?

"Okay, I finally picked one," Bela emerged in my bedroom. She was in the living room, too amazed by my Netflix account. With so many movie options in front of her, she didn't know where to start. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I closed the diary. "I was just reading an entry while you chose. My grandfather's sister, she was bitten by a Lycan."

"It seems to happen quite often in your family. One of the diaries I read also reported a Lycan attack."

"It's like a family curse. In my generation, it was my mom. But in her case, there was not even time to develop an infection."

Family drama. Nothing related to the clues we were searching for. I decided to not think about anything else related to that village, Auryk or even Miranda for the next few hours. I wanted to enjoy my time with Bela, exclusively.

"So, let's see what you chose, Ms. Dimitrescu."

For my surprise, Bela had picked a Disney movie. I thought it was extremely cute, I was kinda expecting her to choose something classical or even an horror movie.

"Do you like this one?" She asked.

"I love it," I wrapped an arm around her shoulders as we sat down on the couch. "And I'll love it even more now it's the first movie we watch together."

I didn't make any interruptions as we watched the movie. Bela seemed so entertained, so genuinely happy. I remembered she probably had never seen a movie before. I didn't see any TVs inside the castle. If they even had one, they didn't have access to Netflix or any other modern features. I simply enjoyed the sensation of having her in my arms or the sensation of caressing her hair. I learned to appreciate the sound of her laugh more than anything in this world. When we met, I'd rarely hear it and now it was something she did often.

The world was easier when we were alone, just the two of us. Two lonely, misfit and traumatized individuals. Bela seemed to be the only person who understood my feelings, and I was this person for her too.

When the first movie ended, I asked if she wanted to see another one. She told me to choose this time and I picked a romance. With a happy ending.

God, we deserved to have a happy ending too. We both had gone through so much already. I had to stop Miranda. I couldn't let her take Bela from me.

----------

Eastern Europe, Aleena's Bedroom - Present Days

It was already two in the morning when we returned to my bedroom.

"Are you sure your mother isn't going to freak out or anything?" I asked as we prepared the bed. "Cassandra is definitely going to tell her. If she gets mad the claws will come out to play and it's kinda scary."

"As long as the dragon remains inside, we're okay," the corners of Bela's mouth curled up in a smile.

"Dragon?!"

"Nevermind, it's a joke. A myth the villagers invented. Don't worry, I don't think she's going to mind. I told her about us this morning and she took it very well."

"This is quite a surprise."

We lay on the bed and my heart started thundering inside my chest. I wasn't sure if she remembered what we started before dinner and that I had intentions of resuming later.

"I wish we could have this everyday," she spoke softly, when we were face to face. "This is the reason why I was upset."

"Why does it upsets you?" I asked.

"While I was here alone, I kinda wished the temperature would drop and I'd be stuck here with you for a while. Then I realized I was being selfish."

"You're not selfish. To be honest, I kinda wished the same. I don't wanna go away. I want to stay with you, forever."

Bela took my hand, holding it very tightly for a few seconds and then, she released.

"You can't, Aleena. You don't deserve this life, in this place. You deserve more. You deserve to go after your dreams, move to California, go to college, be with a girl that actually deserves you."

"I don't want another girl, Bela. I want you. I want you the way you are, with your virtues and also your flaws. That's what made me fall in love with you."

I'd usually let her take the lead, but this time I kissed her, hard and desperate. I didn't want to think about the idea of being away from her. Or being with somebody else. Even if we couldn't be outside most of the time. Even if I had to work on the pub for the rest of my life. Even if she needed to drink human blood. I didn't mind if my friends or my brother never accepted my relationship with her. In that moment, I had everything I ever wanted and I wouldn't waste it. I couldn't wish for anything else.

When I realized, I felt her hand going down my shirt, caressing my stomach.

"Do you still want to do this?" She asked.

"More than anything."

I knew Bela had probably done that a thousand times before, but I wondered if she was always so tender, so careful. She knew that was an important moment to me, I was letting down the last of my emotional barriers for her, so she acted cautiously on every move she made next.

First, she kissed me again for a very long time. I assumed she was giving me enough time to think if I was truly prepared. Then, her mouth placed a trail of kisses for all the way down to my neck.

We undressed each other, Bela lay on top of me and as she kissed me again, I couldn't stop thinking how good it was the feeling of having her naked body so close to mine. This time, I felt confident enough to explore parts of her I wasn't prepared the last time.

"What?" I asked when we parted and she gazed deeply into my eyes. "Am I doing it wrong?"

"I have something to confess, love," she opened a beautiful smile. "I'm a little nervous too."

"Come on. Mrs. Volkov was scolding me this morning, telling me I was only one of the many women she saw leaving your bedroom."

"Yes, but it's the first time I do it with a woman I'm in love with."

It was my turn to smile. With my hand on her chest, I sensed how quick her heart was beating too.

"Well," I whispered seductively in her ear, "she's very in love with you too. So you don't have to be nervous."

"Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?"

I nodded in agreement and pulled her face for another kiss. As Bela's hands traveled through my body, caressing my inner tights, I was shivering in anticipation. By the time she touched me where I wanted her the most, my first reaction was to shudder.

"How does that feel?" She wanted to know. "Do you like it, love?"

"Yes!" I threw my head back as her fingers continued to stroke my center. "Oh my god, yes. Please don't stop."

"I don't plan to. We're only getting started."

I was still nervous. I didn't know how I was supposed to act. Should I do something to please her too? Should I be silent? Because I was fighting so hard against the wild impulses inside of me, that wanted to moan and scream Bela's name as loud as I could. I buried my mouth on her collarbone trying to muffle a moan.

"This is okay," she stopped for a second, looking at me with those gorgeous eyes. "Just relax. You're being perfect."

I simply nodded in agreement. I just wanted her to continue what she was doing, but she had other plans in mind...

"What about now?" Bela inserted one finger inside me and started to move, slow and gentle. "Does it hurt?"

"N-No... this feels great..." I could barely form a coherent sentence anymore. In fact, I noticed I had stopped breathing. Yes, I could die right now and I'd die a happy woman. Was that what my father was trying to protect me from with his sick ritual? I couldn't be more happier to have broken his rules. I couldn't be more happier I waited and did exactly I was told to stay away from.

My heart was racing really fast. I felt all my muscles were starting to become tense. Bela inserted another finger inside me, moving a little bit faster and harder, but still making sure she wasn't causing me any pain.

And in that moment, I completely lost myself. My back arched and my whole body started to tremble under her body. Bela held me tightly. I relaxed too, wrapping my arms around her.

"Are you okay, love?"

"More than okay," I answered between pants. "To be honest, I think I've never felt so great before."

"Is there anything else you want me to do?"

"Yes, you can now show me how I can please you."

We switched positions and Bela guided my hand as I tried to follow the same path as she did. She also rocked her hips to meet my rhythm. I wasn't so confident as she was. I was afraid I could do anything that could hurt her. But she was a patient teacher and I was a quick learner. Soon, she was already trembling in my arms too and I knew I had done it right.

I thought we were done with the best part, but I was wrong. After pressing one final kiss on my lips, Bela rested her head on my chest and said words I'd never forget.

"I love you."

[call-signvalkyrie]

Ignite the Spark pt. 1

So I quit my shitty job today. Yay me! With the extra time I had today, I got a chance to finish the first chapter of a Poe Dameron series I’ve been working on. Let me know what you guys think!

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

Summary: After years of undercover work for the Resistance, the daughter of Luke Skywalker has returned. Arriving on Ajan Kloss to a warm greeting from General Leia Organa, the Reader is given a gift and has their first meeting with everyone’s favorite pilot.

Pairings: Poe Dameron x Skywalker!Reader

Tags: talks of the Force, a few flashbacks, Poe being embarrassed lol

Word Count: around 3k

When your transport landed on Ajan Kloss, you weren’t sure you would be cut out for this. You’d spend so much time on backwater planets, filtering information to the resistance and doing your best to go unnoticed. You were so used to not interacting with anyone that the thought of being around so many people on a bustling base was a bit scary. All feelings of reservation were swept away, however, when the door of the transport opened to reveal the face of an older woman. Her hair was different since the last time you had seen her. Her face was aged from the many years of fighting the good fight for the rebellion. Her eyes, however, had not changed a day. They gleamed and twinkled in the dying twilight. Her smile made them sparkle even brighter as she reached out toward you.

“Aunt Leia,” you stepped off the transport and into her open arms. “It’s been too long.”

“Yes, it has. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have kept you away.” She smiled lovingly, taking your face in both hands.  

“I brought the data you asked for. I’ve got it all here.” You said, pulling a flash drive from your jacket pocket.

“That’s wonderful, Stardust.” You beamed with pride at the mention of your childhood nickname. “Lt. Connix, will you please take this data to the command center. Start running a detail immediately.”  

“Yes, General.” Lt. Connix took the flash drive and was gone before you could blink.

“Beaux, see to it that Lt. Skywalker’s bags are placed in her quarters, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Beaux gave you a quick wave before stepping onto the transport and out of sight.

“Now, Y/N, I want to give you a quick tour before you settle in. I’m sure you’re exhausted but I want you to be as familiar as possible with everything on this base. This is your home now. No more field missions, I need you with me.” Leia smiled again, taking your arm and leading you toward the left wing of the base and toward the living quarters.  

Home. Leia was the only thing you had left. Wherever she was, that’s where your home would be.  

After showing you where your quarters would be located as well as the mess hall, med bay, and a quick tour of the Command Center, you were ready to get settled in for the night.  

“Well, Y/N, if you need anything tonight, my quarters are right down the hall. You should have a data pad on your desk all charged and ready to go. It’ll have your clearance codes as well as any information you’ll need to know while on base. I’ll need you with me in the morning to debrief that data. It should be downloaded and ready so make sure to give it a look over before the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You said, smiling softly at the older woman.

“Goodnight, Stardust.” Leia gave a quick wave before walking out the door.  

Turning on your heal, you took a quick second to familiarize yourself with your new home. Being the niece of the general had its perks. Your quarters were small, yes but they were cozy. A small bookshelf and dresser were along the wall to your left, a double bed and desk and chair to your right. The data pad Leia had mentioned was right where she said it would be, all charged and ready to go from the looks of it.  Straight ahead was your own private refresher. After unpacking your duffle of clothes, along with your rucksack containing a few personal mementos, you decided to take a quick shower before bed. You could wake up early and review that data for Leia. It wasn’t like you hadn’t spent the last 5 years gathering every piece of intel you could on the First Order.  

Grabbing a fresh pair of underwear, a grey tank and a pair of sleep shorts from your dresser, you stepped into the refresher. Ten minutes later you were scrubbed clean and feeling surprisingly relaxed. It was amazing what a proper shower could do. Opening the door and stepping into your room, you turned to hang your towel on the desk chair when you spotted something you hadn't noticed earlier. On the desk were two boxes accompanied by an envelope. Scrawled across the front in a familiar script was the word “Stardust”. Opening the envelope, you began to read:

Y/N,

For far too long I have kept you in the dark and for that I will always be in your debt. Please accept these as tokens of my sincerest apologies. I hope at least one of these will help light your way. I understand if you’re conflicted but I have hope that one day you will be able to continue your training. Your fathers only wish in life was to see you follow his footsteps. Maybe we can fix that now.  

All My Love,

Leia

Setting the letter to the side, you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. Picking up the smaller of the two boxes, you opened it to reveal a small jewelry box. Lifting the lid, you gasped allowed. Nestled on a small black pillow was a beautifully woven silver chain. Placed ever so delicately in the middle of the pillow was a pendant. Pulling the chain from the box, you let it dangle in front of you in the soft light.  

You never thought you would see this necklace again. Your father had given it to you when you left the Jedi temple to be with your aunt Leia all those years ago. When the temple fell and Kylo Ren rose to power, your necklace went missing in the night. That was almost 8 years ago now. Yet, here it was right in your hands like it was never gone. You ran the compass shaped pendant through your fingers, letting the wave of sadness and nostalgia run over you. On one side, a golden crescent moon surrounded by three silver stars embellished the surface. Turning it over, there was an engraving: Stardust.  

You gingerly pulled the chain around your neck and adjusted it to size. That’s why you had always loved this necklace.

“It will grow with you, Stardust.”  

Sniffling, you took a look at the other package. Thinking back to the note, you already knew what it was. How Leia had found it, you would never know but would be forever grateful. This box was longer, over a foot in length. The box was made of a soft wood that smelled faintly of burned embers. It had no exterior markings and no obvious way of exposing its contents. Slowly, you lowered the box to the floor. Taking a seat in front of it, closed your eyes. Reaching out with your mind, you felt it: The Force.

“The Force is all around you, Y/N. Reach out with your feelings and let it flow through you.”

“Okay, dad.”

“Ahem.”

“I mean: Yes, Master.”

The box gave no notice it had even opened. If some random onlooker happened to be watching, they would be none the wiser. You knew, however, the moment it happened. Lifting the lid, your breath caught in your throat. The inside of the box was lined with a soft, deep blue velvet pillow the color of the night sky. On top of the pillow, an emblem was stitched into the fabric. A shooting star wrapped in what looked like wings. Atop this pillow was a smooth cylindrical object, covered in beautiful ancient markings. It had a slightly curved handle for better grip for your smaller hands. You always favored nature and practicality over dominance and your build had reflected that.  

“You must gather your crystals quickly, younglings. The cave is only open for so long. We don’t want any of you getting stuck in here.” You could hear his soft chuckle even now.

Picking up the silver object, you ignited the switch. Your room began to buzz with the soft whir of noise from the object in your hand. Ethereal, green light radiated from the source. You disengaged the ignitor, taking the smooth metal in both hands. How could it have survived? You looked everywhere after the temple was burned and never found it. Had Leia had it all this time and was just waiting for the right time to return it? Who had taken your lightsaber?  

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of frantic beeping coming from the hallway. Quickly, you slid the blade back into the box. Tucking it away under your bunk, you scrambled to the door and hit the lock. The door opened with a soft shlick and you stepped into the hallway. Another round of agitated beeps could be heard coming down the hall followed by what sounded like combat boots. Coming around the corner was a small round droid, a BB Unit by the looks of him.  

“BeeBee-Ate, I’m sorry! Buddy, our room’s not even this way, where are you going?” a male voice called after the little droid.

“What do you mean you're telling Leia?! It’s the middle of the night, pal. She’s most likely asleep.”  

Leaning against the door to your quarters, you began to understand the little guy. He was angry because someone named Poe left him alone with the ship. AGAIN. And got captured and made him worry. AGAIN. You gave a slight chuckle as the little guy rolled by, angry beeps the whole way. Punching your code back into your door panel, you were just about to step back in when a voice called out to you. Stepping back into the hallway, you were greeted by a Resistance pilot. He was still wearing his bright orange flight suit. His thick, curly hair stuck up in odd directions from his helmet. He gave you a soft smile and waved.  

“I’m sorry for all the noise, it's been a weird day.” The pilot smiled at you apologetically. “I hope my friend didn’t wake you.”

“No, I was awake.” You smiled back, taking a step out of your room and into the hallway. “Just checking to make sure everything was alright. The General, however, won't be too happy about being disturbed.” You nodded toward the little droid, now rolling his body into your aunts' door at full force.  

“Gods, BB-Ate! It’s not that serious! I -” the pilots voice stopped in his throat as the shlick of the door BB-8 was throwing himself into slid open. The little droid went flying full force into the now open quarters of General Organa. You heard a loud clang followed by a series of confused beeps and whistles from the little droid.

“Dameron, you nerf herder! Get your droid out of my room right now or so help me not even the Force will be able to save you!” the General stepped out of her quarters and into the hallway, glairing toward the man to your right. You had to cover your face to hide the smile that was creeping onto it.  

“General, I am so sorry.” a deep blush began to creep up the man's neck and onto his face. “I tried to get him to calm down but he just wouldn’t! He insisted - “

“I don’t care, Dameron. Get him out of here NOW. You’re obviously alright so whatever it is can wait until morning.” Leia said, placing one hand on her hip. You hadn’t seen Leia this irritated since you were a child. You were glad that look was fixed on someone else for once.  

“Yes, ma’am.” The pilot said, lowering his eyes. “C’mon BB-8. It’s time for bed.” The little droid gave what you interpreted to be a light grumble but complied, rolling out to meet his master. Turning on his heal, the pilot gave you a light nod and started off in the direction he came from.  

“Y/N! Ben! Get in here.”

“I told you not to take her lightsaber!” You whispered to your cousin, jabbing him in the ribs.

“She’s my mom. I can take whatever I want from her.” Ben smirked at you and you rolled your eyes.

“Whatever, Bantha-breath! I’m gonna tell her you said that!” You skipped off toward your aunt's voice, Ben chasing close behind you.

“Y/N, you okay?” A hand touched your arm, bringing you back to reality.  

“Yeah, Aunt Leia, sorry. I think I’m just tired.” You yawned, covering your mouth lightly. “Hey, who was that guy?”  

“Oh, that’s Poe. Poe Dameron. He’s a pilot, leader of Black Squadron.” Leia said, exasperation in her voice.  

“Like, THE Poe Dameron? Wow.” You laughed lightly, shaking your head.  

“He’s a good guy, just has his head in his cockpit most of the time instead of down on solid ground.” Leia said, shaking her head with a smile.

“No, it’s not that. I just thought he’d be taller.” You both smiled, enjoying the joke between the two of you.  

“Well, between you and me, he really is the best pilot I’ve ever seen.” your aunt gave you a little wink before turning to go back into her own room.  

“Even better than...” but you stopped yourself, letting the thought trail on.  

“Almost. Maybe.” you could hear the smile in her answer as the door to her room shut behind her.  

[doubleleoenergy]

III; BLUE BAYOU SERIES

Oh that boy of mine, by my side. The silver moon and the evening tide.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: TFAWS!Sam Wilson x fem!Reader

Summary: Sam and y/n don’t want their first date to end.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY; oral (female receiving), passionate sex, a BIT fo dirty talk (we love to see it Sam)

Word Count: 3529

Author’s Notes: And we finally get a bit of smut! I am thinking of doing a few more parts to this series, flashing forward weeks and months to different aspects of their new relationship.

“Well then, I’ll lead the way.” Sam is still holding onto their hand, stepping onto the sidewalk and walking silently next to each other. It isn’t AWKWARD at all, the silence between them, it feels comfortable just to be next to each other. The night is quiet, a few cars passing here and there, an occasional jogger or couple walking past, but for the most part they were alone.

They walked a few blocks down from the restaurant and Sam tugged y/n to the other side of the street, stopping outside the small family-owned corner store. He turns his attention to y/n’s face, noticing the light splattering of freckles on her cheeks. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

She scrunches her nose, cocking her head to the side. “Chocolate chip cookie dough, DEFINITELY.” Sam slips his hand out of hers, opening the door of the store, soliciting a ring from the bell overhead. “Perfect, I’ll be right back.”

Once inside the small store he heads straight for the freezers against the wall, eyes scanning until he finds a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in the flavor of her choice, grabbing it along with two plastic spoons by the slurpee machine. He walks to the front, greeting the young man behind the counter with a smile and purchasing the ice cream.

Walking back outside, Sam holds the bag with the items up to show y/n, moving to grab her hand again INSTINCTIVELY. “Now that we’ve got dessert, I know a great spot to sit.” 

They continue to walk down the sidewalk, street lamps illuminating the walkway by the dock ahead. Sam used to come down here with his high school buddies after a night out downtown. They’d always stop at the same corner store he had to grab their late night MUNCHIES before sitting on the docks for hours, talking about anything and everything. He felt his most free on the docks by the water.

The dock CREAKS slightly under their feet as they walk, heading to the familiar wooden benches near the end. Sam motions for y/n to sit, moving beside her and opening the plastic bag, pulling out the pint and spoons and tucking the bag into his jacket pocket to keep it from blowing away. He opens the pint and sets the lid next him, holding out the spoons.

“You really know the way to my HEART.” Y/N takes one of the spoons from his hand, swirling her spoon into the container until she pulls up a spoonful of the creamy delight. She opens her mouth, letting the flavors melt onto her taste buds, smiling at the comforting flavor. Ben and Jerry’s had gotten her through a LOT of trauma and heartbreak in her life. The wind picks up once more, sending shivers down y/n’s spine, Sam taking notice and immediately peeling off his jacket.

“Here, take this.” Before she can protest he’s draping it over her shoulders, the size of his jacket making her look even more PETITE. “I usually run pretty hot, and I’m used to the nights here.”

She silently thanks him, watching him indulge in the ice cream as well. “Well, I guess I should know better since I lived in Colorado, but I don’t go out much at NIGHT.” Her eyes move back to the ice cream, twisting her spoon into the pint again. “You know, Sarah said she’s so happy to have you back in town, and I can tell the boys are too. You’re really good with them.”

Sam nods, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “Yeah, I’m happy too. It’s IMPORTANT that the boys have a man around. Sarah has been handling this all unbelievably since her husband passed, but I know there are things that the boys need to know that Sarah shouldn’t have to teach them. For instance, how to fix things around the house so Sarah doesn’t have to do EVERYTHING, and of course the whole ‘birds and the bees’ scenario.” That was one really awkward night for the three of them. All of it is a blessing though, he LOVES being back with his family, although he misses his mom and dad a lot more now that he’s home permanently. He hopes they’re proud of him and everything he and Sarah have accomplished, they were before but now things were DIFFERENT.

Speaking of accomplishments, not once has he mentioned the whole Captain America thing, and he figures now’s as good a time as any. He clears his throat, eyes looking up to meet y/n’s again. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you…” She laughs softly, reaching a hand out to touch his leg comfortingly.

“Sam, I KNOW you’re Captain America.”

His face contorts with multiple emotions, finally settling on confusion. “Wait, you do?”

Her hand squeezes his thigh, not taking her eyes off of him. “Of course, I mean you’re all over the news and everyone in town talks about you being here. Also, Sarah literally has a picture of you in the suit in her living room.” As if she HADN’T known, it was literally everything anyone was talking about the past few months, even back in Colorado. Now that she lives in the same town as him, her students mention it all the time in her class, talking about run-ins with Sam at the grocery store or visiting the family business just to meet him.

“And you’re not...weirded out?” She’s the only person he’s met since becoming Captain America that didn’t treat him like he was a superhero, like he was UNTOUCHABLE. She was here, sitting on a bench, treating him as Sam Wilson. “Why didn’t you mention that you knew I was Captain America sooner?”

“I can’t say I’ve had my fair share of dates with superheroes, but no, I’m not weirded out. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’ve been told I’m great at listening. And also at keeping secrets.” She had no reason to tell things that others confided in her in private, her father had always taught her the importance of others' secrets staying SECRET. “Why would I mention it? You’re not JUST Captain America, you’re much more than that. You’re Sam Wilson, and that’s the guy who asked me out yesterday, and the guy I’ve been talking to all night. He’s the guy I wanted to get to know. Not that I don’t want to know Captain America but that’s just not ALL of you.”

Sam grins from ear to ear, a deep chuckle escaping at her words. He liked that he could trust her, of course he wasn’t allowed to tell her CLASSIFIED information, but he could tell her some of his life, the parts he had only shared with Sarah up until now. And even then, some of the darker parts he didn’t want to burden his sister with. 

His eyes are hyperfocusing on her now, the light of one of the street lamps giving him an even closer look at her features. Her eyes, he notices, have flecks of GOLD within the irises that are more apparent now. Her perfume is wafting from her soft skin again, and he watches as she takes another bit of ice cream, plump lips parting and tongue swirling over the spoon. She looks INTOXICATING, like the personification of the first flowers in spring, or the feeling when your skin first soaks in the rays of sunshine on a summer day.

Before he can even think Sam’s hand moves out to cup her chin, tilting her head and leaning in, lips pressing against hers. Y/N is surprised, but doesn’t break the kiss, instead moving her hand to the back of his neck. She can TASTE the ice cream on his lips, and can feel how perfectly they mold against her own. They hold the kiss for a moment before y/n moves back, a wispy breath leaving her lips.

“Sorry if that was...well, uh, that was my first kiss in….well a LONG time.” Sam states, but y/n tries to reassure him by placing her hand back in his. “No, it was fine. That was my first kiss in a while too but...I liked it.”

She’s been so caught up that she hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten, her free hand running through her tousled curls. “It’s getting darker and this dress is not best for the cold.” She also realized how stupid it had been to not drive her car, but she wasn’t sure how late she’d be out and she only lived a few stop lights down from the restaurant. “My apartment is close, I actually walked to the restaurant since it was such a nice night, would you mind driving me back to my place?”

Sam nods, standing up to throw the ice cream and spoons in a nearby trash can, moving back to her to re-grip her hand. “Of course, let’s get back before the wind flowing off the water starts to drop in temperature again.”

Y/N’s heart is beating loudly in her chest when they pull up to the apartment complex. It really was only a five minute drive from the restaurant, double that on foot. They had made small talk along the walk back to his truck and the ride, learning little interests the other had, y/n sharing her favorite things to bake and Sam listing off a few of his favorite Marvin Gaye songs.

“Let me walk you up.” Sam insists, opening the door to the truck for her and helping her hop down. He really was different from any man she’d been out with before. Most of the time they just offered to call her an UBER rather than driving her anywhere.

Y/N and Sam walk up the two flights of stairs to her apartment door, and y/n finally finds the keys in her purse and opens the front door. “Do you want to come in?” Her voice is innocent, turning back around to face him.

“Uh-yeah, sure.” It’s not like he had anything else planned that night. He steps inside as y/n flicks on a few lights on the wall, taking in the look of her apartment. It’s small, a one bedroom with a balcony overlooking the parking lot below. She has a large navy blue couch with a coffee table in the living room, along with a TV on a stand across from it. Upon further inspection there is no kitchen table, instead three cream-colored stools sitting along an extended countertop. There’s a few house plants on a shelf above the kitchen sink, and everything is very NEATLY in its place.

“You keep it clean like this all the time?” He asks, watching as y/n moves to brew them each a cup of coffee in her Keurig. 

“Oh, I obsessively clean. I can’t stand it when things aren’t in their place.” She had ALSO gotten that from her father, but she doesn’t mention it aloud. After the cups of coffee are brewed, she puts an average amount of sugar and cream in before y/n hands Sam one of the mugs of coffee. She grabs her own mug and takes a sip, leaning against the counter.

“You know, I really had a great time. I know it’s probably not normal to say this but I feel like I’m just…” He trails off, not wanting to sound corny. Screw it. “I’m DRAWN to you, y/n. I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time.” He sets his mug down on the counter, staring at us as the liquid swirls around. 

Y/N chews softly on her bottom lip, fingers gripping the edge of her mug, taking another large gulp. She’s trying to figure out the right words to respond without looking like a total FOOL. The liquid from the coffee is warming her from the inside out, and she’s thankful to be out of the wind and having this discussion in the comforts of her apartment. A bit of a home-court advantage.

“No, that’s not weird. I agree, I mean...I LIKE you too, if that’s what you meant.” He’s finished about half of his coffee when she finally relays her feelings about him, a smile spreading on his lips. How did someone like her find HIM?

He looks at the clock on the stove, realizing it was already one in the morning. Had they really been out for that long? It didn’t FEEL like it. Sam clears his throat, moving to set his cup in the sink beside her. “I should probably go.” He’s about to grab his jacket that y/n had set on one of the stools but he stops and turns when he feels y/n’s hand grab the back of his arm.

“Sam…” She’s looking between his lips and his eyes before she leans up on her TIPPY toes to kiss him again. Sam doesn’t hesitate, wrapping one arm around her waist, letting his other hand move up so he can cup her face.

The kiss is more passionate this time than their first one on the dock, and she moves her hands to wrap around the back of his neck. Their bodies mold against each other, and she can FEEL the heat radiating from him.

They hold this position for a moment before she pulls away from the kiss, breathless, fingers rubbing the back of his neck. “Sam...stay.” 

He doesn’t answer, instead crashing his lips back against hers more fervently this time. His fingers move down the small of her back, caressing her ass, eliciting a moan from her lips. Not only has it been so long since he’d even KISSED a woman, but it’s been even longer since he’s done anything else like this. But it felt so good.

Sam doesn’t waste any time, the hands on her ass pulling her up off her feet as she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist. He’s so much larger than her, and she is probably clinging to him like a koala to a tree, but she honestly doesn’t CARE.

Her lips part to let his tongue inside, and he can now taste the rich coffee flavor on his taste buds. He moves them slowly down the hallway, breaking the kiss so he can find the door to her room without tripping and falling. As he pushes the door open y/n’s lips move from his cheek to just below his ear, peppering wet kisses down along his neck and OCCASIONALLY sucking at the supple skin. The action on his skin elicits a groan from his lips, dropping her carefully onto her bed before moving over top of her.

Sam places another rushed kiss to her lips, moving his lips to her neck and across her collarbone, his hands running up and down the sides of her silky dress.

“Sam please…” Her breathing is shaky, feeling her core becoming wet from his actions. She can feel his cock through his jeans that are pressed against her, and she moves her hand down to the outline, rubbing her hand along it. He feels THICK, and she wonders what he’ll look like with his clothes off.

Another moan falls from his mouth when she touches him, instinctively bucking his hips into hers. “Please what?” He teases, nibbling gently at the skin on her shoulder. He wants her so bad, but the dominant side of him is screaming to be set free after YEARS of being locked up.

She rubs her hand harder against him, fingers working at pulling his belt open. “Please, I need your touch, your lips. I need YOU.”

He’s happy to hear her response, moving his weight off of her so that he can pull at the straps of her slip dress, y/n rolling her body up to help him pull it completely down. She’s left in a nude strapless bra and a matching seamless thong, Sam taking in the sight below him. Her body is absolutely as BREATHTAKING as her face was under the street lights.

“You’re gorgeous.” Hands roam along her soft skin, moving behind her back to unhook her bra, pulling it off and tossing it aside to reveal two perky breasts beneath. He leans forward to take a pink nipple into his mouth, a slew of curse words leaving y/n’s mouth. It feels so GOOD.

He keeps his attention on her breasts for a few minutes before he lifts off of her, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the hardwood floor. Y/N sits up on her elbows, licking her lips as she takes in his extremely chiseled form.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Her hands roam along his chest, moving up to his muscular arms. He was DEFINITELY Captain America fit. Sam chuckles darkly, slinking his body down further, hands tugging off her panties. He can smell her wetness against the fabric, eyes filled with lust as he meets her gaze.

“I’ve GOT to taste you.” Eyes turn back to her pussy, noticing how clean kept it was. He moves forward, tongue gently lapping at her outer folds, soliciting a moan from her lips. Her thighs jerk and try to close around his head but he takes his hands and pushes her legs back down. “Don’t move, let me make you feel good.” He turns his attention back to her core, licking more passionately against her. He lets his tongue pass in and out of her pussy, holding her legs still so y/n cannot buck down for more. And she doesn’t NEED to, he’s already providing a good speed.

Y/n’s hands are staying busy by tugging the comforter beside her head, arching her back. Her moans are encouraging Sam to pick up speed, adding two fingers in gradually. He’s fucking her with his fingers, tongue licking at that perfect bundle of nerves and scratching every ITCH in her body.

“Sam I’m gonna…” She’s cut off by her orgasm ripping through her body, Sam holding her steady and fingers fucking her through it. She’s shaking by the time he pulls his fingers out, moving them up to her lips. “You’ve gotta taste yourself, that pussy is so sweet.”

She opens her mouth and sucks on his fingers before he pulls them out with a wet POP. “Sam, get those pants off, please. Want you inside me…now.” She’s honestly surprised herself by how much she wants him, but it just felt RIGHT. 

Sam wastes no time, moving up off the bed to kick off his shoes, socks, and jeans. His fingers move under the band of his grey boxers before he tugs them to the floor, standing at the edge of her bed completely naked.

He’s like Zeus, a God amongst a world of mortals. Her eyes trailed down to take in his cock now that it was free from its clothed prison, and she gasps. It’s definitely long but also THICK. Her pussy tightens at the thought of having him inside her.

Sam can see the way she looks a bit nervous at his size, moving over her once again and caressing her face with one hand, the other holding onto his cock. “Y/N it’s okay…gonna make you feel so good…you’re gonna make ME feel so good too…” His cock pressed against her folds, eyes meeting hers. “Relax, baby.”

The pet name makes her heart melt, she wanted to be his and only his. He moves slowly, cock aligning between her folds, opening her up and pushing in inch by inch until he bottoms out inside her, holding himself in place to let her adjust. Sam’s lips are on hers, kissing her through his motions before he pulls off her mouth.

“Sam, move please.” He does as she asks, moving in and out of her slowly at first before her moans are sparking a HUNGER inside of him, increasing his speed before he’s slamming into her over and over. 

Her pussy feels like what he assumes heaven would be like, her legs imitating the pearly gates that open up for him when he arrives. “Fuck, y/n, I need to pull out.” She pulls Sam in for a rough kiss, breathing heavily. “I’m on the pill, it’s fine, want you to cum in my pussy, want to be leaking you all day.”

Once she’s said that he can’t hold on, cutting her off with another kiss as he moans, hot spurts of cum filling up her pussy. Her walls tighten and she hits her second orgasm, her soft cries mixed against his lips on hers. 

Sam finally moves off of her once he’s not too sensitive, laying down on his back next to her, instinctively pulling her into his chest. They lie there in SILENCE, the only sounds in the room are their breathing.

“That was…” She trails off, fingers running absentmindedly up and down his chest. “Incredible.” He finishes, his own fingers moving to rub her back. His eyes close, letting the room fall silent again. “Does this mean there’ll be a second date?” 

She lets out a breathy laugh, closing her own eyes. “This means you’re mine and I’m yours, but we can definitely go on another date.”

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Spider's Bride Part 2

Pairing: spider!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: yandere, obsession, stalking, forced marriage, mentions of suicidal thoughts and breeding (but everything is not as dark as it seems).

Words: 2544.

Summary: Whoever your stepmother sold you to, he wasn’t as honorable as she claimed.

Part 1

_________________

"Bucky, do you have canines?" You asked him in quiet voice, lowering your head to his shoulder and holding your arms around his wide chest while the arachnid carried you on top of his huge spider-like body.

"I do." He answered calmly, heading back to the house.

"Could you kill with them?"

"I guess I could."

You pressed yourself to his back lazily, watching other arachnids and a few elderly dark elves passing by the street, your path lighted with many long intricate lampposts.

"Would you kill me with them?"

"No."

You hadn't seen how he bit down on his lower lip. He didn't like casting so many soothing spells, but you refused leaving your chamber before he sedated you almost to the point of leaving you unconscious. After two weeks you spent in the house, staying in your room most of the time, he needed to present you to the elders to prove he was treating your fairly. They weren't too happy to see you in such state, though you have admitted it was solely your wish to be under those spells. In the end, it wasn't uncommon for human females.

He hated the charms and how they affected you with all his heart. Most of the women he saw when he was a child were always heavily sedated, and not much changed since those times. However, it was better than seeing the unfortunate ones who had lost their mind from all the suffering.

"How do you feel?" He asked the same question over and over again every day.

"Good." You nuzzled against the back of his neck mindlessly. "Bucky, you have pretty hair."

Gulping down, he urged himself to continue walking, enjoying the way your hands were touching him through his leather clothes. He'd give anything to hear those words when the charms wore off.

He knew well you should never get addicted to the spells, succumbing to the calmness they were giving you. But a part of him wanted to listen to you talking so desperately... You had never been so relaxed around him before, even getting on his back without a protest.

"You know, the hair on your lower part is a bit itchy."

"I'm sorry, my love."

"Don't be. I like it, I think." He heard your soft giggling and suddenly blushed, his cheeks burning. It was the first time you laughed for him.

You were so precious, his dearest one, his beloved, the one he'd give his own life away for. Once one of his sisters said he'd go to Hell if you asked, and Bucky agreed to that. He would.

He still hoped you could grow to love him one day. Although the progress was slow, you weren't as hostile as before and didn't cry upon seeing him entering your chamber. Bucky tried bringing you jewelry and beautiful dresses, yet you refused his gifts. However, you seemed eager when he brought you books instead - you read slowly as your stepmother didn't care about educating you, but books brought you joy like no other present of his. You read everything from children's fairytales to pieces with recepies his sisters occasionally forgot inside the books they were giving him.

Maybe there was still hope for him that one day you could accept him, even if only in his human form. It would already be enough for him.

"Bucky, somebody's singing again." You said curiously and peaked out his shoulder, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. "Is it your sisters?"

"I can hear the voice of the oldest one." Bucky agreed, knowing they were coming closer to the nursary cave.

"Who is she singing for today?"

Your question made him stiff. Maybe you were sedated, but he didn't think you were ready to learn the truth or, Gods forbid, see everything with your own eyes.

"The unborn children." The arachnid frowned and kept going, hoping you would stop asking him the things you shouldn't know yet.

"Unborn? Is she pregnant, then?"

"... it's not that easy with our species, dear."

"Ah, yes. It had to do something with the eggs, right?" As he kept his mouth shut, you moved a little and put your hand on his cheek as his eyes flew to you. "Right?"

"Yes, sweetheart. The parents weave a cocoon where they put the embryo, and the child slowly develops inside before they are ready to break free and come out."

"Does it happen to all children or only the ones female arachnids bear?"

"To all of them. Actually, before my grandmother invented this way, the process was different for any mate of ou-"

He hurriedly cut himself off before he would make you frightened again. What was happening before his grandmother invented the cocoons was a nightmare, pure savagery, and he knew it better than anyone with his human mother forced to give birth to him by herself. If only his father didn't make her suffer the horrors of childbirth, she could be alive still. Maybe then Bucky wouldn't loathe himself so much.

"But why is your sister singing to the unborn child?

The arachnid snapped out of his thoughts and turned his head to you, gazing at you relaxed expression. Apparently, the charms were still active.

"The children can hear the songs even within their cocoons. It calms then, helps their development, my love."

"Can I see them?"

Bucky abruptly stopped in the middle of a street at your odd request and rubbed your arm resting at his waist involuntarily, enjoying the warmth of your body. He really, really loved when you were curious about his kind, but he didn't know if you could stomach what you asked him to show you. Even though the nursery was the most beautiful place Bucky had seen in his entire life, he knew well it wouldn't look the same to you. Maybe you would be horrified, disgusted, and his charm would fall easier, leaving you traumatized for life.

"Cast one more spell and take me there, please?"

"I don't thin-"

Before he had finished the sentence, he felt a quick peck on his cheek and almost choked on air, unable to believe what was happening. Did you just kiss him? Him, the one who was so revolting to you? Dear Lord, those spells of his were too poweful if they could make you do this.

But he'd lie if he said he wasn't ready to give you whatever he had for just one more little kiss.

"Just one, please?"

"Just one, and we'll leave immediately if you get scared, ok?"

"Yes, I promise."

Gods, you could persuade him to do anything with those pretty eyes of yours. Grunting, Bucky whispered a few words you didn't catch, and his hands stared glowing softly when he caressed your arm - in fact, one simple touch was enough, but he indulged himself a bit more. Your soft skin was so warm...

Listening to your loud sighing, Bucky watched your pupils dilating and ensured the spell was working. Your grasp on his shoulder became weaker, so he carried you to the nursery much slower, observing you if you were close to slip. You seemed so fragile to him now. Before, when he was secretly watching you working from afar, you seemed strong - you carried so much on your shoulders. He was horrified you were treated so badly by your own family, but it seemed you were much more shaken by him, the one who wanted nothing but to cherish and love you.

His goddamn spider body was so ugly you had to take a dozen of spells just to come closer to him.

The cave was much smaller than the one where the town was founded - Bucky would call it cozy since it was way warmer, but he didn't voice his thoughts, leaving it up to you to make your first empression. Apparently, you weren't scared still, gazing at a few arachnids inside the nursery - most of them were singing, but you spotted a few weaving an odd flexible fabric of silver threads. Strangely, the process wasn't revolting at all. You expected the spiders to make the threads from their saliva, but they had carried neet reels instead and did all the weaving with their apparently magical fingers.

"I thought they'd be using their mouth." You said quietly, and one of the women shook her head disapprovingly at your words.

"No, no, we don't do that in public." Bucky answered hurriedly, bowing his head to the woman. "Unless in battle, it is considered inappropriate in our society. Family members could make the threads together if they want, but each arachnid can do it purely by themselves, alone. It is a very private business, my love."

"I see. My sincere apologies, lady of the cave." You bowed your head in front of her, and female arachnid smiled warmly at you, not upset with your words anymore. She pointed to the left, and Bucky followed there, looking among the ones who were singing. They were standing closer to the cocoons, and now you had a perfect opportunity to see how their little ones developed.

Staring at breathtakingly beautiful silver eggs surrounded by the halo of soft light, Bucky prayed to see the cocoon with his own child somewhere in the future. It was scary to even think of that now, knowing how repulsed you felt when you heard him speaking of reproducing.

Maybe he wouldn't be able to have kids at all. If it kept you sane, he would agree to it regardless how badly he wanted to have a child with you.

"They look like angels' eggs." You suddenly said, holding your hand up as if you could touch the pure light.

"What?"

Bucky froze on the spot, unsure of what he just heard.

"Angels. Do you know who are they? They have huge white wings and they are always surrounded by light."

"Yes, I know." He whispered, trying to withhold himself from crying.

Would you tell the same when the charms would wear off? Would you hate him for bringing you here? Would you scream and shout and cry if he reminded you of the cocoons you called angels' eggs?

Before he had sunk into a sea of despair, however, one female moved away from the line of singing arachnids, and Bucky saw a shining face of his older sister. She was smiling at both of them widely, and you gaped at her openly, trying to stand up on his huge spider body and holding his shoulder to stabilize yourself.

"My beloved brother and his precious one." The woman said in a beautiful voice, throwing her hands to the sides as if she intended to give the two of you a hug. "I am overjoyed at seeing you here. Are you giving your betrothed a little tour?"

"I am." He quickly said, smiling uncomfortably. Bucky wasn't proud to keep you sedated and now felt ashamed. All his sisters married their betrothed willingly. "We... we came because Y/N wanted to see the nursery and listen to your singing."

By that time you had been watching his sister with curiousity, trembling on your unstable legs, and Bucky put his hands above yours resting on his shoulders. He wasn't afraid his sister would misinterpret your words or actions - she knew well what you had endured -  rather that she could unintentionally scare you with the way she looked, moved or talked. However, he was proven wrong rather quickly.

"You are pretty." You said, tilting your head to the side. "Much prettier than Bucky. It's like you're made of silver."

He could be offended by your words, but, in fact, he quite agreed to you - Arabella looked beautiful even by the dark elvish standards with her long silver hair covering her back, her body all shining like the webs arachnids were weaving. Even her lower part was more appealing than his since she didn't have much of hair there, and her eight legs looked like they were made from glowing marble. In a way, she looked more crab-like than spider-like.

All his sisters were like her. Bucky was the only one who reminded himself of a monstrous creature.

"Don't judge him too harshly, sweetheart." Arabella sent you a kind smile, knowing perfectly what her brother was thinking about. "Of us all he has the kindest of hearts."

"Maybe you're right."

Slowly sitting down because your legs couldn't support you anymore, you pressed yourself to his back and forced him to move his arm so you could look at the spider-woman in front of you. She didn't look scary despite those long legs of hers, but, well, nothing looked scary to you now. Bucky could push you off the cliff, and you'd fall without much of a sound coming from your mouth.

The woman in front of you looked young, yet her crystal-clear eyes had wisdom in them, the one that was gained with years. Oddly, she looked more human and inhuman to you at the same time. Her appearance was closer to the ones of your kind, but her eyes reminded you of high elves, immortal beings you were lucky to see once. Maybe she was right. If her sisters were like her, you thought Bucky might have the kindest of hearts - you suddenly felt he was more human-like than them.

"If you like my singing, I will come tomorrow to sing for you, dear child. Would you like that?"

"Arabella, I don't-"

"Yes. Your voice calms me down when I cry."

Your lips curled up in a faint smile as you watched her approaching the two of you carefully. Bucky felt an urge to hide you behind his broad back, though it was a silly - his sister would never hurt you intentionally.

"I'll come, sweetheart." Sending him a gentle look, Arabella reached out to lay a hand on your forehead, her skin softer, yet colder than her brother's. "Return home now, you are tired. Sleep soundly, precious one."

Bucky realized she casted a sleeping spell only when you had slumped lower to his spider body, closing your eyes. He shot the woman a furious look, and she pressed her long pretty finger to her mouth, forbidding him to speak when he was ready to snap at her.

"You are ruthless with your soothing spells, brother." Her whisper was barely audible. "They are too strong for her."

"Leaving her to lose her sanity is hardly better." He sounded quiet, but determined. "She asked for them."

"If you were in her shoes, wouldn't you asked, too?" The arachnid shook her head at him. "Do not be reckless, dear. Take her home, give her time, give her space. Do not let her succumb to your charms and do not wish for it yourself."

Bucky went silent, turning back to carefully take you in his arms to prevent you from falling. Resting your head against his chest, he looked at your with a hurt expression on his face. You would never let him come close to you unless you were sedated. What could he do? Arachnids mated for life. He would never love anyone again.

"Do not let it dishearten you, dear brother. She will get better. I feel it in my bones."

____________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @navegandoaciegas @chris-evans-indian-fanfic

[katsukikitten]

A/N look if you didnt even tear up. All I'm saying is I didnt do my job right.

Part 1 ××× Part 2 ×× Part 3

Bakugou sits at the long table in the dining room in his usual spot, Mei and Haru nod his way as others begin to file in. 

The children look a tad older than usual as they sit a bit straighter this year, Uncle Sozen seems to have aged over night as he sits to Bakugou's left. He offers a wide smile to which Bakugou returns.

"DADDY!! DADDY!" A shrill voice rings out, little feet slapping harshly against the hard wood as a little girl slams down into his lap. Ash blonde hair dutifully braided but coming loose from all of the horse play skillfully climbs onto his legs. 

She looks up at him with wide eyes that mirror your eye color. His heart melts as he smooths down some of her hair. 

"Where's your brother?" He asks softly before a young boy comes rushing in. Feet falling hard enough to shake the dishes at the table. Your hair and his burning ember eyes greet him with a shit eating grin. 

Neither could be older than six or seven. 

"Told you I'd find you!" He brings up a bright palm to slap his older sister only for his wrist to be grabbed by you.  Leveling him with a glare the child shrinks away. Trying to hide behind both his sister and father. Bakugou looks up at you, your fierce gaze, your glowing features and swollen belly. His heart melts, pooling in his stomach and threatening to dip lower still. He swallows thickly adding his own sharp voice to the mix. 

"Sit and behave." The children cling to Uncle Sozen or Aunt Mai. Climbing into their laps eager to be spoiled once more. Summer crickets echo into the dining hall before they are drowned out by both the thunder of the approaching summer storm and the roar of the dining table. 

Dinner goes on without a hitch. Happy conversation as Sobo takes it all in. She sits stick straight, her once silver hair long since turned moon white and adorned in her normal plain kimono. When dinner is over, everyone begins to clear the table, excited for tomorrow's birthday and celebration that is bound to take place. Bakugou goes to what has become his normal duty, standing by Sobo to help her up and back to her study. He knows she wants to see the moon flowers bloom. 

He is gentle with her now fragile stature, never able to forget how easily she wielded an old weapon on his first dinner at this estate. The thought makes him smile as they enter her study. He settles her onto her cushion, about to leave to finish clearing the table. But she doesn't let go so Bakugou sinks into the cushion beside her, the summer storm faded as quickly as it came and as the clouds clear  the closed tight buds slowly begin to unravel, mirrored moonlight nestled on delicate petals. Silence envelops the two as they stare at the beautiful metaphor that is the moon flower. Her grip tightens on his strong bicep.

"Thank you for humoring this old woman." Sobo breaks the silence causing scarlet eyes to slide to his elder. 

Except she no longer looks old, instead she looks young. As she did in the picture with All Might. Hair as dark as night and adorned in her crane kimono. Bakugou swallows thickly. 

"I'm glad you've made up your mind, mago."She smiles, squeezing tighter and somehow this feels more like a good bye than anything else. 

He doesn't like the feeling, he goes to open his mouth to ask what she means but lightning suddenly strikes outside. 

The thunder comes as the sound of the sliding door to your room. Bakugou lifts a palm glowing hot as an ember aimed at the figure who dared to enter in the early hours of the morning. 

Mei stands in the doorway disheveled as you slowly rise, you hold eye contact with Mei's watery eyes and just…know. 

You jump to your feet, throwing off the blanket as you rummage in your bag for any sort of clothing. Mismatched as you shove your body in the fabric as you head for the door. Sprinting down the hall as if called on a mission. Bakugou rises, noticing Mei's tear stained cheeks, questions are plastered all over his tired features. 

"Its...Sobo…" A hiccup leaves Mei's frame reminding Bakugou just how small and young she was, "She's...she's." 

"I'm glad you made up your mind, mago." 

It clicks as her voice echoes in his head from the dream, soles of his feet burning as he runs aimlessly through the estate until he finally finds where people are gathered. 

There was not a single dry eye as he huffs. 

"Where's…" He asks but Aunt Mai just points, clinging to Uncle Sozen who seems to be frozen in time. Bakugou slowly walks towards you as you sit with wide eyes. Clasping onto Sobo's cool hands. 

When he sinks down next to you is when he realizes that you're shaking. 

He fights his gut, to reach out for you, to pull him to you so you can cry to your heart's content but instead you look to great Oba. 

"I'll help sort her things. Please allow me a shower first." You say monotone, eyes glazed over and Bakugou isn't sure which would be worse. You unfeeling and cold or you crying until you were sick. 

Either way his heart was sure to split in two. Your eyes come back to Sobo. You lean in close, pressing a soft kiss to her fast cooling cheek. 

"I'm sorry we lied. Bakugou is barely my roommate Sobo." You whisper so lowly that even Katuski strains to hear you. 

You rise, trying to walk calmly out of the room. Telling yourself over and over that this was just a mission or worse yet just a nightmare and to allow yourself to feel an ounce of fear or grief would be your downfall. 

"Its all Uncle Shoji's fault! If he hadn't come and riled Sobo up or hadn't made that damned drug Sozen would have felt her vitals weaken." Haru yells, tears falling in fat droplets as he slides a forearm over his face.  You snap then, yelling as you reach for the first thing you can grab, a book that you hurl at your cousin as you scream. 

"SHE HAD AN ARRYTHMIA! WE CAN'T BLAME SHOJI FOR ALL OF OUR FAMILY'S FUCK UPS." 

The book hits Haku square in his face, a letter flutters from the yellowed pages before it slams onto the ground. 

All eyes watch the letter that's addressed in big bold letters. 

To my family. 

Eagerly you swoop for the letter, snatching onto the parchment and last tangible thing from your grandmother. You rise to your feet, eyes frantic as you look around the room. 

Bakugou knows that face, you're about to make a bad decision and before he can stop you you've set a harsh pace to follow. 

He rises and gives chase as does half of the younger generation. But none of them can keep up. 

No one but Bakugou, which you had expected. 

It would be more than easy enough to lose him in this house. 

Or maybe it wouldn't be so easy. With each turn he comes closer but you can't be caught yet. 

Whatever it is your grandmother has to say you know you have to read it first, but most importantly, alone. 

You want the chance to say goodbye and to grieve in private. 

You plan to lose him in the secret room in your grandmother's study rushing into it with just enough time to disappear. 

But suddenly you cannot, too overwhelmed by the sight of her favorite little room, decorated with all of her accomplishments but more importantly her family. Memories over lapping one another as you stand frozen. Bakugou bursts into the room, skin popping with heated explosions as he grabs for you. Grip gentle on your wrist. 

"We should go back." His voice is feather soft, as if he's scared you'll break and it makes you angry. 

It makes you sad. 

Because he's right, you will break. Now there was no one to look forward to seeing in your favorite season, no one to celebrate summer with. 

No one to lose horribly at Go to, no one to teach you the art of a deal and no one to explain the beauty in the world no matter how small and insignificant it seemed. 

Fat tears fall down your face as you cry like you never have before. Like you hadn't since you were a child. A small whine comes from your throat that has Bakugou's heart imploding, his brows furrowed as he reaches for your other wrist. Trying so hard to support you without making you feel weak. You push yourself into him, clutching at his shirt as his burning sugar and firework smell tingles your nose, summer incarnate.  He wraps his arms around you tightly, pushing you closer to him in an attempt to hold you together as best he can as you fall apart in his arms. 

"What are we gon..gonna do Katsuki?" You sob, shoving your face deeper into his chest, "H..How are we gon..gonna live without Sobo?" 

Bakugou's eyes sting from your defeat, staring out into the background as he thinks of anything he can say or do to help you, all he draws is a blank. He was the worst at shit like this! 

Movement catches his eye, a crane flies across the sky, his eyes fall to that damn plant noticing one final bloom persisting through the harsh morning sun.

"We aren't." He says, thinking of his dream, "She's always with us." 

His words bring you comfort, resolve forcing your back stick straight as you look him in the face. That odd magnetism between the two of you returns. Licking your lips you do the unthinkable, following your gut as you stand on your tippy toes to softly press your lips to his. 

"Thank you." A whisper, before stepping past him to face your family head on. 

The ash blonde stands in the study for a moment, reliving the feeling of your lips against his. Of the electricity that surged through his body harder than any shot Denki had ever taken at him before. 

The tips of his fingers brush over his lips, the bloom finally closing and he feels as if he sees a smile. 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

He returns just in time to see the family all gathered around, you having finally settled the bunch. Breaking the wax seal of the letter. Eyes rimmed red, the ink blurring beneath your gaze but you needed to be okay, you needed to be strong. Someone was meant to read the letter outloud and today that someone was you. 

“To my loving family, if you’ve found this letter then I know what you all are going through. But I do not want you to shed tears over this little old woman. I have lived a long and wonderful life. Blessed with each of my children, and their children’s children. I want you all to celebrate my life and more importantly celebrate our family. As this is all we have and should treasure above all else. Life is hard enough as it is on our own so we must not forget where we come from and who truly supports our love and our dreams.  Surely there is no pain worse than hunger and loneliness, so eat with each other often to ease your troubles. One day Shoji will come back into our lives and I may not be around when that happens but when he does please welcome him back with open arms as we all can lose our way from time to time.  Let him join you all at the dinner table and help him to remember what family, what our family, is all about. Make sure that he eats  as I am sure he will be hungry and I know he will be lonely. Help him ease his pains, help guide him back onto the right path in life. I end this letter to remind you all how much I care and love for each and every one of you. Good things will come as does the crane that flies over the bloomed lotus. 

With all of my love, forever and for always I give to you,

Sobo.” 

Silence settles over the large estate with nothing more than sniffles and sobs echoing down the hall. Bakugou places his hand on your back, surprisingly having a hard time keeping his own eyes from watering. 

In such a short time he had made a friend, he made family. 

His skin burns through your shirt as tears fall from your cheeks, like a movie star. Eyes clouded, nose a bit red but eyes set hard. 

"Sobo was right. Family is all we have and we can all become misguided. I…." You look to the blonde, squaring your shoulders, "I lied. Bakugou is not my fiance. He isn't even my boyfriend. I lied for Sobo, thinking that this would make her happy. But now…now we must make things right." 

You pull an outdated iPhone from your pocket. 

"I found it after Shoji left. Maybe we can contact him and when he comes back…" Your voice is hard and yet threatening to crack all at once. Eyes roaming over your large family. 

"We will eat." Great Oba says, "Ladies, if you would prepare the food for celebration.  I will retire to her study and call friends and family. We will lay Sobo to rest when the sun sleeps and the moon rises." 

Everyone nods, wiping tears and comforting their children as they move to their duty. You give Bakugou a sympathetic look before rushing off to call uncle Shoji. 

Bakugou suddenly finds himself a bit aimless once again before the sharp bite of a matriarch's voice rings out. 

"Bakugou, you will come with me." Great Oba turns while Katsuki follows without question. 

A certain item weight extra heavy in his pants pocket. 

×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&

"Fuck!" Shoji growls for the thousandth time, unable to pack his things and leave the near by hotel. Finally he rises forcing himself to gather various items that he has half a mind to leave. 

Fresh tears pricking his eyes as he wishes that old bag would just….would just fucking love him. He knows he's the black sheep, the unwanted baby but still. 

He still is trying to live up to the image Sobo had of him. His phone rings and he answers it with a snobbish attitude, crying long gone from his voice. 

"What do you know, Princess figured out my random passcode. I knew you were smart but why are you so damn persistent I'm not coming bac… " 

"Just shut the fuck up." You cut him off, sounding like Sobo with your harsh tone but you with your cussing. He runs his hands through his hair. 

"Sobi is gone Shoji. You need to come back. You need to say goodbye." 

"She...she what?! That old hag is immortal." 

"Watch your tongue." A startled chilll runs down his spine before you add your own flair to Sobo's best threat, "Or I will have to watch it for you by taking it for myself." 

"And before you start your bullshit pity party we want you here. We need you here. You're family. You need to eat with us. Laugh with us…" Your voice threatens to crack, "Cry with us Shoji. Find your way back home….please." 

Nothingness stretches on between the two of you before you sigh. Hoping he will prove you and everyone else wrong. That he is not a lost cause. 

"We lie her to rest tonight. Under the watch of the full moon near the lake." 

You hang up the phone, crushing it in your hand by accident as salt water streams down your face. 

×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&×&

The hot head has never found himself in so many uncomfortable and vulnerable spots during this trip than he has in his entire lifetime. 

He sits across from Great Oba-san who really only wanted him around to keep any eye on him. A war rages in himself, over the game of Go, over his dream and more so over these new blossoming feelings he has for you. 

Was this going to be worth a few bowls of spicy ramen? 

He fucking thought not. Sobo's voice echoes in his head as the small object burns a hole in his pocket. 

Better to return it now before they think him a thief. 

He withdrawals the stunning single set diamond ring that is surrounded by a ring of off tiny circular onyx. The diamond the moon suspended in the dark night of the onyx. 

A breathtaking piece truly, he sets it atop the paper work Great Oba is sorting. Her facial expression seems to change in slow motion as it adjusts to her rapidly changing emotions. 

"How did you…?" 

"I couldnt sleep and she called me in to hustle me over a game of Go. She said she knew that she...that we lied." Bakugou continues to tell her about the game and dream. All the while Oba stares with wide eyes, fixated on the ring waiting for him to finish. Her face sets hard, her eyes a mixture of emotion. 

"Bakugou, you know what you must do." As if it's a mission, a task. He thinks he must leave immediately. He goes to stand. 

"No. Sit." Controlled rage, pushing the ring back towards the young man, "You must propose now. No one has had Sobo's full blessing like this before." 

He stares at her hard, shocked even before he growls out. 

"We aren't even dating!" 

"In my time, in Sobo's time we didn't know our husbands name until we were wed." She continues to sort, filing things away avoiding taking the ring.  He sucks his teeth, dumbfounded. 

"We dont even like each other!" His forearms pop with his mouth and temper. Great Oba rolls her eyed. 

"That's debatable. I've never seen someone so quick to break down her walls before. Besides only a man would have stayed during this family crises. A boy would have left on the first night."  Bakugou mulls it over, the dream, was it just that or had he really pictured himself here. In this house. 

In this estate year after year as it ebbs and flows of faces with your family. 

Here with you? 

His heart races and slows all at once, his palms sweat as his feet tingle to move. He inhales deeply trying to collect his thoughts and calm his thoughts. 

"What if she says no?" His main worry, his only worry now being rejection. Still unsure if this is his future but it was true if given the opportunity to lay down his life to ensure yours he would do it. 

No hesitation, no doubt to keep you smiling. To ensure you become your own matriarch to protect this house and Sobo's spirit. 

"She wont say no. That ring isn't just any ring. That ring was passed down from our mother and from her mother." She swallows thickly, the thought of most her family having now passed pangs her heart but Oba must go on with big shoes to fill. 

Her elder sister a force of nature. 

Suddenly Bakugou stands, rage mixed in his scarlet eyes. 

"Then it ain't fucking right for me to have this! I can't have this!" 

"But. You. Will." Her tongue a knife. Ripping him to ribbons and all he can see is another version of you. Another strong willed woman, another force to be reckoned with. 

"Besides, I know she will not. Once she sees that ring she will know. Sobo was a great judge of character despite being quirkless. I heard my son Sozen tell the story but only partially. My sister's husband was a great man who sadly was inflicted with a disease, Alzheimer's hit him hard in his old age. And an in home nurse took advantage of that.  She looked much like s younger version it my sister, taking him to casinos and pretending to be his wife. She spent the family fortune, she thought a child would secure her wealth but she had tapped the well dry. When she realized that, she left Shoji on the front step, dirty and naked as if he were garbage." 

Bakugou slumps back onto the amethyst cushion from the weight of the story, still worry is written all along his face. Great Oba sighs. 

"At the end of the day, it is my niece's choice and if she says no at least you can say you tried. You honored Sobo's wish with an attempt and she'd be more than happy with that." Great Oba smiles and he can see a ghost of Sobo's wide, wild smile in her. 

He swallows thickly, gently grabbing the ring. He turns it over and over in his hands. 

This was crazy. 

This was stupid. 

This was crazy fucking stupid. 

But maybe his fate in love was meant to be crazy fucking stupid.

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Met Gala || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Peter go on a mission to capture Harry Osborn at one of the most heavily guarded places; the Met Gala. 

Word Count: 2k

Author’s note: I watched Ocean’s 8 and Hoco back to back and thus, this fic was born. 

Warning: Fighting?? Creepy dude??? IDK man a busted lip?

-----

When you were recruited for SHIELD, you knew you would be needed to fight alongside the avengers or workaround in the advanced lab in the Helicarier but never in a million years did you think Fury would send you and Peter Parker on a mission to infiltrate the Met Gala. Celebrities you stalked all day on twitter were now inches from you, wearing gorgeous ensembles from famous designers you could never pronounce and you were hardcore fangirling.

You tried to keep in your excitement as you looked across the room, seeing your favorite actors and influencers all mingling together without a care in the world. You were breathing the same air as Beyonce and Harry Styles, dear god, life felt great. Little did they know, this event had been hijacked by New York’s charming new villain, Harry Osbourn. Your mission with Peter was simple; find Harry and take him back to SHIELD’s headquarters for questioning without causing a mass distraction.

As you reached for a crystalized champagne glass off of one of the server’s silver platter, you hear a tsk sound off in your hidden earpiece inside your earrings.

“ Drinking on the job,” Peter clicked his tongue as he looked behind his shoulder, scouting you from across the ballroom,” your mother would be so disappointed.”

You smiled and took a small sip, taking in the room,” I’m blending in Parker. You should do the same.  As for my mom, I’m in the same room as Idris Elba so I think she’ll be more jealous than upset.”

You took a quick glance towards Peter, who was sitting at a vacant table. He wore a black suit with a thin gold and blush material lined thinly along either side of the opening of his suit jacket. The inside of the suit was a simple white button-up that had no buttons at the top, revealing a bit of his chest.

While it was the Met Gala and you were excited to see what kind of flashy SHIELD had managed to get, they went the opposite. They gave you a black, long sleeve gown with a delicate lace pattern towards the bottom of your dress.  Even though it was already out of your comfort zone from how fitting it was, the dress had a deep V cut on your chest that gave little to the imagination. While the dress was flattering, you knew you could’ve settled for your old prom dress when you heard that the gown you were wearing was two times the price of your apartment.

“ My little Peter Parker looks like he’s going to a Las Vegas communion,” you teased as you gave him a distant longing look,” but you look nice. You should wear suits more often, maybe then you could get a girlfriend.”

“ Ouch, Y/N,” Peter laughed, even though his heart stung a bit,” just because you look like that doesn’t mean you can go around breaking my heart.”

Even though Peter couldn’t see you from where you were, you still felt your cheeks to see if it was noticeable that you were blushing hard. Ever since sophomore year in high school, you had always hopelessly flirted with Peter but his attention was always Spiderman this and Spiderman that. It wasn’t until your senior year that you both would flirt with each other shamelessly yet that made things even harder for you. Now you weren’t sure if he was just joking or actually flirting with you and you could only blame yourself.

“ Keep your eyes open for Harry, not me,” You said as you finished your champagne glass and set it down at a table,” but I like the attention so you may continue flirting with me after we’re done with our mission.”

You heard Peter gasp loudly followed by silence which made your heart stop. 

“ Peter? Peter do you have eyes on Harry?”

“ No! I think Blake Lively is about to come up and talk to me, bye!”

You craned your neck and sure enough, you picked Peter out of the crowd and saw the goddess herself sitting next to him smiling. Lucky bastard. You kept your eyes glued to Peter as you collided with someone.

“ Woah watch yourself there,” You heard as you felt your anxiety raise through the roof. Please don’t let it be Pedro Pascal, please. I would die from embarrassment if I just bumped into the Mandalorian, Pedro Pascal, himself.

You apologized but when you hesitantly looked up, hoping it wasn’t a famous celebrity you had obsessed over, your heart dropped. Harry Osborn.  

“I’m sorry but do I know you?” Harry asked as you thought quickly of what to do,” I swear you look familiar.”

You weren’t prepared to see him so soon, your plan of attack was to find him not for him to find you. You snapped yourself out of it and focused on what you knew best, flirting.

“ No, you don’t. Trust me, you would remember a face like mine,” you said smoothly, feeling your confidence boost from the energy of the night and most likely the dress.

Harry smirked,” I like you already. I’m Harry, Harry Osborn.”

Oh you knew. You knew everything about him from the countless files that SHIELD had provided you. His estranged father was Norman Osborn and is the president of Oscorp, one of the leading multinational corporations in the US. Harry was around the same height as Peter, standing at 5' 10, weighing 170 pounds, and had dark blue eyes that held more than just a charming sparkle. You knew how he liked his coffee, why he hated Halloween, where he vacationed when he was in grade school, and when he lost his virginity. Knowing how much intel SHIELD had on Harry was not only scary for him, but for you since who knows about dirt Fury had one you aswell.

“ Michelle Jones,” you said on the spot, not wanting him to know your real name. He reached for you hand to shake but instead, placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

You smiled politely even though you mentally rolled your eyes. You just needed to get him somewhere private so you could take him out with the tranquilizer that Peter had in his pocket.

“ So Harry, what brings you to the Met? You must be pretty influential to get an invite,” you said as you started walking away from your spot, knowing that there was an exit behind the staircase and that Harry would follow you.

“ I would call myself an entrepreneur,  I dabble in some tech companies here and there. Just changing the world one robot at a time,” Harry shrugged as he followed next to you, taking the bait,” I bet you’re probably into something along the lines of modeling.”

You couldn’t help yourself but to let out a lousy laugh as he held a set of double doors open for you, leaving an empty hallway,” That’s cute but no,  I’m one of the leading programmers at Stark Industries. But sure, I guess I’m just a pretty face too.”

“ Brains, beauty, and an attitude? Well today’s my lucky day then,” he flirted as he placed his hand on your lower back, leaning in close to your ear,” let’s get out of here yeah?”

You almost showed your visibly disgusted expression on your face but you hide it well underneath a sweet smile,“ I admire your boldness and while I am very flattered, I have a boyfriend. I think he would actually love to meet you, let me just go find him.”

“ Y/N, there you are,” Peter’s voice piped behind you as you watched his face fall for a second and then recover,” who’s your friend?”

Your smile faltered,“ R-Right, this is Harry Osborn, Harry, this is my boyfriend...Ned.”

Peter shook Harry’s hand as Peter tried to hide a grin from the fake name,” Nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry nodded and looked between you two as Peter placed his arm around your hip, bringing you closer,” Well Ned, you’re a lucky man. She’s very smart and might I say very beautiful.”

Peter clenched his jaw as Harry looked you up and down longingly as if he could see straight through your gown. You felt Peter’s grip on your waist tighten but he knew that he had to stay calm so he didn’t compromise the mission.

“ Yes, Y/N is the whole package,” Peter said a bit more confidently as he gave you a small kiss on the cheek,” aren’t you baby?”

Before you could open your mouth, Harry interrupted and took a step forward,” That’s funny, she told me her name was Michelle.”

Peter looked back at your face and while you were now panicking on the inside, you only nodded in response,” Michelle Y/N Jones. Only my close friends call me Y/N.”

“ Really?  You know, now that I’m really thinking about it,” Harry looked between you two and pointed at Peter,” you look like a...Peter Parker. And you, Look like a Y/N L/N. Which is funny because I know two people who work for SHIELD who are allegedly after me. Funny huh?”

Your breath hitched and without thinking, Peter lunged at Harry and the two wrestled to the floor.  You watched as the two struggled on top of one another before Harry got the upper hand, giving him a few good punches before he started to choke him.

You looked at the cart next to you and grabbed a bottle of Champagne before slamming it over Harry’s head. In an instant, Harry slumped over on top of Peter who breathed a sigh of relief.

“ D-Did I kill him?” You asked as you dropped whatever was still intact of the bottle.

Peter shook his head, taking in your appearance. While you didn’t have any physical marks on you, your hair that was neatly tucked into a bun was now loose and all over the place.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Peter asked as he moved your hair out of your face, his lip was definitely busted,”Y/N I am so sorry about blowing your cover and I’m sorry that you-”

You leaned over towards Peter and planted a light kiss to his cheek, which made him instantly turn red. You didn’t know what came over you but the damage was done, now you just had to get out of here.

“ Less talking and more lifting,” you said softly as you both looked down at Harry who was very much unconscious,” The car is waiting downstairs for us so I’ll grab his legs and you grab his arms?”

“ I can carry him myself,” Peter said and you knew he could because of his ‘super strength’ but you shook your head and insisted over a hundred times that you were a strong, capable woman.

Peter took one last longing look at you since his face couldn’t get any redder and nodded as the two of you both lifted Harry down the private staircase. The two of you said nothing, only sharing an occasional groan as you used most of your strength.

“ So what, are we dating now?” Peter asked as he accidentally bumped Henry’s head against the railing.

You huffed and stepped carefully, not wanting to trip over your dress,” I know I drank like three glasses of champagne but I would definitely remember if I asked you out, Parker.”

“ Well you introduced me to  Harry as your boyfriend.”

You stopped moving and placed Harry down on the stairs, your muscles that you hardly ever worked on were already aching. You placed your hands on your hips and shook your head,” Okay well, I technically said you were Ned so that means Ned is my boyfriend.”

You swallowed and looked up at Peter,” But if this is your attempt at trying to ask me out then yes, I will go out with you...only if you carry Harry the rest of the way.”

Peter hid his huge grin and only shrugged plainly, even though he wanted to jump out of excitement,” Fine by me.”

You watched as Peter lifted Harry with ease as if he weighed absolutely nothing.

“Show off,” you said as Peter smirked, knowing that he could get used to this. 

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, arialerendeair!

For @arialerendeair, I hope you like it; I tried to put as many of your favorite things!

Read On AO3

*****

Whose Eyes See All and Still Gazes in Earnest

The day Alec gets his first few gray hairs, Magnus sighs happily.

“Finally,” he grins, “I’ve always thought you’d look good a silver fox.”

Alec rolls his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips as Magnus crawls onto his lap. “Didn’t know you had a thing for old men,” he quips.

“Three gray hairs do not make an old man, Alexander,” Magnus chuckles as he noses into Alec’s neck, “Take it from someone who’s actually an old man.”

Alec looks at Magnus, his gaze pointed. “You say that as if you didn’t go ballistic at the sight of one gray hair on your head.”

Magnus remembers when the memory gave him merciless pain. Nowadays, he lets himself chuckle at the thought. “Was admittedly not my best self that night.”

Alec’s palms press against Magnus’ side, comforting. “Understandably,” he murmurs, before asking, “Can you promise me one thing?”

Alec’s tone is suddenly serious as he looks imploringly into Magnus’ eyes. Magnus sits back onto Alec’s thighs, concerned. “Of course, darling. Anything.”

Alec grasps Magnus’ shoulders, forlorn. “If it comes down to it,” he draws in a staggering breath, “Magic my bald spot away.”

Magnus blinks, watching as Alec loses his cool and finally erupts into a side-splitting laugh. Alec throws his head back until it butts against the back of the couch, a palm pressed against the spot where his heart rests. The lines around his eyes crease beautifully, now a little bit more pronounced than before.

“You’re a little shit,” Magnus complains, and Alec takes Magnus’ face within his hands and presses a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Don’t let me end up looking like my dad,” he wheezes, “God, please don’t.”

Magnus ends up laughing too, kissing the lines around Alec’s eyes.

“Fine,” Magnus says, “Now fuck me before the kids get home. Or do you need help with your back too?”

A smirk grows on Alec’s mouth, the same mouth that swallows Magnus’ yell as Alec flips both of them onto the couch.

They have an hour before a portal from the academy materializes inside their living room.

*****

Magnus sighs, his brow scrunched in annoyance. He takes a big breath and yells up the flight of stairs, “Max Michael Lightwood-Bane, Raphael Santiago Lightwood-Bane!”

Magnus waits, fingers impatiently drumming against the wooden railing, as a muffled mess of a response echoes from behind closed doors. He hears one door being thrown open.

“Dad, I’m still trying to figure out this suit,” Rafe yells, “How are there three pieces?!”

Magnus calls out, “Max, help your brother!”

One room down, Magnus hears his other son snort.

“If he’s twenty-three years old and still doesn’t know how a suit works, that’s on him,” Max sneers, which earns him an irate suck my dick, asshole from his older brother. A loud scuffling ensues, and even without seeing it, Magnus knows they’re trying to punch at each other’s private parts.

Magnus sighs exasperatedly. These boys are in their early twenties, and they’re trying to ball-tap each other into submission. Magnus wonders if all this tomfoolery would have been circumvented by having girls instead.

“By Lucifer’s light, if you both don’t get down from there, I will lose it!” Magnus nearly bellows, and the threat successfully brings his two sons thundering down the stairs.

“We’re here,” Max pants, hands held out in placation, “Don’t get mad.”

“A little too late for that,” Magnus huffs in front of a mirror as he smoothens the creases on his jacket, staring down his reflection with a frown.

“We’re sorry, dad,” Max nearly pouts as he lays his head against Magnus’ shoulder, “We were just messing around. It’s those childhood bedrooms, it brings us back, you know?”

Rafe presses his palms over Magnus’ shoulders. “I know you’re stressed,” he says, “It’s dad’s fiftieth, after all.”

Magnus sighs as he reaches back to ruffle both Max and Rafe’s hair. He pats the back of Max’s hand.

“I just want it to be perfect,” Magnus admits.

“It will be,” Rafe presses, “We planned this thing down to those little things of food that goes on trays.”

Max rolls his eyes – it’s called hors d'oeuvres stupid – looking like the spitting image of a younger Alec as he does. He definitely got his sass from his other father, Magnus affectionately thinks.

“Dad will love it,” Max assures, “I promise.”

Magnus smiles at his two boys, perfect in their formal clothes. Max has hidden away his warlock’s mark, and Rafe’s runes peek slightly from underneath his sleeves. Magnus remembers when they were just little children, running around the living room with their small feet padding against the wooden floor. Now, Magnus has to look up at them.

Magnus remembers mournfully telling Alec about being the shortest person in the family, who only chuckles in response as he plants a kiss on Magnus’ cheek. Magnus realizes he misses his husband terribly already.

“We gotta move,” Rafe says as he scrolls through his phone, “Uncle Jace says he’s taking dad to the New York Institute soon.”

“Let me,” Max says, “I’ve been practicing.”

“You better not singe my hair,” Rafe warns.

Max retorts, “It’ll be a great improvement.”

“Boys,” Magnus says before they delve into yet another scuffle. It effectively silences them both.

Max goes through the motions of creating a portal. A golden, circular rift erupts in the middle of the living room, the air around it distorting the fabric of reality. With a careful step, Rafe speedily enters. Magnus follows with Max quick on his tail, and before they know it, the darkness winks away into the grand hall of the New York Institute.

*****

“Happy birthday, Consul Lightwood,” Alicante’s weapon’s master greets him as she passes by the open door of his office.

Alec peers over his reading glasses, smiling. “Thanks, Margo. Just Alec, remember?”

Margo turns a soft pink, chuckling. “Ah, yes. I always forget. I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Grab some cake on your way out,” Alec says, motioning towards the open box on the coffee table, “The students from the Academy sent it over.”

Margo’s brows rise in interest as she cautiously crosses the room and takes a peek into the box. Alec knows she has a sweet tooth.

“The students sent it?” she asks, “They must like you a lot. Most trainees are scared of their Consuls.”

“I do guest lectures on Nephilim-Down World Relations when I have the time,” Alec says as he scribbles something down on the document before him. He adds with a smile, “I give them archery pointers too.”

Margo ahhs, nodding with understanding. She picks up a paper plate and eyes the cake with interest.

“Take as much as you want,” Alec smirks to himself, “My husband’s on a warpath against processed sugar and will have a coronary if he sees me take all of this home.”

“Diabetes?” Margo asks with humor, as to which Alec laughs.

“Pre,” he points out.

“How is Magnus, by the way?” Margo asks.

The ease of Magnus’ name coming out of her mouth is a testament to his personability. Everybody likes Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Alicante. That and the fact that he has extended his services free of charge to Margo when he heard about her wish to transition. Alec and Magnus welcome Margo into their home every month for what Magnus calls ‘rebalancing appointments’.

“He’s alright,” Alec answers, “Meeting the whole family for dinner tonight. Rafe and Max portalled in this morning.”

Margo notes through a forkful of icing, “Must be something big.”

Alec chuckles, flipping to the next page of the document. “I have a feeling it might be bigger than what he lets on.”

“Well, good luck,” Margo grins as she slips out the door, “Hope you have a good birthday, Alec. And thanks for the cake.”

“Thanks and you’re welcome,” Alec says before reminding her, “Tomorrow, general assembly.”

“See you then,” Margo says before disappearing into the hallway.

Alec sighs, leaning back onto his chair that creaks under the shift of his weight. He takes his phone and opens the many birthday greetings that have trickled into his message box the past few hours, taking note to reply to all of them at the end of the day. He pulls up his conversation with Magnus and sees a reply from his last text.

Remember, 8 PM tonight. Love you :)

Alec can’t help but smile. He shoots a quick reply that consists of an I love you too that makes his heart flutter in his chest even to this day. He figures he should at least get to a bathroom and see if he needs to make himself more presentable after a twelve-hour workday.

Alec rises from his chair and maneuvers through a moderately busy hallway. He returns all the birthday greetings with a polite expression of gratitude until he slips into the private bathroom reserved only for him. The door closes with a click, and with that, he takes in his reflection in the mirror. He takes off his reading glasses and tucks them into the pocket of his jacket.

“Happy fiftieth birthday, old man,” he says under his breath.

Alec takes stock of himself. He still stands tall even after fifty years of being alive. Despite the deep-seated aches in his muscles, his body can still withstand an interdimensional battle or two. His hair is more gray than black now, and every day, he discovers new lines on his face that weren’t there before. He doesn’t need to smile for his eye lines to show; it’s the most pronounced its ever been.

I like them, Magnus would always say with fondness, I used to have to wait until you smiled to see these lines. Now, you look like you’re happy all the time.

For a long time, Magnus’ immortality had long been the crack on the floor Alec chose to cover up instead of addressing. It was easy – so painfully easy – to forget the years of existence Magnus has in his back pocket when the only villainous things on the horizon were hell spawns and the madmen. Alec tended to forget that Magnus will be immortalized like this; smooth skin, shining eyes, for the rest of his life as Alec aged around him. But with Valentine gone and Edom in ruins, the battles Alec fought for the first few years of their marriage were the ones he was the most terrified of confronting.

Now, Alec believes he has grappled with the worst of it all. The fights he and Magnus used to have were agonizing; an exchange of caustic words that sometimes, despite their best efforts, were meant to maim. Hurting someone as steadfast as Alec Lightwood is a highly specialized skill, one only a few people truly possess. After all, it is the people who you love most who hurt you best.

Nowadays, a hard-fought acceptance is sheathed where helplessness used to be. At almost half-a-century old, Alec fights the fatalistic monster of his mortality differently.

He touches first. His fingers, aching at the joints, find Magnus’ sides like they always do. Magnus knowingly turns away from his work – potions, spells, politics – without a second thought, spinning easily on his heels, before gently culling Alec into his arms. Alec sinks into the crook of Magnus’ neck, breathing the scent of sage and castor oil deep into his lungs, a memory to keep.

There you are, Magnus would say, his mouth against Alec’s neck.

And like clockwork, Alec would say, there you are.

It doesn’t alleviate the ache, but it helps.

“Chop chop, old man,” Jace’s unmistakable voice calls, “We’re supposed to be meeting the family for your birthday dinner!”

The knock on the door wrenches Alec away from his thoughts, which is admittedly a welcome intrusion. With a thorough scrub of his hands under running water, Alec rolls his eyes. “I’m only two years older than you,” he calls back.

Jace teases from behind the door, “Still the first to hit fifty though. How does it feel to be decrepit?”

After drying his hands with a paper towel and a quick combing of his fingers through his hair, Alec emerges from the bathroom.

“I don’t know, how does it feel to have a bald spot?” Alec wonders with a smirk.

“Fucking rude,” Jace laughs as they both make their way through the hall, “Just because you have Magnus giving you magical hair plugs.”

“I’m married to a guy who will never age out of his hotness,” Alec says, “A full head of hair is non-negotiable. Also, this is all mine.”

“Bullshit,” Jace retorts, “You’re too old to lie about your looks, Alec.”

“I’m not lying,” Alec smirks, “Ask Magnus.”

“Sure, let me just ask the least biased guy in the world,” Jace scoffs before saying defensively, “Clary still finds me hot, I’ll have you know.”

Alec winces in disgust. “Did you really need to have me know?”

This earns Alec a kick on the shin, one that causes him to stumble. He snickers as he easily catches himself. They step out the ornate, arching door that opens into the courtyard where one of Alicante’s warlock mission specialists awaits.

“Anyway,” Jace says, his tone suddenly somber, “How are you feeling? This is a lot. With Magnus’ immortality and all.”

Alec doesn’t look at Jace as they cross the courtyard. Age has brought more than aching muscles and gray hair to their relationship. It has also gifted them with an openness that their younger selves were too stubborn to afford. Sometimes, Alec wonders what kinds of pain they would’ve been able to spare each other if they had learned to talk a lot sooner.

“I’m fine,” Alec says, instead, looking down momentarily at his hands. He sees the slight sag of skin there, as well as the softening callouses brought about by years of consul work.

“Be honest,” Jace says, and Alec feels his lips upturn into a small smile.

“I am,” Alec says gently, “I’ve thought about this. Tortured myself with it even, back when it all seemed too big to grasp.”

“And?” Jace prods.

“We’re happy,” Alec says, “That’s all that matters.”

“That simple, huh?” Jace says with wonder in his voice.

Alec shrugs. “We had to make it simple or else we’d lose our minds.”

“I miss being young,” Jace sighs as he follows suit, “Don’t you miss it?”

“I do miss waking up with my back not aching,” Alec admits.

They both settle to a stop. Alec nods politely at the warlock and a portal erupts before them, its edges tugging at the fabric of this dimension. Before stepping in, Jace places a sympathetic hand on Alec’s shoulder.

“There’s a stretch I do to loosen my back muscles,” Jace says, “It’s called sex. You’ve probably forgotten what that’s like.”

Jace looks immensely proud of himself.

“No,” Alec hums, “I got a pretty good reminder this morning.”

Jace’s deep laugh carries into the portal as they both step in. The last thing they hear from Alicante is the choking noise that comes out of the young warlock that closes the portal behind them.

Alec makes it a point to apologize to him the moment he gets back to Idris.

*****

Oh, darling, Magnus murmurs, fingers spreading oil over the swollen knuckles of Alec’s hands.

Winter always does this to Alec’s bones. The chill seeps in deeply. All those years spent gripping seraph blades and drawing bows have worn down the cartilage in Alec’s joints. The arthritis gets exceptionally bad first thing in the morning.

Alec watches as Magnus kneads the stiffness away, the pads of his thumb circling the meeting points of his brittle bones. There's magic in the oil that no angelic rune or mundane remedy could match. Magnus wakes up early in the morning to brew it, just so he can ease Alec’s body into the day. Every stiff spot, every stubborn knot – Magnus knows them all by heart now.

Sorry, Alec whispers.

Magnus wonders, whatever for?

I don’t know, Alec admits.

Magnus digs his thumbs across the palm of Alec’s hand, releasing the tension that grips the muscles and tendons.

I’m happiest like this, Magnus says simply, nothing more.

By the time Magnus finishes, he presses a kiss onto the back of Alec’s hand. Magnus rises from the bed, muttering something about portalling to Rome for a cappuccino. He waits for Alec to ease himself off the bed and onto his feet. He takes Alec’s hand as they pad out of the bedroom.

From then on, Alec tries his hardest not to apologize anymore.

*****

A chorus of happy birthday erupts the moment Alec sets foot onto the Grand Hall of the New York Institute.

Alec’s suspicion of the event, surprisingly, couldn’t dampen the grin that spreads over his face. Jace laughs beside him, palming his shoulder merrily. Izzy is the first to get to him with a tight hug that makes his bones ache. Unlike Alec and Jace, Izzy’s hair remains sleek-black and tied up in a ponytail. She is as young as the day she chose immortality.

“Happy birthday, Alec,” she says before looking up at him with a teasing grin, “You old fart.”

“Shut up,” Alec says fondly. He presses a kiss on her head because it’s hard not to when she looks so young. “Thank you. Where’s Simon?”

Izzy laughs. “Bathroom.”

“Typical,” Jace smirks.

“Alec!” Clary exclaims, taking Izzy’s place in his arms, “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Clary,” Alec smiles, “And how long were you in on this?”

“Too long,” Clary sighs, “I was in charge of the guest list.”

Alec looks around, surprised at the volume of friends and family within the spacious hall.

“Don’t worry,” Clary whispers knowingly, “I didn’t invite the Pearlhearts.”

Alec squeezes Clary’s shoulder in gratitude. “Good.”

Alec finally makes his way through the crowd. He smiles at his guests, shaking the hands of those he recognizes and embracing those who he hasn’t seen in a very long time. Maia, who is with Izzy and Simon, gives Alec a kiss on the cheek when he gets close enough. She apologizes for not being able to stay for long; alpha business, she says. Aline and Helen, who now oversees the entirety of the European Institutes as Idris delegates to Europe, have portalled in from Switzerland for the occasion. Lydia waves at Alec from where she and Catarina are chatting. Alec hasn’t seen them both in so long. Catarina spent years with Nursing Without Borders in typhoon-ravaged parts of South East Asia, while Lydia, who elected to leave Shadowhunter politics entirely, is now an educator in Shadowhunter Academies all over the world.

It’s an overwhelming sight to see, but in a good way.

Inevitably, Alec’s gaze is caught by the soft tangle flowers that spread over the ceiling. Yellow blooms dangle over their heads, surrounded by lush foliage of leaves and dotted with twinkling lights. It speaks of Magnus’ meticulous design.

Alec walks along the sprawling, meticulously set table, his steps calm but quick. Everything thrums of Magnus’ intricate handiwork, from the table settings to the sprigs of rosemary and sage pinned onto the folded napkin. Like a treasure at the end of a rainbow, he finds his family at the table’s end. They wait for him patiently.

I love them, Alec thinks, just because.

“Small dinner?” Alec laughs as he corrals his two boys into his arms, “I raised liars!”

“It’s all dad’s idea! We did it under duress,” Max grins with a kiss to Alec’s cheek, “Happy birthday, dad.”

“Happy birthday, dad,” Rafe greets with a smile, his arm winding around Alec’s back.

“Thank you,” Alec murmurs, his palms brushing against his sons’ shoulders. They both slip out of his embrace as if in anticipation. They stand by Alec’s side, watching affectionately as Alec finally finds his husband’s gaze.

“Well?” Alec asks mirthfully. Magnus, looking as beautiful as ever, saunters towards Alec with a teasing smile on his lips. Alec’s hand rests onto Magnus’ hip as he asks, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“It’s your birthday, darling,” Magus grins, “I should be asking you that.”

Kiss him, someone from the back howls – no doubt Jace – and if there’s anything Jace can do with the utmost skill, it’s riling people up. Magnus and Alec’s spectators hoot and clap as if it’s the reception to their wedding and not a birthday. It’s Max and Rafe’s defeated sighs that make Alec want to sweep Magnus off his feet and into his arms for maximum carnage.

Alec rolls his eyes instead, visibly fighting a smile. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Magnus raises a brow. “So you won’t kiss your husband of more than twenty years?”

“Now, now, I didn’t say that,” Alec hums as he guides Magnus into his arms and grinning into a chaste kiss that they waste no time sharing. Magnus laughs as the crowd around them swells with applause, and finally, he wraps Alec into a comfortable embrace.

“Happy birthday, Alexander,” Magnus says.

Alec kisses the shoulder of Magnus’ jacket. “Thank you, Magnus,” he murmurs, “I love you.”

Magnus kisses his I love you too onto Alec’s cheek as he peels himself out of Alec’s arms.

“Dinner first, dancing later!” Magnus calls out, and with a graceful flick of the wrist, the table is magicked with fancy food from end to end.

As their guests happily settle into their seats, Alec whispers, “Dancing?”

“Don’t make excuses because I won’t take them,” Magnus says with a tone of finality.

Alec laughs. He’s learned a lot in the past twenty or so years.

“Wasn’t gonna,” Alec whispers.

Alec takes a flute of champagne from one of the servers and takes a sip. From the head of the table, he sees every person who has mattered to him in the entirety of his life.

“Darling,” Magnus says, tugging at his hand.

Alec smiles. “Coming.”

*****

Magnus laughs as he is swept off his feet and into Alec’s arms. He locks his legs around Alec’s torso, his ankles hooking against each other as Alec kisses a trail down his neck. Magnus is pressed against the wall of their foyer, gasping as Alec’s teeth sink softly into his skin.

It has been three minutes since Alec and Magnus closed the door behind their youngest who had just moved out.

Magnus grins as he lazily rolls his hips against Alec’s. “If I knew an empty nest turned you on this much,” he teases, “I would’ve kicked Max out a long time ago.”

“Liar,” Alec laughs, fumbling with the clasp of Magnus’ intricate vintage belt, “You would’ve kept at least one of them here five more years if you had it your way.”

“I’m a softie, Alexander,” Magnus whines. His head butts back onto the wall as Alec outlines Magnus’ cock through his underwear. “Fuck.. Let me down, darling..”

Alec lets Magnus dismount, and with one snap of Magnus’ fingers, he is naked under Alec’s touch. Alec sighs blissfully as he takes Magnus’ lips back against his, tongue licking into Magnus’ mouth, fingernails scratching lines over smooth skin. Magnus doesn’t magic away Alec’s clothes; he has always found satisfaction in peeling every layer with his own hands. It’s a pleasure he indulges in no matter how strung tight they both are.

Alec kneels, ignoring the ache it brings as his knees kiss the wooden floor. Instead, he loses himself in pressing his mouth and lapping his tongue over every inch of skin he meets on his way down. Magnus’ body, untouched by time, undulates under Alec’s hands. Alec pins Magnus’ hips against the wall, a silent command that brings a haze of pleasure over Magnus’ eyes. Alec springs Magnus’ cock from his underwear, lips gently dragging over the sensitive nerve endings at the head.

“Alexander,” Magnus nearly pleads, his fingers threading through Alec’s salt-and-pepper hair.

“Patience,” Alec murmurs, to which Magnus huffs no. Alec chuckles, barely kissing the crown of Magnus’ cock in admonishment.

“If you don’t fuck me now –” Magnus’ threat crumbles on the tip of his tongue as Alec sinks down onto his cock with no preamble. His words escape him in a full-body shudder.

“Alexander, fuck,” Magnus gasps, watching as Alec languidly drags the warmth of his mouth back onto the head of Magnus’ cock before engulfing it again down to the hilt. Magnus clips a leg over Alec’s shoulder, drawing him even closer.

The fixture above their heads casts a brightness over their fucking like a spotlight onto a painting. Magnus’ moans hang in the air as Alec sucks him off with a skill that came to fruition after years of repetition. Every crest Magnus hits with every brush of Alec’s lips and every stroke of Alec’s tongue is its own masterpiece to behold. Just as Magnus knows every arthritic swell on Alec’s bones, Alec knows all the ways Magnus’ body likes to be praised. Alec kisses Magnus’ shaft and gently presses a thumb against Magnus’ hole. By the time Alec has palmed Magnus’ tightened sac, Magnus is already fucking into his mouth uncontrollably.

“Yes, darling, just like that,” Magnus whispers, urgently rutting into the wet heat of Alec’s mouth, “Look at you.. Just as beautiful as the day I first saw you..”

Surprising wetness lines Alec’s eyes, growing heavily at the corners.

Magnus’ breath hitches, his muscles clenching and unclenching as his orgasm builds with turbulence that makes the rhythm of his fucking falter. “I could find you in a crowded room, Alexander,” he says, “I could find you even if you were a dot in the universe.”

Alec palms his own cock as he blinks away tears that cling onto his lashes. He could feel the pads of Magnus’ fingers pressed against his scalp as if his nerves have taken hold of the sensation and refuse to let go.

“I’m gonna come,” Magnus gasps. Alec nods, his other hand gripping the firm muscle of Magnus’ ass.

Magnus hits his crest with Alec’s name on his tongue. He curls over Alec with Alec’s head cradled within his arms, a near recreation of the golden embrace of a Gustav Klimt. Magnus breathes deeply, pressing his lips against Alec’s hair as Alec releases Magnus’ spent cock. Alec swallows the spunk that sits on his tongue, and it tastes like the Magnus he knows and loves.

Magnus tips Alec’s chin to meet his gaze. He asks softly, “Have I made you cry?”

Alec sniffs, joking, “What’s new?” He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand.

“I didn’t mean to,” Magnus murmurs, “I love you.”

Alec kisses Magnus; deeply, longingly. He rises to his feet. “I know,” he says when he pulls away, “Of course I know.”

“Let’s go to the bed,” Magnus says cheekily, “Your turn.”

Alec shakes his head, pressing his palm against Magnus’ jaw. “I didn’t take my pill,” he murmurs, “I think that’s it for me tonight. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Magnus leans into Alec’s touch, “No apologies, remember?”

Magnus walks backward towards their bedroom, pulling Alec by the hand. Alec lets himself be led into the bedroom and out of his remaining clothes.

“Besides,” Magnus winks, “You know I love a challenge.”

Alec rolls his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling if he wanted to.

*****

“Dad can’t be hot,” Max protests, “He’s dad.”

Magnus laughs, limbs all loose, his head tossed back. Alec snorts as he takes the martini glass from Magnus’ hand before the contents find themselves all over Magnus’ trousers. The family sits in a loose circle at the end of the table; Jace, Clary, Simon, and Izzy had all pulled their chairs closer fifteen minutes ago. The rest of their guests have elected to fill the dancefloor.

“Your father wasn’t always the silver fox that he is now,” Magnus says, “You were too young to remember. Rafe does though, right?”

Rafe nods. “Dad’s right,” he says, hands up in the air in defeat, “Dad was pretty good looking.”

Alec raises a brow at his eldest. “Excuse me? Was?”

“Gross Rafe,” Max exclaims, “Take it back! I don’t want that idea in my brain!”

“Look, I’m not one to compliment the guy,” Jace says, “But Alec was a total looker. Not as much as I was, but a close second.”

Clary giggles into her drink, mumbling under her breath. It sounded something along the lines of pretty boy, to which Jace gives her a snickering shh. Izzy, however, has already caught it with her ridiculously acute hearing.

“Oh my god,” Izzy says, “Pretty boy.”

Magnus laughs again, eyes scrunched close as he leans his head against the bulk of Alec’s shoulder. Alec grins into Magnus’ martini as he takes a sip.

“What’s pretty boy?” Rafe asks.

Izzy bounces on her seat with excitement.

“Easy,” Simon laughs, but Izzy still delves into the story with the same high-level gusto.

“The first time your dads met, we were in the middle of some kind of mission.”

“Unsanctioned, by the way,” Alec points out, which causes the circle to boo him mercilessly. He snickers, taking another sip from Magnus’ drink.

“There was so much flirting,” Izzy groans, fingers pressed into her temples, “An insane amount.”

“Ugh, what’s new?” Max asks, which earns him a pinch in the side from Magnus.

“Kids, this is how your dad,” Izzy looks pointedly at Magnus and then at Alec, “Reeled in your dad.”

Everybody else watches in anticipation, grinning from ear to ear while Magnus and Alec curl into each other comfortably.

“We needed to summon a memory demon that night. So your dad goes,” Izzy then says in her best impersonation of Magnus, “Pretty boy, get your team ready.”

Magnus looks impressed.

Izzy continues. “And your Uncle Jace, because he thinks the entire world wants to sleep with him, goes I know what to do, like an idiot.”

Clary giggles even louder, hiding her eyes behind her hand. Jace, pink in the face at the memory, cringes. He receives a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Simon.

“But then your dad rolls his eyes, holds out his hand, and says, I’m not talking you,” Izzy continues, her own arm barricading Simon by the chest, who affectionately squeezes her wrist. Grinning, she gracefully points a finger towards Alec’s direction, the perfect imitation of Magnus’ gesture.

“I’m talking to you.”

The circle howls, bursting into applause as if they just sealed yet another rift from yet another circle of hell. Magnus collapses against Alec, completely bereft of air as laughter consumes him from head to toe. Alec snickers, hand smoothing the fabric of Magnus’ jacket.

“I still hate that I wasn’t there for that,” Simon sighs.

“God, dad’s got game,” Max says, appalled, “By the damn angel.”

“It’s only good if it actually worked,” Rafe corrects, turning to Izzy, “Aunt Iz, what happened next?”

Izzy melts, pressing her hands to her heart. “Oh, Rafe. Your dad had the biggest, softest smile. I hadn’t seen him smile like that, ever.”

She turns to Magnus and Alec, eyes glassy. “It’s the smile of someone who finally felt seen.”

The corner of Alec’s mouth quirks upwards. Magnus burrows deeper into the crook of Alec’s neck, a reminiscent smile curling the edges of his lips. Magnus touches his temple with two fingers, and with a flash of magic, he plucks a memory from his mind.

He presents it to Alec.

“You looked beautiful, love,” Magnus says, threading his fingers against Alec’s. “So beautiful.”

Alec smudges something invisible on the surface of the photograph. He sees his younger self look up at him as if to ask, why are you so happy?

Just you wait, Alec thinks, you haven’t seen nothing yet.

Rafe and Max take the photo, looking at it with absolute wonder. Izzy’s hand finds her trembling mouth, and Clary holds Izzy’s hand soothingly. Magnus presses a kiss onto Alec’s lips.

“Love you,” Magnus says.

Fondly, Alec answers, “Love you too.”

*****

Alec, with his head thrown back in mid-laugh, is watching Magnus spin Izzy on the dancefloor when someone offers him a well-manicured hand.

“Care to dance, Consul Lightwood?”

Alec abruptly looks up, mildly surprised, until he realizes who he’s talking to. He rolls his eyes, ones that dance with mirth at the sight of an old friend.

Alec smirks. “Told you not to call me that, Professor Branwell.”

“Touché,” Lydia laughs. She motions her outstretched hand towards Alec again. “Well? Are you going to keep a lady waiting?”

“You don’t get to dip me, Branwell,” Alec jokes as he rises to his feet.

Lydia snorts. “Don’t worry, Lightwood,” she says, “I know you’re too old to bend your spine more than forty-five degrees.”

“Speaking from experience, I see,” Alec quips, which rewards him a teasing elbow in the side.

Alec moves them deeper into the dancefloor in a little a maneuver he learned from many nights in small, dimly-lit Cuban salsa clubs with Magnus and Izzy. Lydia is impressed as she steps into Alec’s arms with easy grace. With Alec’s hand on Lydia’s waist and hers on his shoulder, they sway to the music’s languid tempo.

“I heard you can add ‘professor’ to your long list of achievements,” Lydia teases, “Alicante’s Shadowhunter trainees just can’t seem to stop gushing over you.”

Alec schools the grin on his mouth. “Are they, now?”

“Oh, please,” Lydia accuses with a laugh, “You so like it!”

Alec chuckles, “It’s just a couple of guest lectures.” He leans in, whispering, “Admittedly, it is a bit of an ego boost.”

“Oh, it’s absolute confidence fuel,” Lydia agrees. She smiles up at Alec, looking at him like she can’t believe how much time has passed since their last meeting.

“How are you?” she asks, and coming from her, it’s a loaded question.

Alec and Lydia know each other in such a distinct, irreplicable manner, one that stems from their commonalities as people and their shared experiences. It’s a special understanding that even Magnus can’t duplicate, and that understanding steadily grew into friendship. Alec and Magnus were even guests at Lydia’s wedding to her recently late husband.

“I’m okay, Lyds. You?” Alec asks gently, “It’s been way too long.”

Lydia presses her lips together in a small, sad smile. “It has been,” she says, “I needed some time to be alone for a while. Far away.”

Alec’s hand squeezes comfortingly against Lydia’s. “Did you find some peace?”

“Found some in the English countryside,” Lydia chuckles, “Farm animals are oddly therapeutic.”

“That’s where you’ve been?” Alec asks in disbelief, “By the angel, I was asking them to check as far as Jaipur!”

Lydia laughs fully now. “You didn’t have to keep tabs on me, you loon.”

“Of course I had to,” Alec mumbles, “How can I not?”

Lydia places a hand to her heart, grinning. “Well, I’m touched. To think that this friendship started from our aborted wedding – who would’ve thought?”

The memory makes Alec cringe. “Oh, god,” he begs, “Please don’t remind me.”

Lydia giggles, “What, that you left me at the altar to make out with the love of your life?”

Alec groans. “Enough.”

“Not quite the right tone,” Lydia teases, “Less whiney, more commanding. Like you’re about to stick it to your parents.”

“You’re impossible,” Alec complains, and Lydia throws her head back in laughter. Magnus catches Alec’s eyes from across the dancefloor, exquisitely amused, and Alec rolls his eyes in fond resignation.

Lydia settles down to a grin. “Do you ever wonder where we would all be if Magnus didn’t storm into that chapel that night?”

The mere notion makes Alec think. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“By the angel, Alec,” Lydia says in disbelief, “Would you have actually married me?”

Alec raises a brow at her. “Would you?”

Lydia presses her lips together. “I don’t know. It all made sense in our heads back then. It seemed like a plausible idea.” She shakes her head. “That’s terrifying. To know that even the most rational thing could still be wrong.”

Alec smiles, his gaze mildly cautious. “Is that why you left politics for education?”

Lydia angles her head in thought. “That, and more.”

Alec doesn’t know what these other reasons are. Knowing Lydia, if she hasn’t told him yet, she never will.

His expertise of Lydia as a person came to him late. It took three years into his and Magnus’ marriage for her to be reintegrated back into their lives. The day Lydia handed in her resignation from her Council position to pursue a career in education was the day she became a steady fixture in his life. Alec regrets letting an exorbitant amount of time pass before they became friends.

“Was there something I could’ve done that would’ve made you stay?” Alec asks.

Lydia gazes at Alec as if she knows exactly what he means to ask. Did I not do enough as Consul? As a friend?

“Oh, Alec,” she says softly, “I would’ve left either way. Despite all the great work you've done and still do.”

Alec exhales. “It’s hard to feel that way nowadays,” he mutters, “Not with the Pearlhearts and their constituents blocking my every movement.”

“Screw the Pearlhearts,” Lydia says bluntly, and Alec laughs. “Do you even remember the things you’ve done the past fifteen years as Consul?”

Alec doesn’t. Everything has been a blur.

“Then let me remind you that you were handed a Shadow World that was burning when you took the office,” Lydia says, “Iterations of The Circle persisting everywhere you look, mutinies from the Europen vampire clans, power plays from the new Seelie Queen. You put out all these fires within three years of your leadership because unlike every other Consul that came before you, you were the first to have the Downworld’s trust. Trust that you built not as an afterthought, but as the cornerstone of your consulship. Your cabinet was used as the blueprint for fostering transparency between Institutes and the Downworld all over the world.”

“I can’t take credit for that,” Alec says, “I was only one piece on that intricate chessboard.”

“And the changes you instituted after?” Lydia asks, “You restructured the entire government system to focus on service, not control. You reformed the council to integrate Downworld representatives, and most importantly, you dismantled The Gard and its ancient doctrines that center on maximum brutality. ”

Alec shakes his head. “I had a lot of help, Lyds.”

“Still,” Lydia insists, “Someone had to start. Someone actually had to care enough to ask for help in the first place.”

Alec has forgotten how good of a speaker Lydia is. He would mourn the loss of such a great political comrade if he isn't so busy celebrating the achievement of having such an amazing educator within the walls of Shadowhunter Academies all over the world.

Lydia is somber when she speaks again. “The Clave will never outlive the evils of its past. But this work, from the big battles to the small, from the demons we slay to the signatures on report documents.. it’s change. Small, tedious, continuous change.” Lydia presses a warm hand against Alec’s cheek, just like she did at the altar when she gave him her blessing to go. “The one thing I do regret about leaving Clave politics is not being by your side as you changed it for the better.”

Alec smiles into Lydia’s palm. “Thank you, Lyds.”

“Anytime,” Lydia says, “I met Henry because of you, did you know?”

Alec raises a brow, curious. “Me?”

“By opening Idris to the Down World,” she says, a reminiscent smile on her lips, “He was on his way to applying to be a werewolf mission specialist when I bumped into him on my way back from handing in my resignation. Whatever amount of time we had with each other – our walks through Brocelind, our dates by Lake Lynn, our wedding in Alicante.. we owe it to you.”

“I’m glad that I helped,” Alec says.

Lydia looks up at Alec, her head shaking in wonder. “Where did you get the will to do all that, Alec?” she asks, “Who were you changing the whole world for?”

From afar, Alec hears an unmistakable laugh, one he knows the sound of as it echoes from across the room or rumbling sleepily against the shell of his ear.

Alec smiles.

*****

“Blue, no flying! Mijito, don’t you run away with your brother!”

Alec laughs as he watches Magnus run across the grass in pursuit of their two boys. Max, in his bat form, flaps away with his older brother giggling behind him in a chase that would have ended a long time ago if Magnus simply magicked on a pair of sneakers.

I don’t do active-wear, Alexander, Magnus had scoffed with an offended look on his face, Not in public.

So, Alec sits back on the picnic blanket, legs kicked out. He contentedly digests his afternoon snack under the same tree that he sat under as a child when he wants a moment to himself. The green hills that overlook the entirety of Alicante sprawl before him, the view only made better by his family running across it.

The memories that accompany this spot weren’t always happy.

He hated himself under this tree. He asked all the divinities in the universe if who he is – how he is – is wrong. He climbed onto the branches, clinging onto it for hours; he punished his muscles and tendons for the missed shots and longing thoughts. He remembers the many cliff-edges he’s had to talk himself off of because no one else would.

He remembers wondering for how long he could do this for.

From afar, Magnus throws his hands in the air in surrender. Max flaps circles around his head in jest while Rafe jogs circles around Magnus’ feet.

Magnus, with a great, heavy sigh, snaps his fingers. Sparkly runners replace his fancy dress shoes, and Alec finally tips over in unabashed laughter. Magnus notices this, and in an act of pure vengeance, sics their children onto Alec. Alec realizes the velocity of their approach too late.

Alec groans, clutching his stomach as Rafe tumbles into him, all sharp elbows. Max flaps his wings across Alec’s forehead, displacing his hair all over.

“I deserved that,” Alec breathes out as Magnus topples onto the spot beside him.

Magnus smirks. “Yes, you do.” He collapses onto the blanket, exhausted. “Your turn, darling. I’m going to nap.”

Alec laughs. “Fine.” He turns to their children. “Who wants to do cartwheels?”

Max plops onto Alec’s lap with a shrill meee, accompanied by Rafe’s monstrous shout. Alec scoops both in his arms and runs, leaving shrieks of happiness in their wake. Magnus’ laugh carries beautifully from where he is sprawled under Alec’s tree.

Another sad tree memory dispels in Alec’s mind.

*****

Alec opens presents.

Jace and Clary gift Alec with a quiver of special arrows, a set of ten crafted by the Iron Sisters themselves. Vessels within the arrowheads were made to hold Magnus’ magic within its core. It is common knowledge that every single weapon in the Consul’s personal arsenal is imbued with electric blues and golden yellows. Like urban legend, it is whispered among throngs of young Shadowhunters that seeing the Lightwood-Banes in battle is like watching a roiling thunderstorm – it’s a kind of devastation from which you cannot look away.

Izzy and Simon’s gift is a rare tome they tracked down in a small European town called Arnis. It dates back to the years of the first community Shadowhunters that took root in New York, and how it ended up in rural Germany, nobody truly knows. Alec leafs through some pages and already found references to their early ancestors. My, my, Adette, Magnus murmurs, his chin propped against Alec’s shoulder. Alec hums in agreement; Adette Lightwood’s a looker.

The remaining presents sit on a hill on Alec’s left, and he is left to apologize to his guests. He promises to open them all at home, joking that the New York Institute probably needs their space back. He is presented with one last gift to open, one that he doesn’t hesitate to take in his hands.

“Here, dad,” Rafe says, handing Alec a small envelope.

Max offers a disclaimer. “This is last minute,” he says, “We were gonna give you something dumb.”

Alec hooks a finger into the envelope and rips it open. Within it, he pulls out two photographs. Alec looks at both of them with wonder.

One is slightly hazy. It bears the image of a man looking down at the camera, and even with the blurriness of it, Alec could see the smile spreads across his face. The other photograph, clearer than the first, unmistakably bears Alec’s likeness. It looks like a picture taken from behind a wooden cart of some kind as if the photographer was peeking from a hiding spot. Alec is squinting under the brightness of the sun, donned in battle-wear with an arrow drawn. He stands side-by-side with Lily Chen, the current head of the New York Vampire Clan.

Alec looks up in realization. “This is Buenos Aires. And this..”

Max shrugs. “Mine’s a bit faint, but I was a baby. Now you have all three of ours.”

Rafe smiles, reminiscing. “It’s our first memories of you, Dad.”

Magnus looks at Max. “When did you learn how to do this, Blue?”

“What, like it’s hard?” Max grins, “Figured it out from when you did it earlier.”

“You okay, dad?” Rafe asks.

Alec brushes his fingers over his nose, sniffing. He blinks furiously down at his hands, ones that hold memories of himself through the eyes of his family. They feel heavier than paper, weighted with love and gratitude built over time. He feels Rafe’s hand on his back and Max’s chin on his shoulder.

“You changed our lives, Dad,” Max murmurs, “Thank you for that.”

Alec gingerly rises to his feet, pulling his sons into his arms. He reaches out for Magnus’ hand, gripping it tightly within his. Magnus thumbs the tears from Alec’s eyes. His touch lingers on the lines at its corners.

The photographs don’t leave Alec’s hands the entire night.

*****

“Don’t, Alexander,” Magnus commands through teary eyes and gritted teeth, “Don’t you dare.”

Alec stumbles, taken aback. He watches as Magnus strides away from him, his hands curled into fists. Alec follows suit with long loping steps across their living room.

“Magnus,” Alec calls out, confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Magnus turns to Alec, his gaze accusing. “You don’t want immortality. You never have, Alexander, so why are you asking for it now?”

“Despite popular belief, Magnus,” Alec grits out, his tone acidic, “People’s minds do change.”

Magnus scoffs. “And what a lovely coincidence that it changed right after Izzy chose to turn.”

Alec blinks in disbelief. “Why does it matter, why are you picking a fight?!” he asks, voice rising, “Do you think I’m lying? Is this what this is?”

Magnus spins on his heels, angrily busying himself with reshelving the open tomes that lay on his desk. “Typical Nephilim,” he mutters, “No insight, whatsoever.”

“Hey, if you’re itching for an argument, at least have the decency to at least look at me,” Alec demands, “Or at least tell me what the fuck I did wrong by telling you I want to spend an eternity with you!”

“You get to pick, Alexander!” Magnus shouts.

“How can you fault me for having a choice?” Alec yells, “You don’t want me forever, is that it? You’ll move on the moment I hit the ground?”

Pain twists Magnus’ face as he whispers hollowly, “How can you even say that?”

Alec shakes his head, lost. His hands falter to his sides. “Then what is it?” he asks, his words coming out of him in twisted sobs, “Why won’t you want me for more years than I can give?”

Magnus falls silent. He shakes his head too as he leans onto the bookshelf. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. Alec’s gaze is pleading when Magnus finally meets it.

“Two years ago, we got married,” Magnus mutters, “Do you know what I dream of since then?”

Alec shakes his head despite knowing the question doesn’t need an answer.

“I dream of us in five hundred years,” Magnus says. He wraps his arms around himself.

“We’re in Budapest, watching a particularly beautiful sunrise,” he murmurs, “Or in Paris, recreating our honeymoon. Or in Indonesia, by the beach, with everyone ogling you. I get to glare them all away.”

Alec closes his eyes momentarily. He almost smiles.

Magnus sounds broken when he speaks again. “But then I remember what that means. It means you’ve watched your family die. Everybody that is precious to you, you’ve outlived. You’ve buried your mother, your father, your siblings, your future children. You’re now burdened with sorrow your shoulders weren’t built to carry.”

Alec steadily cuts away the distance between him and Magnus. Rivulets roll down Magnus’ cheek as he stubbornly wipes them away.

Magnus sniffs and then exhales. “I know you love me very much, Alexander, but you don’t love me blindly,” he says, head shaking, “And I don’t want you to. I’ve made peace with my impending solitude a long time ago.”

“Magnus,” Alec reaches for him, but Magnus shakes his head again, openly weeping now. Magnus holds his hands out before him; he keeps Alec at bay like it’s his final line of defense.

“I’ve accepted it,” Magnus says shakily, “So please don’t tell me you want to be with me forever as if you’ve thought about it for a split-second, not when this thought has plagued me for hundreds of years –” Magnus’ breath hitches, “I can’t have false hopes, Alexander, please –”

Alec pulls Magnus into his arms and there, the earth finally collapses under them both. Magnus sobs unapologetically within the tight cradle of Alec's arms as Alec wipes the tears from his own face. Growing wetness seeps through the shoulder of his shirt. He presses his mouth against the side Magnus’ head, murmuring his quiet apologies and declarations of love. They hold onto each other like hands clasped in prayer.

Alec ushers them both to bed. Alec takes off Magnus’ shoes and socks, and Magnus, exhausted beyond measure, curls into Alec and closes his tired eyes. They shelve whatever they have to say to each other for the morning.

Alec wakes up to the sensation of bare feet against his.

“Sorry,” Magnus whispers, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” Alec mumbles. He yawns, blinking himself to full consciousness. When he settles, he asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Dismal,” Magnus admits, “I'm sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Alec mutters, brow furrowed so early in the morning, “I didn’t think of it that way. I hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Magnus says, fingers to Alec’s cheek, “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Alec exhales as he threads his fingers against Magnus. “I hate that you think that me being with you is an afterthought.”

Magnus’ smile is pained when he imparts it. His fingers tighten against Alec’s. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Alec shakes his head. “You will never be an afterthought,” he says, “You’re all I think about, Magnus. In my past, in this present, and in our future. You’re my stream of consciousness.”

“Sweet,” Magnus murmurs fondly.

Alec chuckles. “Unsurprisingly, I hope.”

Magnus presses into his husband, imparting a gentle kiss on his lips. Alec palms Magnus’ cheek softly.

When they falter apart, Alec says, “I still think some things are lightbulb moments.. But I promise to think about it.”

Magnus nods. “Okay.”

Alec’s thumb draws circles over Magnus’ knuckle.

“Okay.”

*****

Alec leans over the balcony of the New York Institute, fingers twined around his glass.

Below him is a meticulously kept courtyard with an aged oak standing proudly in its center. He sees Helen and Aline sitting in one of the stone benches, looking up at the tree’s encompassing foliage. Behind him, Magnus and Max are magically sweeping away the remnants of Alec’s fiftieth birthday party.

“Nightcap?” Izzy asks as she settles beside Alec.

Alec takes a gulp from his glass. “Just water,” he says with humor, “Some of us actually have to think about our livers.”

Izzy laughs. She spins on her heels, her back pressed against the stone railing. “I’m not gonna lie, I miss drinking actual alcohol.”

Alec cringes. “Is it the viscosity?”

“Yes,” Izzy gushes, “Plasma’s a party starter, but by the angel. It’s like chugging molasses.”

“God, I didn’t need to hear that,” Alec groans. He finishes off his glass of water.

Izzy smiles at Alec, peering into his eyes. She looks so young, Alec thinks. She still looks like the little sister he would sacrifice everything for.

“Did you have fun, Alec?” she asks, but he knows what she means. Are you happy?

“Yes. I thought it was going to be a lot harder,” Alec admits. Below them, Aline leans her head onto Helen’s shoulder. The gray of their hair shines under the moonlight.

“It’s because you’re brave, Alec,” Izzy says, “To choose this for yourself and for Magnus – it’s exceptionally brave.”

“I would argue it makes me a coward,” Alec answers matter-of-factly, straightening, “I’m not brave enough to watch everyone I love die.”

Izzy actually laughs. She shakes her head. “Alec, I chose immortality because I was scared.”

Alec watches as Izzy sighs, her head tipped back in thought. “I couldn’t bear the thought of growing old while Simon’s body stayed in stasis,” she mutters, “I think of the things I will miss, moments that I won’t get to experience with the person that I love – and it’s like I couldn’t breathe.”

She sighs. “We’re all differently but just as equally scared. And it really never goes away.”

Alec turns his glass within his palms. “Does Simon know this?” he asks.

Izzy nods. “Simon knows,” she says, “Mammoth things like immortality.. the only way to make it easier to bear is if you parse through it with brutal honesty.”

Izzy turns to Alec. With her fingers curled around his arms, she murmurs, “I know it brought you a lot of unspoken grief when I decided to turn, and not just because of the obvious reasons. It was supposed to be your thing, the immortality debacle.”

Alec shakes his head. “Look, Iz, I don’t get to monopolize problems –”

“No, Alec,” Izzy presses, her grip tightening, “You and Magnus were figuring it out. My hasty decision threw a wrench in the works, I know it. I’m so sorry.”

Alec’s mouth quirks at one corner. He squeezes Izzy’s hand affectionately. “Don’t be,” he says gently, “Magnus has five hundred years in his back pocket and I’m stubborn. Our experience with immortality was always going to be different.”

“You could’ve started early,” Izzy mourns, “You could’ve been younger.”

Alec looks down onto the courtyard again, smiling. “I don’t care about that anymore.”

Izzy has always had the special skill of knowing exactly what Alec means. She gazes at him, eyes soft.

“When did you know you wanted to turn for Simon?” Alec asks simply. Izzy’s gaze turns calculating, which he decides to dispel right away. “I’m just curious.”

Izzy presses her lips together in thought. “It just.. happened,” she says, “A lightbulb moment.”

Alec smiles.

“You don’t say.”

*****

“Be safe,” Magnus says, pressing kisses onto Max and Rafe’s cheeks, “Call frequently.”

Rafe pins Magnus against him in a brief embrace. “Will do.”

“Max, no more unnecessary magic,” Magnus warns, “If I get another call from the head of the Paris Institute –”

“Okay, okay, I promise,” Max sighs before blurting out, “Rafe went on an unsanctioned mission in Barcelona, by the way.”

Rafe scrambles to grab anything of Max, only to snatch a handful of air. “You little –”

Magnus’ jaw grows slack. “Raphael, you did what?”

“Go,” Alec urges with a laugh, snaking an arm around Magnus’ waist, “I got it.”

Max whips up a portal so fast Alec swears he feels a gust of wind sweep through the apartment. The gateway winks out of existence alongside their boys.

Magnus moans, fingers pressed against his temples. “Your children will be the death of me.”

“So they’re only mine when they mess up?” Alec smirks. He plants a kiss on Magnus’ cheek before pulling away. He pulls open a cabinet door and reaches for his pillbox before another bottle catches his attention.

Alec turns to Magnus, pill bottle in hand. “Did you plan birthday sex for me?” he bluntly asks, “Not that I’m demanding it, but if you are and you want my cock’s participation, I better take one of these now.”

Magnus chuckles. “Oh, I definitely planned birthday sex for you,” he drawls, “But you won’t be needing pharmaceutical help.”

Alec raises a brow. “You might want to adjust those expectations, Magnus. I just hit half a century, after all.”

Magnus’ cheeky grin is suddenly softened by hesitance, and for a moment, Alec worries. Alec places the bottle on the counter before taking a few tentative steps towards his husband.

“I’ve been working on this for the past year,” Magnus says, the pads of his fingers rubbing together just like it would in times of reluctance, “And last month, I finally figured out the right magic.”

Magnus fingers flutter in the air in an unsure gesture. “My gift is a memory,” he says, “One we can relive. It doesn’t meddle with time; it’s a projection of a recollection. Like a photograph pulled from my mind.”

Alec wonders why Magnus is so nervous about his gift; it sounds lovely.

“If you would have it,” Magnus hesitates, “You get to be young again for a night.”

Ah.

Alec gazes affectionately at Magnus as he stands before him, fiddling with his hands. It’s a fine line of a gift, Alec realizes, one that could clearly offend if given to the wrong person, in the wrong context. Alec could see how it could potentially hurt him.

But of course, it doesn’t. It’s Magnus, whose eyes see all of Alec and still chooses to gaze in earnest. He who knows every swollen knot in Alec’s body. The person who could hurt him most, but also love him best.

Alec dispels the distance between them. He reaches out, the pads of his fingers sinking into the well of Magnus’ palm.

With utmost affection, Alec says, “Show me.”

A relieved exhale leaves Magnus’ lips. With Alec’s hand in his, Magnus faces the empty expanse of their living room. He draws a circle in the air the same way he does when he creates portals, but instead of a golden swirl of magic, a tunnel of white light erupts before them. Magnus presses his fingers to his temples again, pulling another photograph from his mind. This one he throws into the brightness.

Magnus turns to Alec, his grip tightening. “Ready, darling?” he asks, but Alec knows he means are you sure?

“Lead the way,” Alec says, except he means with you, always.

They walk into the light.

*****

It’s glaringly bright, Alec thinks.

The light feels like mist to Alec’s touch, the coolness brushing over his skin. It wafts over his face as the brightness swells around him even more, making him squint. Magnus is nothing but a faint silhouette before him as he drowns in the light of the magic he has summoned.

And then, it starts at his fingertips.

The temperature suddenly shifts, comfortably warm like a thermostat perfectly tuned to Alec’s preference. The more steps Alec takes, the farther the warmth spreads; up to his arms, to his shoulder, until it kisses the line of his jaw. The brightness dulls too; his eyes regain the image of Magnus walking backward as he leads him out of the portal and into this small fragment of his mind. Alec tightens his grasp and finds hardened callouses on the spots where office work has softened them. Alec’s arthritic joints are quiet where they would usually creak.

Alec finally emerges, his feet sinking into carpeting that feels familiar against the soles of his bare feet. His toes curl into the wool fibers.

Alec looks up at Magnus, who looks the same, but somehow inexplicably young. Behind him, Magnus is backdropped by golden sheets. Alec couldn’t help but toy at the necklaces that hang from Magnus’ neck in layers.

“Hi,” Magnus whispers.

When Alec speaks, his voice is strong. He gently tugs Magnus closer by the chain of his jewelry. “Hi,” he whispers back, “How do I look?”

“Like you haven’t aged a day,” Magnus jokes.

Alec chuckles, as if to say, funny. He turns to where he knows Magnus’ mirror stands, unsurprised by the young man that meets him. Instead, he beholds the image with affection. As much as he misses this Alec, he doesn’t envy him. This Alec has yet to experience the kinds of happiness he doesn’t even know he gets to have.

“Forgot I had these,” Alec mutters, looking down at himself as he smooths a hand over his abdomen. He peeks into his shirt and then laughs. “Magnus, your favorite part of my body’s back for a one-night encore.”

Magnus laughs too. He pulls Alec by the buckle of his belt. “Then we best not keep the audience waiting.”

With the gentle press of Magnus’ lips on his, Alec’s laugh settles to a small smile. Alec tries to lift his shirt from his body, but Magnus gently knocks Alec’s hands away as if to say that’s for me to do. Alec’s chuckle huffs out of his nose; two can play this game. He peels off Magnus’ pesky jacket, unearthing a black, form-fitting sweater that Alec still thinks about to this day.

Just like before, Alec still fumbles horribly with his pants, and Magnus still tries to catch his lips as he does. Magnus still laughs, and Alec still swallows the laughter from Magnus’ mouth with a kiss that shifts the earth under their feet.

Magnus puts them both to bed, nearly gymnastic, the way he does it. That was graceful.

Alec pulls the shirt of Magnus’ back, refusing to break their kiss until absolutely necessary. Shadowhunter.

Magnus draws away momentarily as he casts his shirt onto the floor. He gently rakes through the thick smattering of hair across Alec’s chest, now black instead of gray. Magnus’ touch lingers, and so does Alec’s thoughts.

Alec’s chest rises to meet Magnus’ mouth as he plants a kiss at the valley of Alec’s chest. Magnus thumbs a nipple before taking it gently between his teeth.

“Magnus,” Alec sighs.

Alec’s body sinks into the mattress as Magnus lavishes over the puckered bud. Alec cups Magnus’ neck, holding him in place, and there Magnus gladly stays. This was once Alec’s favorite things in bed, something time changed in the most unusual ways. Once-dull nerve endings muted by age jolts back to life with every nip of Magnus’ teeth and swirl of his tongue. Alec savors every bolt of warm electricity that crackles down his spine as if it’s something he won’t get to have tomorrow.

Magnus presses a final kiss on Alec’s chest before making his way down Alec’s body. He palms Alec’s cock through his unzipped trousers; he noses the shaft, outlining its shape.

Alec whispers, “Suck me off, Magnus. Please.”

“Of course, love,” Magnus says, hands working to release Alec’s cock from his underwear, “Anything you want. Everything.”

Alec’s hardness stands tall and proud with ease, hefty against Magnus’ palm. Magnus kisses Alec once at the base before dragging his lips up the shaft. Alec plays with the short buzz of hair in Magnus’ neck, entranced by the texture, and his grip tightens when Magnus mouths along the crown and finally engulfs Alec whole.

Alec swears the ceiling flushes pink. “Fuck, Magnus..”

Magnus relishes in coaxing every helpless moan and hitched whimper out of Alec’s lips. Every flick of the tongue, gulp of the throat, hollowing of the cheeks - Magnus sucks Alec’s cock in the ways he likes the most, gleaned from years and years of learning Alec down to his very bones. All Alec could do is watch through pleasure-hazed eyes and thick lashes as Magnus tells him, in yet another way, how much he is thoroughly known.

How much he is thoroughly loved.

Alec caresses Magnus’ cheek, thumb pressing onto the corner of Magnus’ stretched mouth. “You’re everything to me,” Alec whispers, rolling his hips gently as if to seek permission. Magnus thrums around Alec as he moans his enthusiastic yes.

Alec fucks into Magnus’ mouth ardently, his young body arching off the bed and into the warm tightness that is provided to him. This ageless body he wears feels old but new at the same time; it feels every undulation of Magnus’ tongue against his shaft, responds vigorously to Magnus’ every touch. Alec feels so absolutely himself but, at the same time, inexplicably not. Magnus reaches back and sinks lube-slicked fingers into his own ass, and seeing Magnus spread himself open before him with unfettered pleasure surprisingly moves Alec’s heart.

With a final roll of the hip, Alec gasps, planting both his palms against Magnus’ jaw. He quietly urges Magnus off him before he fully topples off the edge. Magnus crawls the length of Alec’s body, only stopping when Alec is within kissing distance again. With the press of Magnus’ tongue against his, Alec suddenly finds a profound ache blooming in his chest, beautiful but wistful. Dazed.

“Do you prefer me like this?” Alec murmurs, “Young?”

He asks the question with no malice. Nothing but a simple curiosity, and after twenty years of marriage, Magnus doesn’t misconstrue.

Magnus kisses the corner of Alec’s mouth. Straddling Alec’s hips, he answers, “I simply prefer you.”

Alec chuckles. “Sweet.”

The lopsided smile that grows on Alec’s mouth is short-lived as it is soon replaced by another shuddering exhale. Magnus palms Alec’s cock, thumbing the slit.

“You forget how utterly enraptured I am of you, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, “Did you think that enchantment would simply go away with time?”

Alec’s breath hitches on his throat as he feels his cockhead kiss Magnus’ puckered ring. “Yes,” he admits.

Magnus caresses Alec’s cheek. “Oh, darling,” he says, his smile forlorn, “You’ve never been more wrong.” With that, he sinks down onto Alec’s cock.

“Gods,” Alec hisses as Magnus shudders a breathy moan as he inches himself down Alec’s length. Alec palms Magnus’ ass, kneading the firm muscle underneath.

“Darling, you feel divine,” Magnus gasps. He bottoms out, ass cheeks nestled into the nest of Alec’s pubic hair.

Alec scrambles for Magnus’ face, kissing him deeply. Magnus holds onto Alec’s wrists as he rocks forward, his hips curling commas in the air as he sets a steady pace for them both. Magnus fucks himself onto Alec’s cock with vigor that mirrors the adamancy of his words, every high whine and deep-seated groan presenting Alec with the eloquence Magnus, at the moment, does not have.

“God you feel so good,” Alec groans, fucking up into Magnus who rides him with equal urgency.

“Just like that, darling,” Magnus whimpers, eyes screwed shut as he presses their foreheads together, “Oh, angel, how I love you.. do you know that?”

I do, Alec thinks through the haze of his pleasure.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers desperately, “I was so unbearably lonely.”

Alec’s gaze blurs.

Magnus cradles Alec’s head, fingers curled tightly into his hair. “And I am unfathomably changed because of you.”

Alec breathlessly sits up, culling Magnus tightly within his arms as he ruts deeper and deeper. Their once steady rhythm becomes more volatile, their orgasms mercurial within their cores as it spits and bubbles like a mixture about to explode. The bed squeaks and groans under them.

Magnus’s body tightens against Alec’s as he throatily begs, “Oh, darling, don’t stop –”

Alec buries his face against the crook of Magnus’ neck, and if he embraces Magnus any tighter he might disappear within his grasp.

“Right there, right there, please – ”

They come together, Magnus untouched and gasping, Alec in a dizzying, blinding mixture of white-hot pleasure and unbridled happiness. His orgasm flushes through every winding vein, his muscles clenching and unclenching in an attempt to wring every droplet of pleasure out of his body. Magnus shudders around him in boneless satiation, thighs shaking around Alec’s hips. They breathe for what it feels like a long time. When Alec finally blinks up from Magnus’ neck, he is teary-eyed and breathless.

“I love you, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, breathless with affection, and he says it again just because. “I love you.”

Alec thumbs Magnus’ cheek.

“I love you too, Magnus,” he musters through the ache of his throat, “More than you could ever know.”

Magnus presses their foreheads together. “I know, darling,” he murmurs, “Don’t worry. I know.”

Alec doesn’t say anything as he buries Magnus into the mattress, fisting Magnus’ half-hard cock in his hand. Alec presses a sinking kiss into Magnus’ mouth, one that is telling of the things left unsaid.

They don’t leave the memory until the morning.

*****

When Alec wakes up, Magnus is gazing at him, fingers combing through his scalp.

Alec shifts in bed, and when he does, his bones ache. His hand joins Magnus’ and finds grainy and fragile hair between the pads of his fingers. His skin wrinkles, and his body sags. The lines of his eyes are the most pronounced it’s ever been.

Despite all of it, Magnus still looks at him. Magnus, whose eyes see all of Alec and still chooses to gaze in earnest.

“There you are,” Magnus murmurs, full of affection.

Alec’s mouth quirks into a smile. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and holds Magnus’ wandering hand within his. Alec’s thumb draws circles over Magnus’ knuckle.

“There you are.”

*****

Epilogue

“Do you need the machine?”

Magnus reaches into his coat pocket and magics some bills between his fingers. “No, thank you,” he answers in his well-practiced French, “Keep the change.”

The café owner, usually a touch ornery, takes the bill from the counter with a thoroughly impressed expression on his face. “Much appreciated. ”

“Can I sit here for a moment? ” Magnus asks, motioning to the empty patio chairs.

The man waves a dismissive hand in the air. “With the tip you gave me, you can do whatever you want.”

It makes Magnus laugh. He places his paper bag of fresh croissants and a cup of to-go cappuccino onto the table before gracefully depositing himself onto an empty chair. The nearby chapel rings its early morning call for its parishioners, and Magnus watches people ascend the steps to its gigantic, arched doors.

Early morning Paris is quiet, and early morning Paris in a café tucked away from its busier streets is quieter. After his three-hundredth-fifty-sixth visit to the French capital, Magnus has chosen to forgo his home away from home; usually, a penthouse overlooking an essential Parisian monument. This time, he ventures deeper into a small residential area a handful of metro stops away from the city center. When he looks out of his balcony, he sees his temporary neighbors: a chain-smoking woman in her forties and a college student whose head is consistently buried into a three-inch-thick textbook. He hasn’t waved at them in greeting; he knows better than to engage.

It’s been five hundred years.

Magnus is still quietly floored as to how little has changed in the world. New York still has the best pizza, Paris is still somewhat pretentious. Magnus still wears a goatee, and he still loves his martinis dearly.

Magnus doesn’t deign try to recount the many ways his life has arched in highs and lows, coiling within itself in the five centuries that had passed. He is no longer the High Warlock of anything; only surfacing when his help is direly needed. His brownstone in Brooklyn and home in Alicante is resided by strangers now. He has diminished his treasured things into a small ornate box, and the rest of his possessions are tucked away in a pocket of the twelfth dimension.

He has welcomed people in his arms just as much as he has buried his friends and family into the ground. He eats croissants and drinks coffee. He remembers the people he loved – still loves.

He breathes in and out, the air heavy in his lungs as he does. The sun filters through the shelled border of Le Pavillon’s awning and onto the back of his hand, warm and temperate.

Sometimes, Magnus wonders for how long he could do this.

A touch alights onto his shoulder, squeezing gently.

Magnus, just as he has for the past five hundred years, despite the tragic losses and unfathomable despair, smiles. He threads his fingers through arthritic hands of which he knows every painful swell. He looks back and sees eyes that see all, but still gazes in earnest.

“There you are,” Alec says.

And Magnus, just as he has for the past five hundred years, answers.

“There you are.”

[thronesofshadows]

All I’ve Ever Known || Miriam & Evelyn

TIMING: A couple weeks ago LOCATION: Miriam’s home PARTIES: @meflemming and @thronesofshadows SUMMARY: Miriam and Evelyn are not soft, not one bit.

As the days got shorter, Miriam was given more time to enjoy the day, to leave the darkness of her rooms and take in the darkness that the world had to offer. She would give just about anything to walk about in daytime, to have a use for expensive pairs of sunglasses and wide brimmed hats. But… nights weren’t so bad, when they were shared with someone. Not that Miriam would admit that, were anyone to ask. She needed to do well, to keep such affections out of her head and her heart, if she was to maintain her resolve to keep doing what she had to. And she had to. It was not just because she thought the world needed to be rid of witches (she did, though, she really did; she kept telling herself that she did). It was a need, a bloodlust that wanted, needed more than just blood to be satisfied. Still, it was hard to maintain such resolves, to keep such affections at bay, when she walked into her home and it felt like someone actually lived there. It was different, when Elle was around watching the place while Miriam went out. Now, there was an actual person, staying not because she was paid to but because she’d been invited. It was nice. Miriam told herself that it was just because she appreciated not having to pay Elle for such trivial things as she walked to the kitchen and set her keys down on the counter, but she couldn’t help the way her features softened as she noticed the signs of Evelyn being present in the house, the sound of a heartbeat she’d grown quite familiar with over the past few weeks. She was tired, and growing hungrier with each day, but she was also (and she hesitated to even think the word) content. She moved through the house, searching out the heartbeat and the familiar face that accompanied it.

There was something to be said for the comfort that familiarity provided. Evelyn wasn’t used to it being comfortable - at least not before moving. Back home, things had been familiar and predictable, but not in a way that they could have been. The only reason she liked being around Miriam was that the other woman provided the role of someone to talk to, and it kept Evelyn from ever getting bored. However, part of her knew that there was something more to all of this - because she knew that Miriam made her feel safe (after all, this was why she’d asked her to come and stay all those weeks ago, was it not?) and she knew that this was the sort of company she’d desperately craved for so much of her life. She didn’t try to focus too much on how easily they’d fallen into a routine and how at home Evelyn felt, even when she’d started staying at Miriam’s. How after finding out about Lydia, Miriam hadn’t shied away and had played with Evelyn’s hair until she’d fallen asleep. She heard the door open and readjusted her position on the couch, flipping closed one of the books she was in the middle of reading - placing it carefully next to her, head turned to the side as she heard Miriam’s footsteps make their way around the house. “Hello.” She couldn’t help but smile as she spotted Miriam. “Would you like to sit with me? I can move the books.” She grabbed the small stack and placed it onto the floor. “Or - can I get you anything?”

“Hi,” Miriam said, smiling as she walked into the living room and took in the way that Evelyn had made herself a nest. Even when this house belonged to her parents and she’d been a child, the living room had never looked so, well, lived in. It had been more of a showroom or the focal point of holiday and business parties, but it had never been anywhere that she’d just sat up shop in, as a child. It was warming to see books littering the floor and the couch and to not have to worry about someone yelling about tidying up. Miriam was the owner of the house, now, and if her guest wanted to make herself at home, then she could. Hell, if Miriam wanted to break every damn thing in the house, she could. She didn’t want to, but the option was there. There was a pang in her chest where she missed her parents, but there was a freedom as well. “I would love to sit with you.” Miriam moved over to the couch, sitting close to Evelyn but, as she always started out, not quite touching the other woman. “There’s really no need to get me anything, darling. I’m quite alright.” She looked at the stack of books curiously. She didn’t have much in the way of reading material in the house, as shameful as that was to admit. Her office had old grimoires and theories of witchcraft, but nothing that she actually enjoyed. “What are you reading?”

“Hi.” She repeated, before biting her lip - realizing how foolish she must have sounded, though she also knew that around Miriam, she felt more relaxed than in most other situations. Evelyn appreciated having a house all to herself, but she had discovered more recently that it was the feeling of freedom that she appreciated, and that she did not always have such a fondness for being all on her own. Which meant that when she and Alain had been together she’d liked when he stayed over - simply to have someone else there, and why she’d found herself feeling calmer and happier than she had in a while while Miriam had been staying with her. All in order to keep her safe - or just because it was convenient. Evelyn didn’t know exactly what to make of it all, but she did know that for whatever reason, she felt safer with Miriam around. “Wonderful.” She watched as Miriam seated herself, maintaining the slight distance between them - one that often disappeared after time but was often there to begin, both of them just ever-so-slightly too cautious, not wanting to over-step. “If you change your mind, I absolutely can, though.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh?” She held up a book. “Admittedly this is one I have read before. A favorite. We Have Always Lived in the Castle. Also, The Book Thief - which I have been told is a wonderful story, though sad. How was your day?” She glanced over, for one moment, watching Miriam’s hair falling around her shoulders and the way she sat so elegantly - even in an otherwise seemingly casual moment. “I hope you fared well.”

It wasn’t often that Miriam smiled genuinely, showing her teeth in a way that wasn’t cruel. She’d always tried to be careful, schooled in her expressions, a haughtiness that had been both bred and taught that showed on her face at almost all times. It didn’t help, either, that her features were naturally inclined to appear uppity; her smile was crooked, making her look like she was perpetually smirking, and she leaned into that, banked on it while conducting business deals and charming the masses. But being around Evelyn, Miriam didn’t have to be like that. She could be, for lack of a better word, softer. More genuine. She didn’t mind it as much as she might have, in her youth. “I know you can, darling. I assure you, though, I’m just fine.” She looked over the first book. “Shirley Jackson. That sounds… familiar. I’m afraid to admit that I rarely read for pleasure, these days. I spent most of my childhood reading to expand my vocabulary and impress my parents’ friends.” As well as belittle those in her age group. If money and charm couldn’t win them over, then she lashed out, a silver tongue sharp and relentless in the face of adversaries. “The title’s certainly interesting, though. What’s it about?” Perhaps she should read more fiction. It wasn’t like she didn’t have the time. And there was only so much she could scrounge up from old grimoires and journals that she didn’t already know about witchcraft theory. “My day was rather dull, actually. I went in early this morning to prep for a meeting and ended up on the phone with some dunce in Vancouver for five hours trying to work through a deal on zippers, of all things. I should have just stayed home, honestly. I hope yours was better?” she asked. She hoped Evelyn hadn’t been bored.

One of the loveliest and most brilliant parts about the town was that it had permitted her to meet people like Miriam. Evelyn had met people - humans - similar to Miriam back home in London, but none of them ever captured her attention in the same way that the other woman on the couch had. That was, outside of a desire to observe the way that humans behaved, to understand why she didn’t behave just like them. Though some of that had gone away after she’d found her mother’s journals but there was often a pang - because she was supposed to play human, and that wasn’t nearly as fun as the wording sounded. She could imagine she was an explorer, or a professional ballerina, but being reminded that she had to be human only served to make her shut herself away. At least in private - she did like to think of herself as a good actress, able to put on enough of a front to please her father. There was something to be said for how much she craved attention.

However around Miriam Evelyn knew that she could be wholly and entirely herself, anywhere from kind to bitter, and it seemed as though Miriam accepted that without question. After all, they had each shared a great deal about themselves upon their first meeting and it seemed to Evelyn that the two of them had only grown closer in the months following. “Should anything change, just inform me, alright?” Evelyn raised an eyebrow as Miriam moved the conversation along. “It is quite alright. I did read for pleasure as a child but I must admit I also read for some of those reasons. Reading classics in French or even Latin as a young child did wonders for my father’s reputation, apparently.” She ran her fingertips over the cover. “It is about two sisters, and complex family dynamics, as well as, I must admit, murder. Should you wish to borrow it, I would be pleased to loan it to you.” She made a face at Miriam’s next remark. “I am quite sorry, that sounds rather dreadful, people thinking they can waste your time like that. Yes, my day was lovely. I went for a bit of a walk, though I must admit, should it not be too forward, that I am rather glad to see you returned home.”

“Of course I will, darling.” Though, really, it was Miriam’s turn to play hostess, to get Evelyn whatever she wanted. The other woman hardly ate actual food anymore than Miriam herself, and her taste in wine was probably much better than Miriam’s, but this was still Miriam’s house, and, for better or worse, Miriam was still the woman she’d died as, the woman who was brought up to be a perfect hostess as well as a ruthless business owner. “Really? I preferred drawing or painting or, truth be told, working with my father’s employees in the leather shop. Though, I did get into romance novels a few years ago.” A few being about thirty, but who counted those things? “Oh, nothing makes a parent look better than well-behaved, intelligent children. Trust me, darling, I know all about that.” Her father drilled into her head that everything she did affected him and her mother, the older woman smiling and nodding along in the background like a marionette on her father’s strings. Oh, she’d loved both of them, but age and experience had shown her that their approach to parenting hadn’t been something she had wanted to repeat with her own children. Not that she’d ever had any or had any hope to have them, now.

“Two sisters and murder? Well, that sounds fascinating,” Miriam said, though, truthfully, her world had enough murder in it, usually with her as the cause of it. She didn’t mind murder, sometimes she even revelled in it, but such things were best kept separate from her personal life, no matter how interesting they might be. That’s why she read romance novels, cheesy as they were, and oftentimes ended up fascinated by reality television. She waved Evelyn’s next words aside with a laugh. “Nothing for you to be sorry for, dearest. I’m afraid I’m quite used to having my time wasted. Things certainly haven’t changed much over the years, in that respect.” People could still be so mind numbingly boring. But not this one, she thought, looking at Evelyn, who had not failed once to keep her interested and engaged in the months they’d talked. “I trust it was a good walk?” At first, Miriam had thought she was simply interested in Evelyn’s species, someone who fed on fear the way she fed on pain, but it was so much more than that. She was genuinely interested in Evelyn as a person, in every aspect. Evelyn was fascinating, and she was thoughtful, and she was, in all honesty, wonderful to look at. She moved in closer, seeing the line of conversation as an invitation as much as any “Welcome” had ever been. “I don’t think it’s forward at all, dearest. In fact, I’m also quite glad to be home.”

She couldn’t help but smile once again at the darling. There was something about the way that it flowed off of Miriam’s tongue that made her want to sit up straighter, lean more into any sort of conversation that she was having. Evelyn shrugged. “Yes, - I did paint on occasion, but I preferred to go and look at them in museums rather than take up the act myself. I did do ballet for a time - though that was something else that came from my mother and so I believe that my father did not approve of that as much as he might have, otherwise.” She tilted her head curiously, “perhaps you will have to tell me more about those sometime, as that is a genre I never properly dove into.” She couldn’t help but nod - a halfway sad expression crossing her features. Her posture straightened, and she could feel her father’s hands in her hair, brushing through it, helping her sit up straighter.

“It is more complicated than just that - but you might like it, and should you wish, I would be happy to have you read my copy. I have had mine since I was a teenager and it has been read quite a number of times. It may be odd to say, but it is an oddly comforting sort of book for me.” Evelyn couldn’t help but scrunch up her nose at Miriam’s next remark. “Still, it is no fun to have to deal with it. I do not deal with it in quite the same manner that you do, though believe me, I have plenty of stories from my own business, though none that I wish to tire you with right now.” She watched Miriam move closer to her, her lips curving into a gentle smile, her hands abandoning the book as one of them brushed some of Miriam’s hair behind her ear. “I can imagine so - your home is beautiful, and you do have impeccable taste in design if I do say so myself.” She raised an eyebrow. “As I am certain this is why you most wish to return home, after all. Perhaps in another life I would have gone into interior design. I have an eye for these things, and so I can see why you like your home so much.”

“I like looking at art in museums, too, though, truthfully, I’d like to have more pieces in my home,” Miriam said. Then, she smiled a bit teasingly. “I adore being surrounded by pretty things.” But Evelyn was much more than just pretty. There were far more reasons to want to be around her than just her being “pretty.” She frowned at Evelyn’s next remark, caring less and less for Evelyn’s father every time he was mentioned. “Well, parental approval be damned, I’m sure you were spectacular at it. You strike me as someone who would have made a good dancer. And romance novels, darling, I don’t read them for being a breakthrough literary genre. I like the terrible, mind-numbingly trashy ones. They’re fun and don’t require much thought.” She watched Evelyn’s face, the shift in her posture, and she almost wished she hadn’t brought anything about parents and expectation and any of it up. She wished she could help the other woman relax.

“If you like it, then I’m sure I’d love it.” Miriam trusted Evelyn’s taste. Sure, it certainly sounded like something she wouldn’t normally read, but if it was comforting of all things, then she’d give it the old college try. If nothing else, it allowed her a bit more insight into the woman whose company Miriam found herself enjoying more often than not. “I’d love to hear your stories sometime,” she said, leaning in a bit to Evelyn’s hand, only a bit warmer than her own but still nice, comforting, the feel of it something that she was becoming familiar with in ways that she tried not to think about. “Oh, I’m sure you’d have made a marvelous interior designer, and my home is quite nice, but that isn’t why I was looking forward to coming back.” Her own hand made its way to Evelyn’s hair, brushing a strand of it away and then running her hand along Evelyn’s jawline. “Recently, I’ve found myself in the company of someone altogether wonderful and interesting,” she said softly, “and I find myself, more often than not, looking forward to getting to back to see this person.” She licked her lips, a bit unsure but unwilling to show it. Flemmings were not unsure. “But I do think this is a testament to my impeccable taste, certainly.”

“I might know some sellers.” Evelyn bit her lip. “If not right here, elsewhere, so I can assist in acquiring art for you if you would like.” She would have asked Lydia, but that was no longer an option and for a moment she glanced down at her lap, not wanting to ruin whatever sort of moment this was with more depressing thoughts. Miriam knew what had happened, she’d heard Evelyn’s gasp - closest thing to a scream that she ever really used, when she’d first heard. It seemed useless to keep something as significant as this a secret from someone who you were essentially living with, after all. Her cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink at Miriam’s next remark, followed by a shrug. “I do have to agree. I think being surrounded by beautiful things makes everything more worthwhile.” She gave another shrug. “I was. Perhaps in another world I would have done more with that. I have noticed that I at least retained the shifting of posture that came along with dance. Though perhaps that also means that I am not always so able to just let loose. Not that I see any issue with that, but some may. It may make others think I am a bit of a snob, though I suppose none of them are entirely wrong, at least not to some degree.”

“Perhaps you can show me one of them, sometime? I may be a bit of a snob, but I do find myself ever so curious about what others who I may find myself fond of enjoy, and so I would like to understand more.” Evelyn sighed. “I trust your taste as well, which is why I believe that I find myself suddenly keen to the idea of these stories, because sometimes things that are mind-numbingly trashy can be worthwhile, and I think I ought to give those more credit than I have in the past. After all, is that not what freedom is all about? Making one’s own choices.” She let Miriam lean against her hand and she found herself wishing to brush along Miriam’s jawline - almost exactly as Miriam did the very same to her. “I suppose that I could have - again, in another lifetime. One never truly knows, though I do think you certainly have an eye for things yourself.” She let the woman’s other words hang between them for a moment. “I - well, I am pleased to hear that, I must admit, though I would not ever fault you even if the only reason for your appreciation and desire to return your home, but I think that the person appreciates your company and finds that to be one of the nicer parts of her day.” She shifted closer again. “I would have to agree.” She pressed her lips against Miriam’s, feather-light, more of a ghost of a kiss than anything else. “Your taste is truly brilliant, you know?”

“Would you?” Miriam asked, perking up a bit at the thought, not just of having some knew pieces but also of the possibility of the two of them looking for something together. It was an oddly comforting thing to think about, something that she hadn’t felt in… a very long time. Far longer than she cared to think about. She grinned, though, shaking off thoughts that were too comforting for their own good. Such good things, good thoughts, weren’t meant to stay. They’d only hurt, in the end. “I’m glad we agree on that. I think it’s an imperative to have, an appreciation of beautiful things.” She teased, “Oh, of course. Your impeccable posture is, without a doubt, the first thing I noticed about you.” Miriam moved her hand down Evelyn’s neck to her shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with that at all. But, perhaps, if you’d like, we could go dancing, sometime, to show people that you do know how to let loose when the time’s right. Which, it won’t be similar to ballet, but it might still be fun.” She couldn’t remember a time where she went out dancing without the intentions to hunt.

Miriam laughed. “I’m certain I could if you’d like.” She enjoyed being someone that Evelyn was fond of, liked the warmth that it made her feel. It was nice. “My taste in literature is nothing so profound, darling, I assure you. My taste in art is much better, or design, or people.” She licked her lips wanting more than just brief touch of a kiss that Evelyn had given her. It felt like a promise, though, and one that Miriam had no intention of breaking. “So you know this person, then? She’s absolutely fantastic, and it’s wonderful to hear that she appreciates my company. I think she’d find that I feel the same, and that I’m quite happy to have been able to enjoy her being around for so long..” She moved in, stealing a kiss where Evelyn had barely left one. Eyes bright and voice low, she asked, “Is it really? Perhaps I could show you just how brilliant it is? Either here or in my room or wherever you like, actually.”

“Of course.” Her answer was simple, but everything with Miriam was. In the best way, not in a way that Evelyn would find herself growing bored of. It was more of a sense of relief than anything else, to not have to think too much or measure her words. Miriam knew so much about her, and she’d never found any of it repulsive. Though they were different - and as much as Evelyn did at times wonder what it would be like were Miriam a mara, too - she felt a certain connection to her - one that, if she were to think too long about it, would remind her of how she’d first felt around Melanie. “Yes, I agree. Far too many do not appreciate or understand beauty, and so I am, as ever, incredibly grateful that you do.” She felt a small, though welcome shiver run through her body as Miriam’s hand moved to her shoulder, the cooler touch of the other woman’s fingers something that she found to be a comforting sort of familiarity. “If you would like, I would like that. Only with you. Though I did go to some clubs as a teenager back in London. If you would believe that. Though I will admit that the likelihood that I will know much of the music is low, as I am not an expert in that sort of thing.”

She grinned back to Miriam. “I would like that.” Evelyn nodded. “I understand this, but it is a part of you, and I find that I enjoy understanding others, especially those that I find myself fond of.” She raised an eyebrow. “I am aware of this - and I do think your taste in people happens to be quite stellar.” She watched Miriam’s lips after the first kiss, fighting away a smirk. “Yes, she would be happy to -” her reply was broken by Miriam’s lips, pressed firmly against her own. “It is, and I would like that. You give me so many choices, however will I decide?” She grinned, the smile making its way to her eyes. She kissed her back, letting it linger for a moment. “If I decide one now, might I get the honor of another some other time?”

“Of course,” Miriam repeated, a bit in awe with how easy this was, to have someone that wanted to do something for her, no questions asked and no strings attached. She’d never had something like this, never. There was always the question of what she could do for someone else, or the judgement of what her actions were. Evelyn didn’t judge her, even when she knew that Miriam did horrible, horrible things sometimes. A bit impulsively, Miriam leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Evelyn’s lips with a smile. “Right? I think we’re both quite lucky, to find someone who enjoys the finer things in life.” Miriam, at the very least, was lucky to find someone like Evelyn, though she wouldn’t say the words. The last time she had felt lucky with another person was far too long ago, and the bitter aftertaste of it was not worth dwelling on in the moment. Instead, she found Evelyn’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I think it would be quite fun. I haven’t been out dancing in years. I can see you going out clubbing, though. You’re not nearly as much of a stick in the mud as you think, darling. And, rest assured, I have no doubt you have a better chance of knowing the music than I do.” Aside from the trash that occasionally came on the strange little machine now taking up residence in Miriam’s workshop, she knew next to nothing about modern music.

“In that case, I’ll see if I can find something silly you’d like.” Miriam wasn’t self-conscious about Evelyn finding out she read trashy romance novels; after all, she’d told the younger woman she did. Perhaps it was the fact that Evelyn wanted to know her, to understand her. Miriam wasn’t afraid (she didn’t fear things), but there was a part of her that was… worried that Evelyn would find something that would be the limit. She already knew so much about Miriam. When would the moment come that she decided she’d learned too much? Miriam let her eyelids fall half shut; getting lost in the kisses was far better than getting lost inside her head. “However will you decide,” she purred, her voice low and muffled as she moved her lips to Evelyn’s jaw. “You can have whatever you like, whenever you like, darling. Far be it from me to take such a lofty decision from you.”

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Hey, I'd like to say that I'm very glad you've brought your Hermione x Draco x Theo to tumblr. Your ficlets are brilliant! As a prompt, what do you make of Hermione and Theo jumping to Draco's defence when he's on the receiving end of verbal abuse in Diagon Alley??

Thank you so much!! Here’s a longer one for you. I hope you enjoy it!

Featuring the trio on a shopping trip to Diagon Alley, and a cameo from Harry and Ginny too because I love the platonic friendship between them, and I want everyone to be friends in the end...

Obvious warnings for verbal abuse directed at Draco (and Hermione to a certain extent).

___

“I need to pop into Flourish and Blotts before we go for drinks. Harry and Ginny won’t mind if we’re a bit late…” Hermione said almost apologetically, but Draco just chuckled and bowed his head, ushering her in front of him with a courtly wave of his pale hand. It might have looked obsequious to anyone else, but the self-deprecating humour in his eyes made her heart clench.  

Stepping close to him as she passed, Hermione pressed her palms to his chest and surprised him with a kiss to his still-smiling lips. If the flush in his cheeks was anything to go by, he hadn’t been expecting the gesture.  

Before either of them had the chance to do anything else, however, someone spat and hissed at them from behind Hermione. “Death Eater scum,” the middle aged man sneered. “We don’t want the likes of you here, polluting Diagon Alley!  And you, Miss Granger, should be ashamed of yourself - consorting with Death Eaters…”

Hermione saw red.  

Theo didn’t draw his wand, but immediately put himself between Hermione and the wizard while Draco stood perfectly still behind them, jaw clenched, the recent flush evaporating to leave glacially white skin.  

“How dare you!” she shrilled at the man while Theo’s dark blue eyes fixed him to the spot. The usually bookish, scholarly young man now had a poise and readiness to him that spoke of a master of spellcrafting. A flick of his wrist could have had untold consequences for the offending man, and his furious, ashen face showed it. His height - towering over Draco, Hermione, and the vile little man at nearly six foot four - may have contributed too.  

“Draco Malfoy has been commended by the Minister for Magic himself, for his bravery at the end of the war in not betraying Harry Potter when it would have been the easiest thing in the world to speak his name. How dare you make such assumptions! And where were you anyway? Where were you while children fought against Voldemort? And won!”  

“Hermione,” Theo murmured warily, turning to face her slightly. His fingers curled around his wand, out of sight but ready in his pocket.

Nostrils flared, Hermione drew a deep breath and fell silent, though her eyes never left the wizard standing nearby. He looked suddenly a little sweaty around the temples.  

Theo turned back to him and said in a low, dangerous voice, “I suggest you leave now, and keep comments like that to yourself from now on, hmm? Better yet, open your fucking mind, ok?” And when the wizard seemed rooted to the spot by the ferocity of the reaction his words had elicited, Theo raised one eyebrow and jutted his chin at him, and the man finally scuttled off, coming to his senses in a rush.  

Almost shaking with rage, Hermione turned back to look at Draco. The young man stood statue-still, watching the two of them with an inscrutable expression on his pinched face.  

“Draco?” Theo murmured, leaving Hermione’s side and crossing to him, cupping his face with an elegant hand. He kissed him gently on the lips and Draco’s eyelids fluttered, lashes glinting like silver leaf.  

“Let’s go,” he rasped, turning away and breaking the contact. 

As Draco walked off alone up the cobbled street, Hermione and Theo exchanged a wordless look, linked hands, and followed after him. Their stay in Flourish and Blotts was not long, the jubilant atmosphere now somewhat crushed, and in fact they arrived at The Leaky Cauldron a little earlier than planned. There was no sign of the others yet either, so once they were ensconced with their drinks in a private corner near the back of the ancient warren of a pub, Hermione placed her hand on Draco’s solid, slender thigh and squeezed. “Are you alright?”

His head snapped up and he met her gaze with glistening, moon-bright eyes. “Am I alright?” he asked in a breathless, incredulous whisper. “Hermione, are you?”  

She frowned, visibly taken aback by the question. “I’m not the one who was just openly called a Death Eater, Draco,” she growled through clenched teeth.  

To her surprise, Draco’s expression melted at that, his shoulders dropped, and his whole body grew soft and tender. He reached falteringly for her cheek and brushed the knuckles of his left hand reverently over her flushed skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.  

“Draco?”  

His lips tugged upwards into a tiny, private smile, and the warmth returned to his silver eyes. He dropped his hand back to his lap. “I’m fine. It’s hardly the worst I’ve ever been called. I’m just sorry you got tarred with the same brush.”  

When that only deepened the scowl on her face, he sighed.  

“Hermione, that’s… What happened today is not going to be an uncommon occurrence if you stay with us. Theo’s… more of a grey area for them, what with his relative anonymity. Despite his father’s… associations… he’s much less well known. You’re —” he shrugged expressively in her direction, “— Hermione Granger. Everyone in the wizarding world knows your face.”

“Then they’d better get used to seeing it next to yours,” she said, eyes blazing. She snatched up Draco’s hand and set her other one palm-up on the table for Theo to slide his into. Connected like that, she felt that familiar thrum of magic run between them, free and easy as a water droplet down a pane of glass. “Both of you. We just… work together, Draco; we fit. And I’m not going to back down or bow out just because people think they know everything about you just from one moment in your life, Draco.”

He swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly, and looked at Theo, finding the same quiet passion roiling in his sapphire eyes. Theo nodded slowly. “Get used to it, Draco. Our Gryffindor lioness is terribly protective of us too, you know?”

A wry smile twisted Draco’s full lips up into a lopsided grin. “A lioness with a snake beneath each paw, huh?”

“You’d better believe it,” she said, breaking their handholds to lean over and take a gulp of his whisky.  

“Starting the drinks without us?” came a familiar, amused voice from behind her, and she made a noise of surprise behind the mouthful of firewhisky.

She set Draco’s tumbler down, amber liquid sloshing around, and looked over her shoulder to see Ginny and Harry standing there hand in hand, both smiling.

Harry’s trained gaze - as both auror and friend - took in the vivid sheen to her eyes, the flush in her cheeks, and the tension in her shoulders, and he tilted his head. “Everything alright?” he asked in a quiet voice as she stood to greet him.  

She nodded. “Yeah. Thanks,” she said, and threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him so hard he coughed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I exist as well, you know?” Ginny snorted as Hermione finally released the young woman’s fiancé. The laughter in Ginny’s voice chased away the last of Hermione’s lingering ire and sadness, and she flung herself with equal fervour at her too.  

When they parted, Hermione slid in beside Theo this time, who nodded at the others. “Ginny, Harry, lovely to see you,” he said warmly.  

“Likewise,” Harry grinned. “Though I’d have thought that Hermione would have loaded you both up with books like pack mules after a visit to Diagon Alley… Where are they all?”

“We didn’t stay long in Flourish and Blotts this time,” she said carefully. “Plus, I’ve got my bag anyway…” she said, with special emphasis.  

“Ah,” he said. “I’ll forget I saw that then, Hermione,” the auror chuckled.

Ginny, still standing, looked at Malfoy and unleashed a deadly grin at him; all teeth. “Ferret,” she said without bite.  

“Weasel,” he returned fondly as she slid into the seat beside him. “Good to see you. Congratulations on making the team,” he added.

Ginny blushed and Hermione looked at her. “You made chaser?”

“First chaser now,” she said, freckles obliterated by the rising colour.  

“Ginny, that’s fantastic!” Hermione practically shrieked. Theo even put his finger comically in his ear and she thwacked him on the arm for it. “Shut up, you,” she snorted affectionately at him and he flashed her his trademark, dimpled grin. “That’s amazing news. Let us get you a drink to celebrate!”  

As the banter flitted between the five of them, the wizard’s comments from the Alley were slowly forgotten. The laughter returned to Draco’s silver eyes as he watched Hermione gesticulating with her hands over her gin and tonic, and he smiled when he caught Theo shifting the drink a little further towards him for safety. A lump formed in his throat that no amount of whisky would ever wash down.  

Much later that night, as he lay with Hermione’s head pillowed on his chest, her curls all over the pillow beside them, and with Theo tucked up on his side next to him, snoring softly, a few wayward twists of his hair tickling Draco’s forehead, Draco stroked his fingers through Hermione’s hair and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.  

She shifted, the movement a sleepy question in itself, and he sighed, leaving another kiss there amid her wild hair before whispering, “I love you, Granger.”

“I love you too, Malfoy,” she mumbled.  

The arm slung across his chest tightened momentarily, but it did nothing to still the swirling cloud of silver butterflies that fluttered around inside his ribcage at her words. Those words would never get old or tired, no matter how long he lived or how old and tired he got.  

With one final kiss each to Theo and Hermione, Draco finally let himself drift off to sleep.

___

If you enjoyed, please reblog and share! I’m new to the fandom on here and appreciate all the help I can get!

___

writing masterlist | Ao3

[thedevilsruby]

World War II AU (Clierra Multi AUs)

(Warning: mention of Nazis and blood! And a bit of implied NSFW)

The Cottage Near the Field

Private Cliff gasped heavily as he ran, chest on fire and lungs desperate for breath.

He wished he had been born a girl, maybe that would have spared him from this hell.

He felt horrible enough about working with the enemy but back home, he would rather be burned than become a stars damn Nazi. He was the opposite of a Nazi, he believed everyone should have a fulfilling life, no matter who they were. He hated Nazis.

He damned his German heritage, something his parents always taught him to be proud of. 

Cliff kept running, not caring where he wound up. Anywhere but here on the battlefield was better. 

He eventually wound up in a forest, surrounded by huge trees and a field. Cliff sat against a tree and listened for any sounds of gunfire and yelling and was relieved to hear none. He panted exhaustedly, wheezing for relief.

The young man looked himself over, his uniform a mess of blood, from both enemies and holding his dying friends, and tearing from bullets. His lip trembled at the the memories that replayed in his head over and over. 

“Stop it,” A voice in his mind snarled, “you don’t deserve to cry over what you did.”

That didn’t stop him. He held his head, sobbing desperately for the screams of both enemies and comrades to stop. “Please...” he rasped, tears flowing through his fingers. “Stop...”

“Um...are you alright?”

Cliff jumped. That voice was real. He looked up and saw a woman standing before him.

The most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

The young woman looked about his age. She had golden brown hair in a bun, the most innocent honey brown eyes and a simple gold and purple dress with a white overcoat. 

He tried to reply but he couldn’t stop staring into her eyes. He felt himself losing his mind.

“Sir...?” She whispered, tilting her head in confusion.

Fuck. Not only was she beautiful, but she was adorably innocent as well. He would destroy it if he got involved with her.

“I...I...I’m fine.” He finally managed to get out, sitting up. She gasped as she saw his uniform, covering her mouth with her hand.

“You’re a soldier.” She whispered, loud enough for him to hear. 

“I-I can explain!” He exclaimed, covering his blood stained chest. “Please, don’t-” He was cut off when she gently took his arm and started leading him away. “What?” He asked, confused.

“I don’t care what your story is, I’m cleaning you up.” She stated firmly as she dragged him away.

Cliff saw she was taking him to a small cottage on the edge of the field, surrounded by wildflowers and roses. “This must be where she lives.” He thought. “It’s nice.”

She led Cliff inside and he saw her home was simple but comfortable. There was a couch, a small TV, a bed and a small kitchen with a table. She led him to the bathroom where a tub sat.

She stepped out while the water ran so he could strip himself of his uniform in peace. He bit his lip in thought. Why was she being so kind? Didn’t she care that she was risking her life to help him?

It just made his heartbeat get faster the more he thought about her. She was perfect.

She stepped back in, his breath hitched as he saw her hair was down. “Do you need help?” She asked quietly.

“Um...you could...scrub my back.” He gulped. Could he really handle those delicate hands rubbing him and touching him? Scrubbing him clean when he could just get her dirty? 

“Stop that!” He mentally slapped himself. “Mother taught you to be better than that.”

He jumped and shuddered as a warm wet rag met his back, and one hand was on his shoulders. Just as he thought, her hand was soft and soothing. What he would give to kiss and hold-Stop it!

“What’s your name?” She asked quietly. “I never asked, I’m sorry.” 

“My...my name is Cliff.” He stated, deciding to keep his last name from her. He didn’t want her thinking he was with the Nazis because his last name was German.

“Cliff...I like it.” She smiled. “I’m Sierra. Sierra Rossi.”

“Oh so you’re Italian.” He said, smiling a bit.

“Half Italian, Half American. My mother was from Sicily, father was from New York.” She sighed. “They died when I was five.”

“Oh I’m sorry.” Cliff said, regretting saying anything. “I shouldn’t-”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve learned to live with it.” She said. “It isn’t your fault they’re gone.”

Cliff decided not to reply and let her scrub him in silence, but she had other plans apparently.

He couldn’t help but his as he felt her fingers trace some of the scars on his back. “These are new.” She mumbled. “How long were you fighting out there?”

He winced and she caught it. Immediately, guilt took over her. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive. I shouldn’t-”

“At least a few months now.” He replied. “I know that because my mother always writes the date on the letters she sends. He shuddered as fresh memories of screams and gunfire played in his head. “So many lives lost...” He whispered, voice breaking.

His hands were suddenly held by smaller ones, He looked and saw her at the side of the tub, gazing at him with a soft expression. “Well...I’m glad you’re safe.” She said quietly.

That broke him, he couldn’t help but stroke her cheek softly. She sighed contently and finally allowed herself to lean in and kiss him. 

He melted and kissed her back, war and reality be damned at this point.

Soon, they were on her bed, moaning each other’s names when lips and teeth met sensitive areas, weak spots were discovered. Passion was had and they savored it.

Unfortunately, all good things had to end.

“Must you go?” Sierra whimpered when she saw Cliff gathering his items with a regretful look.

“I need to. If I don’t go back, I’ll be killed for deserting the battlefield.” He stated, his heart crushed at the thought of ever leaving her behind. 

“Will you come back?” She asked, just a glimmer of hope in her voice.

He cradled her cheeks in his hands, their eyes meeting. Despair and sadness in both. “I’ll try.” He whispered, planting a kiss to her forehead. 

He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled it out into a fist. “Here.” He whispered. “Hold it when you think of me.”

She held her hands and took it to see a necklace of wooden beads and a large silver star in the middle. Her jaw dropped slightly. “It’s beautiful.” She whispered.

“Just like the woman holding it.” He said, giving her one last passionate kiss. He felt the tears streaming down her face and pulled away to wipe them. “I’ll write to you. Goodbye Sierra.” He said walking out before she could see his own tears.

Sierra stifled her sobs and held the necklace close to her chest. She prayed to the sky above that he would come home to her over and over. She wouldn’t lose hope. She would stay strong for him.

For her soldier.

--

I have NEVER written a war story before so PLEEEASE go gentle on me if I did anything wrong.

I’ve decided to start writing different AU stories for Clierra like a Multi chapter fic. f you have any suggestions for AUs, send them to me and I’ll work my magic!

I hope you enjoyed!