#sorry these are so late i asked for prompts and then everything went terribly wrong. but i'm back

[nyehilismwriting]

abrupt with ki-ha, perhaps?

the engine room, as ever, is cold. icy blue light spills from the fusion chamber, the air thin and still. a toolbox lies open by one maintenance hatch, a yellow safety rope pulled taut over the edge.

working, then.

you settle on the lip of the hatch, dangling your legs down into the dimness below. you can just about make out the generator, the vivid yellow rope swallowed by the greenish glow of safety lighting. you reach out, flick your finger against the rope; a moment later, it twitches in silent response. you lean back on your elbows and wait.

soon enough, the rope moves. the darkness below shifts, broken by a beam of light, and ki-ha drags himself out of the gloom, habitual scowl on his face. you wait until he's mostly out before you sit up: the position you're in puts him squarely between your legs as he turns to you, propping himself up against the edge of the hatch and raising an eyebrow.

what?

he's not wearing his hearing aids. shifting your weight off your hands - leaning further into his space - you sign.

skylar wants you upstairs.

his scowl deepens. what broke?

you shrug, don't bother to move as he climbs out of the hatch, starts unclipping his harness. he's trying to teach Joia to fly.

Ki-Ha's hands pause, his scowl deepening. 

she's twelve.

"And," you say out loud, "a natural, apparently."

Ki-Ha glowers at your mouth for a moment, then rolls his eyes. "Thanks for letting me know," he mutters, words blurring together as he turns away from you. You sigh, push onto your feet, step into his space once again as he drops his harness.

"Good luck."

the flat look he gives you is a sharp contrast to the softness of his hands as he takes yours, leans in to press a quick kiss to your jaw. you turn your head, catch his lips with yours - a short kiss, almost sweet but for the way you bite at his lower lip, tugging on it with sharp, insistent teeth. his hands go tight on your hips, holding you still even as he pulls away.

"Ow," he says quietly. hooks one finger in your collar and yanks you abruptly down for another kiss, sharper and bloodier than before.

then he steps away, leaving cold spots on your skin where the sensation of his hands lingers.

[diqldrunks]

DATE ME TO SCARE THEM — R. CAMERON

summary: rafe cameron didn't do girlfriends, or make deals — so why did he agree so quickly to being your fake boyfriend — for the sole purpose of pissing off your parents? (based off the song 18 by anarbor)

a/n: this is very different from the original which got lost when my acc got terminated

cw/tw: none! this is really short but other parts will be much longer!! asks for rafe (in this au and others) are open!! anons are welcome!

word count: 0.8k

DMTST — PART ONE

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:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

you and rafe had been sitting on the beach when you asked him.

it was late summer, and the sun was slowly setting. the two of you had spent the entire day together, and the entire time, rafe couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done something to upset you.

you had barely said 5 words to him that hadn’t been prompted by a question he asked you; there was an air of awkwardness surrounding the two of you and any interaction you had, and rafe hated it.

he spent ages going over anything and everything he had said, trying to figure it out. he'd eventually decided he'd had enough, and when you were reapplying your lip gloss, he decided to speak up.

"sweets," he asked, using the nickname he began using years ago after he realised the extent of your sweet tooth, "everything good with you? anything going wrong in your little world that i can help out with?"

the two of you had met two years ago, when your parents had dragged you to an overly formal dinner at the country club after you had moved — you were sat across from him and one of his sisters, sarah. together, the three of you tried to tune out the insufferably dull conversations that were happening — with one of ways being rafe and sarah explaining kildare to you, introducing the concept of ‘pogues’ and ‘kooks’ (with sarah later introducing you to some of her kook friends without rafe’s knowledge).

after a couple of these dinners, the three of you became friends — with it soon becoming commonplace for you to spend days and nights at the cameron’s’. you spent mornings in town shopping, afternoons on the boat and evenings at parties. though you met other people your age — both kooks and pogues — and became friendly with them, rafe and sarah were always the ones you were closest to.

over time, sarah became more distant, and your afternoons on the beach as a trio became just you and rafe. your parents weren’t that happy, having voiced their dislike for the boy, but as they worked away for business a lot, they didn’t have a chance to stop it. this month, they were away again, in chicago this time for a series of conferences, but were coming back in a few days.

they had phoned you a few weeks ago, and were clearly excited to be talking to you — one of their business executive friends had a son, and, although they didn’t say it explicitly, they expected you to go on a few dates with him. his name was matthew, and he was coming to outer banks with his father a few days after your parents return.

you were anxious and angry, and for days had been racking your brain for a solution — one that you could make last as long as you matthew went back home. you had eventually came up with a plan — it was risky, and frankly just a terrible idea, but it should work. you just had to get rafe on board.

you looked to rafe, his hair almost glowing gold from the sunlight.

"i need you to be my boyfriend."

the brunette paused, one of his hands frozen in place as it hovered over the cooler from where he was about to grab a second beer.

he was silent for a moment, his eyebrows slightly raised so the ends of his hair began to cover them.

"i'm sorry sweets, i need to what?"

this time your voice was louder than before, but still quiet enough that rafe had to try and block out the sound of the crashing waves to hear you clearly. "i need you to date me for the next two weeks — three at a push."

you take a quick look at rafe before turning you attention back to the hands in your lap as you continue to talk. "it's my parents — they're coming to visit for a few weeks and the last time i spoke to them, they were trying to set me up with one of their business friend’s sons — a guy called matthew-"

rafe ran a hand through his hair. "god sweets, do i really have to get dragged into this? your parents despise me-"

"that’s why this is so perfect rafe. they are setting me up for misery — let’s be real, matthew’s going to be as dull as a rock. i want to throw this stupid idea back in their faces — make sure they won’t do this again."

"you’re gonna use me to piss off your parents, sweets?" rafe smirked, remembering just how much you're parents hated him. "fake date me just so you can scare them?” rafe pauses, pretending to think. god, he was insufferable. “i don't know, seems like an awfully one sided deal..."

you needed rafe to agree, otherwise you risk sitting opposite full matthew at the country club for dinner. "rafe cameron i will literally do anything for you to agree."

rafe smirked. "if you say so sweets."

rafe taglist (lmk if you want to be added!); @izabellaemerson @spiderflunk @kitty-m30w @vincapandora @uraesthete @wickedtactics @harmoneeee24 @starkeybae @fairydvstss @alexiskirkland @devils-blackrose @makaylalovessmut @winterrrnight @clearbolts @slayystuff @neilove @littlemissborntolose @emyslittlebubble @ldrsog @stargrltara @isabelllauer @alexasznisforever @zizuras @sadgirlelenora @djosfuture @leaskisses444

[rhettabbotts]

Hey! Could I request “do you want me to leave?” “oh, now you care?” “this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.” From that angst prompts please for dilf!rhett?

And if you can’t fit all three into one that’s completely okay 💛 thank you!

thank you my love!

pairing: dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

w/c: 740

warnings: angst. argument. rhett’s a little bit of a jerk in this one. age gap (reader mid 20s, rhett late 30s).

he was late. which was becoming a common occurrence but you tried to ignore it, went through all the possibilities in your head as you checked your phone once more. if he didn’t show in the next fifteen minutes you were grabbing the check and leaving. after an already terrible week, this was just icing on the cake. your anxiety rose as you thought about what could be wrong. he wasn’t answering your phone calls, wasn’t reading your texts. what if he had been in an accident? what if something really bad happened and you would have no idea because you aren’t listed on any contact lists. 

you checked your phone again. nothing. you let out a huff of frustration, waving the waiter over and smiling sadly as you asked for the check. on the drive back to your apartment, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. you tried to will them away but that didn’t stop the salty streams from falling. a bottle of wine and your favorite rom-com were calling your name, ready to forget all about the evening. 

the feeling of disappointment never faded, it somehow grew stronger as not a single notification came through. you didn't even bother grabbing a glass, choosing to drink directly from the bottle. real classy, you thought.

just as julia roberts was sliding on her panty hose, there was a thud outside of your door. it spooked you, causing you to jump out of your skin. 10pm. who in the hell was at your door this late?

your sadness turned into burning hot anger as you saw rhett through the peephole. he was holding a bouquet of flowers and muttering something to himself. you were tempted to not even open the door, leave him standing out on the landing all night and see how it makes him feel. but you couldn't be that cruel, no matter how mad you were, not with the way snow was starting to fall outside.

"what?" you said, irritation seeping through your voice.

"this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. i promise i didn't mean to stand you up. i was on my way out the door and-"

you cut him off with a raised hand, not wanting to hear any excuses. you stepped aside for him to enter the apartment, your whole body shivering from the cold that was making its way inside.

"can i finish?" rhett asked hatefully.

you couldn't stop your eyes from rolling, but gestured for him to finish nonetheless.

"i had a business phone call, and it took longer than expected. i know i should have responded but i got distracted and i'm sorry. i know you had been looking forward to this all week and-"

"oh, so now you care?! look, rhett. i get it. i know you have all of the ranch business to take care of, but you could've sent one text. that's all i wanted. do you know how much it hurt sitting there not knowing if something had happened to you? i don't think i ask for much... i don't care that you were on a call. i was worried sick. and then for you to not say anything and just show up here, flowers in hand, and expect everything to be okay? it doesn't fix anything."

your voice was wavering as you spoke, tears forming once again. he was standing there with his arms crossed, like he was waiting impatiently for you to finish.

"are you done?"

"am i- yeah, i'm done, rhett." there was a hint of malice in your tone and rhett didn't miss it for one second. "don't patronize me and treat me like i'm being dramatic about this. i was thinking you were dead on the side of the road!"

"well i'm here now," he said matter-of-fact.

you couldn't take it anymore. he didn't understand why you were upset and you really weren't in the mood to explain it further.

"i don't want you to be," you uttered quietly.

"so, do you want me to leave?"

"i really don't want you driving back this late... but we're not done talking. and you're sleeping on the couch. i’ll see you in the morning." you didn't say another word to him as you picked up the wine bottle and headed towards your room, leaving rhett standing in the middle of your living room with wilting flowers in his hands.

join the celebration!

[sandy-the-glader]

Hey I have two requests because I was so terribly torn and couldn’t decided between then two hahaaa

Corey Cunningham SFW #19 / NSFW #9

<333

Of course request as much as you want <3 I wasn’t sure if this was separate or together so I’m just making 2 different oneshots. Or of course if you want I could make it a 2 part story.

Definitely not

Corey Cunningham X Gender neutral reader

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Summary: Corey had a bad day and you gotta show him how important he is.

Warning/contains: comfort fluff, bit of angst, mentions of blood and needles, Corey and his chocolate milk

Word count:1.2k

Prompt: 19: “Is there something wrong with me?”

A/n: give me more fluff to write its so much easier (I still will write smut dw)

He didn’t know where else to go. Your apartment was all he could think of. He didn’t feel like going to some hospital for a cut on the hand. His hand was cut up worse than he wanted to believe but you were at the top of his mind. All because of his chocolate milk bottle. Well and because some kids jumped him.

Riding his bike to your place was the hardest thing ever. He was used to getting hurt all the time but, it still was so painful.

He was now stumbling to your apartment door. His right hand went up to knock on your door quickly before going back to holding underneath his left one. He stared at the floor while he heard you walk to the door.His curls covered a little bit of his glasses.

It was late in the day and you still were in more pajama like clothes. All you had been doing today was reading on your couch. Once you heard the knock you set your book down on the coffee table and stood up.

You accidentally knocked over some stuff in the process which Corey heard through the door. You opened the door and saw him. His bloody hand also covered in dirt, his guilty looking face as if he did anything wrong…

“Oh Corey…” you frowned. “What am I gonna do with you.” You quickly rushed him inside and made him sit at your kitchen table. You shut the door and looked around your kitchen for your first-aid kit. Along with that you grabbed some other bandages and tweezers to remove the glass. You placed everything on the table. You sat down next to him and moved his hand so you could see it better. “Why didn’t you go to the ER?” You asked as you grabbed the tweezers. “This is gonna hurt.” You mumbled.

“I didn’t want to go-“ he let out a hiss a pain. You let out a quick “sorry.” And he continued. “And you were all I could think of.” You sighed. What were you gonna do with him? You always thought in these types of moments.

“Don’t tell me you road your bike here.” You joked but Corey stayed quiet. “Oh my gosh you did didn’t you?” You raised your eye brows. You took out another bit of glass. He frowned even more if that was even possible. The look was just so sad “Look I’m not mad okay.” You stopped with his hand for a second. “Just.. you need to take care of yourself more. I just love you and I don’t want you getting hurt so bad.”

You love him. He felt his heart swell at those words.

“I love you too and I know..  but I just hate public spaces. Stuff like this happens.” he motioned to the cut. You nodded as you cleaned up the wound. You knew of course the hospital would never treat him this way. Even if they thought he was a child killer (which he wasn’t) they would till have to help him.

Silence soon overcame the room. A comfortable silence at least. You finished cleaning up his hand and now was time for the hard part.. Stitches.

You hated doing them. You’ve patched Corey up tons of other times and some like this. To the point of stitches.

“Tell me about the rest of your day. Before this.” You motioned to his hand. You wanted him to talk while you fixed up his hand because this part was the worst.

“Well I might get a motorbike soon.” He mumbled before letting out a whimper as the needle pierced his skin. He tried to think about the rest of his day so far but nothing else really happened. Nothing came to mind

“Your gonna have to teach me how to ride it.” You continued, making him try to scrunch up his hand. “I know I know.” Your other hand held his in place. Once again silence consumed the room. The air felt thick. As if there was some sort of tension. You weren’t sure how to exactly comfort him in this situation. You wanted to tell him you knew what it felt like and you understood but you really didn’t.

You didn’t get framed for murder then get treated like shit for the rest of your life. You wanted to treat him them best and help him but you didn’t know how to help in a encouraging sense.

“Is there something wrong with me?” He broke the silence.” He broke the silence. Your eyes snapped upwards to meet his. Why would he ask that? “I know I’m considered the town freak but.. I mean besides that. Is there just something I’m missing? Something I’m doing wrong compared to other people?” You set the needle down as you were finished with it. His eyes looked like they started glisten with tears.

“Corey no.” You gently held his hand being sure not to hurt it. “Nothing could ever be wrong on you. They pick on you because they have nothing better to do. You can’t be listening to whatever they’re saying.” You removed your hand and started wrapping his hand with bandage. The material was soft and easy so it should add some sort of comfort for his hand. “If they get the better of you the world will never know the truth. That your not a murderer.” Adding layers to his hand until it seemed to be okay.

He stayed silent. He didn’t really know how to respond to that kind of pep talk. And you completely understood him. You leaned over and kissed his forehead then his lips. You embraced him a small hug.

After your hug, you cleaned up the blood covered wipes you and you put away all your tools. All your anxiety went down when you saw Corey’s it’s a relaxed face. You were always afraid to hurt him even more.

You got up from your seat and walked to the fridge. Something that always cheered him up was chocolate milk. And since he wounded himself just trying to get a bottle of some I figured that definitely wouldn’t happen this time. I always kept it in the fridge for when Corey would come over and well because it’s a amazing drink.

He would go on rants for minutes about the stuff. It was honestly so adorable to hear him talk about it. You poured him a glass and put it next to him. You also added one of those colorful straws you bought a while ago out of impulse.

“Your not gonna break this on my other hand are you?” He joked cracking a small smile. You shook your head and smiled.

“Of course not. Do you want a paper cup to make you feel better?”

“No no. Thank you.” You walked next to him and held him. His cheek pressed against your stomach.

“I love you so much Corey.” You ran your fingers through his curls. “Your so important to me I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He was speechless. Never in his life did he feel as important as he did when he was in your arms. It was the best feeling in the world. Now he knew what people meant when they said love was the strongest power.

-

♡

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Tags: @wolvesandvampires

[the-devils-girl94]

Distracting Thoughts

Prompt: Stranded On A Boat

Characters: Beelzebub x Fem!MC

Content Warnings: Masturbation, MC has thalassophobia(a fear of the ocean and other large bodies of water), MC fantasizing about Beel, lots of smutty good times with Beel

(I like how there is a word for how I feel about large bodies of water. Did not expect it to be this long ass word though.)

Another fic for @voltage-vixen ‘s Summer of Smut challenge! Enjoy!

“How on Earth did I end up in this mess?”

A heavy sigh left your lips and you buried your face into your hands.

Right now, you were stuck in the middle of the sea on a boat that Lord Diavolo had outright purchased. Not everything was going so bad, but you wouldn’t be feeling so slighted if everything was going good either.

Oh no, no. It was simply terrible.

For one thing, while you weren’t in immediate danger, being stuck in the middle of the freaking ocean was downright terrifying! All you could think of was scary scenarios of you drowning in this never-ending sea. Like the boat could sink and you could drown, you could fall over the edge and drown, or you could fall over the edge and a nearby shark could see you as a tasty snack and that could be your end. Your mind just kept coming up with the most exaggerated and impossible one-in-a-million chance scenarios that really did no good for you.

You hated being anywhere near large bodies of water, but there was one thing that kept some of the thoughts at bay. And that was you weren’t entirely alone.

You sat on the back deck of the boat Diavolo had purchased, far away from either edge that you didn’t want to be near, and before you was the ever-so lively Demon Brothers of the House of Lamentation. In short, your lively roommates who just make everything so much better...sometimes. Lord Diavolo and Barbatos was there as well but they mostly kept to themselves with Diavolo mostly sunbathing.

Your mind felt more at ease with the guys around since you knew if any of the scenarios did happen, they would not hesitate to immediately step in to save you. Though you still hope it would never have to come to that in the first place. You felt most safe around Beelzebub, the sixth born. 

Your eyes caught him in the pool that was several feet away from you. He was joined by his twin and locked in a fierce game with the second and third born. Well, you say fierce but its clear that Beelzebub is the victor. Mammon and Leviathan were no match against Beel’s pure strength. And had Belphegor been with anyone else besides his twin, he definitely would not have stood a chance against a team up of his older brothers.

You weren’t too interested in their game play, however. Your eyes were trained on Beel. Even before this boat fiasco, your eyes have never strayed far away from the gluttonous demon. For a long time, you didn’t know if it was a crush or if you’re just naturally drawn to his sweet nature.

“Or maybe that chiseled body of his.”

The tips of your ears grew hot as the thought crept in, replacing your previous anxiety-ridden thoughts. Your mind soon became riddled with images of Beelzebub’s torso. Mostly of his glorious pecs and washboard abs because this demon was built like a freaking Greek God. God knew exactly what he was doing when he made him, but him being a demon made his appeal so much greater! It was, in every sense of the word, sinful.

You were brought back to reality when you heard a large splash and some yelling. You looked up in time to see Levi and Mammon getting flung out of the pool by Beel, all while Belphie napped out on a floating donut. The whole thing brought you to tears as you laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Mammon had caught you laughing and scolded you.

“Hey, (Y/N)! Don’t laugh, it ain’t funny!,” he yelled, but you continued to chuckle. You felt a little bad, but it was so unexpected as Beel had grabbed them by their feet and literally threw them out.

“(Y/N) witnessed our defeat...how uber lame,” muttered Leviathan as he rubbed his now aching back.

Wiping away your tears, you let out an amused sigh and went off on your own to explore the boat. You were unaware of Beel calling after you as you walked away.

________________________________________________________________

You thought it would be a good idea to explore the boat since Lord Diavolo had bought it and anything he buys is always luxurious. And it was but...

As you wandered the halls, you suddenly understood what sailors meant by sea legs. Although the boat was mostly steady, there would be an occasional gentle rocking of the boat. And had it been anyone else, it would have been fine but no! It completely unsettled you and your thoughts once again became filled with disturbing scenarios of that all ended in you meeting your end in some extreme way or another.

“Oh why did I think it was okay to go off on my own?,” you thought.

Feeling sick to your stomach, you thought it best to just retire to your room and calm your incessant thoughts. You flopped onto your bed and buried your face into your pillow. You hope this day would end so you could finally get off this nightmare. You tried to refocus your mind on something else, because even with you running through every possibility of drowning in every way possible, you were aware that you were in safe hands. None of the brothers would ever let you meet such an end in this never-ending sea full of wonders and mysteries.

You thought back to earlier and found yourself thinking of Beel once more.

The images from earlier made you kick your legs as your face became hot and flushed. You groaned into your pillow with frustration.

“Fuuuuckkkk!,” you screamed internally, feeling slightly ashamed for thinking about Beelzebub in such a manner. But thinking of him did make the other thoughts fade away to the background. Plus you may have a crush on him, so..was it totally wrong to fantasize about him showing up to your room, body dripping with water and looking at you with lust filled eyes?

....Okay, hold up, that actually is kinda hot.

It was the most prevalent image in your head. It made you wonder if you would have the chance to actually have Beel in your room and let him take you. Or maybe have the courage to be that daring?

You felt a tingling sensation between your legs and rolled on your back, blushing. You dwelled on the thought a little more to the point that it became a fantasy. And you imagined Beelzebub crawling towards you on your bed until his face was a couple inches away from yours. His rough hands were on your thighs, lifting them up so your clothed sex could feel the hardness of his bulge clothed from the thin material of his swim shorts.

The heat within your core began to grow and before you knew it, you were already trying to calm the growing heat with your hand. You were craving for the imaginary touch that only existed in your mind. Rubbing against your clit, the fantasy progressed into Beel removing your clothes and pushing his shorts down to free his hardened member. You imagined him stroking his cock against your sensitive slit that was getting wetter and wetter in reality.

Your breathing became heavy and you brought up a free hand to go under your shirt and bra to twist at your nipples. The fantasy continued as you imagined Beel dipping his fingers inside of you, stretching out your pussy to prepare you for him.

Moans started to escape from your lips as your hands worked on your body to bring you the stimulation and release you desperately searched for. You weren’t aware of it but you were also moaning Beel’s name. Apparently you were being a bit loud, because you failed to hear the knocking at your door and the sound of it opening until...

“(Y/N).”

You snapped out of your fantasy-filled haze when you heard your name. Suffice to say, you were extremely embarrassed to find a blushing Beelzebub in your room, half-eaten snacks in his hands. You quickly covered yourself up with a shout, but it was much too late. You were sure that he had saw everything. He probably even heard you too.

“Waah! I’m so fucking embarrassed! Oh my God,” you cringed, trying so hard to fold in on yourself so you could disappear. 

“Ah, (Y/N)! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to barge in like that,” he apologized profusely. He saw your covers move a bit but no sign of you poking your head out. You whined as you stammered out, “It’s fine! I should have locked my door. I didn’t mean for you to see me...like that...so.”

Ahhh, if anything was more worse than drowning in an ocean where your body likely won’t be found, it was definitely having your crush walk in on you masturbating to him. Ok, maybe not that much worse but still! Tears began to well up in your eyes and you fully expected for Beelzebub to walk out as this situation must have been a bit awkward. But instead you felt your bed dip in a bit as another weight was added. A hand was placed on your back and started rubbing in circles. Your lip trembled as your tears fell, because WHY WAS HE SO FREAKING SWEET!? 

Yeah, you were definitely crushing on him. This is why he was the only one on the crush list.

Beelzebub could feel you trembling and his face was still red from walking in on you. Though if he had to admit it, seeing you like that really turned him on. And to hear you moan his name so wantonly was like music to his ears. But he still felt bad because it was your private time that he interrupted. All because he wanted to hang out with you since he wanted to do so earlier, but you didn’t hear him calling after you.

But now there was a massive elephant in the room and neither of you knew how to bring it up without it becoming more awkward. Or your in case more embarrassed.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes, Beel?”

“I’m still sorry for earlier. I wanted to hangout, but do...do you want me help you a bit?”

You shot up like a rocket and turned wide-eyed to face a startled Beelzebub, who was feeling a bit pervy for asking you that question. But to you, he didn’t need to feel like that because this was the moment you were thinking of earlier! You started to laugh at the irony, causing Beel to become confused which you noticed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m not laughing at you, Beel!,” you chuckled out. “It was just that earlier I was thinking of what would I do if I had you in my room all to myself.”

At that, the gentle giant smiled at you, understanding why you were laughing. He crawled towards you, his face a few inches from yours. You were smiling but your face grew warm.

“So is it a ‘yes’?,” he asked, though his lips were drawing in close to yours.

“Y-yes-mmph,” his lips had closed in on yours and you felt his hands come up to your shoulders. Sliding off the covers from your body, Beel gently laid you back on the bed. You wrapped your arms around him as he coaxed your mouth open with a bit of prodding from his tongue. You could taste the sweetness of the snacks he had earlier as your tongues became entangled. You gasped when he pulled away.

Beelzebub set his focus on leaving kisses on your neck, starting a trail. He got to your breasts and cupped them in his hands, firmly squeezing them. A squeal escaped from your lips when you felt his wet tongue teasing your nipple. He sucked it into his mouth, pulling before letting it go with a pop.

"Ahhaaa, Beel! Please," you pleaded as he devoured your chest. You couldn't take it with him pulling, twisting, and sucking on your sensitive nubs. Your hands had moved to his forearms and you held a firm grip on them as Beel sucked away.

With a final tug, he left your poor nipples alone, going back to his task of leaving butterfly kisses on your body. Your body trembled with ecstasy but soon jolted from a shock when you felt a wet appendage lapping at your swollen clit.

Once Beel had finished leaving you kisses, he came across your pussy, still wet and glistening from when you were masturbating to him. His eyes darkened as his mind drifted back to that scene of you pleasuring yourself, seeing your delectable juices dripping your core.

He just knew that he had to taste you. To devour such a pretty, pink platter that was meant for him to sample. As soon as his tongue made contact with your clit, he felt you jump but he continued to lap at it, enjoying the taste and fragrance you gave off. You squirmed and your pants started to fill the room. Your toes curled and your feet had a hard time not slipping off your sheets as you encouraged Beel to keep going.

His tongue parted your puffy, pussy lips and he noticed your legs trembling. So he hooked his hands underneath your knees, spreading them further to her better access. He let your legs rest on his shoulders, all the while keeping his mouth on you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," you chanted over and over as your back arched, wanting to rub your sex over his tongue. You could feel yourself coming undone and on the verge of cumming. Beel's member twitched against the thin fabric of his swim shorts as he could tell your release was imminent, but...

Reluctantly, he pulled away from your pussy. He really wanted you to release all your tasty juices over his cock. He wiped away the mix of his saliva and your own cream from his chin.

You groaned but it turned into a squeak when Beel crawled back on top of you. Your legs were still over his shoulders and so you felt your body being folded in half but it wasn't too uncomfortable. But it aroused you more as you could feel his bulge heavy against your sex. You wanted it inside, for it to stretch your walls as you take every inch Beel gave you. For you to cream all over it so you could lick it off him and he could do it all over again.

Beelzebub's lips pressed against yours and you wasted no time parting your lips so his tongue could share the taste of your pussy. You could feel Beel's hands fumbling to pull down his shorts to let his cock finally breath. His lips never left yours, even as he guided his cock to your hole. You had braced yourself but was pleasantly surprised when he sanked into you with ease, but it still raised a moan out of you as your wall stretched to accommodate him.

Beel broke the kiss to let out a hissing sound as your pussy took him in so smoothly. He could feel you clenching around him, wanting to greedily take in more. But he was fully seated inside you, his balls pressed firmly against the plumpness of your ass.

"Shit...(Y/N), you feel so fucking amazing," he said as he recaptured your lips with his and rocked his hips to get a little friction going. He pulled back until only half of his dick was inside and slammed back into you. He repeated the action a few more times, drawing out moans that ended up getting swallowed up by him.

You pulled away from the kiss to cry out freely as he set a hard, quick pace as his hips connected with yours repeatedly. The slapping sound of your skin colliding overcome the sounds of your moans and cries. Beel couldn't help but groan at the way your pussy tightened around him with every thrust. Your body trembled against his as the heat became overwhelming. Your hands scrambled to grip at something, changing from scratching at Beelzebub's back or balling up your sheets into your fist, as you feared that the pleasure was going to take you away.

The seams were tearing and Beel could feel you were close as your pussy convulsed around him. So he sat up, holding your legs up, and pounded away at you. Your moans turned to screams and chants of Beel's name as his cock wrecked you.

"Beeeeel! I'm cumming, cumming!," you screamed, but it didn't deter him even as your released overflowed on his cock. The consistent clenching of your pussy finally drove him over the edge and his seed coated the inside of your walls, a deep growl erupted from him as he pressed his cock deep inside you.

With the both of you spent for the moment, Beel slipped out of you and collapsed beside you. However, he wrapped his arms around you to bring you closer. You sighed contently, feeling very much satiated as well as Beelzebub.

You felt lips pressing against your forehead and giggled before giving Beel a chaste kiss on the lip.

"That was amazing," you smiled. You saw his cheeks redden and the hug tightens.

"I-I would like to do that again...maybe sometime," spoke the blushing giant as he looked into your eyes.

The tips of your ears turning red as you agreed.

You figured this boat nightmare wasn't too bad as you snuggled up to Beel's chest, wondering if you had the courage to say you like him.

You saved the thought for another day to ponder later.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt day hurray! What does BaXia think of ChenQing? They would have crossed paths in the war, right? What do all the other weapons and instruments think of WWX apparently setting aside SuiBian for ChenQing? Can THEY tell he's got no golden core?

ao3

You seem kind of evil, Baxia remarked when she first met the flute.

Yeah? The flute responded without first bothering to extend her perceptive aura out to see who was talking to her, sounding like a little punk, arrogant and bold. Well, you seem kind of – oh fuck oh fuck you’re terrifying!

This was true. Baxia was terrifying.

Please don’t destroy me! My master needs me!

Baxia said nothing, enjoying how the flute squirmed, and nudged her own master pointedly.

Do not destroy the flute, her master responded with a sigh. He knew Baxia well. Her master is on our side.

Truly, war made for strange bedfellows. Baxia mourned the loss of the easy, straightforward night-hunt.

She nudged her master again.

Yes, fine, you can chase.

Her master - loving, wonderful, understanding master that he was - very casually walked across the room, unhooked her from his back, and put her down next to where the flute was hanging off her master's belt.

Chase, Baxia said happily, the aura of her power already spreading beyond the confines of her blade. Chase, chase, chase –

Someone help meeeeeee!

-

You’re kind of a dick, Chenqing said, having finally realized that Baxia had no intention of destroying her incipient spiritual soul. Anyone ever tell you that?

Yes.

…really? Who dared?

My master.

Your master is badass. Chenqing contemplated for a moment. So is mine, he's very brave, even suicidally brave, but not – you know – that much.

Baxia considered this, and accepted it. Her master was indeed a superior sort of human.

Why do you smell of death? she asked, mildly curious.

My master uses me to direct resentful energy, so I’m affected by its aura. You?

I bathe in it.

…you're so badass.

Yes. Baxia was.

You’re not bad, she told Chenqing, which almost predictably got a little huffy.

I raise armies of the dead! I am terrifying! They call me the phantom flute! I am more than 'not bad', okay?!

Baxia ignored Chenqing's nonsense. It would not take long for her to realize that being called ‘not bad’ by Baxia was a very high compliment, as such things went.

-

Are there any swords that aren’t afraid of you? Chenqing asked. She was very chatty. Or sabers. Or musical instruments…

Which musical instruments have you met?

Uh, mostly Wangji? Wangji’s cool.

Baxia occasionally wished for eyes so that she could roll them. Her human got a great deal of relief out of doing that, according to him. Wangji has a temperament of ice, yes.

No, I mean, that’s not what I meant, I – wait. Are you making a joke right now?

Baxia said nothing.

You have a sense of humor?!

Baxia said nothing.

This is ridiculous. It’s like meeting a hurricane with sharp teeth and finding out it also likes to sing bawdy brothel songs.

You’re kind of stupid, Baxia observed.

Well, yeah. I mean. Have you met my master?

Baxia had.

He’s only scary by accident, Chenqing said ruthlessly, which was only to be expected – no one dunked on a human like their spiritual weapon. Inside, he’s a big soft squishy meatball.

My master cries when he has feelings.

My master too! Humans, am I right?

Baxia supposed Chenqing was, in fact, right.

Perhaps she could stay.

-

It’s not that I don’t appreciate everything Wei Wuxian is doing for us, Baxia's master remarked to her one day. But didn’t he have a sword at one point? The one with the ridiculous name – Suibian.

At the next meeting, Baxia asked.

Suibian? Yeah, master doesn’t use him anymore, Chenqing said. It's a bit sad, actually. He can’t access the spiritual energy in the blade anymore.

Baxia didn’t like the sound of that. How come?

Master doesn’t have a golden core, Chenqing said. I think he used to, but he doesn’t anymore.

Seems careless.

Hey, I’m pretty sure it’s not his fault! Anyway, it’s a whole big secret. Why do you ask?

My master wanted to know.

Hah, Chenqing said. Nice of you to ask on his behalf, since you can’t tell him what the result of your question was.

Baxia said nothing.

You – can’t. Right? Masters can’t hear what swords say.

I, Baxia said, am not a sword.

…oh shit. Shit, no, you can’t –!

-

“We need to talk,” Baxia’s master said to Chenqing’s. “In private.”

You’re a rotten tattletale, Chenqing said.

Why do you care? He won’t know it was you that squealed.

Yeah, well, I know that I did it!

It’s for the best. My master will be nice about it, and your master will feel better for it. Baxia considered. There may be tears.

There were many tears.

Master really does seem like he feels better, Chenqing observed. I wouldn’t have called that.

Told you so.

-

So, Chenqing said. This hunt is probably the last time we’ll be able to hang out.

Probably, Baxia agreed.

I was hoping to ask for some advice.

Bichen is amendable to your flirting, and Wangji follows where she leads, so you have a shot.

I – what? That wasn’t what I was going to ask.

Baxia waited.

…wait, are you serious? Will that work? I could do that –

-

The flute’s an idiot, Baxia told her master. But maybe she and that master of hers can help you here.

It would be inappropriate for me to ask, her master said, rubbing his eyes. The Jiang sect kicked him out, remember? It would be stepping on their face to approach him despite that.

Okay, Baxia said. So step.

Baxia…

You share a secret with him, at his request, she pointed out. He owes you for keeping it secret for him. At minimum, even if he can’t help you right now, he can help protect your brother when you’re gone.

Her master was silent. That was his weak spot, and had always been.

No one would be able to know, he finally said. And Meng Yao comes every week.

Is our home so small that we can’t hide someone from Meng Yao’s sight? Baxia said scathingly. Since when is he the master here, not you?

I just meant that he’s a sneak that’d sell me out to his father given half a chance, her master sighed. All right, I’ll see if there’s anything that can be done. Wei Wuxian is a musical cultivator, and a genius; maybe he can tell me why Clarity doesn’t seem to be having the impact we hoped it would.

Sure, Baxia said. Whatever. I don't really care. Just get help.

-

Well, that worked, Baxia said to Chenqing. Sort of.

How are you this badass? You just -! Singlehandedly -! I can’t – how?!

Calm down, Baxia advised. What are you, human?

How dare you.

You’re the one acting like you need air to speak.

…so I’m looking forward to seeing the Lotus Pier again now that we're not banished any more, Chenqing said, pointedly changing the subject because she was wrong and she knew it. Thanks for that.

Thanks for figuring out that the evil meat was poisoning my master.

That’s. uh. Sure a way to call someone.

Why not? He’s evil, and he’s made of flesh, and he’s going to be nothing but meat as soon as I have an opportunity.

I thought your master was thinking of some sort of confinement…?

He certainly has thoughts, Baxia allowed, purposefully broadcasting.

I have very strong thoughts, her master replied pointedly. Do not kill him on your own – I’ll only get the blame for that.

Oh no, Baxia told him insincerely. How terrible for you.

Baxia. Please.

Fine. What about Jin Guangshan?

…what about him?

Me and the flute are going to take care of him.

We are? Wait, are you talking to your master right now? Oh that’s so cool. Tell him to tell my master that I said hi.

Baxia would tell her master no such thing.

That’s probably not the right way to do that, her master said, but in that wavering tone of voice that suggested he was open to being convinced. Though it would be easier to sell Meng Yao as being only collateral damage in the scheme if Jin Guangshan took the lion’s share of the blame, which would only happen if he wasn’t around…that doesn’t seem right, though.

Sure it is, Baxia said soothingly. He’s the one who wanted to play with resentful energy, right? All we want to do is play with him back. Who can say no to that? He’s practically volunteered!

-

“Okay, I have a weird question,” Chenqing’s master said to Baxia’s. “Please don’t judge me. But…did we happen to work together to drive Jin Guangshan into a resentful energy backlash?”

“We did not,” Baxia’s master said.

“Okay. Right. Got it. Sorry, stupid question.”

“Our spiritual weapons did.”

“…what?”

“If you’re wondering why your Chenqing shows signs of use in the manner that would be associated with Jin Guangshan’s untimely demise, it’s because the resentful energy you’re using has been sufficient to allow it to cultivate in the direction of a guai,” Baxia’s master explained. “It has a will of its own now, just as Baxia does. You will need to account for that when you master it in the future.”

“Wait. Are you saying that my flute has, what, a personality? Can think and talk and do things on its own?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…that’s so cool. Can you tell Baxia to tell Chenqing I said ‘hi’?”

Why are they like this, Baxia’s master asked Baxia.

I don’t know, you’re the human expert, she replied, ignoring the way that Chenqing was happily chirping answers to her human’s questions even though he couldn’t hear her. Why are you all like this?

I don’t know, he said. I really don’t know.

-

It’s nice to meet you, Suibian said, sounding appropriately respectful. I appreciate your master finding a way for my master to continue to wield me.

It’s through resentful energy, Chenqing said gleefully. Lots and lots of it, refining the sword like a saber – my poor master’s going to have to stay up late and learn so many techniques, his hair’s all going to fall out.

Yes, Baxia said. I can see the resentful energy. There’s a lot of it.

Lots and lots, Suibian said proudly. I drew in everything I could.

Without sorting out the evil?

…isn’t it all evil?

Mm, not really, Baxia said, and began to extend out her aura.

Uh, Suibian said. What’s going on.

I told you to be more patient! You shouldn’t have taken the evil parts, Chengqing said. It makes you a little bit evil, too, and that makes you Baxia’s prey.

…prey?

Chase, Baxia said. Chase, chase, chase –

Help! Help – somebody help!

I would, Chenqing giggled. But master doesn’t speak flute. Sorry!

[iceeckos12]

A time travel au. angst and h/c. inspired by this post

Warnings: jon’s very low self-esteem

“What do you think of him?” Jon suddenly asks, staring blankly at the wall of the breakroom.

Tim pauses in the middle of chewing his sandwich to give him a long, considering look.

He’s mostly decided to suspend his disbelief until further notice, simply to keep from losing his mind. What else is one supposed to do when future versions of Jon and Martin, who are also apparently dating, tell you that your workplace is currently involved in a plot to end the world? Ideally he would’ve processed one big revelation at a time, but apparently they don’t have time for that, so goodbye grip on reality, it was nice knowing you. I’ll hit the restart button as soon as things start making sense again.

Tim wipes his hand across his mouth, swallows, and asks, “You mean Jon II?”

Jon rolls his eyes, like Tim’s being obtuse on purpose just to annoy him. “Yes, I mean...him. Me. Jon II.” Then his nose wrinkles amusingly, the same way it always does whenever he says the moniker. He’s hated it since the beginning, but it was a battle he quickly lost, what with all three of his assistants opposing him.

Normally, Tim wouldn’t have thought twice about shrugging and answering, but...Jon’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately. Oh sure, he’d blushed up a storm upon learning that his future self and Martin were dating, and he’d expressed his own misgivings at the beginning, but...since then he’s been eerily, silently watchful. In Tim’s experience, when presented with this sort of puzzle Jon generally buries himself in research, and doesn’t emerge until he’s good and ready to do so.

There’s something else on his mind.

So Tim puts down his sandwich and gives himself a moment to think carefully through his response. “I mean...he’s a lot like you, obviously. But he seems…” What’s a polite way to say, the trauma and the boyfriend seems to have made him a little more easygoing? He certainly smiles more freely than he ever has, which...honestly, makes Tim want to cry sometimes. How horrible, that so much abject cruelty had just made him more kind. “...tired. A little less high-strung?”

“I see,” Jon says, turning his mulish gaze to his curry, dragging his spoon through the thick sauce.

Tim waits a beat longer, but when nothing else seems forthcoming he prompts, “Why do you ask?”

Jon’s reaction is only to press his lips into a thin, tight line. Tim knows this mood; he’s weighing how insecure he’ll look if he says whatever’s actually bothering him out loud, versus how much he wants someone else to hear it. Pushing him now will only make him clam up, so Tim just waits.

Tim’s patience is rewarded when Jon blurts, “But you like him. You...you all do.”

“Yes,” Tim says slowly, because it’s true. Martin’s so enamoured with a Jon that actually likes him that he keeps bringing him tea just to get another glimpse of that gentle, thankful smile, just to strike up another conversation about nothing. Sasha has decided that he’s the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to her, and insists on consulting him whenever she reads a new true statement.

Tim’s personally a little unnerved by the awful, sad way future Jon looks at him sometimes, or the way he flinches back whenever someone tries to touch him without warning. But he’d taken Tim aside and quietly explained everything he knew about what happened to Danny, so.

Oh, Tim thinks, feeling like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Jon may be an old hand at fooling others with his grumpy persona, but Tim knows that he’s just using it to hide his massive inferiority complex. “Wait, are you jealous?”

Jon ducks his head, and his ears darken. Gotcha, Tim thinks. 

“Jon, you know that that’s still you, right?” he explains gently, quietly relieved that it’s not something more complicated. “We like him just as much as we like you, because you’re the same person.”

“But he’s not the same, is he?” Jon protests. “Look at the scars on his neck, on his hand. And he has panic attacks, and he flinches at loud noises, and, and—”

He breaks off, biting down hard on his lip, threading a hand through his hair.

Tim stares at him, feeling off-kilter, like he missed a step coming down the stairs. That doesn’t sound like jealousy. “...Jon?”

Jon shakes his head, his breath escaping him in thready, devastated gasps.

He can’t tell what’s going on in Jon’s head, and it’s starting to scare him. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Jon just sits there for a moment long, tugging at his hair, staring sightlessly at the middle distance. Tim gently untangles his fingers, giving him something a little more solid to hold onto.

“You all like him,” he says at last. “You all...he’s so kind, and he’s funny, and you like him, because someone hurt him first. He’s different—we’re different—because someone cut our throat and burned our hand, and you like him better.”

Tim’s horrified. “Jon—”

“Should I accept that?” he continues, the words flooding from him like a dam finally exploding in a shower of groaning wood and weathered stone. “Do I—how do I carry on knowing that I could be the person I want to become, if only I give myself to monstrosity, if only I let myself be hurt like that?”

“Of course we’re not going to let that happen to you!” Tim interrupts, voice higher and more frightened than he meant it to be. He’s applying duct tape to a raging river. He has no fucking idea how to fix this. “You don’t deserve—”

“Don’t I?” Jon demands, whirling on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t I deserve to be happy? Or am I unworthy of even this kind of improvement? Am I doomed to be like this forever?” Tears well in his eyes, spill over. “Don’t I deserve it?”

And then he slowly, inevitably, dissolves into tears, his slim shoulders shaking as he curls over and buries his face in his elbow. Tim drapes an arm across his back, angling his body so he can gently tuck Jon’s head against his shoulder. He doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do. Even if Jon were in any shape to hear it, he has no idea how to fix this.

Tim could tell him that he and Martin and Sasha all think that he’s fine the way he is, and it’s the stress of an apparently eldritch job that’s causing him to push people away, but he doubts Jon would believe it. Words mean nothing when actions have been screaming something entirely different all this time, and Jon’s always been more observant than they give him credit for.

“Oh, Jon,” he whispers when the tears finally start to slow, dropping a kiss onto silver and black hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you felt that way.”

Jon pulls away and shrugs, averting his reddened eyes. Tim squeezes his elbow to prevent him from retreating entirely. They sit like that for a moment, Jon going very still and very tense under Tim’s hand, settling into the vulnerability like an open wound.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says finally, sniffing heavily. He’s aiming for his usual brusque, dry tone, but his voice is shaking, and he’s not fooling anyone. “That was unprofessional of me.”

Before Tim can stop himself, an incredulous laugh rips out of him. “Jon,” he says quickly, “We’re well beyond professional. You know that, right? You don’t have to hide from me.”

Jon flushes. “Yes, well—it was unfair for me to put this on you, as your fr—as…” His expression goes all fragile and uncertain, and Tim’s heart aches.

“It’s not unfair,” Tim corrects gently. “As your friend,” and here he pauses for emphasis, “I want to know when you’re feeling like this.”

“Oh,” Jon murmurs, then straightens and scrubs the teartracks from his cheeks. “Oh.”

Tim nods reassuringly, takes a deep breath, and makes an educated guess. “I know you’re scared, Jon. We all are. This place is...horrible, and seeing what you went through is...terrifying. I can’t imagine how that must be for you.” He lets his eyes flicker up. Jon’s still watching him, rapt, and good, good. I haven’t lost him. “I won’t deny that he’s getting along with Sasha and Martin quite well, but...but that’s not because of what he—you—went through. It’s because….right now, you’re pushing people away because you’re scared, but he’s already done that. He knows that pushing people away just means you end up alone. It doesn’t mean he’s a better person, just that he’s a little wiser.”

“But how can you be sure?” Jon asks, leaning forward, eyes big and desperate.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have become your friend if I didn’t like you,” Tim admits unashamedly.

His bold honesty is rewarded by Jon flushing and ducking his head.

“But even so,” he continues, sobering, “Even if you were the worst person on the planet—and you’re not—you wouldn’t deserve to be hurt like that, no matter what the outcome. Does that make sense?”

Jon looks thoughtful as he says, “I—yes. Yes, that makes sense.”

He can tell though, that Jon doesn’t quite believe him. That’s okay—honestly, it’s what he was expecting. Tim’s been running headfirst into the wall that is Jon’s terrible self-esteem for as long as they’ve been friends. This problem is going to take more than one half-assed pep talk.

That’s okay, though. Jon’s worth the effort.

[impishtubist]

for the ask meme: "tell me what's wrong" for sirius & harry!

Okay, this one got way out of hand, so I'm putting most of it under a cut. Thank you for the excellent prompt! CW for the Dursleys being terrible to a child, but don't worry, Sirius makes it better :)

18. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Petunia Dursley opened the door and said, “He doesn’t want to go with you.”

“What?” Sirius stared at her in disbelief. In six years, Harry had never refused a weekend with Sirius. “Why?”

“How am I supposed to know?” she huffed. She reluctantly stepped back to let Sirius in; he couldn’t remember the last time he had been allowed in the house. Whenever he came for Harry, he had to wait on the doorstep until Harry came outside. “I don’t care what you say to him, but get him out of here before Vernon comes home. I will not have him stay here and ruin our weekend.”

Sirius bit down hard on the inside of his cheek and brushed past her. Six years. Six years of holding his tongue (and leaving his wand in his motorbike) around Harry’s foul relatives so they wouldn’t revoke his right to have Harry for a weekend once a month. Six years of playing nice while he slogged through both the wizarding and Muggle court systems, pursuing any avenue that might allow him custody of his godson. He wanted nothing more than to hex the Dursleys into next week, but he was no good to Harry in prison.

He made his way upstairs to the smallest bedroom, where Harry had a bed and a desk and not much else. Sirius had learned early on to keep most of Harry’s things at his own house, lest they be destroyed by his cousin. He knocked on the door.

“Haz, it’s me. Can I come in?” he asked softly.

A tiny voice said, “Yeah.”

Harry was sitting on his bed, his hands folded in his lap, quiet and still the way no seven-year-old should be. Sirius crouched in front of him.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered, putting a hand on Harry’s knee. “Your aunt says you don’t want to come with me this weekend.”

Harry wouldn’t meet his eyes. He sniffed and shook his head. “No. I’m gonna stay here.”

“You know that I would never force you to do something you don’t want to do,” Sirius said. “But tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

Harry’s lip wobbled, but he shook his head. Sirius’s heart broke for him.

“Harry, please,” he whispered. “Just tell me what’s wrong, and if you still want to stay here, that’s fine. I won’t force you to come with me. I promise.”

He held up his pinky finger, Harry still being at the age where a pinky swear was the most solemn promise one could make. Harry tentatively clasped his finger, then slid off the bed and padded over to his desk. Sirius stood and followed him. Harry pulled open the top drawer.

“I’m sorry, Siri,” he whispered, tears filling his eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”

On Harry’s third birthday, Sirius had given him a framed picture of James and Lily holding their newborn son. It had sat on Harry’s bedside table ever since. Harry loved this picture. He brought it up nearly every time Sirius saw him, wanting to know about the day he was born and the parents he had never known. Sirius had lost count of the number of times he had told Harry the same story, and he’d happily keep telling it for the rest of his life.

The frame was now broken, the glass shattered, the picture ripped in two. Sirius knew at once that this wasn’t Harry’s doing--even if he’d accidentally knocked over the frame, that picture had been ripped by human hands, and Harry would never have done such a thing.

“Harry,” Sirius said, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible, “what happened?”

“I was bad.” Tears were flowing down Harry’s cheeks now. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” Sirius sank to his knees so he could properly look Harry in the eyes. “You are not bad, Harry. Who did this to your picture? Was it your cousin?”

Harry shook his head. Sirius’s heart sank. It was one thing for a spoiled, entitled child to ruin Harry’s things, but an adult being purposely cruel to Harry…

Well, what did he expect?

“Was it your aunt?” he pressed, and when Harry shook his head again, he asked, “Your uncle?”

Slowly, very slowly, Harry nodded. Sirius let out a slow breath.

“Tell me what happened,” he said.

“Broke a glass,” Harry whispered, breath hitching as he fought back sobs. “I didn’t mean to. And Uncle Vernon s-said that I should--that I should know how it feels to have my things broken, since I keep--I keep breaking theirs. S-so he broke it. And he--he ripped the picture. Padfoot, I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” Sirius said, pulling Harry into his arms, “you didn’t do anything wrong. Is that why you didn’t want to come with me this weekend? You thought I would be mad at you?”

Harry nodded against his shoulder, and Sirius didn’t think he had anything in his heart left to break, but oh, he was wrong. He sat on the floor and settled Harry in his lap, trying to console the sobbing child while his mind raced. This couldn’t go on. He had spent six years playing by the rules, doing everything the right and proper way, and what had it gotten him? James and Lily’s son having to live with people who hated him, who were cruel to him, who starved him of love and affection. What good did playing by the rules do when Harry was miserable?

Sirius took a deep breath, clarity settling over him and calming his frayed nerves as he came to a decision. He was about to do something very, very stupid, and Dumbledore was going to be furious.

Good.

“Harry,” he said, “how would you like to go camping with me and Uncle Moony this weekend?”

Harry looked up at him, face blotchy, eyes overbright. “R-really?”

“Really, Haz. I’m not mad at you at all, and I still want you to come with me this weekend.” And forever. “You know that special backpack I got you, the one that’s bigger on the inside?”

Harry nodded, wiping his cheeks.

“I want you to get that, and fill it with all your favorite things that you have here. Any shoes or clothes or books or toys.” There weren’t many here at the Dursley house, but Harry had a few belongings that he liked. “It’s going to be a special camping trip, where we take all of our favorite things with us. Okay?”

While Harry hurried off to pack up his things, Sirius went back over to the desk and peered down at the shattered frame and tattered picture. He regretted leaving his wand in his motorbike, because it would have been faster to use it, but a few passes with a wandless repairing spell was enough to restore the picture to pristine condition. He then repaired the frame and slipped the picture back inside.

“Here,” he said, putting it in Harry’s backpack. “We’re going to take that with us as well.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes were wide.

“Absolutely. You ready to go?”

Harry nodded, and Sirius did one last pass of the room to make sure nothing important had been forgotten. Satisfied, he took Harry’s hand and led him downstairs. A scowling Petunia waited by the door, no doubt to make sure with her own eyes that Harry left.

“We’ll see you Sunday night at the usual time,” she said briskly. Sirius always kept Harry as late as he could get away with, dropping him off at Privet Drive well after dinner.

“See you then,” Sirius said. That gave them a two-day head start--he could work with that.

Outside, he got Harry settled in the sidecar with his helmet on, then swung his leg over the bike and started the engine. When they were high in the clouds over Surrey, Sirius had relaxed enough to start planning ahead, instead of reacting. The first step was to stop at his place in Islington to pack some necessities for them both. Then, the two of them would head to Remus’s and enlist his help, preferably by taking him away with them. Sirius could only imagine how that conversation was going to go.

Hey Moony, I may have just kidnapped our godson and now we probably have to flee the country before they realize what I've done and start looking for us, want to come with?

Beside him, Harry gave a whoop of laughter, and Sirius grinned. Whatever happened now, it would be worth it, as long as Harry was happy.

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

For your September Prompt Fill, Flynn: "Don't mean to be jealous" ; Carrie "I'll play nice" ; Julie "What did you do?"

Thank you for the prompts, my new friend! Sorry I haven't posted in a few days, but I needed a quick break, and I wanted to post all three of these under your ask, so it all worked perfectly :) Three fics below, all of which are in a vague post-season one but not AU-specific timeline, though the second one could easily fit in my standing on the edge series. Hope you enjoy!

Send me prompts!

In the doorway to Julie’s bedroom, Flynn clears her throat.

Julie looks up from her homework and— to Flynn’s stark relief— immediately grins. “Hey!” she says, scrambling off the bed to give Flynn a hug. “What are you doing here? Did I miss a text?”

Flynn shakes their head. “It’s okay, your dad let me in.” She’d thought about texting or calling first, but then she got so stressed out trying to figure out what to say that they gave up and just came straight over here. “Can we talk?”

Julie’s eyes go wide, her smile a little tight. “Oh no, am I in trouble?”

“No, no, of course not.” Flynn wrings their hands as they slip past Julie to sit on the bed. “It’s just… I… miss you.”

Julie sits next to her and puts a comforting hand on her back. “Miss me? You see me every day at school, and at band practice.”

“I know, but school is school.” Flynn turns their hands over expressively, exposing the frayed strands of her years-old collection of friendship bracelets (of which Julie made a resounding most). “And at band practice, you… well, you—”

She cuts herself off, pressing her mouth into a hard line because they’re suddenly certain that if they say a single word more, they’re going to cry.

But Julie knows her better than she knows herself. “Oh, Flynnie,” she coos, and pulls Flynn into a warm, loving hug. It drives all Flynn’s tears and insecurities away, makes them feel like nothing’s wrong, like nothing could ever be wrong again.

“I don’t mean to be jealous,” they say, voice muffled into Julie’s sweatshirt.

“Nonsense.” Julie holds her even tighter. “You’re right, okay? My focus has been mostly on the guys lately, but that's gonna change. You came first, okay? You’re more important to me.”

“I don’t have to be more important,” Flynn teases, but they have to admit, it is nice to hear. “I love you, Jules.”

“I love you, too.”

------

Before Carrie can officially be forgiven and allowed to call herself Julie’s friend again, she has to meet the ghosts.

This is stupid, in her opinion, because she’s already met the ghosts. She saw them play with Julie, what, four times? They were present, if invisible, when Carrie went to Julie to explain Nick’s odd behavior and beg her to help get the real him back. Hell, they went on that rescue mission together— Julie and her dad, Carrie and hers, the three ghosts. They saved Nick together. The bassist with the puppy dog eyes picked her up when she tried to fistfight the evil ghost magician with terrible hair.

But according to Julie, that doesn’t count. According to Julie, Carrie can’t say she’s actually met the ghosts until they’ve spent at least twenty minutes together outside of mortal peril.

And according to Julie, Carrie needs to stop moping around the house waiting for Nick to forgive her and start making friends again, so. Here she is.

“Here’s the thing,” Julie says as she and Carrie walk to the Molinas’ together after school. “They know mostly everything, about… you and me, and… you and me and Flynn, and you and Nick, and me and Nick—”

“Okay, I get it,” Carrie snaps, getting the feeling that Julie will just keep going on if Carrie lets her.

But then Julie blushes a little, fingers tangled together in front of her, and Carrie feels abruptly nauseous.

Which is new.

“Sorry,” she says softly, eyes trained straight ahead. She still doesn’t miss Julie’s look of surprise. The apologizing— that’s new, too. “Go on.”

After a moment, Julie continues, “They’re just protective of me, okay? And a little fragile right now. So can you please…” She winces, like she knows before the words are even out of her mouth how they’re going to sound. “Try to be who you’ve been lately and not who you were for the last six years?”

Who Carrie was for the last six years would be so offended, would scoff at the implication that she’s ever been anything less than perfect, would insult Julie right back and then storm off in a huff, ghost boys be damned.

But the person she’s been since Julie played the Orpheum— since Carrie’s dad had a breakdown and Nick got possessed— doesn’t do things like that. The Carrie she’s trying to be is patient and forgiving and kind. She’s a good person.

Carrie hasn’t known how to be a good person in a really long time, but she is trying. So all she says is, “You don’t have to worry about me, Julie. I’ll play nice.”

She’s not sure how genuine it comes out sounding, but at least she tried.

When they get there, Julie stops in front of her garage doors and says, “Here’s the other thing.”

Carrie huffs and resists the urge to put her hands on her hips. “What, Molina.”

Julie blushes again, but it’s paired with a little smile this time, a smile that shoots sparks through Carrie’s stomach instead of that awful rolling guilt.

“I hope you like them,” Julie says. For a second, Carrie thinks she’s going to follow it up with, I hope they like you, but all Julie says is, “So.”

Carrie nods once. “So. Can we go inside now?’

Julie takes a deep breath, lets it out on another smile. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. C’mon in, Care. Come meet my boys.”

-----

There’s a knock on her door.

Julie calls, “Come in,” a little belatedly, all her focus on the book she hasn’t been able to put down since Mr. Wilson recommended it to her last week. She hears the door open, but if she can just finish this page…

She puts a finger on her stopping place and finally looks up, only to lose all interest in her book the second she sees all three of her ghost boys stacked head over head over head in her bedroom doorway.

“Oh my god,” she says, laying her book aside. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Luke scoffs, like the idea is just so ludicrous, he can’t believe she even suggested it. “We just missed you!”

He starts to bound forward, but Alex puts out an arm to hold him back, smiling politely. “Hi, Julie. May we come in?”

She giggles. “Sure.”

Luke poofs the ten feet over, cause he’s dramatic, settling on his stomach at the foot of her bed so his legs hang over her ottoman. Alex rolls his eyes and walks over to sit at her desk, swiveling her chair back and forth. Reggie, with no hesitations, reservations, or even any outward acknowledgement that he’s acting any differently than his bandmates, clambers over Luke to snuggle up against Julie’s side.

And he looks between Luke and Alex like, Come on, guys.

Alex raises a questioning eyebrow at Julie, a subtle, respectful request for permission, while Luke fully breaks out the puppy eyes and pout. Julie rolls her eyes, because she has to keep up appearances here, but ultimately beckons them over.

It’s only been a few months since Julie’s desperate prayer brought her boys back from the brink of nonexistence. At the beginning, they couldn’t stop touching each other, all four of them, like they were all collectively paranoid that if they let go, they’d lose the ability to touch altogether. They’ve backed off some, since, as the boys have gotten settled into their new after-afterlives, so it’s been a while since they’ve all cuddled up to each other like this.

It’s nice. She missed it.

“Whatcha reading?” Luke asks, chin looped over her shoulder.

Julie holds her book up so they can see. “Mr.— uh. Bobby recommended it to me.”

She tenses involuntarily. Trevor Wilson is still sort of a sore subject with the boys, though they’ve talked and nobody’s exploded. But Reggie just goes oooh and makes grabby hands at the book until she hands it over so he can read the back cover, and Luke just makes a disinterested sort of hum and wiggles around so his leg is slung half over Julie’s, and Alex just says, “Does it have frogs in it? I remember Bobby reading a lot of books with frogs in them.”

This sparks an argument, threefold, about a) whether Alex’s memory is serving him correctly regarding the subject of Bobby Shaw’s reading material, b) whether Bobby ever actually read any books at all or if he just acted like he did, and c) whether or not anybody cared. Julie leans her head back against her pillows and closes her eyes, letting the boys’ voices wash over her like a gentle ocean breeze, or the prettiest song.

She missed them, too. She’s glad they’re here.

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

[iliumheightnights]

One With Nature | Paul Lahote x Male Reader

Fandom: Twilight Pairing: Paul Lahote x Male Reader Prompt: How would Paul react if his boyfriend/mate/crush was an Ecopath? Meaning he telepathically hears and connects to Nature. Like the rocks, the ocean, the sky, the stars, the trees, animals, etc. all have a soul or voice that he can hear.

AN: Hey guys! Sorry for being quiet recently. I've hit a really bad/big down slump and have just not been having a good time. Hopefully this will slowly get me back into things! This is a prompt/ask that @echoesystem asked for! Hope you enjoy!

…

M/n saw on the beach of La Push, his hands pushed into the mix of sand and rocks. With his eyes closed, he took in the smell of the ocean air and felt the squashed sand between his fingers. As he took in the vibrations, he could hear the whales swimming deep below the waves. It was all just...so relaxing and calming to him.

They’re coming.

The voices said to him. Opening his eyes he heard the shouting and excited calls of the familiar voices. Soon M/n felt strong arms wrap around him. “Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting. You’re not cold are you?”

“No Paul I’m alright. It’s rather relaxing sitting out here. Calming.”

Paul chuckled and nuzzled his head into his boyfriend’s shoulder. M/n could feel that there was something bothering him. He could feel his boyfriend’s emotions, angry, nervous, questioning. Something was going on.

“You okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just...you feel tense. Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing...we just have a meeting with the leaches later today.”

“What? Why?” That was the big question. The vampires and Pack have been enemies for ages, sure they had a treaty but why have a meeting unless something was going on? “Paul, what aren’t you telling me?”

Paul looked at him with a frown. “I’m sorry M/n. It’s pack business, I can’t say anything.” M/n could see Paul hated keeping the information from him but that didn’t help put his mind at ease. “Just know...the pack...I will protect you.” M/n hugged Paul a bit tighter, if not to comfort him, then to comfort himself.

…

M/n sat on the porch of the Pack House. The boys had left not too long ago to meet with the Cullens. None of the boys told him anything about what was going on and when he asked Emily, she hadn’t even known they were meeting with them. What was being kept secret?

With a sigh, M/n stood up and walked over to a tree near the house. “Well...let’s see what we can find out.” Placing his hand on the tree’s trunk he whispered to it. “Please. Help me find out what’s being kept from me.” Like the tree was taking pity on him, M/n’s mind began travelling through the roots.

The trees rushed past him as his mind travelled. A few animals fly past as well. Soon everything was slowing down and he took in the sight in front of him. The pack in their wolf forms were with the Cullens. M/n sat on a branch and took watched what they were doing. Luckily none of them would notice him since only his mind travelled, his body was back at the Pack House.

The one vampire, Carlisle, was talking about something...newborns. They were talking about how an army of these newborns was on their way. That’s why the Pack was here, to fight this army. Now that M/n knew about what their secret was he’d have to talk to Paul about it. He could help with them.

He continued to watch them as they trained. Taking in all the tips that the Cullens were giving the pack, they’d be useful to him too. Soon the meeting broke up and the pack and Cullens went their separate ways for now. M/n let his mind get reeled back to his body back at the Pack House. Opening his eyes he gave the tree a pat. “Thanks for your help. I appreciate it a lot.”

Going back to the porch, he awaited the return of the Pack. It didn’t take too long for them to come home. M/n watched as the boys walked out of the woods Sam looked serious while the rest joked around with each other.

Once Paul caught sight of him his smile grew even larger and the boy came rushing to him, pulling him into a hug. “Sorry for taking so long. Hope you weren’t too bored.” M/n smiled and hugged him back. “No not at all...um...let’s have a talk.”

M/n could feel that Paul had stiffened up a bit. “Is it about anything bad?” M/n chuckled and shook his head. “Maybe for you, but no. Not terrible. Come on.” He pulled Paul along with him into the forest just a bit more so they were away from the house and the others but still in the safety of being near them.

“So....newborns?”

Paul froze hearing that. “W-what? What do you mean? Were you following us?”

M/n sighed and pressed a hand near a tree. “No..but yes. It’s complicated.”

Paul’s face turned to a questionable one. “How did you hear about it? We would have known you were there.” With that M/n told Paul about everything. All about him being an Ecopath and what his powers can do. Paul was shocked, to say the least.

“I-w-why didn’t you tell me! This is so cool! You can talk with plants and animals!”

“I know, I can even hear you guys in wolf form.”

“That’s so freaking cool. We should tell the guys!” Paul excitedly started heading back to the house.

“Yeah! But first...let me help you guys.”

Paul stopped in his tracks. He knew exactly what M/n was trying to ask. “What? No. I can’t let you get hurt. Just stay here while we handle it.”

“Paul, I can help. Let me help.”

“No.” Paul didn’t say anything else as he walked back to the house, leaving his boyfriend behind. M/n knew Paul would say that, he just figured he’d give him the benefit of asking first. Now he’d take things into his own hands.

…

The day of the fight arrived. M/n could tell the entire pack was anxious. Their joking expressions were gone, replaced with stone-faced looks. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Finally, Sam stood up.

“Let’s go.”

Like that the pack began filing out of the house. Paul stayed back and gave M/n a look before walking over to him and pulling him into an embrace. “Please stay here. It’ll be okay. Stay safe.” Paul gave M/n a kiss before rushing out of the house and shifting into his wolf.

M/n smiled and whispered, “Stay safe.” Once he thought the pack was far enough, M/n left the house and sat on the lawn of the house. “Alright...here we go.” Pushing his hands into the soil, he began speaking. “Spirits of nature, of the earth, air and sea. Hear me now. I need your help. Please.”

Finally, the pack had arrived at the fight. They were quick to jump into action and tore into the newborns, just in time to help the Cullens. Paul would normally enjoy ripping into leaches and a part of him still is...but he was also worried about M/n. He needed to finish this to get back to him.

“Paul look out!” He heard Embry call out but it was too late.

Paul felt a strong grip on him. One of the newborns had taken advantage of his distraction and got hold of him. Paul wasn’t sure if he was going to get out or not and he thought of M/n again, how they had fought before. How he never apologized. Then he thought about what would happen to M/n if he did die there.

Just as soon as Paul had felt that tight grip on him, he felt the release. Taking a breath, Paul turned to see the newborn get lifted into the air by a large vine. There was a small rumble and another vine burst out of the ground grabbing the other end of the vampire before both Vine’s tore them in half.

Paul looked around and noticed more vines shooting out of the ground along with animals coming out of the forest. If today couldn’t get any stranger it just did. It didn’t take long for Paul to realize what was causing this. “M/n.”

If anyone of the wolves were back at the house, they would have seen M/n in a deep state of meditation. Leaves, twigs and lights swirling around him as he communed with the nature spirits and watched over the battle. He might not be there, but he didn’t need to be to help.

Who knows, maybe he’d need to do some more explaining when they got back and Paul would probably have some choice words but he’ll deal with that later. Now he’s just going to make sure his family survives this.

For Paul, when he got back to M/n he was going to apologize for the fight and show his boyfriend just how much he loved him. But first, he needed to finish this fight.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Veritaserum Prompt Fic (Part 10)

(Okay- I'm not going to lie, I took a little bit of sadistic joy at everyone's outrage and devastation over the previous chapter. But only because I know what's coming. I promise we'll have a happy ending. Anyway. Start with part 1 on tumblr or jump over to AO3 to read the whole thing, if you like.)

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

Harry woke up smiling.

This was not something that had ever happened to him prior to the last week, but now the bed smelled like Draco, and the sun was slipping in through the curtains and warming his face, and Harry was free.

He'd never been this happy in his life.

Rolling over, he reached out, patting the bed and trying to find his lover's body so he could drag him over and kiss him awake.

When his searching turned up empty, Harry opened one eye to look at the empty space next to him. He frowned and cast a wandless tempus: 10:37. Harry blinked and summoned his wand and recast: 10:37.

That was strange, he never slept that late. Although, he supposed it explained why Draco was already up and out of bed, probably already out in his workshop working on whatever potion he'd been brewing the past week or so.

After a good stretch and pulling his hair up into a messy bun on top of his head, Harry made his way to the kitchen and over to the coffee pot. He frowned again when he found it empty and turned to head outside and make sure Draco was alright.

Before he'd gotten more than a few steps, his eyes caught on a piece of parchment and a familiar hawthorn wand laying on top of the island. "No," he whispered, heart freezing in his chest.

(Read more below the cut)

He picked up the letter off the island with a trembling hand and read

Dearest Harry, How can I even begin to tell you all that you mean to me? A less cowardly man than I would have found a way to say it to your face, but we both know that bravery is more your department. You've given me so much, Harry. I could never have imagined falling in love, never imagined that someone might love me in return. But that's why I had to do this, you see that don't you? Not because I don't love you but because I do. I love you with every fiber of my being, with all that I am, and you are mine, Harry. And I couldn't let you pay the price for my sins. I couldn't let you give up everything for me. Granger helped me draw up a contract with the Minister himself, you three certainly have a lot of friends in high places. In exchange for me, they're clearing you of all charges. Don't be angry with her; she just wants what is best for you, as well you must know by this point in your friendship. I know you're hurting right now, love. I know that this is breaking your big, perfect, beautiful heart; it's breaking the pathetic, shriveled excuse of a heart that I have, too. But it will pass, my darling, if you let it. So please, for me, let it go. Let me go. Be happy, be in love, live whatever life you want. Travel. Go to the States and do whatever muggle thing you wanted to do. You deserve the best life. Please know that I will spend the rest of my life grateful for you. And I will never forget the time when you were mine. You are, without exception, the best thing that has ever happened to me. Forever yours, Draco

Harry stared at the parchment in his hand, trailing trembling fingers over Draco's elegant script as his eyes blurred and his breathing came too fast. He clenched the letter to his chest, gasping against the ache of his heart expanding to accommodate the sadness and the sense of loss.

Without another thought he apparated straight into Ron and Hermione's kitchen.

"We thought you might show up at some point," Ron's voice said behind him.

Harry whipped around to see them both sitting at the table, "What the fuck did you do?" he asked, voice low and dangerous.

Hermione sighed, "What he asked us to."

"Why?" he asked before the enormity of this situation hit him all over, the realization that he'd never see Draco again stealing the air from his lungs. He bent forward, putting his hands on his knees, "I can't breathe," he managed, trying to suck breath into his lungs and failing.

Ron was at his side in an instant, easing him onto the floor as Hermione appeared in front of him, "let your head drop between your knees. Focus on a slow inhale, slow exhale," she said and Harry tried to sync up his breathing with hers until his heart stopped racing.

He leaned his head back against the wall and scrubbed his hands over his face. "He's gone," he whispered. Then he opened his eyes and looked at them, "How could you let this happen?"

Hermione looked down at her hands, "Draco reached out to me the day after the trial. He said he couldn't trap you, couldn't force you to live a life on the run again."

"And that he couldn't bear the thought of you getting caught," Ron added.

"We wouldn't have gotten caught," he said derisively.

Hermione shook her head, "Maybe not but what about every other person in your life, Harry? You would have spent the rest of your life separated from them."

"We miss you, mate," Ron added.

He shook his head and swiped angrily at the tears in his eyes, "Then we could have figured something out. It had only been a week!" he protested. "Just one week, we could have-" he broke off and covered his mouth. After a heart beat, he stood up, "I can't be here right now. I can't-" he shook his head, "I can't do this."

"Harry-" Hermione started.

"He asked me not to be mad at you," he said, "but I'm-" he broke off, his hands trembling as he tried to open the door. "I need-" he tried again before simply giving up and walking out the door. He needed Draco.

"Harry!" Ron called behind him but he just kept walking.

He'd come back. He'd forgive them. He knew he would, he just needed a little time.

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

However, leaving was actually a seemingly bad idea.

In the 30 minutes after he left the house, he learned that part of the "deal" that Draco had struck with Kingsley involved the Ministry being able to tell whatever lies they wanted to about Draco. Some papers claimed that it had been a love potion, some claimed it was a cursed object, some claimed he'd been imperiused.

Harry stood in front of a newsstand, seething as he read the headlines. How could they have let this happen? How could Draco have signed a contract that allowed for this?

And then he saw it: The Quibbler. Draco and Harry were on the front page, just like every other newspaper, but the article was titled, "From the Wrinkspurts: They're in Love". The world tilted, righting itself slightly as a plan started to form in the back of his mind.

He looked up at the man running the stand who'd been just staring at him, "I need one of everything," he said. "I don't have any money but I'll bring-"

"They're yours," the man interrupted, grabbing papers from all the different piles. He even tossed on one for gardening and one for cooking.

"Err," Harry, "Not those ones," he said, nudging the two irrelevant ones away. "Just the ones about me," he added, "At the risk of sounding self centered."

"Whatever you want, mate," the man said. "They're yours."

"Thanks," Harry said, grabbing the stack of them and concentrating so he could apparate through the Ministry's wards because he simply didn't give a fuck anymore.

There was a sound vaguely like glass shattering as Harry popped up in front of the secretary's desk outside of Kingsley's office. She shrieked and a coffee cup went flying, breaking when it hit the ground.

"I'm here to see Kingsley," he said simply.

A hand fluttered up to cover her heart, "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Potter, but he's in a meeting."

"Interrupt it," he said. "I guarantee what I have to say is more important."

"I can't just-"

"Look," Harry interrupted. "Just go and ask him. If he tells you to send me away, that's fine, I'll go."

She appeared to consider this for a moment, then she stood up and made her way to the door, knocking and slipping in.

A moment later she reappeared, "Would you mind waiting for just one moment?" she asked, gesturing to the chairs across from her desk. "He'll be right with you."

It was barely two minutes before three people came hurrying out of the room, avoiding Harry's gaze.

Kingsley followed, "Harry," he greeted, "Please come in."

Harry stood up and followed Kingsley in, not allowing himself to feel inferior because of the sweatpants and t-shirt he was still wearing.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Let Draco Malfoy go," he replied.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, "You know as well as I do that we're not going to do that. It's not possible."

"I thought you might say that," he replied as he started tossing magazines one by one onto the man's desk. "But you really ought to have told them all the same story."

"What?" the man asked with a laugh, "Why? Why should that matter?"

"Because it's going to make the Ministry look even more incompetent when I tell all of them the truth."

He shrugged, "It's of little concern, it won't matter."

"See, that's where you're wrong," Harry replied. "Because I'm not just going to tell them the truth about Draco Malfoy and his heinous treatment by Ministry officials prior to his trial. I am going to tell them everything and I'm going to watch the Ministry burn."

"Harry, be reasonable," he said. "So you tell everyone your story about finding Malfoy in the Department of Mysteries, garner a little sympathy because he was a teenager and now you're in love," he continued. "But it doesn't take much to drag his name through the mud again. To remind people that he tried to kill Dumbledore, to remind them of the cabinet that let death eaters into Hogwarts, to remind people of the lives that were lost because of him."

Harry's veins burned with rage and it was all he could do to keep himself from lashing out.

Kingsley shook his head, "Do what you must, but your story will never be enough."

He let out a humorless chuckle and leaned forward, bracing his fist on the desk, "I got into the Department of Mysteries within a matter of months. Do you really believe that the only information I got was about Draco Malfoy?"

"You'll be prosecuted, if you disclose any information you obtained illegally" he replied steadily.

"I am Harry fucking Potter," he said with a growl. "If you try to prosecute me, you will have an uprising on your hands. Especially after everything I'm going to expose. So good luck with that, I'll enjoy watching this burn even faster," he said, gesturing to the space around them.

"Harry," he said, "You must know that what you're asking of me simply isn't possible," a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

The corner of Harry's mouth ticked up, "I'm going to win," he said. "And we both know it." He turned, leaving the magazines spread across his desk. "The only question is how much do you want to see burn before it happens." When he reached the door he called over his shoulder, "I'm holding a press conference tomorrow at six." He looked back at the other man, "You have until then to get him released."

On his way out he cast a patronus that he was sending to Azkaban with a simple message. I'm getting you out.

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

Okay, friends. There will be at least one more part of this fic (maybe two) but this is getting too long. <3

Part 9 | Part 11

[elvish-sky]

How Gandalf and Pippin Put Aside Their Differences for the Greater Good {Faramir x Reader}

A.N: OK GUYS- i literally tied my hand to my sister’s to figure out some of the logistics of movement for this. She thinks I’m crazy now. But I loved this request! I’m currently catching up on requests and also dealing with some personal issues, and I haven’t been happy with anything I’ve written in a really long time, but I’m really happy with this! It would mean so much to me if you guys liked it too, I put so much work into this and I’m so proud of it!

also- a thousand thank you’s to @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth for giving me an idea for this fic. i appreciate you letting me use it so so much. thank you.

Requested by @raineeace on Tumblr: Your recent request you wrote was beyond cute! You’re an amazing writer, so catch me reading the rest of your LOTR content !! I also wanted to request something as well! Can you do a Faramir x Fem!Reader and Gandalf and/or Pippin try to get them together? I loved the how you wrote Aragorn as cupid, and I wanted to ask if you could make these two matchmakers as well? Lots of fluff please and I can’t wait to see what you come up with! :)

Word Count: 2,334

Pairing: Faramir x Reader

Summary: You and Faramir have been mooning over each other for months, but nothing has come of Pippin’s efforts to get you together. What happens when Pippin enlists the help of a certain wizard?

Warnings: Fluff, Humor

****

How Gandalf and Pippin Put Aside Their Differences for the Greater Good {Faramir x Reader}

Pippin leaned over the banister, watching you and Faramir walk together below. You smiled at something the man said, then nodding your head goodbye and walking away. The hobbit watched as Faramir stood there, watching you go, looking oddly lonely.

Pippin had been watching/trying to get you and Faramir together for a while now. He had first noticed the chemistry and romantic tension between you when everyone was gathered waiting for Frodo to heal, and decided to do something about it. Now, months later, nothing had happened. Pippin thought that at this point neither of you was ever going to confess your very obvious feelings for the other.

At least, not without some extra help.

“Come on, Gandalf, please?”

The wizard shook his head, “I cannot believe you are still going on about this.”

“They need the help,” Pippin told him, “Plus, getting them to admit their feelings to each other would help them, and ease your exasperation with the two of them for walking in circles around each other!”

The wizard shook his head. “I’m not going to help you with this!”

“It’s for the greater good! Can you really stand to see the two of them mooning over each other all the time?”

“That’s true. It’s getting ridiculous,” Gandalf sighed, “Fine. I’ll help. Where do we start?”

Back in your room, you lifted your head from your desk as a loud, hobbitish whoop rand through the air. You chalked it up to Pippin hitting another elf, probably Legolas, with an apple, and returned to your work. You hoped that it wasn’t Legolas that Pippin had hit, because the last time that happened Legolas had promptly eaten the apple, and Pippin had bemoaned the loss of his snack for weeks.

That night, you left your room, closing the door behind you and setting off down the hallway. You’d barely made it fifteen feet when another door opened right in front of you and Faramir came rushing out, crashing into you.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there, I feel terrible!”

“It’s okay!”

You shuffled your feet, nervous to be so close to the person you’d been in love with for months.

It was also weird how close your rooms were- Aragorn had given everyone from the Fellowship and friends special quarters after his coronation. You could understand why the hobbits’ rooms were so close together, but wondered why Aragorn had placed you and Faramir almost directly across from each other. Probably because the two of you worked together the closest on negotiations with the other kingdoms.

Eventually, Faramir broke the silence with an awkward laugh.

“So, late to dinner?”

You smiled, glad he’d spoken first.

“Yeah. I got so focused on drafting that new trade agreement with the Iron Hills that I didn’t realize how low the sun was.”

He nodded. “I completely understand, I’ve done that far too many times, working on something like that or staying outside the city for far too long.”

Laughing, you looped your arm through his. “We should get to dinner before Aragorn yells at us.”

You entered the hall together, pushing open the doors to see your friends all seated around the high table. Dinners with the group had started when everyone was waiting for Frodo to heal and wake up and had just continued on, everyone reluctant to give up the time spent together.

Letting go of Faramir’s arm, you took your usual seat between him and his brother.

“What prompted you two to arrive together?” Boromir winked at you as he whispered.

“Huh? Oh, we just bumped into each other in the hall.”

“Sure, sure,” he smirked as he spoke.

“Pass the potatoes, please, Boromir.” You were determined to change the subject, and, happily, it seemed to have worked.

What you didn’t notice was Gandalf staring intently at you and Faramir, muttering something under his breath as Pippin watched gleefully.

You yawned, pushing your empty plate away with a groan.

“I’m stuffed. And tired. I think I’ll head to my rooms.”

Everyone said goodbye, and you pushed back your chair and went to stand.

But you couldn’t.

There were handcuffs on, one on your wrist, and the other on Faramir’s. And they hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Who handcuffed us?” You were bewildered.

“Gandalf…” Faramir glared at the wizard.

Gandalf glanced behind himself, and, seeing no one, turned back around with an innocent expression.

“What could I have done to make this happen?” He gestured to your hands, still handcuffed together.

Faramir said, “I don’t know, but it had to have been you!”

“Ask yourself this, Faramir. What motivation could I have possibly had? I think one you probably just ran astray of something else?”

You sucked in a deep breath.

“Okay, then, how do we make it stop?”

“Only time will tell,” the wizard nodded sagely.

“What are we supposed to do until then?” You exclaimed.

“Just stay together? Do everything together?” Pippin looked all too pleased by this.

“Fine. C’mon Faramir.”

The man rose, and together you marched out of the hall, handcuffs clanking, never moving further than five inches apart.

Once in the hallway, you turned to Faramir, panicked.

“What do we do? We’re stuck five inches, or less, apart from each other for Eru knows how long, we both have important duties.”

“And there’s going to the bathroom, and sleeping, and eating..” he was just as freaked out as you.

You turned to each other.

“What are we going to do?!”

“Y/N, Faramir, chill.”

You tried to turn, but the clanking and tug on your wrist stopped you as you spun the wrong way, twisting yourself with Faramir.

“Ok, no wait,” he backed up, accidentally taking you with him.

“Here, go this way, move your hand left.”

“No, no, my left, my left.”

“Spin this way?”

“You go under, I go over?”

“Aha! Yes, that worked!” You high-fived each other clunkily, and turned, making sure to bring your arms over your heads so that your hands fell back again.

“Oh, Pippin! What were you saying?”

Pippin smiled at Faramir. “I can help.”

“Would you mind telling us how?”

“You just have to accept it!”

“WHAT?” You screamed in unison.

Back in the hall, Aragorn winced at the echo of the yell.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” He questioned the wizard.

“Of course not,” Gandalf replied, “but it was not mine. It was all Pippin, and if anything goes wrong that’s who we’ll blame.”

Legolas chuckled. “Alright then. We’ll leave it all on Pippin.”

Boromir raised a mug of ale. “TO-”

He was cut off by a resounding shush, and, chastened, began again.

“To Y/N and Faramir”

Everyone echoed the sentiment, quietly, and clinked their mugs.

Back in the hallway, you and Faramir were glaring at Pippin.

“You want us to just live like this?”

“Yes! You’ll be fine, maybe it’ll wear off soon, and maybe you’ll learn something.”

“Ughhhhhh,” you stormed away, dragging Faramir behind you.

Approaching your door, you were suddenly stopped when Faramir halted behind you.

“What?”

He shuffled his feet. “Whose room are we staying in?”

You considered. “Which one is bigger? We’ll need all the maneuvering space we can get.”

You walked together over to your doorway, poking your heads inside before moving back to his.

“Yours.”

“Mine?” He asked.

“Yeah. You have more space and a bigger bed. Let’s just go back to my room so that I can grab a few things if I’ll be staying with you indefinitely.”

“How are we going to do this?”

You stared at Faramir’s bed.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

You hadn’t thought this situation could get any more awkward, but there it was. The crown jewel of awkwardness, coming out to torment you. It had been bad enough attempting to change into your nightclothes, which you’d managed by turning your backs to each other to put them on, and only wearing one sleeve. But this was worse.

You decided to just go for it, and climbed into the bed, sliding under the sheets. Your movement pulled the handcuffs so that Faramir went with you, and you ended up on one side of the bed, him on the other, hands cuffed together in the center.

“This is not very comfortable,” Faramir observed.

That was true. You were lying flat on your back when you always slept on your side, and you were literally handcuffed to another person. Unable to stand the absurdity of it all, you broke out into laughter.

Faramir joined in, and you laughed together until you had tears in your eyes. His smile was so bright in the dimly lit room, and you could listen to his laugh for a thousand years without getting sick of it.

When the laughter subsided, you decided nothing could be more uncomfortable than the position your body was currently stuck in.

“Do you usually sleep on your side?”

Faramir nodded, looking a little confused.

“Ok. I’m going to try something, it’s going to be really awkward, but we might actually be able to sleep.”

“I trust you, Y/N. Whatever you’re going to do will be fine.”

You smiled at him, internally still freaking out that you were sharing a bed with Faramir. But there was no time to panic, your shoulder was killing you.

Taking a deep breath, you flipped so that the handcuffed arm was now underneath you, chain stretching up to where Faramir’s arm hovered.

“Would you be alright with putting your arm over my waist?” You wanted to make sure he was comfortable with all this.

Craning your neck, you saw a faint blush creeping up his face in the dusky light.

“Only if it’s ok with you,” he seemed nervous.

You were too, but you nodded and felt him slowly settle his arm around your waist.

Once it was there, his hand gently hanging near your stomach, you both relaxed, letting out sighs as the tension left your bodies simultaneously.

And then you giggled. Again, because this was just too ridiculous.

He laughed too. “You alright?”

You nodded, the movement of your head bumping into his chest as he sucked in a breath.

“I’m good.”

It took a while for each of you to fall asleep, brains spinning with thoughts of the person next to you. But eventually, you did.

It was the best you had slept in years.

The next day, the two of you began to figure out how to go around with your hands stuck together. You ate by spooning the food into each other’s mouths one at a time, which you were pretty sure Boromir was sketching to memorialize forever.

You blinked your eyes open the next day to sunlight streaming through the windows, and soft breathing behind you. Carefully, you turned around so that your hands now rested between your bodies.

Faramir’s face was glowing with the light of the morning sun, hair spread on the pillow. You’d never seen him so peaceful, and he looked gorgeous like some Vala come across the world to Gondor.

Unable to resist the impulse, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

You quickly moved back, only to notice that the weight on your hand was gone.

You looked down.

The handcuffs were gone.

“Faramir! Faramir!” You shook him awake.

“What, Y/N?” He asked groggily.

His morning voice was perfection itself, and you had to bring yourself back to reality.

“The handcuffs are gone. Look!”

He shot up at this, looking down at his now-free hand.

“Wow! We should probably go let Gandalf know.”

You nodded. “Meet you in the hall in ten minutes?”

He gave you a thumbs up, and the last thing you saw as you closed the door was Faramir marveling at his now-free wrist.

Later, in the room that Gandalf had claimed as his office right next to the large hall where you usually ate, you sat together.

The wizard inquired, “What exactly happened?”

“The handcuffs were gone when I woke up,” Faramir told him.

“That shouldn’t have just happened. They were supposed to disappear when a physical manifestation of your affection for each other happened.”

“You did this?” You were outraged.

“Yes, Y/N, I did.”

Sensing that you were about to interrupt in outrage again, he added on.

“It should have been a physical manifestation of affection that was not circumstantial because of the handcuffs.”

You sighed, knowing what it was.

Faramir turned to you. “Do you know what it could have been?”

You stared straight at the floor.

“I… kissed your cheek when I woke up this morning.”

He blinked at you, shocked. Gandalf discreetly slipped out the door.

“You just looked so handsome in the sunlight with your hair glowing and I couldn’t resist and I’m so sorry and I’ll leave Gondor right now and never come back and what you must think of me no-”

“Y/N.”

You stopped rambling, looking at Faramir. He leaned closer to you, and in the depths of his eyes, you saw nothing but love. He paused for a moment, head tilted as if asking for your permission.

You nodded your head.

Faramir moved closer, tilting your chin up so that his lips met yours, kissing you oh-so-gently. Then somehow you were standing, lips still touching his as he surged closer and kissed you harder, like all the passion and feeling in the world was just pouring out of him and into you.

Finally, you broke apart, smiles on both your faces.

“I think I love you.,” you said, then clapped a hand over your mouth.

Faramir smirked. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you too.”

You gazed at each other for a few moments, before you grabbed his hand.

“Now, let’s go kill a wizard.”

Opening the doors to the hallway, you saw said wizard suddenly disappear.

You corrected yourself.

“Let’s go kill that wizard once he returns from wherever he’s hidden himself.”

Faramir laughed. “Let’s kill Gandalf later. For now, would you like to go for a walk?”

You smiled at him, looping your arm through his and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Lead on, my love.”

Everything tag❤️: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny

Fic tag: @eru-vande @annkdarar @lust4crust @the-reformed-ringwraith @ethereal-earendil

[keijislove]

Can i request #2 and 3 from the prompt list with Harry x Reader please but make it a happy ending? Thank you!!

A/N: Hi anon, omg this was so much fun to write!!! I love Harry and feel that there is not much Harry x reader content out there, so here you go! Hope you like it 😊

‘And then they lived happily ever after!’ Cho finished reading as the girls around her squealed in excitement.

You merely snorted.

‘Why do all of your books have sappy endings?’ you questioned Cho as she looked at you incredulously.

‘Well, its fun to read.’ Cho shrugged. ‘If you were in Ravenclaw, you could be reading diverse romances instead of those stupid muggle books you like so much. For example, what’s this you’re reading?’

She snatched your book and looked at the words you’d been reading.

‘Real love is rare but fake words and promises are everywhere.’ She read out before looking at you. ‘See, this is why you feel so lonely, Y/N. if you’re gonna be reading miserable books like that, then I can’t blame you for being droopy most of the time.’

‘It’s not miserable, Cho.’ You contradicted. ‘It’s a little something called reality.’

Cho snorted. ‘Whatever you say.’

‘Besides, I’m not always lonely.’ You continued. ‘I have Hermione and Ron... and Harry too.’

‘And Harry too!’ Cho mocked. ‘Blimey, Y/N I forgot to ask. How’s things between you two?’

At that you looked down. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Even though you weren’t looking at her, you could almost feel her roll her eyes.

‘You’re lovesick, darling.’ Cho explained. ‘You get this weird glow on your face when you talk about him and your eyes form hearts like in those muggle comics you read. Also, when he’s around, you blush like a tomato. Tell me how this is incorrect?’

You sighed. ‘None of your business, Cho Chang. So what if I like him? I’m probably the 100th girl who does. He has a pretty wide collection of choices, you know. Take Ginny for example. She’s everything I’m not. She’s pretty, popular, outgoing AND she is sweet. I’m a loner, too sarcastic to have too many friends, and it’s not like I can help it anyway. He’d never like me.’

‘Sweetie, what is there not to like in you?’ Cho asked worriedly.

It was one of the many reasons you liked her, she always paid attention to your moods and constantly asked if you were alright.

‘Y’know what Cho, let’s leave it.’ You muttered. ‘I promised Ron I’d help him with his essay anyway. He’s probably eating in the common room. Bye.’

You gave a nod and walked off, but you could feel Cho’s eyes watching you thoughtfully.

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

As you walked into the common room, a chorus of noises greeted you.

‘Fine, I’ll give you five galleons I can.’ Harry was saying.

‘Alright mate, whatever you say.’ Said Ron.

‘Five galleons you can do what?’ you questioned, walking up to them.

Harry immediately coughed nervously. ‘Ahem, Y/N! Hi! Ron here was betting I couldn’t, er, sneak down to the kitchens.’

‘If you know Fred and George, doesn’t seem impossible.’ You said in amusement.

‘Someone summon us?’ a voice called behind you as you turned to see Fred standing there.

‘Oh, yeah.’ You spoke. ‘Ron here thinks Harry can’t sneak down to the kitchens, so he put five galleons on that. I was just explaining how anybody who knew you two could probably sneak off to Mars unnoticed.’

‘We are honoured.’ George bowed to you. ‘But Ron, mate, weren’t you betting that Harry couldn’t ask o-’

‘NO, I WASN’T!’ Ron bellowed, causing you to miss what George said.

George’s expression immediately changed.

‘Harry couldn’t ask what?’ you asked.

‘The house elves to make him some food.’ Fred casually spoke.

You narrowly looked at him.

‘Boys.’ You finally muttered, going upstairs.

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

You were trying to wrench your bag out of the spot it had decided to get caught in, when a voice startled you.

‘Here, let me help.’

You turned around to see none other than the Chosen One himself.

‘Oh, thanks.’ You said nervously as Harry yanked the bag out of the door.

You grabbed it and turned to leave.

‘Er, Y/N?’ you heard Harry ask.

‘Yeah?’

‘I was wondering if, um, you’d... y-you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me?’ Harry asked.

Your eyes grew wide. ‘Are you asking me out? Like on a date?’

‘Erm, yes.’ He said.

‘Oh.’ You managed to squeak. ‘Oh, Oh! Um, y-yeah, alright, s-sure!’

He flashed you one of his stupidly adorable grins. ‘Brilliant!

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

You and Harry had been dating for a few weeks now.

But something was terribly wrong.

Harry had started acting horribly distant, sometimes ignoring you or trying to walk past you in the corridors.

You were on your way to the common room. wondering whatever you could have done to upset him, when his voice caught you before you entered.

‘Ron, I can’t do this anymore.’ He spoke. ‘I know I agreed to your dare that I couldn’t ask Y/N out, but I can’t do this. I’ll give you your galleons, don’t worry.’

‘Well, alright mate.’ You heard Ron say. ‘But I thought you were happy-’

‘I’m not.’

That was enough for you to choke a sob and run off to the deserted Quidditch Pitch.

So that’s what it was.

A dare.

Harry didn’t want to be with you, heck he didn’t even enjoy it.

You kicked away stones in anger, remembering Cho’s voice.

Real love is rare but fake words and promises are everywhere.

That was exactly what the past few weeks were.

Fake love, fake words, fake smiles, fake promises.

It was all fake.

Your thoughts were cut short, as a pair of shoes came skipping by.

‘Oh.’ You heard a familiar voice.

No, go away, please. You thought. I hate you, don’t come near me.

‘Hey, love.’ Harry grinned.

You tried not to gag. ‘Why’re you calling me that?’

He frowned. ‘D-do you not l-like it?’

‘No.’ you coldly responded. ‘You’re here to break up, aren’t you?’

‘What how did you-’ Harry began.

'Is this what this whole relationship was to you? A bloody dare?’ you asked through your tears.

Harry’s eyes widened. ‘You heard...?’

‘Yes, I heard.’ You said. ‘Harry Potter, don’t you ever dare speak to me again.’

With that, you stalked off.

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

Even though you’d convinced yourself you’d never speak to him, you couldn’t help but worry about Harry.

The third task was near, and you were wondering if he’d make it.

He’s made it this far, hasn’t he? You thought. He’ll manage, stop thinking about him.

Sitting in the arena, waiting for him to emerge out of the maze, you couldn’t take it anymore.

‘Cho... if he’s back, just let me know.’ You informed the black-haired Ravenclaw, turning to leave.

Just as you turned, a cheer erupted as you whipped around to see Harry carrying something and lying face-front on the ground.

Everyone was cheering, but you squinted at what he was carrying, trying to make out what it was.

When you focused for long enough, your hands flew to your mouth as you let out a blood-curdling scream.

Cedric Diggory’s body.

And it wasn’t moving.

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

‘Is he... can I see him?’ you asked Madame Pomphrey.

‘Well, I’m sure he’s asleep, dear.’ She answered, frowning. ‘But in you go.’

You thanked her and went inside.

Harry was not sleeping, but he looked terrible.

‘Oh, Harry.’ You sighed, walking to him.

Still not looking at you, he spoke. ‘You still hate me.’

‘No, I-’ you began. ‘I... I don’t. I’m sorry if I made you feel like that.’

‘I should be the one apologising.’ He said quietly.

You sighed. ‘I’ll be late for Charms... see you soon, Harry.’

You bent down to place a kiss on his cheek.

At that moment, he turned his head abruptly, causing your lips to collide.

Gasping, you pulled back.

Entire body trembling with giddiness, you walked to your class.

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

After your little ‘encounter’, Harry went back to ignoring you.

You were sick of it, and one day, while he was returning from Hagrid’s cabin, you cornered him.

‘You can’t hide forever, you know.’ You spoke seriously, arms crossed over your chest.

He didn’t look at you.

Sighing, you stepped forward. ‘We need to talk.’

His head snapped up to meet your eyes.

‘There’s nothing to talk about. I kissed you and you pulled away. End of story.’ He casually said.

‘No, it’s not the end of story.’ You snapped. ‘How could you even, first you fake-date me and then this, I mean for Merlin’s sake Harry, a kiss is supposed to mean something and I-’

‘What makes you think it didn’t mean anything?’ he asked softly.

You gaped at him. ‘You said... you dated me because of a dare and then-’

‘Oh.’ He interrupted. ‘Oh. That’s why you were upset. Oh my god, Y/N, you totally misunderstood me. I... was talking to Ron because I felt that I wasn’t being fair to you... I like you, Y/N. I truly do, and I wanted to date you as well, but I was worried what you’d think when I’d explained it was a dare! And th-then I came to tell you all this, but you seemed so sad, I thought you hated me. Don’t ever think like that, Y/N. That kiss meant everything it was supposed to.’

You remained silent.

Harry blushed and awkwardly scratched his neck. ‘Uhm... and I-I’d like to try that again...’

Your eyes widened as you turned red.

Swallowing your nerves, you leaned forward as he mirrored your actions and met you halfway.

And this time, neither of you pulled back.

[glowingspence]

hotchreid-90 or 32, or just, anything hotchreid , not established relationship preferred 💜💜

"Hey" Shyly Reid looks at the man standing in front of his door, late in the evening. "What are you doing here?"

"I just- you seemed off today- do you mind if I-" Without waiting for permission Hotch steps into the apartment, pressing himself through the small crack Reid had opened the door to before looking at him properly.

Spencer had already changed out of his suit and into more comfortable clothes, the thick soft socks reaches partly over the end of his sweatpants, the stained hoodie he almost always wears at home covers his hands.

"I am worried" Hotch admits, "We have been- we started spending so much time and we went on those dates and I am worried I overstepped because now you are shielding yourself away. Not only from me. I got Morgan on speed dial- I am- if I made you uncomfortable- he will come over and you can talk to him- or me- it's just- I am- I am really sorry" He brings out pressing his lips together as he looks at Reid who takes a moment and then frowns at him.

"You didn't do anything wrong" Hesitantly he backs away even further from Hotch, "I thought we are- you know- doing pretty good."

"I thought so too but ever since three weeks ago, you have been quiet and when I try to ask you out, you are reclining everything I suggest and that's okay. We don't have to go out. But at least drinking a coffee together would be nice, you know." He explains, "I miss you"

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, picking at the dry skin around elbows underneath the loose sweater as he does before his facial expressions slightly changed, like it does when Hotch watches him cracking a code on cases and he encrypted a little piece of it. "What is it?"

"Nothing. We can go out, it's not you." He assures him, looking down to the floor. "We can grab coffee tomorrow after work."

"If you don't feel up to it we don't have to."

"I do. I do. Everything is okay" Spencer insists and starts rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Did something happen three weeks ago?"

"No" Spencer quickly answers, a bit to forcefully to make it sound true. "No, nothing happened."

"Why don't we sit down?" Comforting Hotch tries placing a hand on Spencer but he flinches away, "I am sorry. Can we sit down? Is that okay?"

While he has his lips pressed together Spencer nods and walks first towards the couch, sitting down at the end. He crosses his arms in front of his stomach and presses them against his stomach before he leans forward far enough that it makes it comfortable to rock back and forth.

"Do you need anything?" Hotch questions worried. "Do you want your blanket?"

Spencer shakes his head but keeps on rocking back and forth.

"Did something happen with Jack? Did he say something?" Hotch asks trying to figure out what has him so upset but he shakes his head, "Did someone on the team say something about us? Did Morgan not like that we went out?"

He shakes his head again before taking one hand away from his middle and starts tapping his head with his palm in a steady rhythm before he speaks, "Morgan said he will kill you if you hurt me, Morgan likes you, Morgan likes to know I am safe. You can keep me safe. Morgan likes that."

"I am glad he does" Hotch answers and figures he is not the problem. "You can tell me anything"

"Not this thing" Spencer tells him and Hotch raises one eyebrow. "Not this thing. Not this thing."

"Why not?" He interrogates with a soft voice, "Spencer why can't you tell me?" He repeats when Spencer doesn't answer.

"It's a secret"

"It's a secret?"

"Not my secret." He explains and a tear rolls down his cheek, "It's a horrible secret."

"It is?" Hotch questions with sympathy in his voice and Spencer nods and sobs ones, holding himself again but signaling with his position that he doesn't want Hotch to touch him, "Is that why you have been so closed up? Does the secret do that?"

"It hurts."

"It hurts?" Hotch repeats waiting for Spencer to elaborate.

"Makes me feel sick and sorry." He tells him before adding, "It makes me feel really bad, like I did when Emily died. When my chest really hurt like someone is tying it but my stomach feels all empty"

"Do you mean grief? Are you grieving?"

"I don't know." Spencer sobs again, new tears running down his face as his body shakes, "It feels like when Emily died."

"Maybe it's grief we don't need to identify that right now, it's okay." Hotch tries to keep Spencer's frustration low. "Can you tell me who told you that secret?"

"No"

"Okay, that's okay." Hesitant Hotch scoops closer, "Come here" After a moment of hesitation Hotch scoops into the corner of the couch and Spencer follows him, climbing into his lap and curling himself up in a way that can hide his face against Hotch's neck as he cries. His hand gripping his shirt, as muffled sobs fill the apartment. "Okay, okay you are okay."

He waits for him to calm down until only sniffles fill the room, Spencer still leaning against him but being more spread out over the couch as he plays with Hotch's fingers.

"We are gonna try something, okay baby?" The nickname falls so naturally from his tongue, both men don't notice, "Why don't you tell me the secret. But you tell me with the TV-show we watched all day at my apartment? You remember the one Jack wanted to watch?"

"The one with the friend group?"

"Yeah that one"

"I am no allowed to tell you."

"If it makes you this upset you can tell me. It's okay. Nothing is gonna happen to you." Protectively Hotch places a hand on Spencer's cheek, making him feel shield away from the world around him.

"I am Jess." Spencer starts, "And the person who told me that secret is Cece."

"Cece who is together with Schmidt? With the little daughter?"

"Yes"

"Alright, I can follow." He assures him.

"And Cece had been sad and hurting. Like something really terrible happened. So Jess waited for her in front of the bathroom for a really long time. Because Cece also had a injury on her hand, like she had been punching something, but there is no one she should be fighting with." He stops and presses himself closer against Hotch, "So Jess waited and when Cece finally came out, she asked if they could talk and Cece eventually agreed and they went into an empty room and Jess asked what is going on. But Cece wouldn't tell her and told her- and told her that she should stop being so worried and stop being so her." He presses himself against Hotch again while he rubs his feet over the couch.

"It's okay, it's okay, you are doing good." Hotch tries calming him and slowly he stops moving im his arms again, "go on when you are ready"

"Jess told her that she can't help it. You know, because Jess was really worried and Jess sometimes doesn't know where personal boundaries are. Jess just wants to help and people think she is being nosy."

"Well Nick loved that about her"

"Not important" Spencer states, "Cece told her that not even she could come up with the word for what she feels. Because Cece has PTSD because she was in a terrible accident."

"She was?"

"Mmm Jess knew that and so Jess kept pushing and didn't read the signs and then Cece told her that she was pregnant when the accident happened-" Again Spencer breaks into a sob and moves in Hotch's arms again,

"You are okay, it's okay, it's okay, you did so good by telling me." He assures him and grabs both of his arms slightly leaning down on him, "Keep talking, you are almost done. You did such a good job."

Spencer by now lays with his back on Hotch's thighs, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, as he tries hitting his hands together and Hotch realizes what he tries to do, let's go and let's him hit his knuckles together.

"What happened then? What did Jess do?"

"Jess had to keep the secret. Nobody knows."

"Does Schmidt know?"

"No, Cece was working abroad when she found out and when she lost the baby. Cece was all alone." He tells him and hits his knuckles together harder.

"How does Jess feel now?"

"Jess would have been godmother to a second child. Jess doesn't know what to feel because she never even met the child and didn't know about it but now feels like something is gone from her heart. Jess is sad."

"Did Jess ever talk to Cece again about it?"

"Jess found a way for Cece to say goodbye to the man who did this but she is worried she won't be able to heal." They stay quiet for a long moment, Spencer hitting his knuckles together, until Hotch holds his hand between Spencer's two fists who can't stop.

"I think JJ loves you so so much, and I think JJ is the strongest woman this earth has ever seen and I know this must be terrifying, to see her like this but she is going to survive it and she knows that she has you to lean on when times get hard and she has Henry and Will and I know that when she is home she has all the love and understanding around her she always wished for." Gently he moves his other hand up to Spencer's head, "And as in for you, it's okay to feel whatever you feel right now and I am so so proud of you for taking care of her. She maybe said those things but she probably felt a little bit crowded by you. You know that feeling too. You sometimes say those things too and then mean it. But in the end, I think she is gonna feel a lot better knowing someone knows. And knowing someone is watching out for her."

[Prompt list]

[hogwartsmarvelmommy]

I’ll be here to fix you

Tom Holland

masterlist

Warnings: OK, this has to do with domestic violence and an abusive relationship. Also just violence, and blackmail (kinda) so *Trigger warning*

For anonymous, confidential help, 24/7, please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) or  1-800-787-3224 (TTY)

A/N: If you are in an unsafe relationship, please reach out for help, and know it is not your fault.

A/N.2: I really debated posting this, for many reasons, so i’m sorry if this upsets or triggers anyone in anyway..

It was late when his phone began to ring, most times, he wouldn't answer calls this late, but that night something prompted him to answer. Without even a glance at his phone, he answered, bringing it to his ear. 

“Tommy?” your voice was frantic through the phone, almost like you had been running all while crying. “Tommy, are you there?” 

“I'm here love, what's wrong? Where are you?” He sat straight up in bed, the worry for you waking him up completely. 

“I sent you my location, can you just come and get me?” It was odd for you to ask him for anything, while you were best friends, you were always very adamant on being your own person, something Tom respected a whole lot. 

“I'm on my way,” Tom didn't even take any time to get dressed or anything, grabbing his keys and getting to his car in nothing but his grey sweats and old shirt he'd taken from the spider man set that he had been asleep in.

You weren't far from him, a five minute drive and he found you, sitting on a curb with your face buried in your hands. As soon as you heard the car, you glanced up, seeing it was him and practically running to get in. Once you were situated, you turned, giving Tom a light smile and nod, before looking back out the window, but he wasn't blind.

“Y/N-” he started, but you cut him off. 

“Tom, just.. Take me back to your house, we can talk about it there. I don't want to be here anymore,” you sniffled as the tears that had subsided made their way back to your eyes, “Please?” You added, small sobs escaping. 

Tom obliged your request, with no questions asked, and headed straight to his house. As soon as he parked the car, you were out and rushed inside, leaving Tom worried and angry. Angry at whoever left you like that. 

Tom tried to give you time, to cry or  wash up or whatever you were doing locked in his bathroom, but he just found himself pacing back and forth in front of the door. Finally, he couldn't take it, and knocked on the door. “Y/N?” he heard sniffles as he pressed his ear to the door, it broke his heart to hear you like that, you were his happy go lucky y/n, even if you weren't actually his. 

“Am i a terrible person?” you asked through the door. 

“What? No, of course not y/n, you're the best person i know!” Tom exclaimed, he was taken aback by the fact that you could ever even think that you were anything less than perfect, less then the way he saw you. 

“He told me I was selfish, and awful, and I put you above everything else, which makes me a slut,” you said, unlocking the door and opening it. Tom felt his jaw clench, hearing the words coming from your mouth and seeing the bruise that was forming by your eye. You looked terrible, your eyes were bloodshot from tears, your nose raw from blowing it over and over, and your hair was all over the place. 

“He said what?” Tom asked through clenched teeth. He could kill him, he would kill him, especially if he was the one that gave you the bruise. “Did he do this?” Tom reached out to touch your face but you flinched away from his hand, answering his question. He wouldn't let him get away with hurting someone, especially you.

Tom wasn't the most level headed person, some would even describe him as not being able to deal with his anger well, and in this instance he could agree he didn't handle himself as well as he could have.

The metal jail door slid open “Holland, you're free to go,” Tom sat up from where he had been laying on the concrete bench, not sure why he was being released, he was sure with how the events of last night had played out, there was no way he should be let out. 

He followed the guard to the counter where they had a bag full of his personal things, before motioning for him to leave. He walked out of the police station puzzled, until he saw you standing against his car with crossed arms and a worried look on your face. 

“Thomas Stanley Holland,” you said with a stern voice. Your face was back to how it usually looked, making tom figure you had makeup on, to cover the reminder of the night before.

“How did you get me out?” Tom asked you, worried you had gone out of your way to pull of some crazy jailbreak mission.  

“I told him I would not press charges if he wouldn't press charges on you,” you told him. Tom felt his jaw clench again, you were unbelievable sometimes. 

“What Y/N?! I would have been fine!” He exclaimed, making you roll your eyes. 

“I don't really think an assault charge would be good for your career, Tommy,” of course you were right, and avoiding a charge all together was probably best for his career, but that didn't mean he was happy about it, Alex deserved to be punished for what he had done to you, and if that meant Tom went down for defending you then so be it, but he also knew arguing with you over it would get him nowhere.

“Well, i don't like it,” Tom went to grab the keys from your hands, but you quickly pulled your hand away, walking over to the drivers side and opening the door. 

“Y/N, it's my car,” Tom laughed. 

“And? I didn't spend the night in jail,” You shot him a smile before climbing in. You were also impossible at times, but that was part of the reason Tom was in love with you, and had been for quite a while. He wouldn't admit that to you though, he could barely admit it to himself. 

You drove to Tom's house, parking the car in the wrong spot of the driveway, on purpose to irritate him. “Go shower, Tommy you smell gross,” You teased. 

“I was only in there for like six hours!” He argued, shoving your shoulder lightly as you unlocked his front door. 

“Uh huh, whatever you say stinky,” you giggled. 

Tom went to his bathroom to shower away his night as a criminal, but he stopped when he saw your makeup scattered around his counter. He wasn't sure when you had brought it over, you hadn't had anything with you when he picked you up last night, not even your purse. He peeked his head into his bedroom and could see that his bed had been slept in, and you had a small bag of clothes on the floor by his dresser. A smile snuck onto his face, he had always told you that you had a place to go whenever you needed it, but you were so hard headed he was sure you would never actually take him up on that. On a whim, Tom decided to peek into his spare room before getting in the shower, and just like he had expected, there were a few bags and boxes of your personal things that were just waiting to be unpacked. “I should have asked, but I just needed to cut ties, get away from all of that,” You explained from behind him. 

“Y/N, you can stay as long as you'd like, i'm just glad you are here,” Tom told you, pulling you against his chest.

“Me to Tommy,” You sighed into his chest. 

“Y/N?” Tom asked while still holding you.

“Hmm?” You hummed into his chest. 

Tom really considered his next question, he didn't want to upset you, but he had to know. “Was that not the first time he hit you?” 

“I should have left months ago,” You whispered. “I just, I thought I could fix him, he was broken, and I'm a fixer, but instead of me fixing him, he broke me,” Tom felt the warmth of your tears on his chest. “It started off as little things, one fight he threw a rag at me, and then another he slammed the door on my hand, that's when I broke my fingers, and I kept telling myself it wouldn't escalate, and then last night.. He said that I was a slut, because I spent too much time with you, and I tried to argue that it was because you were just my best friend, and he slapped me across the face, and called me a liar.” you pulled away to look up at tom. “I'm a strong girl Tom, but I felt like next to nothing last night, and that's when I knew I had to get out.. I left and ran to the park and called you. Months of belittling, and name calling.. i didn't even see how bad it was, until it was to late,”

Tom's heart broke knowing this had been going on for months under his nose, that his y/n was hurting so much and he didn't even see it. He brought his thumb up to your bruise barely visible thanks to the makeup. He wasn't sure what exactly came over him, but he leaned down and kissed the spot ever so lightly. 

“He may have broken you y/n, but I'll be here to fix you, no matter how long it takes,” he whispered. You smiled at your best friend, your Tommy. Taking a chance, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, and pressed your lips into his. It had always been Tom, you were just way too stubborn to accept it. You pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

“What happened last night tom?” You asked. You had only seen the aftermath, after Tom's phone call from the police station, informing you he'd been arrested. He rushed out so quickly, leaving you a mess in his bathroom. Then after his call, you had to uber to your apartment, finding it in shambles, from a physical fight. You knew you had to protect Tom. You couldn't let him go down to protect you. So you called Alex, telling him you were going to press charges, unless he promised to not press charges against Tom, and of course him being who he was, he agreed instantly, anything to keep his own name clean. morally, it probably wasn't the right decision, but you had to do what you had to do. 

“Well,” Tom started, thinking back to how he had acted, and what had actually transpired. 

Tom banged on the door, repeatedly, until Alex finally opened it. As soon as the door opened Tom shoved Alex pushing his way into the apartment. “Did you lay your hands on her?” he shouted. Causing a scoff out of Alex. 

“Of course she went crying to you, it's always you Holland,” he spat, pushing Tom back. 

The rest was a blur, Tom wasn't sure who threw the first punch, but he was sure who threw the last, and though he had been a little too rough, he didn't regret it, because he had done it for you.

Tom told you exactly how he had recalled the night, down to the police showing up. You were upset with him for jeopardizing his career, but you were also thankful to have someone like Tom, who would always come to your rescue when you allowed it. 

“Thank you Tommy,” You whispered. It would take time to recover from the last few months of your life, but you were sure with the help of Tom, and a little too much ice cream, you would come out on the other side stronger than ever.

[fridayfirefly]

A New Start

Read A New Start on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 15 - New Start

At the age of twenty-three, Dick Grayson was used to being called names. Playboy, asshole, womanizer - people liked to make assumptions about him. The press only ever saw him as a reflection of his Bruce's public persona, another rich airhead who thought of nothing except sex and alcohol.

Dick tried to rise above it all. He graduated from Gotham University School of Business with a 4.0 GPA. He earned his job at Wayne Enterprises instead of letting it simply be given to him. He never went to parties, never went to nightclubs, never got caught doing anything unsavory by the press. Despite every reason that made him entirely unsuitable gossip material, Dick Grayson was still splashed across the front page of every Gotham Gossip Magazine. They created speculation over every little aspect of Dick's life. When he took a week off of school due to the flu, he was actually partying his way through Europe. When he ran to the campus convenience store at 2 am to buy a new phone charger, he was actually buying a pregnancy test for his one-night stand. When he went to his Bruce's Spring Gala alone, it was actually because he was having a secret affair with one of the married models. Dick knew that nothing he did would change the way the press viewed him.

Dick hated the press. He hated being seen as a rich, air-headed playboy who earned none of his success. He hated how so few people saw past the headlines to get to know the real him. It seemed like no one could see the Dick Grayson who made dumb jokes and loved his slightly dysfunctional family and fell in love with his whole heart unguarded. No one could see the Dick Grayson who just wanted to be loved back.

------

Dick was running late. Any other day, he would be perfectly prompt, but that morning, everything went wrong. The subway got delayed. The uber driver tried to take a shortcut down the wrong way of a one-way street, adding another twenty minutes to Dick’s commute. The barista at Starbucks messed up Dick’s americano not once but twice (Dick still tipped her, but he was still resentful about it). When Dick finally got to the office thirty minutes late, he found out that he had a meeting in twenty minutes all the way across town.

Overall, the whole morning seemed to be fated for disaster. Dick caught a taxi outside of Wayne Enterprises, chugging the last of his americano before he got in. On the drive to the Gabriel Fashion building, Dick got himself up to speed on the topic of his upcoming meeting. Ever since the arrest of Gabriel Agreste two years prior on charges of domestic terrorism, Gabriel Fashion had lost more and more money until it was simply impossible for the company to remain afloat. However, despite the catastrophic failure of the parent company, one branch of Gabriel Fashion was still doing incredibly well. Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s line of sustainable, environmentally friendly fashion, named Miraculous Fashion, was widely regarded as the best thing to come out of Gabriel Fashion in the last fifteen years. Wayne Enterprises wanted to use Miraculous Fashion to get into the fashion business. Bruce was willing to offer Adrien Agreste, CEO of Agreste Fashion (though not for much longer, as the company was on the verge of declaring bankruptcy), just about any amount of money Agreste could ask for in order to acquire Miraculous Fashion. However, that meant getting the approval of Ms. Dupain-Cheng first, which was the reason that Dick was meeting with Ms. Dupain-Cheng that morning.

Dick's horrible luck wasn't through with him yet, though. As his taxi pulled up in front of Gabriel Fashion, the vehicle drove through a huge puddle, splashing street water all of a young woman walking past. Dick could hear her surprised shriek even from inside the taxi.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Dick muttered as he shot out of the taxi. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

The woman blinked up at him, wiping the icy water off of her face. "I'm fine. It was an accident."

"It's not fine." Dick's already foul mood even worse after seeing the state of the woman. Her coat (originally cream-colored, as Dick could tell from the dry spots) was now covered in wet, gray stains.  "I can pay any dry cleaning expenses."

The woman shook her head. "It's not a big deal."

"I'll pay for your cab ride if you'd like to go home and get changed," Dick offered. He knew better than to throw money at a problem, but he wanted the guilt he felt about ruining the woman's morning to go away.

She shook her head, wet strands of hair sticking to her face. "No, it's fine. I have a change of clothes in my office, and I can get cleaned up in the bathroom."

"Okay. Sorry again Miss..."

"Dupain-Cheng. Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Dick winced. Of all the disastrous coincidences... "I'm Dick Grayson, your 9:30 meeting."

Marinette stared at him for a moment, before starting to laugh. "What a terrible first encounter we had. Why don't I walk you up to my office? My secretary can show you around while I get changed."

"Sounds great, Ms. Dupain-Cheng."

"Call me Marinette."

"Only if you call me Dick."

Marinette tried and failed to hold back a giggle. "Right this way then, Dick."

------

Dick had the sneaking suspicion that despite the fact that Marinette had lived in Gotham for the past six months, she had yet to encounter any of Gotham's many gossip magazines. When she looked at Dick, there was no judgment in her eyes. Dick was used to the underhanded insults, the subtle ways that people tried to undermine him because they didn't think he was qualified for his job. Marinette never acted like that. She was interested in everything he said, offering both praise and criticism to his ideas as they negotiated the terms for a potential merger.

"I want Miraculous Fashion to continue past the end of Gabriel Fashion, but to be honest I was hoping to be picked up by a company more experienced in the fashion world. Miraculous Fashion has a lot of potential, and I don't want to let that go to waste with a company that - no offense - might not know how to operate a clothing company."

"I understand your concern, but Wayne Enterprises is dedicated to expanding into the fashion world. I swear to you that Wayne Enterprises will do whatever it takes to ensure that Miraculous Fashion prospers. I can't promise that we won't make any mistakes or screw-ups, but I can promise that Miraculous Fashion won't be abandoned when times get tough."

Marinette nodded thoughtfully. "I'll think about it, but there's a pretty good chance that I'll agree to this. I've gotten a few other offers from different fashion companies, but none quite as enthusiastic as Wayne Enterprises."

"I hope to see you again soon," said Dick as he left her office.

Even though it was riddled with disaster, Dick couldn't help but feel good about his morning. His meeting with Marinette felt special. It felt like a new start.

@maribatmarch-2k21