#step right up and fill your cup with sapphic longing

[saintmachina]

[cadence-talle]

looking for the golden light

Pairing: Dex Dizznee/Tam Song

Wordcount: 1,186

Summary: Tam slams into the shop wearing a large straw hat, face stormy. The door he’s shoved open hits the magazine stand and almost knocks it over. Dex winces.

His hat has flowers on it. Uh oh.

Other notes: written around a prompt by the wonderful @i-love-side-characters!! my line was “Seriously? I can’t believe you’d think that.” which i... followed. mostly. 

anyway please don’t ask me what this is, i Do Not know. it’s set in the 1950s? maybe? Dex works at a drugstore with a soda fountain :/

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @catboyruy, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @lemontarto, @sofia-not-sophie, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @keefeinnit, @hyperlollypop, @thesandsofdawn, @my-swan-song, @impostertamsong, @yeetersofthelostcities, @diamond-dreamerr, @we-have-no-bananas-today, @an-absolute-travesty, @callas-starkflower-stew, @jadenightthewriter, @keefes-hairgel, @kirisong, @fire-sapphics, @alabestrine, @brilliantblindinglights, @isapizzas, @mistythegenderqueermess, @imaramennoodle, @queersofthelostcities, @b-blurryyfacee, @bianavacker-is-bi-as-hell, @silver-war, @real-smooth

“Where is he.” 

Tam slams into the shop wearing a large straw hat, face stormy. The door he’s shoved open hits the magazine stand and almost knocks it over. Dex winces. 

His hat has flowers on it. Uh oh. 

“Where. Is. Keefe.” Tam repeats. Dex raises an eyebrow, drying off another glass and putting it on the shelf. He’s lucky the drugstore’s empty right now- when Tam’s in a mood like this, it tends to scare off customers. 

“He’s not on shift today. Why, what happened?”

Tam huffs. “Remember when I came here last week? Because I needed more silver dye for my hair and I was out? And Keefe gave me that bottle?”

“You used it? Seriously? I can’t believe you’d think that thing was legit.”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting it to turn my head green!” Tam whips the hat off his head and Dex hides a laugh behind his hand. 

Sure enough, Tam’s hair is green. Neon green, in fact, a color Dex would be astonished at if he hadn’t made that particular dye himself. It almost seems to glow in the sunlight coming through the front windows. 

“Looks good,” Dex says, trying to keep the giggle out of his voice. From the glower Tam gives him, it doesn’t work. 

“Can you fix it or not?”

“Yeah, I can. Gimme a second.” Dex turns to the soda fountain and fills up a cup, sliding it over the counter to Tam. “Drink this. Maybe it’ll make you less homicidal.” 

Tam slides onto one of the stools and sighs, taking a sip. “Thanks,” he mutters, which is about as close an apology as Dex is going to get. Dex hums and rummages around in the medicine cabinet. 

“Here,” he says after a second. “This’ll turn your hair back. I think you have to bleach it first, though. It’s not as strong as the green one was.”

“Ugh.” Tam puts his head on the counter. “It’s Sunday.”

“Oh.” Sunday means the barber- the only place Tam can get his hair bleached- is closed. Which means... 

“I’m going to be like this for at least another day, aren’t I.” Tam’s tone is defeated. Dex stares at him for a moment, watches his fingers tap against the side of his stool in some sort of confusing rhythm. 

Fine. Okay. 

He crosses the shop and turns the OPEN sign on the front to CLOSED. It’s only four and he’s probably going to get chewed out for this, but it’s fine. Livvy loves him anyway. 

“I can bleach your hair here,” Dex says. “If you have an hour or two.” 

Tam lifts his head up. “You can?” 

“Yeah. Grab that towel unless you want to ruin your shirt and come into the back room.” 

“Okay,” Tam says. When Dex glances back, he could swear Tam’s smiling. 

The bleaching itself doesn’t take long. Dex brushes it on, folds Tam’s hair up into a cap, and settles down to wait. In the meantime, he switches the radio on. 

It starts up on a bright song, crackling halfway through to a news report as Dex adjusts the antenna. Tam leans over to listen. 

“Your new project?” he asks. Dex nods. 

“I’ve rewired it to pick up long-distance signals. It’s not super useful to know what the weather in Seattle is, I guess, but it’s cool.” 

“Yeah.” Tam reaches out and presses a button. They connect to another music station. “It’s cool that you can do stuff like that, though. You think you’ll go to college for mechanics or something?” 

“I want to.” Dex shrugs. “Depends, I guess. If I get a scholarship.”

“Right,” Tam says. There’s an awkward pause and Dex searches frantically for something to fill the silence. 

“What about you? Do you want to study anything?” 

Tam huffs a little laugh, glancing down at the countertop. “Probably,” he says. “Maybe. Yes.” 

Dex looks at him, at the way his shoulders hunch in just a little bit and his eyes are firmly fixed on the marble. It’s weird, to see Tam so unsure of himself. To see Tam without the tough pretense. 

“It’s still a year till graduation,” Dex says. “You have time to figure it out.” 

“Yeah.” Tam smiles a little and goes to tug at his hair, realizing halfway through that it’s still covered. Dex snorts. 

“The bleach will be set soon. I think we have more silver in the cabinets, actually, if you want to do your bangs while you’re here.” 

“Oh.” Tam nods and doesn’t say anything else. Dex tilts his head at him. 

“Do you want to dye your bangs while you’re here?”

Tam shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve had the silver bangs forever. I can’t tell if I want to keep them or- not.”

“They were, like, a rebellion thing, right?” 

“Yeah. Which was great, when I lived with my parents and it’d make my dad pissed, but now we’re staying with Wylie and Tiergan and it’s just like.” Tam waves a hand. “I don’t know.”

The song on the radio changes into something fast and upbeat. Dex lowers the volume. 

“It’s up to you,” he says. “Right? Your hair.” 

“Right.” 

“Speaking of which. The bleach is probably done by now.” Dex stifles another laugh as Tam uncovers his hair, which is now a bright blond. “You look fantastic.” 

Without saying anything, Tam reaches for his hat. He stares at Dex, face expressionless. 

“Time to hit the beach, I guess.” Dex says, and watches as Tam’s poker face breaks. 

Applying the dye takes an annoyingly long time. Dex is careful to get every strand of hair, leaving the bangs for last. When he’s almost done, he steps back and looks at Tam.

“Do it,” Tam says. “I don’t have anything to prove anymore.”

Dex smiles and finishes the bottle. 

“Thanks you,” Tam murmurs later, when his hair is tucked up again and almost done. “You didn’t have to do all of this.” 

“I wanted to, though,” Dex points out. “Couldn’t just let you run around looking like a paintbrush.”

Tam laughs. He reaches out and takes Dex’s hand, examining the black blotches on his fingertips where the dye seeped through his gloves. Dex pretends his heart isn’t beating a mile a minute. 

“Still,” Tam says. “Thank you.”

-/-

“Good morning.”

The radio’s playing again when Tam walks into the shop the next day. He’s still wearing the straw hat. Dex can see his bangs under it, though, and they’re a perfect natural color. He raises an eyebrow at Tam. 

“Nice hat. Keefe’s in the back, by the way, if you still want to yell at him.”

“Thank you.” Tam slides onto his stool again. “And no, actually. I just came here so I could talk to you.” 

“Oh.” Dex blinks. “What about?”

Tam looks at him. Looks down at the ground. Looks into his eyes again.

“They’re playing a movie musical at the theater next weekend,” he says, voice level. “Would you like to go with me?”

He’s so calm and perfectly awkward that Dex cracks a smile. 

“I’d like that,” he says. The radio keeps singing. 

[queenaeducan]

We Tame the Sky

Pairing: f!Cadash / Josephine Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No warnings apply

In the quiet before the final approach on Haven, Thora Cadash and Josephine share a moment together in Skyhold's chapel.

Written as a fill for Spronky as a part of the @sapphic-solstice event!

Read on AO3 here.

Sitting in the quiet of Skyhold’s chapel, Thora begins to see why her ancestors favoured the stone so. Being born Casteless she had always been as likely to choose a sun-soaked field over a well-lit cave, but tonight is different. Outside, the light breaks in a sickly green over the Frostbacks, scattering across the sky like a spotlight through the pieces of a shattered mirror. Thunder rumbles without storm clouds, booming with Corypheus’ ambition. Beneath the stone chapel ceiling it's not easy to forget the chaos that threatens to tear their world asunder, but peace seems a little more feasible here. The harsh light of a Breach wrenched open is blocked out by a heavy wooden door, and she sits awash in the scent of incense, beneath the watchful eyes of the Maker’s chosen.

She kneels before Andraste, her hopes and dreams clasped between her palms as they come together in prayer. She sings a prayer for those who will ride beside her into the abyss, perhaps never to return, a prayer for those she’s leaving behind, with nothing but belief to buoy their hopes for the future.

And one for herself, should Andraste have any grace to spare.

“You have walked beside me Down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh. You have stood with me when all others Have forsaken me.”

The prayer for the despairing comes too easily to her, the hymn had played a companion to her countless times through the years, but never had its words rang more clearly in her heart than tonight, as she steeled herself to face Corypheus one last time. She can’t pretend she knows what was in Andraste’s heart as she stood before the gates of Minrathous with her army at her flank, but this is likely the closest she’ll ever come to knowing.

“I am not alone. Even As I stumble on the path With my eyes closed, yet I see The Light is here.”

Though the chant evokes the Maker’s light, it’s no longer His face she sees as she closes her eyes, lips pressed against her thumbs in reverent devotion. Before Him come the faces of her friends, the brilliance of Cassandra’s sword as it cleaves through their foes, the glow of Solas’ staff as he cuts through the Deep Roads’ dark, the soft gleam in Josephine’s eye as a smile spreads her lips. Heavensent or no, those were the lights that had gotten her this far.

“There you are.” The sound of Josephine’s voice startles Thora from her prayer, with thoughts of her so near at hand she’d almost thought she imagined it. She looks over in time to see her step lightly through the door, her slippers just a whisper against the floor. “I had thought to find you in the garden, but…” The distant roar of the Breach completes her thought in fewer words. She’d often take her evening prayers beneath the bows of the maple trees, preferring their sanctuary to the small chapel that harboured most of Skyhold’s believers, but she’ll find no peace under them tonight— nor any night until her job is done. Josephine’s lips turn in a smile, a practised expression Thora had seen persist in the darkest circumstances, but it strains now. “Well, what matters is I’ve found you now.”

Thora’s words stick in her throat, all she can do as she rises to her feet is stare dumbly. There always seems too much to say between herself and Josephine to know where to begin.

Thankfully, Josephine always seems to find a way. “I suppose it won’t be long now,” she says.

“It’s just a matter of time.” She wishes they could find anything other than the oncoming fight to talk about, but it may be asking too much of them both. Corypheus is difficult to ignore even at the best of times, now that the ruins of Haven tremble at their doorstep every thought is stained by his influence. “I thought I’d see if I could get a few words in before we set out.”

This time the smile that graces Josephine’s features sneaks up on her, chased by a short breath of laughter. “If it’s good fortune you’re after, I may have just the thing.” Before Thora can so much as ask, the ambassador produces a flag of cloth from the folds of her doublet, flourishing it with a street magician’s flair. “Do you recognise it? The pattern, that is.” She proffers it forward, supporting the fabric with the tips of her fingers so the image lays flat before her eyes. She doesn’t need long to know what she’s looking at (she’d spent far too many hours looking for the blasted thing to ever mistake it): a proud ship sails across an unruly sea, the bow cutting through choppy waves and rendering them calm.

“Your family crest…”

“Soon its likeness will fly above a fleet of ships that will rival the great houses of Antiva, but this one is yours.”

“Mine?”

She nods. “My favour may not have the same weight as Andraste, but if it can accompany you where I cannot, then I give it gladly. May I see your hand?”

Thora immediately extends her right arm, then draws it back just as quick. “No, wait,” she says, offering forward the other, fingers closed into a loose fist to contain the faint buzz of the Anchor. “This one could probably use it more.”

“Naturally.” She winds the handkerchief up so it resembles a bracelet, coiling the fabric up like a rope and measuring it against her slender wrist before she tries Thora’s. Curled ringlets coil around her ears as she leans over to tie it properly, and in all the chaos of Corypheus’ attack she’s still found the presence of mind to perfume herself. Thora discovers this herself as she breathes slowly, and tries to forget her daydreams. “I’m afraid I’ve little else to offer but my hopes, Corypheus has proven most resilient to my charms.” The fabric slides across the smooth finish of her gauntlets without purchase, and then again, each time reset by the patient hand of Lady Montilyet. At last it catches against the details, winding around dwarven runes that spell the Cadash house words in an alphabet that rarely saw sunlight. The sight of her words and the Montilyet crest winding together around her wrist moves something in her. It creeps up her ribs and into her throat and blossoms. Not for the first time since they’ve met, Thora finds herself grateful you can’t choke to death on love.

She ties the knot once, twice, and Thora thinks she sees some reluctance as they fall away to her sides. “May you tame the sky as we tamed the sea, Lady Cadash,” she says in a trembling voice, her words straining against her fears.

“Josephine, I—” Brown eyes rimmed with tears look up at Josephine. The sharp end to her sentence is a keen reminder that while she can’t choke to death on love, she sure can still choke. “I’m…” What she wants to say more than anything feels selfish to say, now more than ever, when her death is so near at hand. What good would it do her to die with no regrets, if it meant sentencing Josephine to a lifetime of them? She grinds her hopes beneath her heel, and tells herself that, should she live to see morning, there’ll be nothing stopping her anymore.

Even if it’s a lie, it’s a lie that can get her through this moment.

“Thank you,” she manages after a moment of tear-induced silence. “I’m... I don’t- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” She folds her hands around Thora’s, cupping the armour-clad knuckles between tender fingers, like her glove was wrought with silk and not steel. “Just come back to us, please.”

Her heart constricts with the burden of a promise she may not keep. The sky calls her name, spelling her doom in the air with the ruins of her first failure, but Josephine’s words have worked miracles for her before. “I’ll do my best, I always— oh.” A distant horn blows, signalling her departure, and their farewell. Eyes laced with tears, she turns to the statue of Andraste as though she were a friend forgotten in the tide of the conversation. “I didn’t get to finish.”

The threads of Josephine’s smile start to unravel, grief twisting the manners from the corners of her lips. “I will finish it for you, Inquisitor,” she says in a voice laid thick with tears she wants desperately to dab from her cheeks. “Go with Andraste’s grace.” Her hands tremble as they release Thora’s, only finding stability as they lace together in prayer. As her footsteps echo with her retreat, she hears Josephine’s voice lift in song, words burdened with her weeping but warm with the Maker’s light.

“Draw your last breath, my friends. Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker's right hand, And be Forgiven.”

[marvelfansince08love]

My loyalties lie with you, not the title you’ve been given - Part 3

Word count: 4K 

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Protector!Reader 

Warning: a lot of gay pining

A/N: Thank you sm for all your comments and feedback from the last part, I’m overwhelmed I love writing this series and I’m glad you guys enjoy it. Thanks @imnotasuperhero and @canarypoint again you wonderful people!

Tags my darlings: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @veteranwerewolf95 @chewbacca0805 @creepingwolfberry @muted-stoneheart @saucy-sapphic @coconutlipss @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k @nyx-aira @versonstar @witchxaf @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @r0an0ke @pearplate​ @kikaykimkim​ @the-obscuritywrites​ I feel like that’s everyone, please let me know if I have missed you or you want to be added! 

Part 3

The drive back to the academy is long and eerie as you remain silent, thoughts spiralling out of control in your mind. The plan was simple; continue with stake outs and guarding the academy where the warlocks will join the coven tomorrow evening, both Cordelia and John had agreed that this was the best way of keeping the group in one space so if the figure were to attack again it would make it easier to capture it in one place. You look across to the blonde supreme watching as her brows remain furrowed in concentration, her hands tight around the wheel as she stares straight ahead. You decide to break the silence. 

“I think it would be best to call for a meeting once we get in. The girls should be informed of the danger.” You suggest, keeping your voice low as to not startle her from her thoughts. She blinks once as if only registering your voice, clearing her throat she nods in agreement. 

“I think that would be best. My other girls should be arriving home tomorrow morning at the earliest, hopefully with some good news,” Cordelia mutters, her big brown doe eyes glancing briefly at your concerned expression. “What?” She asks, a shaky smile appearing across her soft pink lips.

“We'll get through this, Lia. You aren’t alone, you know? I meant what I said back there, I’m not going anywhere.” Your voice, full of promise and reassurance, makes her smile appreciatively at you before concentrating back on the long road. You smile at her side profile before going in search of a CD disk wanting to fill the silence with something that will keep her distracted from her thoughts. Opening the glove box, your eyes sparkle with excitement as you let out a small squeal. Cordelia glances bemused at your sudden outburst. 

“Oh my god! You kept it?!” You exclaim happily, reaching for the old mixtape. Your eyes skimming across the black ink that marks the front of the tape case. 

“For Lia, Happy eighteenth birthday. Yours, Y/N.” You read out loud, a wide smile forming upon your lips as your finger skims over the cover.

“Of course I kept it, it only has my favourite songs on there. One of the reasons why I bought this car was so I could play these tapes,” Cordelia gushes, as she basks within your excitement. 

Chuckling together, you place the tape inside the cassette player watching as it comes to life, the sweet voice of Stevie Nick flows throughout the car. Leaning your head back against the headrest you close your eyes as you allow her soft voice to relax you. Peeking over, you notice Cordelia’s hands have loosened around the wheel making you grin satisfied with your attempt to help her relax. The sound of Cordelia’s hum makes you smile as you close your eyes again, tapping your foot to the steady beat of ‘Dreams’ as you make your way home. 

Opening your eyes again, you feel a soft hand shake gently around your arm coaxing you out of your sleepy haze. Brown eyes gaze upon you as you begin to come around, stretching slightly in your seat. 

“Damn, Stevie has done it again,” you mumble tiredly, smiling sheepishly. Cordelia chuckles lightly and a familiar sense of deja vu falls upon you, remembering the many nights you would fall asleep to that woman’s sweet voice. 

“Come on, sleepyhead. We’re home.” She says, fondness evident within her voice. Your heart flutters at her choice of words. 

Home. 

Stepping through the front door of the academy, you notice how awfully quiet it is as you take in the empty hallways. Suddenly, you hear laughter erupted to the left of you as you quickly turn to the sound. Frowning, you look towards Cordelia in confusion as she smiles fondly. 

“I almost forgot it’s movie night,” She fills you in, stepping towards the door where the laughter had erupted from. Following closely by, you peek through the crack to see most of the young witches scattered around the living room space, eyes glued to the big projector. Your eyes clash with Myrtle's who sits further away from the girls, a book in hand as the fire clashes with her red hair from behind. 

“Cordelia, Y/N, darlings. I was getting worried.” She croaks, placing her book into her lap. Her greeting seems to cause the other girls in the room to look in your direction as you both make yourself known to the group.

“Good evening, girls. I’m sorry we're back so late,” Cordelia addresses the room, as the girls glance between the two of you. Some with glee and excitement as they subtly whisper to one another, some in confusion as they take in their tired supreme. Queenie and Zoe soon appear, feeling the presence of their supreme as they stand close by, eyes apprehensive as they await an update on the situation at hand. You stand a few inches behind Cordelia allowing her to address her coven, as she slips back into her role as supreme. 

“I was hoping that I would have had this problem squished by now. However, it seems that we- I underestimated our current situation,” Cordelia confesses, her expression one of sorrow and exhaustion. The young witches remain silent as they keep their eyes forward waiting for their supreme to continue.

“As you all know, some of our neighbouring warlocks have been taken from their school and haven’t been seen for the past week. After some extensive conversations with the council, we have decided that it’s within our best interest to house the boys here while we track down this dark source,” Cordelia pauses as the girls erupt into hushed conversation with one another. You eye her tense figure watching as her hands shake subtly at her side, Without thinking, you reach out for her shaking hand and brush your fingers lightly within her palm; the sensation bringing a calming effect to her body as she relaxes almost instantly at your touch, her head turned slightly she mouths a quick ‘thank you’ before turning back and addressing the now frantic coven. 

Stepping back slightly, you allow Cordelia to continue with informing the coven of your next steps in defeating this dark entity. Watching their eyes fill with worry and fright but with Cordelia’s reassuring smile and Myrtle's words of wisdom, the girls seem to relax knowing that they will be looked after, feeling safe within these walls that are full of strong and powerful witches.

Knowing that Cordelia has the situation under control, you decide it would be best to go and make some tea in the kitchen for her, knowing she’ll need it.  As you boil the sweet tea, the faint sound of Cordelia’s shoes echo through into the room, making you smile softly as you briefly glance at her tired figure. 

“You got anything stronger in that tea?” She teases, taking a seat at the kitchen countertop. Her hands now laced in front of her as she sighs heavily. You grimace feeling her tired energy surround you like a vice. 

Turning towards her, you place the now steaming cup in front of her hands watching as she inhales in the sweet smell of cinnamon. As she reaches for the cup you pull your hands back allowing her a few minutes of peace. Sitting across from her you watch as she takes a tentative sip from the cup, humming in satisfaction she closes her eyes for a moment allowing her body to relax after a hard day. 

“If you want, I could go and take some of Myrtle’s special vodka that she keeps in her cabinet?” You whisper, conspiringly pretending to look out for the woman in question making Cordelia laugh at your playfulness. She shakes her head, a small grin appearing on her face as she reaches over to hold your hands within her own, her thumb brushing softly over your skin looking into your eyes with such softness. 

“Thank you for being there with me today, I don’t think I would have held it together as much as I did if you weren’t there.” She confesses, squeezing your hands with gratitude. Flustered by her words and her touch you mutter a quick ‘don’t worry about Delia’ smiling softly at her. 

“It’s gone awfully quiet down here, are the girls finishing their film?” You ask, wanting to step away from the dangerous territory that is you and her. Removing your hands, you decide to busy yourself with placing scattered pots and pans in their rightful place. Without noticing Cordelia’s dejected look, she clears her throat and answers catching onto your change of subject. 

“No, I think the conversation we had kinda put a damper on things.. They’ve all settled into their rooms for the night.” She quietly says, as she circles the rim of her mug with her finger, mind distracted. Taking yourself over to her, you squeeze her shoulder in passing as you whisper ‘be right back’ leaving a confused blonde at the table. 

Upon returning, you watch her eyes brighten as she takes in the big coloured mismatched comforter as she eyes the knitted patterns that are now a little worn down after so many years of being used. Holding the comforter up, you look to the side of the material to lock eyes with the witch. 

“Outside?” You ask simply, the familiar sense of deja vu once again falls upon the room as Cordelia nods excitingly. Chuckling together you lead the supreme out into the backyard and head for the old swing set on the back porch. Sitting down comfortably, you bring the old comforter over your knees and lean back simultaneously, with a mug still in hand Cordelia sighs into the dark cold air before taking another sip. 

“God, I miss coming out here at night,” she reminisces, a peaceful smile present on her lips. You watch her for a few moments taking in her appearance, the slight crinkle by her eyes, her features more defined and mature but you smile unconsciously thinking that she has never looked more beautiful than when she’s at peace with herself, her smile still the same one you fell in love with all those years ago.

“Do you remember our last night out here?” You ask, a tone of sadness laced within your voice. Her eyes open at your question as you watch her eyes mist over, her smile turned downwards as she recollects. 

“How could I forget? It was only one of the worst days of my life. The first being my wedding day. God, what a stupid decision that was.” She mutters into her mug as she takes a sip. You smirk smugly, remembering what an awful person Hank was, he never deserved your Delia. 

“He was a pompous asshole, Lia. Me and your mother may have never gotten on but the one thing we did agree on was that.” You joke, bumping your shoulder against her own in good nature. 

“She did like you, you know? Fiona Goode was never one to show her emotions well, but I could tell she liked you.” Cordelia insists, a small smile playing on her lips. You scoff in disbelief. 

“Are you kidding? The first time that woman caught me in your room I thought my short life was about to end there and then!” You exclaim, laughing at the memory watching the blonde bite her top lip to refrain herself from joining in.

“Okay, so maybe she tolerated you. More than she did him, that’s for sure.” She reassures, sinking further into the comforter. You decide to toe at the ground allowing the porch swing to sway slightly back and forth in the cold air, the crickets chirping away within the depths of the academy's ground garden. 

“I’ve missed you, you know? I’ve missed this.” She whispers into the dark as she places her now empty mug onto the floor and leaning back against the swing, enjoying the peace. Your lips twitch as you mimic her action, the blonde witch places her head against your shoulder making you lean your head onto top of her own. She wiggles slightly as she brings the comforter higher up towards her neck. Sighing in content, you watch fondly as her eyes and nose twitch occasionally as she fights against sleep. 

Me too.

***

‘Y/N, Delia, darlings. We have beds for a reason, my dears,” Myrtle’s warm voice makes you twitch as your eyes flutter open to the sound, feeling another warm body next to you stir awake. The moon is still strong and bright as you take in the dark night sky realising you both must have fallen asleep out here. Glancing over to Cordelia, you notice her come to the same conclusion as her eyes widen slightly, a small colour of pink spreads across her cheeks. You both move apart quickly, as you fold up the old comforter glaring subtly at Myrtle who only grins knowingly. The red head twirls around and heads back towards the back door, her words making you flush as you avert your eyes from the blonde.

“Some things never change,” Myrtle’s raspy voice teases, as she elegantly opens the door and makes a quick exit, leaving you both alone. Scratching at the back of your neck, you go to utter an apology but Cordelia already beats you to it. 

“I am so sorry, I must have been more tired than I thought,” she apologises, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she reaches for her empty mug. You shrug indifferently before muttering ‘it’s not a problem’ before gesturing with your head. 

“Maybe we should follow her advice, sleeping out here is never a good idea.” You say, the peace and content you felt before no longer present as you remember your current situation. Cordelia nods in agreement before brushing past you and into the academy muttering a quick ‘good night’ her soft lips brushing briefly against your cheek. 

Lifting your head to the sky, you sigh heavily. 

‘She’s going to be the death of me’ 

Following day 

The sun burns bright above the academy as the girls gather outside, whispering and giggling to one another as they eye the two strong male protectors who stand in the middle of the open garden as the trees sway slightly in the light breeze behind them in this early morning. You roll your eyes from your position in the kitchen watching through the window as the teen witches become transfixed on your dorky older brothers, your eyes roll even further as you spot Madison eyeing them up as if they were her next meal. Sipping on your chamomile tea, you hear that familiar chuckle from your ex lover. Coming to stand next to you, you pass her your tea knowing that she enjoys the flavoured tea in the morning. Giving her thanks to you she takes the mug and follows your gaze to the performance outside. 

“Ah, I see it didn’t take Michael long to walk around shirtless. Does that guy even own more than one shirt?” Cordelia teases, making you laugh out loud. Arms crossed as you watch him use the spare sparring bamboo stick, striking forward towards your brother who blocks the attack. 

“He says it helps him when training or something. He’s a pig, what else do you expect?” You laugh, shaking your head. Your laughter is stopped short when you feel her warm breath close to your ear. 

“You should show him up a little in front of the girls, it’ll teach him a lesson. It gives Elijah a break from being used as a dummy,” She suggests, keeping her voice low as if conspiring. You fight back a groan at feeling her warm breath against your skin deciding to step back and grin at her suggestion. 

“You are one smart woman,” You joke, trying to ignore the fast thumping of your heart. Practically skipping towards the back down, you turn and wink at her before going to do exactly what she said. 

Standing tall on top of the porch, you continue to watch your brothers fight one another with accurate attacks and blocks. The girls quieten once they notice your presence, practically beaming in awe as you look towards them and wink subtly, placing a finger against your lips in a request to stay quiet as you disappear in front of them making them gasp excitingly as they finally see some of your powers in action. 

Now behind Elijah, you whisper quickly into his ear. 

“I got him,” He grins at your words before disappearing to stand next to Cordelia who now stands at the porch watching on proudly, having seen you train like this before with your brothers she’s excited for the girls to see it in action. She’s also missed seeing this side of you but that she would never admit. 

Michael turns around feeling the presence change near him, he grins when he spots you. 

“Come to join in, sis.” He says smugly, twirling the stick around in his hand. You match his expression, enjoying his attempt to taunt you in front of the audience that has now grown outside. 

“You never learn, do you Mike? Shall I show them how it’s done?” You challenge, already feeling your powers flow through you like electricity. 

Taking your starting stance, you take in his form watching how his hands twitch around his sparring weapon, his eyes darting around as if contemplating his next move, you smirk when you realise his next step as he eyes the tree behind you for a moment too long. Advancing forward you wait until he disappears in front of you, giving him a second advantage before teleporting behind by the tree and shoving him forward making him stumble. While he stumbles forward you quickly grab Elijah’s abandoned sparring stick before clashing it against his own weapon. Sticking your leg out, you swap instantly at his legs making him stumble to the floor with a grunt. 

“Come on, M. Madison’s watching.” You taunt, as he becomes reddened in frustration. He scrambles to his feet again, allowing him to regain his sense and his pride. You continue to spar back and forth, swinging and dodging his attacks only allowing him one good hit before effectively removing his only weapon, leaving him vulnerable. Gritting his teeth, he grumbles in frustration before advancing forward one more time. You step back allowing your power of Phytokinesis to manipulate the vines that lay around the tree branches on either side of you to shoot forward and wrap tightly around his wrist keeping him in place as he falls to his knees, stepping confidently towards him you crotch down so you are eye level. 

“Do you surrender?” You ask, a teasing grin playing on your lips. Your eyes sparkle with mischief and complacency. He huffs, chuckling quietly as he shakes his head. 

“You’re a real dick sometimes. You know that, right?” He says, but you can tell by his playful eyes that there's no real bite behind it. Shrugging you step back and stand up, turning to the stunned audience, before erupting in cheers. You bow playfully for them, glancing briefly at Cordelia’s face catching her fond eye roll at your dramatics making you grin as you allow the vines to withdraw from his wrists and back onto the tree trunks.

A few of the younger girls move forward towards you in excitement, as they ask multiple questions over one another as your brother grumbles his way back over to Elijah, his bruised ego following close behind. Chuckling to yourself you crouch down to the group and explain some of the powers used during your training watching their eyes fill with wonder. 

“I wanna be a protector!” 

“Do you think I can hold the power of manipulating the trees?!” You try to answer their rushed questions, feeling slightly overwhelmed by their interest in you. As they continue to talk over one another you stand up and look around for Cordelia, frowning when you see her look into the trees with a cautious expression. Following her gaze, you notice a small white light grow bigger between the two front trees, noticing three dark figures within the circle of light. You go to move the girls behind you ready to fight whatever mysterious figures come through the portal, but you stop as soon as you hear Cordelia choke out. 

“Misty.”  

You frown at her expression, as her eyes gloss over with tears as she takes in the other two women that now stand, flanking this Misty woman. Cordelia lets out a watery laugh as she moves briskly from the porch and towards the three women as Zoe and Queenie join her. Madison stays back as she lights a cigarette, unfazed by their arrival. You turn your gaze from the group and towards your brothers who stand at the porch, Elijah shrugs just as confused as you. Turning your gaze back to the newcomers, you watch how Cordelia takes them in one by one cupping their faces with such delicacy your eyes widen as you realise exactly who they are. 

“My other girls should be arriving tomorrow” 

You go to move forward but stop yourself as you take in how Cordelia keeps her hands close to Misty’s face, racking her fingers through her hair tenderly. The gesture makes you want to look away as you swallow the small lump that has formed within your throat. As if sensing your hesitance, Cordelia turns her gaze towards you as she drops her hands to her sides again. Her gaze draws the other girls attention to you as you now stand awkwardly with the younger witches. 

“Mallory, CoCo, Misty, I would like you to meet Y/N. M- the protector.” The words hurt a little bit more than what you would have liked but you put on a smile and wave at the three as they do the same. Misty’s mouth forms into an ‘o’ as she looks between you and Cordelia, her eyes bright as she launches forward and takes both your hands into her own squeezing in greeting. 

“My,  it’s an honour to finally meet cha, Ms.Wardwell. Ms.Delia has told me so much about you,” Misty gushes, her smile wide. The other young girls around you giggle at Misty’s enthusiasm, clearly used to the woman’s outgoing personality. Their giggling draws Misty’s attention away from you as she greets them, talking animatedly to them about her time away leading them back into the academy. She looks back at the group and nods towards Mallory, as if giving her permission to inform you all of what they have found. 

Moving closer so you can listen in you feel the atmosphere change as you all look at Mallory. 

“Mallory, what did you find?” Zoe asks the question that’s been on everyone’s mind. 

“We know where it’s located and it’s not too far from here. We’ve been tracking it all the way from Salem and with each passing day it’s becoming stronger.” She shakingly informs, as CoCo keeps a supportive hand on her shoulder. 

“We saw it last downtown here in New Orleans, I don’t know how long it’s planning on staying but it’s here and we should probably attack it before it attacks us again. This might be our only chance. Cordie,” CoCo finishes, her expression distraught. You look towards Cordelia, already feeling the cogs turning inside her head. 

“We need to inform the rest of the council, we may need more people in on this, Queenie and Zoe go and contact Marie Laveau,” She says. Hearing a scoff from Madison, you turn to face her. 

“You can’t seriously be thinking about it.” you look back towards Cordelia, confused by her question. The blonde bites her lip as she locks eyes with you, her eyes conflicted. 

“Can you still bring people back from the dead?” 

[alchemist-shizun]

Why and wherefore

Ts taglist: @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase @softanxiouspatton @royallyanxious @kim-argent-moon @lance-alt @suffering-is-my-comfort-zone @sometimeswritingsometimesdying @pushussmollworld @mylifeisadeceit @spooky-scary-virgil @angstyfanfiction @artissijam @logicalberry @pistachio-lan @roses-bubbles (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Specific fic taglist: @princessnoodlebug @pinkie-does-fandoms @punsandpodcasts @aceacebaby12345 @not-so-daily-deceit-doodles @pleasantpostmoon @justanotherfanderwriter @mudpuddlenl @sapphic-nd  @linhammon-roll-bromance101 @sar-kasstic

Word Count: 2,662

Characters: Mainly Deceit, Virgil and Remus, other sides and Thomas are there briefly.

Pairing(s): Everything's platonic babes

Warning(s): Paranoia, anxiety, angst, crying, fear of abandonment, overthinking, internalizing emotions (tell me if I missed anything)

Summary: Necklaces shared for a never ending friendship. One that paused, but never stopped glowing under dark cloth. And one that, eventually, will shine in the light again.

A/N: Oof I'm so late! Happy birthday to Deceit, this is in his honour, of course I could only gift him angst. I hope y'all like it, it didn't turn out how I expected it to, but maybe you can appreciate it more than me. That said, enjoy!

✾

❝ Take your time, take it from me.

It ain't yours, and nothing comes free.

I'll keep your time 'til someone can see,

When the beat hits your feet,

Aren't you lost and lonely? ❞

Thump, thump, thump.

Virgil jolted up, despite being awake for as long as he had tried to put himself to sleep. No matter how hard he forced his eyes and mind to shut, his breathing and heartbeat wouldn't slow down.

What if, his thoughts told him, driving him sick, what if they abandoned you?

He brought his hands to his face and dug his nails onto his forehead as though to shut that voice up.

They did already, didn't they? Virgil growled, not wanting to believe that, you're in the dark by yourself. They don't want you. You're alone.

That one last line stuck with him and replayed everywhere, in front of him, written on the walls, on the stars. Howling in the wind there was loneliness.

His only loyal companion.

Tears had just started streaming down his face when the door of his room opened with a soft click.

Virgil looked at his side and found Deceit turning on his bedside lamp before focusing on the kid half-trembling on the mattress.

« Hey, sweetie. » his melodious voice had an instant calming down effect.

He reached out and moved from his face a lock of hair which was hiding his eyes. Virgil sniffed one last time.

« Had a nightmare? » Deceit's tone changed to a bittersweet one.

This kid shook his head and gripped at the covers tighter.

« Are you going to leave? »

« Oh, Virgil. » Deceit's expression possibly softened more, he then took Virgil's hands and smiled at him, capturing his attention with his eyes. « There will never be a reason for me to do that. » he reassured.

But Virgil wasn't convinced. He stopped crying, yet his gaze fell to the ground.

Deceit looked around, searching for something to spark an idea into him.

« Listen here. » he finally said, gaining a glance from Virgil. « Would you like something to remind you I'll always be here? »

Anxiety seemed to genuinely reflect, he would have made a good use of a material object for when he couldn't reach out to anyone.

He nodded.

« How about this? » Deceit cupped his hands, everything around his palms and fingers glowed of a bright light that blinded both of their eyes.

As it died, it revealed two necklaces with different coloured and shaped pendants, one of a two-headed snake and a storm cloud with a lightning bolt.

Deceit handed Virgil the yellow one. « You can have my symbol, so it can comfort you whenever you need me. » he asserted. The kid let the necklace fall gently in his palms, eyes widened with the surprise of such a treasure.

« Are they like the bracelets you and Remus share? » he questioned while his fingers worked on undoing the lock of his new accessory.

Deceit helped him in the process until it finally hanged around his neck. « Sort of. » he allowed with a small nod.

He smiled to himself as Virgil admired the pendant.

« As for me, » he then continued, undoing his own storm cloud necklace. « I'll wear this for as long as you're important to me. » his hand lingered on the purple cloud. « Which I know is a time that will never end. »

Virgil smiled softly and surged forwards to wrap his arms around Deceit's chest. The other returned the hug, maybe a bit tighter than needed, such was his fondness for the side.

« Do you need me to stay for the night? »

« No, it's okay. » Virgil loosened the embrace, then brushing the chain of his necklace. « I have you here, anyway. » he laid back down on his bed, satisfied with the gift.

After kissing his forehead and tucking his sheets, Deceit wished him a goodnight and went back to tend to his own tasks in the peace of the night.

✾

Deceit couldn't understand.

They had worn them proudly for years.

No matter what they were doing, where they were going, their necklaces were always with them, or at least by their side.

So he couldn't understand it when Virgil had come back to the dark sides' living room with no sign of the trademark yellow snake shining on his shirt.

It had brought Deceit's mood down, especially when Anxiety so nonchalantly talked to him and Remus, not realizing his deed.

Yet, he didn't speak up about it.

He simply bit his tongue and tasted bitter displeasure.

It wasn't like the end of the world was upon him, and maybe that didn't mean anything at all or perhaps he had really been overthinking it too much.

But what if he was right?

Or still completely wrong: it could have meant a completely positive thing! Virgil didn't need reassurance anymore, he didn't need a constant reminder anymore, he didn't … need him anymore.

So the tormenting feeling loomed over Deceit before he was able to defeat it entirely.

Multiple questions of inevitable impending doom filled his thinking loud enough for him to be unable to follow the conversation.

He was clearly overreacting, wasn't he?

Virgil had noticed his change in demeanour over time, the almost imperceptible shift he had made.

He asked Deceit whether he was okay or not, called him back into the conversation when he zoned out, tried to confront him on multiple occasions with no success whatsoever.

He had also stopped him once, tugging at his sleeve before he could get away. Virgil was used to do that, always too timid to speak up first.

Deceit turned to face him, who calmly stared back at him, trying his best to mask his suspicion.

« What's wrong? » Virgil's voice was so low it struggled to come out.

Deceit shrugged. « I don't know. Everything's okay. » as much as lying was his thing, he had refrained from doing it during a serious conversation before.

« I'm not so sure about that. » Anxiety's gaze fell to the floor.

« You think there's something wrong? »

« I guess, I mean- you … » he gesticulated, unable to express himself.

« So it's me. » who would've thought.

« I don't know! » Virgil's tone got louder with exasperation. « You're just so off lately. »

« Care to elaborate? » Deceit squinted his eyes, sounding neutral as ever, which never let Virgil understand whether he was stepping in the right or wrong direction.

« You don't tell me what's on your mind anymore. » there it was. « You avoid any conversation about your feelings or issues, just like you were doing right now. » Virgil's mouth scrunched. « It's like you don't trust me. Like everything changed at once and … I don't know. » he was wearing the necklace that day. Deceit found it hypocritical. « Did I do something wrong? »

« No. »

« Then what is it? » he urged, he couldn't just roam in the oblivion much longer.

« It's nothing, like I told you. » Deceit's own voice got higher, but kept up the act. There was no way he was going to let him know.

Virgil brushed his hands on his face, defeated. « Do you just want me to leave you alone? » he finally asked, eyes slightly wider.

« Yes! »

Silence. Silence because Deceit thought he could have stopped himself when he didn't. When he should have.

And he was going to regret it.

« Okay. » Virgil murmured and stood up from his seat. « Alright. » he left the room without sparing a single glance for him.

Deceit blinked multiple times and reached for his pendant, which was now digging in his palm. There was a slight shot of pain while he reminded himself that it was just a bad day and Virgil was going to forget and those tears pooling in his eyes weren't necessary and he could have let his emotions go numb so he couldn't suffer.

He let go of the pendant, breathed out deeply and everything was fine.

Everything was fine.

✾

Remus had been helpful. Truly helpful, if only Deceit wasn't so stubborn.

He tried to get help, get suggestions and then never acted on them. Which then became his point to never ask for opinions: why would you let others down with your inaction when you could just … bottle it up and never bring it up again?

Deceit was going to learn why it was wrong the hard way.

Remus had suggested to talk to Virgil, let him know of all his paranoid thoughts, and he was kind of convinced.

But when the air felt too cold and constricting around them whenever they were together, it was simply impossible.

And it was also too late.

There was a door they never opened, one that led to the light sides' part of the mindscape.

That day, Virgil opened it and he wasn't wearing his usual clothes, nor the necklace.

Remus and Deceit stared at him, one in silent disbelief, the other was … too indescribable.

« Are you going to leave? » said like a mother to a son on a Saturday night, but with a completely different meaning.

Virgil stared back at Deceit with a dull expression, the same neutral glare that had glanced back at him until then. « I don't think you should wear that necklace anymore. »

He closed the door behind himself and left the sore aura to dawn on the remaining sides.

« Dee? »

Deceit was staring ahead of himself.

There, he had ruined everything. Not only he had just lost Virgil, but also disappointed Remus for not following his suggestions.

« Deceit? »

He was going to be mad, he was going to fight with him and then leave too.

You wanted to be left alone, didn't you?

« Hoi. » Deceit looked up at him and realized he was pushing the pendant into his skin again.

With a swift movement, he pulled the necklace to the side and broke the chain free from his neck, then threw it and let it fall onto the other side of the couch.

Deceit got up and marched to his room.

Remus picked up the necklace, a sour look still painting his face with bitterness; he started to fix the chain and ultimately sighed.

« When are you going to give a proper reaction? »

He left the necklace by his room and then headed to the imagination.

There was a lot of stuff he needed to vent.

✾

Not many days had passed. However, they were all the same and neither had gotten used to it.

Deceit was at the kitchen counter, like every other morning, and Remus was trying to get his attention, like in every other interaction they had.

« You're not wearing your necklace? »

« No. » Deceit's moves were almost mechanical, his voice low, half-lidded eyes careless of where they set upon.

« Lies. » Remus reached out and gently pulled the chain out from under Deceit's clothes. « You're also internalizing everything. »

« I'm not. »

« Lies, yet again. » he got up from his seat and faced him, forcing Deceit to focus on him. He put his hands on Deceit's shoulders. « Are you okay, D? »

« Of course. » he heard his voice crack, maybe those were tears in his eyes and for only an instant Remus hoped he could make him open up.

« You don't only speak in lies, huh? »

Remus pulled him in a hug that could have only grown tighter. Deceit felt his entire body shake before he returned it and sank into the embrace, gripping at his back like a lifesaver.

He hiccuped, then sobbed and cried out any and all negative emotions that were poisoning his insides.

Deceit buried his head in the other's clothes so to not see his own reality and be aware of his current condition.

What was really good of Remus, was that he really didn't care much about certain trivial things. He didn't care when his clothes got wet with tears, he didn't care if Deceit spoke through hiccups, if he was barely able to stand on his feet.

« It just … » Remus had led him to sit on the couch with a cup of tea in his hands. « It feels like he left something here. »

« What do you mean? »

Deceit showed a sad smile. « I've kept driving myself anxious because of all the paranoid thoughts that never leave my mind. » he explained, staring at the white swirls in his tea. « It just feels like he's around. »

« Like when he couldn't control his powers when he first came here. » Remus chuckled.

« Yeah, and Orange started being afraid of everything. » a genuine smile spread on Deceit's lips.

Dark Creativity snorted. « He was scared of his own shade! » he couldn't help but burst out in a boisterous laughter, infecting his friend.

Which then led to tears. « Holy fuck. » Remus's own smile faltered and he wiped away the tears, though more came, and he found himself crying, too.

Deceit extended an arm out to him, inviting him to sit next to him.

They were silent for a while, letting the realization sink in.

« Will Orange leave his room anytime soon? »

« I don't know. »

« Should we check on him? »

« Yeah, let's. »

« And also, » Remus's expression returned serious altogether as he got up. « I think we should start showing up to Thomas. »

✾

Joy, joy and satisfactory bliss he almost couldn't believe he had reached.

Deceit was looking at five smiling faces and they were staring back at him with no bad intent, with no subtext of conflict.

It wasn't a dream, it wasn't an act and it wasn't a lie. This time, he had done it.

Thomas had finally accepted him as a true necessary part of himself and he had managed to resolve his issues with the other sides.

He still almost couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe how those happy and proud gazes were all directed to him, and yet he could have bathed in the sunshine happiness radiating from each of them.

« Lying can be good. » Thomas asserted, nodding and still smiling, his look soft and welcoming, his hands clasped together in an unordinary position. « I know you're looking out for me now. Thank you. »

Deceit breathed out, enjoying this new state of comfort he was going to adapt to. He didn't know what to say anymore, he didn't even realize he could have gotten that far.

But it was okay, because when he intercepted Virgil's eyes, he noticed he wanted to talk to him.

Virgil opened his mouth only to close it again and squint his eyes at the ground. Okay, he thought, I can do this.

He reached for something under his shirt and pulled out the necklace Deceit had gifted him that one night when he had needed him most. And he was there for him.

Just as much as Virgil was now there for him to support the new perspective they had of him.

Deceit's hand ghosted over his own necklace, at which he started tugging afterwards. « You're wearing it? » he looked in the exact amount of disbelief as the others, only that the others' leaned to confusion, while his own was a firework of contentment.

Virgil smiled wider. « I never stopped. »

And then, seeing Deceit's expression growing more incredulous, he added, echoing the other's own old words. « There will never be a reason for me to do that. »

This time, the one to be convinced, despite the tears in his eyes, was Deceit.

[hoodoo12]

Beetlejuice Squared 2:  You Asked For It (1/3)

Yinz are thirsty for this and I absolutely love it. As requested, this features the same characters from Beetlejuice Squared (read here), heavy on the Blumjuice.  Also, just to remind, this one will feature your (you, the audience’s) choice of ending. I’ll provide more details to that when we get closer to it. Word count is ~7000, not including the endings.  (Much and many thanks to @beejiesbitch! Reading through this, catching my typos, making suggestions that in turn made me cackle: every second you helped was much appreciated! 💖) @beetlebitchywitch @beetlejuicebeadoll @sapphic-florals @turtlepated @realmonsterboyhours @monsterlovinghours @witchyrem-ains @beebeyjuice NSFW. Beetlejuice/f!reader. Adult language and hardcore, heavy smut. Enjoy!

You wiped your eyes and nose. You were so sick of crying! At first you couldn’t stop because you felt like you were in the bottom of a hole, where it was dark, and sadness crushed you. But recently, something shifted inside you. Sadness was still there, the pathetic animal that it was, but a new beast reared its head. You were so angry about crying this much!

You didn’t need to feel sorry for yourself! It wasn’t your fault! It was his. You shouldn’t be crying over him. You weren’t crying over him any more! Besides, you didn’t need him. He left, but you didn’t need to be alone. As a matter of fact--

With a shake, you pushed yourself off your bed. You stripped the dirty sheets that you’d been crying into for so long, that still held a faint whiff of him. Earlier you hadn’t wanted to change them so you could still pretend that he was still around, but now? Fuck it. You balled up the sheets tightly, took great pleasure in punching them for a second, and dropped them down the laundry chute imagining the entire time it was him. After the bed was tidied with fresh sheets you cleaned yourself, using so much hot water you were surprised it didn’t run out. Leisurely you blew dry your hair. You went through your closet and scrutinized each bit of lingerie you owned, before settling on a black bra and panty set with white lace trim, a matching garter belt, and some black and white striped stockings. Over all that, you slipped into a black dress designed for clubbing and applied some light makeup. Finally looking presentable and feeling human again, you smiled to yourself. You didn’t need him. With your mouth still stretched into a grin, you called, “Bheteljuz, Bheteljuz, Bheteljuz!”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ 

With the same flash that had burnt out your retinas before, he appeared in front of you. “Oh my god! Babydoll!” he exclaimed, excitement lilting his voice and lighting his face.

He held his arms out for a hug and you stepped into him, wrapping your arms where they were comfortable, around his waist, pressing your cheek against the tie on his chest. Beetlejuice 2.0--not that you would ever say that nickname aloud--hugged you tightly back, resting the side of his chin on your head. “Hi Beej,” you muttered into his shirt.

After standing in the embrace for an amount of time that would’ve been awkward if you both hadn’t already been naked together, it naturally paused. Not moving away, you looked up at him, dislodging his chin. “I’m glad you came.” “Of course I came, babydoll! You whistle and I come running! My name from your lips--it just makes me gooey on the inside and I can’t get here fast enough,” he said with a wink, then glanced up and around the room. “Where’s the short asshole version of me?” You wiggled your arm out from under his to take his jaw so he’d look down at you again. “He’s not here,” you said, and were pretty damn proud this time tears didn’t fill your eyes. “And he’s not coming back. His is an asshole, and after I found out--” You cut yourself off before explaining more by pinching your lips together; the wound was still fresh. “--doesn’t matter,” you finished instead, with a shrug. “I told him to fuck off and kicked him out, and decided I’d rather get to know you better.”

Beetlejuice’s eyes were bright. “Am I a rebound for you, babydoll? Is this rebound sex? Are you getting back at him? Because--” Immediately you protested, no, no it wasn’t, you hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the last time, you really did want to get to know him better, it didn’t have anything to do with him, he wasn’t coming back--

Beetlejuice leaned down and put his mouth right next to your ear as you babbled.

“--because I’m totally cool with that,” he finished in a husky whisper. He pulled back enough that you could see the smirk on his face, and then his mouth covered yours and his tongue was between your lips.  

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

There was desire and glee in that kiss, all flavored with a base note of desperation. This Beetlejuice took great pleasure in keeping you held tightly against him. You didn’t fight him on it; you’d missed the taste of him, and he was taller, so it was like something new but familiar at the same time.

This time, however, not being stoned made everything sharper. You’d never noticed his teeth were just a smidge less pointed as he nipped greedily at your neck, or his hands so much larger as they roamed your body. You were steadier on your feet, too, so standing tip toe wasn’t as taxing as it’d been before. Your hands returned the favor over his body, petting from shoulders to lower back to ass to crotch, squeezing him and groaning in anticipation.

It was obvious what you’d wanted, so he didn’t hesitate to flick away your scrap of a dress. His eyes widened at what you’d chosen to wear underneath, however. “You dressed up for me, babydoll?” he murmured, his black-nailed fingers following the edge of your garter belt, around your hip to where it hugged you at the small of your back.

“I wanted to look nice,” you agreed. “Something special.”

Beetlejuice smirked again, muttering something about how even that much clothing was going to get in the way. You grabbed him by the tie and yanked him downward, kissing his open mouth as he gasped. Then you took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom.

Once there, when you turned around again, you couldn’t help but laugh in surprise: he’d shed his suit without your knowledge and was wearing only striped boxer briefs. “Something special,” he announced, gesturing theatrically to himself.

You had to agree with his earlier assessment that even that one piece of clothing was too much.

Falling onto the bed, you ravished him.

You spent an inordinate amount of time sucking and playing with his nipples. You discovered you could just barely fit the tip of your tongue under the ouroboros shields and strum them lightly. Beetlejuice mewled with each tug on them and occasionally, when you took a larger chunk of his flesh around his nipple between your teeth but still continued to flick at his piercings, he grabbed the back of your head and held you in place, crying out more loudly.

When you finally left off his chest, both nipples were deeply colored, stiff, and shiny from spit. Your chin on his sternum, you grinned up at him before continuing down his belly.

You left a wide path of wet suction marks though the hair on his abdomen, winding your way down to his groin with no set pattern. Like the time before, he seemed a little sensitive, like this attention was just shy of being overwhelming. You could feel the tension in his thighs as you settled further between his legs.

There was a damp patch on his underwear and his erection strained the fabric. You stroked him through the barrier of his underwear for a second, before looking back up at him. Beetlejuice watched you with dark, lust-blown eyes. He’d hiked himself up on his elbows for a better view. “What’ll it be, Beej? Mouth or tits?” you asked him, although you didn’t exactly give him a fair chance to answer when you mouthed his shaft through the fabric.

He jerked a little at such a minor touch, and reached down to brush some of your hair out of your face. He followed that gesture with cupping your jaw, so you couldn’t drop your head to tease him again. “If I say both is that going to make me sound too much like a slut?” he asked in return.

You laughed and replied, “Not at all. I like that you know what you want,” and stripped him of his underwear before he could just snap it away. He returned the favor by making your bra disappear. You settled back between his thighs. His cock rested stiffly against his belly. A small bead of pre-come was already re-forming at the tip, and the line of hair that led from his belly button to his groin had taken on a decidedly pink hue. After taking all that in, you glanced up at him to find him still watching you with bated breath. His tongue touched the corner of his lip, but he was frozen besides that.

Keeping eye contact with him, you raised an eyebrow to him and smirked, then dipped your head and dragged your tongue up the underside of his cock. He gave a breathy, almost silent moan. When you reached the head, you lapped the pre-come from the slit delicately. He repeated the sound. Then, still watching him watch you, you opened your mouth, licked your lips, and swallowed him.

Because his cock was dry, you didn’t make it all the way to the base, but Beetlejuice didn’t restrain himself and jerked, driving it to your throat. As he was slightly lengthier than him, the Beetlejuice you’d kicked out of your life, it made you retch just a little before you could control the reaction.

When you had yourself under control, you glanced up at him but didn’t wipe the tears that had come to your eyes away. “Sorry not sorry, babydoll,” Beetlejuice told you. You rolled your eyes and sucked him, hard, as a response. He jerked again, involuntarily, but you were ready for it this time and chuckled around his cock.

Then you blew him in earnest, sucking and licking and occasionally keeping him so deep in your throat that your nose was crushed into his now vibrantly pink pubic hair. You liked holding him there until you had to pull off with a gasp because your lungs demanded air. You stroked him by hand too, for variety; holding the base of his cock while your mouth worked the head, twisting and pulling when you gave your jaw a break. In short order, his entire groin was dripping with spit. The lower part of your face was too. Through it all, Beetlejuice groaned and gasped. He trembled and once, when you glanced up, you saw that he didn’t know what to do with his hands: they clenched the air, then his outer thighs. With your free hand you grabbed one of his and directed it to the back of your head. Immediately his fingers tightened in your hair, pulling it a little. You gave him an appreciative little groan to encourage him more, and he took the hint. He pulled and released, and you followed his non-verbal directions, moving up and down his cock in time with his hand, at the pace he dictated. When his fingers became too tight and his hand immobile during another deep moment and his moans ratcheted upward, you fought against his quickly approaching, inevitable end by shaking your head minutely to dislodge his grip and dragging your mouth off him. A thin string of saliva bridged between his cock and your lower lip.

Beetlejuice cried out at the sudden lack of stimulation and opened his eyes, staring at you for a moment in a mixture of disbelief and relief.

“Shit, babydoll, your mouth is fucking amazing--” he started to say, but you didn’t give him much time recover. You hiked yourself up to kneel over him, pushed his cock between the valley of your tits, and rocked to fuck him that way too.

There was so much wetness on his cock it lubed your skin. He curled a little, at his core, and grabbed you over your own hands, pinching them and your skin too hard, crying out as his cock plowed between your tits. Looking up at him you saw his hair was deep magenta, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth open; his moan undulated as pleasure wracked him. You dropped your chin to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock and he stilled abruptly--

--with no warning you threw yourself backwards away from him. His moan choked into almost a sob as once again he was left hanging on the cusp of coming. This time had been closer; his cock, deeply flushed, bobbed against his lower belly ominously.

One of his hands went towards it. It was an involuntary reaction, you knew, but you grabbed his wrist and kept it away from his cock nonetheless.

Beetlejuice’s eyes opened, looking slightly vacant. “Fucking hell,” he croaked.

“Are you sorry I stopped?”

His gaze dropped to yours and sharpened. “Not at fucking all, babydoll. I needed a break. I want to return the favor--”

And in the next blink, you found your positions reversed: you flat on your back and Beetlejuice between your legs. Your panties had disappeared too, leaving you with just your garter belt and stockings. He shoved his hands under your ass to lift your hips a bit, and grinned up at you, keeping eye contact while he kissed the skin above your stocking on your inner thigh. You recognized that smirk; you’d given the same to him before you’d gone down on him. It made your breath catch in your throat.

“Your pussy smells so sweet, babydoll,” he murmured, and dropped his mouth onto you.

Just as he had, you gave an involuntary jerk and gasp. Beetlejuice ate you out like this was a competition and he was vying for the championship title. No dainty, perfunctory licks like was shown in some porn before the real action started. He was sloppy, using his entire mouth to engulf you while shoving his tongue deep inside your pussy. He dragged his tongue in a wide solid line through your folds. He nuzzled in and found your clit; when he sucked a bit too hard on it, you cried out more sharply in borderline pain and yanked roughly on his hair. He immediately backed off to blow gently on the sensitive nub instead. You writhed at that treatment, and, having learned your boundary, the tip of his tongue lapped at your clit instead.

Between the waves of pleasure that were threatening to drag you under, you somehow managed to pick up your head and look down at him. Although back to being tongue deep in your pussy, Beetlejuice glanced up and caught your eyes.

“You taste so fucking good,” his voice said, in your ear. It was smoother, more like raw silk than the gravel you were so used to with him, and you shivered. His thrown voice continued. “I could eat your pussy for hours, babydoll. Would you like that? Would you like my tongue to fuck you, would you like my lips to tease your clit till you were crying? I wouldn’t edge you. I’d make you come over and over until you lost your voice--”

You felt you were on the verge of that already, having moaned and gasped the entire time he’d been at your groin.

“--that’s be so delicious, babydoll, I’d like to lick up all your wet, I’d drink it all down if you squirted on my face--”

His wicked tongue--both physically and metaphorically--sent you over the edge. You did lose your voice for a moment, wheezing as you ran out of breath because the orgasm he drew out of you started as an explosion but stretched long and thin.

When you were finally able to focus on the real world again, Beetlejuice hadn’t moved from between your legs. He still glanced up at you, and his tongue was more gentle, slipping along your pussy now, but he continued to whisper in your ear.

“That was fucking beautiful, babydoll. You taste so good. Some people think it’s not fair that women can come multiple times in a row, but I like it, because I like being able to give them to you. Ready for another, babydoll? Want my fingers in you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, which was good because you wouldn’t have been able to reply anyway. You felt his fingers delve through your pussy, collecting the mixture of his spit and your juices before dipping inside your cunt. You arched your back and cried out as he opened you up, and when he began finger fucking you in earnest while using the tip of his tongue to make circles around your clit, you couldn’t control yourself as another orgasm rushed you.

Your legs snapped as shut as they could around his head and your hand once again tightened in his hair as you came once again. You also couldn’t prevent yourself from canting your pelvis to grind down on him at the same time, and over the blood pounding in your ears you heard his disembodied voice chuckle.

This time as you gradually relaxed and drifted back to reality, your limbs shook.

Beetlejuice was still stationed between your legs, ready to dive back in, but you needed a break. Gently, you pushed his head away. Your hand came off his head with strands of pink hair caught between your fingers; you’d yanked some of it out during the force of your orgasm, and you hadn’t even realized it.

“Sorry, Beej!” you apologized in horror.

“Don’t worry, babydoll, it’s nothing,” he replied with a grin to assure you. “I fucking loved that you couldn’t control yourself. Losing a bit of hair is a price I’m willing to pay for you coming on my mouth.”

He grinned at you, then crawled his way back up your torso. Laying belly to belly as he supported himself on his elbows, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His mouth tasted like your pussy and you sucked the flavor of yourself off his tongue like you were sucking his cock. While he was distracted, you dropped your hands from his back to his front, slipping them gently between your chests to tweak his nipple shields again. Beetlejuice gasped and jerked, then groaned. He looked down his chest to watch your fingers play. He dragged his eyes away from what you were doing to say, “I wanna fuck you, babydoll. Is that . . . is that all right?”

He sounded so concerned. Like there was the possibility you were going to say no. You cupped his cheek. “Beej,” you told him, trying to convey sheer sincerity, “I want you to fuck me.”

He lit up then, as if he had seriously thought you were going to banish him back to the Netherworld with blue balls. Still, he fretted, “It’s just . . . just . . . I don’t get called on often, people call on the short asshole version of me because they want him more, and--”

You shushed him with a kiss before saying, “Haven’t you been paying attention? I called you here because I want you. Okay?”

He nodded quickly, like he was worried you’d get upset if he didn’t agree. He was such an odd mix of dirty and sweet. You decided you liked it. “So then . . .” you prompted, rocking your hips as best you could under him. The movement made his cock shift a little from where it pressed against your pubic bone. When he didn’t adjust himself quickly enough, you slipped your hand between your belly and his to give him a suggestive shove on his hip to move him lower. He lifted himself and complied, but seemed content to watch your hand do all the work positioning him correctly. He gave a soft moan as you ran your hand down his cock, then followed your hand with his eyes as you brought it back to your mouth to coat your palm in saliva before grasping and stroking him again. His moan was louder with that and you grinned. You wanted to hear it even louder.

Taking the base of his cock and holding him steady, you urged him forward with a gentle tug. The head of his cock slipped inside you then and, once started, he continued smoothly until he was sheathed deep in your cunt. You got your wish: Beetlejuice moaned the loudest at that. So did you.

He hesitated for a moment. You couldn’t tell why; he didn’t need to catch his breath because he didn’t have any. Then it dawned on you he paused for you, you were panting. His length inside you felt delicious, fucking divine, and you told him so. “Fuck, Beej, your cock--it’s so good, so good, please, please fucking fuck me--!” Maybe it wasn’t the most poetic, articulate sentence in the world, but it got your point across.

Beetlejuice grinned and started. His smile faded almost immediately, replaced by a slack jaw and a tongue that occasionally dragged itself over his lower lip. His moans were deep, reverberating in his chest. He thrust into you with single-minded determination, like once again he was afraid you were going to send him away mid-fuck. You’d have slowed him down, tried to make him realize there wasn’t any danger being banished. You’d learned from the other one to curtail your natural tendency to call out his name during sex. But feeling his cock so deep inside you, the friction he created as he thrust, him burying his face in the side of your neck and taking a hunk of skin between his teeth like that was grounding him--all of that increased your pleasure. He’d made you come twice already, which always primed you for more. You found yourself begging for his cock, pleading with him to fuck you harder, please Beej, harder, fuck me harder--

As little as you’d done, and even with the break he’d gotten, you’d teased and edged him too long. He accommodated your requests as best he could, but not long after he started he shoved himself as deeply as he could into your pussy. A sudden stillness came over him. You grabbed him at his waist and ass, squeezing, continuing to try and rock up onto him. He gave a small, involuntary judder of his hips, and gave the deepest moan yet as he came inside you. He was motionless for a moment as euphoria dragged him under, then he collapsed atop you. His weight, now fully pressing his pubic bone against your clit while his cock still throbbed the last stage of his ejaculation inside your pussy, was enough to make you tumble off the edge too. You came hard, holding him tightly as your pussy clenched around him. Beetlejuice felt it too, and gasped next to your ear. Then you were both trembling messes, in the afterglow. You made no move to push him off you. You held him in place and combed your fingers through his hair while you tried to catch your breath. Beetlejuice kissed the spot on your neck he’d grabbed with his teeth, and sighed contentedly. When he finally did unstick himself from your chest, he groaned as he pulled out of you. You did too. Even dripping with his come, you felt empty without his cock inside you. Beetlejuice lay down beside you and stared at the ceiling. You groped for his hand and laced your fingers between his, happy this evening had been so good. “So what did happen between you and him, babydoll?” he finally asked, breaking the silence. “I’m not complaining you called me up, but for everyone else, he’s their main squeeze.” If you hadn’t been in such a blissed out state, or if he hadn’t hit the nail on the head, you might not have answered. But as it was . . . “That was the problem. He’s their ‘main squeeze’,” you spat, using finger quotes around the last two words. “I found out he was fucking around on me!” Beetlejuice picked up his head and cocked an eyebrow at you. You continued. “He’s been fucking all these other people! Men, women, whoever! He’d just go and fuck them however they wanted, and, and didn’t think anything of it--”

“You know that’s what I--we--do, right, babydoll?” Beetlejuice asked. “People summon me--us--and we go. It’s part of the whole ‘say my name three times’ thing. Did you think you were exclusive?” You glared at him, a little. “Yeah. Yeah, kind of,” you admitted. “He always came back here. I assumed I was the one he wanted to stay with--” “Assumed?” Beetlejuice interrupted quietly. “You can’t assume anything when you’re dealing with a ghost or a demon. We like things--and it’s in your best interest to make things--very clear.”

You sighed at his damn logic. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I kicked him out. I don’t want to be some notch on a bedpost, just some random lay. Or worse than that, just some place holder till something better comes along.” “Am I some random lay to you, babydoll? Am I a place holder?” he asked, his voice even more quiet. You looked over at him. He looked a combination of resigned of his lot in life but with the faintest air of hopefully eager that maybe, just maybe, he’d gotten luckier this time. His hair was shot through with purple. He was so similar to but different than the Beetlejuice you’d told to fuck off, and you realized you really did like him, minor insecurity and all.

“I’d like to think it’s not,” you admitted to him. “I liked tonight. Would you like to stay?” A smile broke over his face. “I’d like that a lot, babydoll! I think we’d make a great pair--”

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly on the mouth. Your hand automatically came up to his jaw, and your tongues explored each other. You were still mostly naked but felt flushed. Realizing that you couldn’t handle the other Beetlejuice’s popularity and reputation had turned out to be fortuitous. You’d enjoyed what you’d done tonight. You enjoyed summoning and having a good time with this Beetlejuice and, selfishly, you hoped he did too and would want to stick around. You were just about to say something more, something sappy, but from the other room a familiar voice that sounded like sandpaper in your ears called out, “Hey honey, I’m home!”

tbc . . .

[drowning-in-dennor]

In The Moonlit Garden

Maren and Linnea go on their first-ever date. [Written for day two of @dennorweek with the prompt of “first kiss���. I was projecting hard, so prepare for some useless teenaged Sapphics.]

  "How do I look?" Linnea asks for what feels like the millionth time.

  "Oh my gosh, you look fine." Otilia waves her hand dismissively. "You don't have to freak out over your hair and your dress and your face and who knows what else. Seriously, you're probably going to pass out from worrying before Maren even gets here."

  She pats down her hair again and looks in the mirror, at the blemishes she's not allowed to hide yet. "Are you sure I shouldn't put on makeup? I heard that Fleur Bonnefoy put makeup on for her first date."

  "The last thing you should do in preparation for your date is take Fleur's example." Elizabeth grabs her friend's shoulders and sits her down firmly. "She practically cleaned her partner’s mouth with her tongue on her first date, are you going to do that, too?"

  Otilia mimes gagging. "You didn't have to describe it like that."

  "I'm bringing my phone, both wet and dry tissues and a pocket mirror," Linnea says, looking into her purse. "Is that enough? Should I bring along some alcohol wipes, or - "

  "Why would you need alcohol wipes!?"

  "In case one of us gets hurt, Liza. You never know what will happen."

  Elizabeth pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. "Linn, for goodness' sake, it's a first date. You're not going to go rock-climbing or something. Maybe Maren will just take you out for dinner, then to the park, then you'll go home without a scratch."

  She wrings her hands. "Maybe you're right."

  "She is right." Otilia places her hands on her hips. "You're going to be fine. Just be yourself, have fun and don't come back with STIs."

  "Lia!"

  "All right, all right. Good luck," Otilia laughs. "Tomorrow morning, you have to tell us all about it. You're the first girl in the entire year who's in a relationship, after all. I think our whole class will be dying to know what happened."

  Linnea takes a deep breath and checks her phone. Maren will be due to arrive in two minutes. She grabs the present she prepared for her, smooths her skirt down one last time and stands up to wait by the door.

  The doorbell rings a minute later, and Otilia gives her a thumbs-up from the sofa. "She's punctual. That's a good thing."

  She opens the door and is faced with Maren, breathtaking in a deep crimson strapless dress. She's not wearing any makeup either, which relieves Linnea, and her hands are clasped behind her back. "Hey!" She greets.

  For a moment, while looking into her best friend's - no, now her girlfriend's - eyes, Linnea forgets how to talk. She finds her voice a few seconds later, and squeezing her purse like a lifeline, murmurs, "hi." Her voice cracks a little.

  "You look great!" Maren smiles, the same smile that's both infuriated and enchanted her for as long as she can remember, and her nerves melt away. "Do you need a few more minutes, or...?"

  Oh, goodness, she's perfect. Linnea resists the urge to fan her cheeks and shakes her head, stepping out of Elizabeth's house and onto the porch. Her legs are shaking so bad the vibrations alone can probably knock over all the creepy gnomes the Kirklands keep on their porch. She closes the door behind her hand hands Maren the box in her hands. "I made you cookies." Her voice cracks again. 

  Maren takes the box. "Aww, thanks! The stuff you bake is always the best." She brings her hands to the front, revealing a small bouquet of heathers - one of her favourite flowers. "I got you something, too."

  She takes the bouquet and touches the soft blue petals. Linnea inhales their scent, letting herself enjoy it for a moment before Maren shrieks. She nearly drops the bundle. "What is it?"

  "Wasp!" Former confidence all but gone, Maren jumps off the porch (it's an impressive leap) and bats at the air. "Watch out, don't let it sting you!"

  Once the offending wasp has been chased away, Linnea, holding the bouquet, follows Maren away from the house and to their destination. In the middle of their journey, she jolts at the feeling of Maren's hand brushing hers, and, at the invitation, takes her hand.  

  A few minutes later, they reach a garden away from the city, its worn iron gates open and revealing a paradise of glossy-leafed trees, perfectly-trimmed bushes and a rainbow of flowers. The two of them walk in hand in hand, and Maren leads her over to a bench, its legs half-hidden by a thick patch of twinflowers. She pulls a small basket out from under the bench with a smile. "I'm nowhere near as good as you when it comes to cooking, but I hope it's fine."

  The basket holds an assortment of buns, a salad and two dainty cups of chocolate mousse. Linnea lets Maren lay out the food on the bench before remarking, "that looks amazing." Her heart's no longer pounding with nerves, but for some stupid reason she wants to smile widely. She pinches herself to try and keep her emotions under control as she picks up a bun and starts to eat.

  The simple dinner is gone quickly, and her date quickly stows the empty plates and cutlery back into the basket. "I've always wondered," she muses, "if we'll do anything crazy in the future, so crazy that one day people will be all like, 'hey, remember those two girls who burned down a whole garden?'. Then they'll think about all the things we did."

  Linnea blinks. "Are we going to commit arson for our first date?"

  Maren's eyes widen. "No! No, we're not going to burn this place down. That wasn't what I meant. I was thinking that maybe we could leave our mark here, so people will see it and remember us. But we'll leave our mark in a way that ,uh, doesn't involve arson, of course."

  It's actually a really good idea. Linnea takes the chance to be bold and shift a little closer to Maren. "What do you have in mind?"

  "Well, some couples like carving their names into trees." Maren pulls a pocketknife out of the basket. "But that's bad for the environment, so I was thinking that maybe we could carve them into this bench instead."

  She's having trouble finding the words to reply. Linnea finally decides on saying, "but I don't know how to carve stuff."

  "I do!" Maren jumps off the bench and bends down in front of the bench, pressing the tip of her knife against the stone. "We don't have to write our full names, maybe just our initials. And the date, too."

  Linnea watches as Maren carves away, digging her pocketknife into the bench and etching out rough and shallow letters. A while later, she catches the letters: "M.D. x L.D." and the date, "28/3" next to it. "I think that'll last for a long time," she says.

  "Long enough that people who come to this garden a hundred years later will know who we are." Maren picks up the remains of her pocketknife, the tip of which has broken off, and sits back down. She takes Linnea's hand and entwines their fingers together. The sky is fully dark now, and the sound of crickets fills the air. The garden is lit by a solitary lamp, its light casting an eerie glow around the plants. 

  All of a sudden, Maren bends down. Linnea prods her, asking, "what are you doing?"

  She comes up with a handful of twinflowers, their delicate pink petals awash in gold from the lamplight. "I know you like these flowers, so I was wondering if, uh..."

  "If what?" Linnea's heart skips a beat.

  "IfIcouldweavethemintoyourhair," Maren blurts out, so quickly that she can barely hear what she said. "But only if you want to."

  Gah, she's definitely blushing now. Linnea turns around so that her back is facing her date and nods. Soft fingers run through her hair and weave the delicate flowers into her locks, working quickly. Linnea can't help closing her eyes; she's always loved it when Maren played with her hair. 

  Maren prompts her to turn around, and she takes out the pocket mirror from her purse to take a look. A chain of twinflowers is woven across her head like a flower crown. This time she doesn't stop herself from smiling. "Thank you, Maren."

  "It's the least I could do." She stands up checks her phone. Linnea does the same; it's getting late. "Should we head home now?"

  She stands up, too, their entwined hands swinging between them. "We've got class tomorrow, after all."

  The walk back home is tranquil, there being only a few people on the streets apart from them, and the city lights blinking at them in place of stars. Maren holds Linnea's hand all the way until they reach her apartment complex. "I had fun," she says, squeezing her hand. "And I wouldn't mind going on another date with you."

  "That sounds great." She risks another step towards her. They're close; so close their noses are almost touching.

  "I hope you enjoyed it, too." Maren shifts closer, too, and presses their foreheads together. The action feels so strangely grown-up. 

  "I did." Her voice has stopped cracking, thank goodness. Linnea stands on tiptoes, so she's almost her date's height, and sways a little. "I can't wait for our next date."

  Then it happens. Maren leans forward, just a little, and presses her lips against Linnea's, squeezing her hand again as she does so. Linnea kisses back, or she tries to - she hasn't the faintest clue how kissing people works. Maren's lips taste like the chocolate mousse they had in the garden.

  When they pull away, Maren is blushing. She tries for a smile. "Goodnight."

  "Goodnight," Linnea echoes.

  "I - I love you." 

  Linnea, feeling a sudden burst of confidence, leans in to peck Maren on the cheek. "I love you too." She smiles again, feeling butterflies in her stomach, and lets go of her hand. "I'll be going, now."

  Maren holds the door as she walks in. As she ascends the lift to her apartment, Linnea whispers those four words again. 

  "I love you too."

[i-beg-your-parsons]

my name is...

Relationship: Briar Daly/Theresa Sutton

Count: 2,033 words

Special thanks to @lesbian-choices, who brought this pairing to our attention back at the gaychoices discord. This one’s for you, wlws!

Tag: @jellymonster, @h-doodles, @deeohno, @lesbianvalgreaves, @samira-yazdi, @letmeloveasterplease, @wlwchoices, @al-servo, @badbitchkennarys, @davenportandbrandy, @dumbbrowngirl, @imissmaxwell, @sapphic-legends, @kaitlynliaoswife, @i-stan-shaylex-and-love-ame, @megowitch, @alanakusumaswife, @westchesters,

— 

Theresa Sutton sat alone on the steps of the banquet hall leading to the garden outside Karlington estate. Her lemon yellow dress had hiked up to her calves (which would be extremely scandalous in normal circumstances), but at the moment, she found that she couldn’t care less — not when Mr. Marlcaster, her (ex) fiancé, had just called off their engagement.

A particularly unladylike groan escapes from her throat. And he did it in public, no less!

So give her a bloody moment’s rest if she wanted to wallow by herself in a rumpled, distasteful state in a corner at one of the most prominent social functions of the season. She was really, really tired.

It was about the beginning of May; the weather was getting warmer, but it was still too cold for her taste. She absently stared at the moonlight reflecting on the rippling water of the ornate fountain in the middle of the space. Crickets, owls, and other nocturnal animals could be heard in the distance, just having another typical evening.

A cold breeze blows. It sapped the warmth from her skin and prompted a quiet sneeze from the miserable woman. Theresa was so glad she decided to wear gloves today. She curled herself up into a ball, hugging her legs close to her chest and resting her forehead on her knees.

There was something comforting about the cold when you were sad. Theresa liked to think it was Mother Nature’s way of saying that she sympathised with her situation.

At least then she wouldn’t feel so alone.

“Miss Sutton?”

She jumps in response to her name, hastily wiping away her tears in hopes of looking a little less dreadful than she knew she definitely looked. 

“O-oh yes! What can I do for you —”

Theresa cranes her head towards the direction of the voice coming up the steps, leading back inside to the festivities.

“ — Miss Daly?” She couldn’t help but say in confusion as she scrunched her eyebrows together. What was she doing here?

“Miss Sutton,” Briar answers in return with a nod. She offered the lady a tentative smile, taking note of Miss Sutton’s current state. “I, uhm, saw you from the refreshments table,” Briar nervously smiled, carrying a glass of water. She looked hesitant, idling at the top of the stairs.

“Would you… like some company? And some water, perhaps?”

“Oh,” Theresa blinked, already feeling the tears start to burn at the back of her eyelids. Of course Miss Daly was nice and kind and thoughtful.

Briar looked even more worried and decided to jump the gun. She descended from the top of the stairs to even lower from where Miss Sutton was sitting down, so that they were facing each other as she stood. She offers the cup of water, and Miss Sutton accepts it with a nod.

“Thank you, I suppose I was feeling rather parched,” Theresa quietly murmurs before daintily sipping from the cup. She offers the maid a grateful smile. “You’re very considerate, Miss Daly.”

“Just Briar’s fine. Miss Daly is my mother,” Briar sheepishly grins, fiddling with the end of her sleeve. “And I’m glad to see it helped.”

Briar settles down just by Miss Sutton’s feet. Her arm brushes by the yellow fabric of her skirt. They were close enough such that Theresa could feel the light heat of Miss Daly’s back slowly waft towards her, and gently brush the surface of her skin.

(It felt… nice, which was odd, considering their current relationship.)

The two sit in silence, digesting the reality of the situation: There they were, two women who were acquainted only because of their connection to a man — Edmund Marlcaster.

If it were anyone else, Theresa might have enjoyed the drama.

“I have to tell you that I didn’t mean to flirt with Mr. Marlcaster,” Briar starts. It was hesitant, sure, and definitely apologetic. Theresa could feel the sincerity coming off her with each word.

Miss Sutton raises a playful (and maybe slightly sarcastic) eyebrow. She could feel the corner of her lip quirk, “And how might one accidentally flirt with a man?”

The fabric of Briar’s sleeves aggressively flopped as she frantically waved her hands in denial (and surrender). “No, nothing like that! I meant that I didn’t return his advances for the purpose of ruining your engagement.”

“Yes…?” Theresa blinks, trying to process the information. What was happening, exactly?

Briar sighs, deciding that she couldn’t avoid telling Miss Sutton about her life back at their quiet village. “At Grovershire, I was very much a ‘one of the boys’ type. I was always loud and restless, so I liked to run around town during my morning errands. I’d come back with bread and vegetables, but also mud stains on the hem of my skirts…”

“Sometimes, even on my face,” Briar shot a wink at Miss Sutton, which made the lady laugh. 

The maid grins inwardly in satisfaction. “I would often climb up one of the trees at the edge of town and read a book I nicked from my father’s study. And I’d break my way into my mother’s alcohol stash routinely.” She pauses for a moment, before continuing, “So I suppose they didn’t see me as a woman. It was part of the reason I came with Clara to Edgewater.”

Her eyes suddenly widen at the information she just divulged to the loose-lipped noblewoman, “Oh! Please don’t tell her though! I’d hate to worry her more than I have to.”

Miss Sutton solemnly nods, and though Clara would be wary of her, Briar felt that she really wouldn’t speak of it.

So, she continues.

“I didn’t think that I would ever get married. So I thought, why not stay with my best friend, who was now without her mother, and suddenly thrust into the cutthroat world of nobles?”

Briar took a deep breath before speaking again. 

(This was where it was going to hurt.)

“I think that… I got swept away by the feeling of a man taking a liking to me. I suppose it made me feel like I’d succeeded as a woman.”

And then, everything was still. 

They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Briar was keen on avoiding meeting with Miss Sutton’s eyes for as long as she could keep it up.

That was, before the lady gently clasped both of her hands around one of Briar’s. Her expression was filled with nothing but understanding and… was camaraderie the right word for it? 

Briar couldn’t really think.

“You needn’t worry. I doubt our theoretical marriage would have lasted, anyway,” Theresa resigned. She’d known at the exact moment Countess Henrietta accepted her proposal for her son. 

Absently, she played with Briar’s calloused fingers that were still in her grasp. “I suppose, much like you, I was too thrilled at the prospect of finally having a man that accepted me.”

She tightens her grip, with her lips pursed in a tight line, “Or more accurately, my marriage proposal.”

Studying the other woman, Miss Sutton could see that aside from being kind and sweet, Briar Daly was also very pretty. Dark and full eyebrows, expressive eyes, a dashing side-profile, and long black hair (currently wrapped into a tight bun) — which was so thick and full that some strands couldn’t help but stray to the Indian woman’s face.

Theresa didn’t know what came over her, but she reached out a hand to play with a lock resting limply against Briar’s neck.

“I can see why Mr. Marlcaster took a liking to you.”

Briar, who was spaced out at the feeling of Miss Sutton’s soft fingers pressing on her own, had regained enough conscious thought to blush, “Oh… uhm… well, I don’t know about that. I think he only took a liking to me because you two were so incompatible with each other.”

Theresa couldn’t help but be amused at the woman’s bluntness. She places a hand on her chest, pretending to have been shot with an arrow, theatrically wincing, “My word, Briar! You wound me.”

Briar chuckled, pleased to see that Miss Sutton was now relaxed enough to even joke with her. “It’s clearly Mr. Marlcaster’s loss anyway! He would be surprised to find that you’re actually very charming, if he was smart enough to look past your extreme penchant for gossip,” she affectionately teases Theresa.

The noblewoman blushes prettily with a grin, lightly hitting Briar’s arm with her fan. “Hush, you. Parties are dreadfully boring without gossip, because all that everyone talks about is politics, this new exotic thing they bought, or who’s now signalling their fan at who.” 

For a heartbeat, they simply sit in each other’s company.

Before Miss Sutton stands up and briskly pats off any dirt on her skirts. She immediately answers the look Briar just shot at her. 

(She somewhat resembled a domestic fox that just had food taken from her.)

“I should be getting back in and at least try to pique some random bachelor’s interest. Father’s already going to be disappointed with me once I head home tonight. Might as well have something in consolation.”

Miss Sutton seriously studies Briar’s face for a moment, seemingly searching for something, (Briar anxiously hoped she had whatever she was looking for), before Theresa places a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you, Briar.”

It was practically nothing at all: a quick touch of skin and lips and no more.

But to Briar, in that moment, that peck on the cheek from Theresa Sutton felt like everything.

“Puffy!” 

Briar manages to choke out from her stupor, gently grasping Miss Sutton’s gloved wrist. Theresa’s confusion was evident, “Pardon?”

Briar could feel her cheeks burning from her sudden outburst, “Uhm, your eyes are still a bit puffy.”

Theresa’s eyes widened, prompting her to bring her hands to her cheeks in embarrassment. “Oh, well… I suppose I’ll have to wait out here for it to subside before heading back in. It would be most unbecoming,” Miss Sutton chuckles weakly, trying to joke away the stuffiness. She stood lightly slouched and slack, with an evident air of resignation about her.

“I very much need to salvage as much dignity as I have left.”

“Well, you could do that…” Briar trails off, looking away from the lady. The handmaiden was clearly unsure of her next words. Miss Sutton keeps her gaze trained on Briar, waiting patiently for her to finish. Their eyes meet when Briar glances back at her, blushing harder and dropping her eyes to her shoes. 

Briar slowly slides her hold down from Miss Sutton’s wrist, gently grasping the lady’s fingertips, much like a gentleman would before he kissed them in proper greeting.

“…Or you could take a walk in the gardens. With me. If you like.”

Briar could feel Miss Sutton’s eyes widen.

(In surprise? In disgust? In delight? —

Briar found that she was afraid to know.)

“T-The Duke’s a rotten man!” Briar adds quickly, and she isn’t sure why. 

“But he has a beautiful garden.”

She rocks back and forth on her heels, to expel some of the developing tension in her body.

“So, uhm… how about it?

Miss Sutton takes a few moments to answer her, keenly staring at Briar’s flustered form, like she was attempting to search for her true intentions within them.

(And she found that she did. 

At least, she hoped so.)

Theresa smiles, and manoeuvres her hand — still in Briar’s grasp — down to gently hold on to Briar’s bicep.

“I accept.”

Briar lights up; her eyes sparkled with elation. Almost too excited, she starts to pull them to the direction of the greenery, almost making them stumble. “All right then, let’s go, Miss Sutton! I haven’t been here before so there’s lots to see.”

The noblewoman smiles at her companion’s enthusiasm. “Please,” Miss Sutton brings her free hand to lightly rest on Briar’s shoulder. The touch effectively stilled Briar, making their gazes connect.

It felt warm, despite the cold of the evening. 

“Call me Tessa,” she smiles radiantly under the moonlight.

—

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask, but why are you wearing a staff uniform?”

“… It was the only way I could get in.”

[knowyourincantations]

It’s Only Goodbye for Now

For Sapphic September Day 15 - Star-Crossed Lovers or Holding your dead lover’s body

Pairing: Hermione/Pansy

Note: Sad/Open end, forced apart by war.

(AO3 | My other Sapphic September Works: AO3 | Tumblr)

Sneaking out to the room of requirement after curfew usually filled Hermione with that exhilarating sense of wrongness she’d come to appreciate over the years. Tonight, she felt only dread.

Dumbledore’s announcement was playing on repeat in her head, and she knew what was behind it. Hogwarts wasn’t safe anymore. The war was escalating faster than anyone had anticipated. If they were sending everyone home then Hogwarts must be a target they didn’t think they could defend.

Harry had already been whisked away right after the announcement, and for once, they hadn’t allowed her and Ron to go with him. Whatever was about to happen was big, and even if her thoughts should only be on Harry, they weren’t.

When she reached the Room of Requirement, she was so nervous that it took three tries to get in. Pansy was already waiting for her, pacing uncharacteristically and wringing her hands. When the door closed behind Hermione she looked up.

They stared at each other in silence. Hermione didn’t know what to say. They’d been edging around this ever since Voldemort came back. It was inevitable.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione tried to find her words. “Do you know what’s happening?”

Pansy took a step back as if Hermione had slapped her. “You know I’m not involved in all that!”

Hermione shook her head. That’s what Pansy had always said, but even with how much she liked her and enjoyed spending time with her away from prying eyes, away from their petty faked fighting, she’d never been able to forget Pansy was a Slytherin. Or a pureblood. Not with war looming.

“How could you...?” Pansy crossed the room and took her hands. “If I believed in all that rot about blood purity, do you think I’d be in love with a muggleborn? Do you think I’d lower myself to even associate with you? I got past that years ago!”

Hermione clutched her hands tightly. “No one even knows about us,” she said, unable to shake the feeling this was the end. “We did that for a reason. It was too much trouble because we knew we shouldn’t...we didn’t want to deal with it. But...we both knew this was coming.”

“Did we?” Pansy asked sharply. “You know more about all this than I do. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not involved.”

If only Hermione could be sure of that. It had been alright when they’d first started studying together in secret in the library, more out of a weird sense of competition than anything else. Pansy had wanted to do better and beat her, but Hermione had always had the best books. Sharing had been inevitable, even when they didn’t like each other to being with.

It had been alright when they’d sneaked off from their friends at Hogsmeade and explored the old second-hand bookshop there, bickering the whole time about classics and modern literature.

It had been alright when Pansy had kissed her in an alcove after the Yule Ball, and Hermione had realised that was exactly what she’d been starting to want but hadn’t quite figured out until Pansy’s lips had been against her own. It had been alright even when they kept pretending to fight and hate each other. Most of the time it was fun. She’d had a secret all her own, and she wasn’t forced to defend herself to her housemates for being with the dreaded enemy.

But now?

“I’m a muggleborn and you’re a pureblood,” she said softly, thinking ahead to all the what-ifs. What if Voldemort won? What if he didn’t? What if they went after all Slytherins and pureblood elites in the aftermath? “There’s only one way this ends.”

Pansy closed her eyes and leaned forward until her forehead was touching Hermione’s. “It’s not fair,” she said. An obvious agreement. “It’s so stupid. I have to listen to them every day, prattling on about purity and it’s so stupid. So meaningless. I don’t want this.”

Hermione cupped her face and kissed her. Pansy made a soft sound and kissed back desperately. When they parted, she wiped tears from her eyes and took her hands.

“My parents will probably leave the country,” she said. “We have a long history of not getting involved. We weren’t part of the last war, and we won’t be part of this unless forced at wandpoint. Come with me.”

“What?” Hermione’s breath caught in her throat.

“You won’t be safe here. You’re Potter’s best friend. You’re a muggleborn who trounces all the purebloods in class! They’ll come after you no matter where you try to hide. For being Potter’s best friend, to get to him, but also because you dared to excel here with muggle blood.”

There was obvious desperation in Pansy’s eyes and the way her grip started to hurt. Hermione pulled away and shook her head.

“I can’t do that. You know I can’t.” That would mean abandoning Harry. He may have been whisked away without her and Ron, but surely they would join him once Hogwarts closed. They just had to secure and prepare him first. It made sense.

“You can,” Pansy said, wiping at her eyes again. Her voice was thick with desperation, and Hermione realised she already knew she wouldn’t go. Her stomach sank. “You just have to choose to.”

For all her protests, Pansy really did know this was it. She knew Hermione too well to think she would actually leave her friends behind.

“I can’t,” she said softly, even though part of her wished she could.

Running away with Pansy would be a better for her than staying, but at the same time, she knew she’d only make herself sick with worry for everyone back home. She couldn’t abandon her friends, not even for Pansy.

Pansy turned away, her shoulders shaking. “You’re going to die,” she sobbed. “You’re almost as big of a target as Potter and Dumbledore. They’ll come after you.”

Hermione wished she could argue that. Anyone close to Harry was a target now. Molly had already send word to Ron that they were moving to somewhere safer. Hermione had already ensured that her parents were hidden and safe, even though it meant she might never see them again. She’d be leaving Hogwarts with Ron and staying with him until it was over.

“I’m tough, I’ll be fine,” she said, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around Pansy, resting her head on her shoulder. Pansy shook against her but didn’t pull away. “Maybe when it’s all over, we’ll see each other again.”

Pansy made a weak sound and turned in her arms. She pressed her face into Hermione’s neck. It was wet with tears.

“I can’t stay with you,” she sobbed. “My parents won’t let me, and if I somehow did, I’d be making them a target and I can’t do that.”

“I know,” Hermione said, reaching up and swiping at her own eyes. This really was it then. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“You’re going to die,” Pansy whispered again.

Hermione wished she’d stop saying that, but even she knew the odds were high. It was all she’d been thinking about lately. But she had to believe she’d be okay. She had to believe Harry would pull through and they’d all be okay.

“We’ll be fine,” she said, holding her tightly. “We’ll meet again when it’s all over. It’s only goodbye for now.”

End.

[marvelfansince08love]

“If this is your attempt at pushing me away, it won’t work” - Cordelia Goode x Reader

Word Count: 2724 

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt 30 - “If this is your attempt at pushing me away, it won’t work”

A/N: @regal-roni​ I hope you enjoy this love! Also, I’m apologising in advance because uhhh- hehe I may have made this angsty as fuck. Thanks @imnotasuperhero​ for giving me your angst approval and I’m sorry I made your heart squeeze. 

Warning: Hold onto your hearts people, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride! 

Tags; @waitingfortheendtocome​ @natasha-danvers​ @muted-stoneheart​ @saucy-sapphic​ @coconutlipss​ @witchxaf​

Also enjoy this foxxay gif that I do not own!

Prompt 30 

You met Cordelia at your coffee shop one late evening just before close. A figure dressed in black with the most blinding smile and bouncy golden locks rushing towards you. 

“Oh no! Are you closed?” She had asked, slightly out of breath. You could see the tiredness in her chocolate browns and the brush of a darker shade under her eyes indicating the lack of sleep. If you weren’t paying such close attention you probably wouldn’t have noticed due to her beautiful pearly whites; as she throws you another smile. 

“I’m afraid we are.” You confirm with some sympathy. This woman clearly needed a coffee or two. The now small frown and grimace on the strangers face makes you backtrack hating to see such an expression on a beautiful woman. She smiles her thanks and begins to turn away but before she can leave your brain caught up with itself. 

“But the pot is still brewing inside, if you would like a cup. On the house.” You rush out, not wanting this mysterious woman to leave. She turns back around and sighs in relief and whispers “Thank you, I’d love that.” before following you into the shop. One cup turned into three and before you knew it the night had gotten darker and the usual busy streets of New Orleans had grown quieter. . 

“Oh god, I’ve kept you from finishing. I’m so sorry please let me at least pay for the last cup.” She insisted, digging into her purse. You place a hand gently on top of hers pausing her search. 

“It’s okay, I much preferred the company over sleep anyway.” You reassure, with a teasing smirk. She bites her bottom lip softly as she eyed your hand.

“Okay, well at least let me pay for dinner. Tomorrow night?” She offers, copying your smirk. 

“Oh so forward, Ms.Goode. I could be in a very committed relationship for all you know.” You joke, watching her laugh loudly her hand landing on top of your own across the table. 

“Darling, if you were in a committed relationship. This spark between us wouldn’t be glowing as bright as it is in this very moment,” She states, confidently. Her fingers brushing lightly across your own making you blush at her statement, knowing how true it is. 

“So tomorrow night?” 

That was over a year ago and things had been getting better and better with each passing date and heated kiss. You had discovered during that first meeting that Cordelia runs the academy for gifted young witches across town as headmistress which you still tease her to this day for. 

“Oh do you have an office, headmistress. I’ve always wanted to have sex on a desk.” You’d teased her a few months back making her laugh and shake her head at your vulgar comment but you saw the lustful glint in her eyes. 

The dates had turned from dinner to late evening drinks to sleepovers at your apartment downtown whenever Cordelia could get away from the school for the night. However, whenever you mentioned staying over at the house while you lay next to each other in your large bed, Cordelia was quick to reject the idea and would change the subject. You knew about the school and its purpose, everyone did since Delia aired it all on television but you masked your hurt and put it down to having so many girls running around the school and with her being headmistress it didn’t give the right impression to have a woman sneaking out in the early hours. 

Some of the older girls knew about your relationship with their friend/supreme and would come by the shop most days for their daily coffee run, apparently teaching young witches everyday requires a lot of caffeine and they got to meet you, which in their opinion was bonus as it was nice to get to know the woman who’d been keeping their friend/supreme in a daydream with a secret smile on her face most days around the academy. 

“She just has this light glow around her whenever we mention you… it’s pretty gay if you ask me but whatever, you’re kinda cool so I guess it’s cute.” Madison had commented one day in the shop, fighting back a genuine smile. 

Over the last few weeks though, you started to feel that Cordelia had been avoiding you in some way. Your usual meet up twice a week at the coffee shop seemed to stop, the reasons valid as she did run a school after all but when the texts stopped or where the bear minimum and the other cup across from you grew colder after every passing minute you realised her not turning up wasn’t just because of her duty as headmistresses, she was avoiding you. That’s when you decided to show up at the academy, determined to speak to her in person and not through rushed phone calls. You approach the black gates cautiously, the aura around the building so strong you feel an overwhelming sense of power before even stepping foot onto the grounds. 

‘Maybe this was a bad idea.’ You doubt to yourself as the gates begin to open in front of you. 

You approach cautiously to the front door and knock, hoping that Cordelia answers. The door creaks open revealing one of the familiar faces that you’re used to seeing at the shop. Zoe stands by the door looking a little sheepish. 

“Oh, hi Y/N. Does Cordelia know you are here?” She asks, her eyes darting around looking at anything but you. You frown at her sheepish behaviour. Usually, Zoe is the first one to approach you at the shop with a welcoming smile. 

“Uh, hey Zoe! No, but I was hoping to speak with her, if she’s here?” You inform, trying to look over her slender shoulders into the hallway. Zoe begins to speak but the familiar voice of your lover beats her to it. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Delia asks, as Zoe slips away back into the house. 

You take in her tired figure, her eyes no longer holding that sparkling glint. She tries to hide the wince as she leans heavily against the doorframe making you frown with worry. 

“I’m sorry for showing up unannounced, I just needed to see you. I’ve been worried about you and clearly I was right to be,” You murmur, eyeing her slouched posture as she keeps a protective hand across her waist. She smiles reassuringly at you, trying to ease your worry but you know her too well now to be so ignorant to her quiet suffering. 

“Delia, what’s wrong?” You question, leaving no room for protest. She shakes her head softly, again dismissing your concern. 

“It’s nothing, darling. I haven’t been feeling well, is all. I’m sorry to have worried you.” She brushes off, reaching her other hand out to brush against your cheek. Her teary eyes dart across your face, as if taking in every detail lingering to memorise every freckle, every lash.You lean into her touch, craving the contact from her. Your eyes lock with her honey browns, searching for answers to her behaviour but she remains silent for a moment her lips twitching into a small smile before leaning in closer. 

“How about a coffee?” She questions, removing her hand from your cheek and quickly wiping her own. “ I’m sure we have lots to discuss.” She states, stepping back into the house allowing you access. You step into the school and gape at the tall white walls full of aged paintings and grand staircase, wringing your fingers suddenly feeling inferior by the powerhouse that your lover runs. 

A soft hand wraps gently around your own stopping your nervous habits before pulling you further through the oddly quiet house. Her hand is tight around yours, as if needing it to anchor herself, but you decide not to ask about her health again knowing you won’t get the answer you are after, the truth.

“Where are all the girls today?” Cordelia smiles gently and side glances at your awe expression as you take in more of the mystery house. 

“A school trip with Myrtle and Queenie and some of the other girls like to use their free time shopping in the town centre. If you ask me, they just like to get out without me hovering over them.” She jokes, squeezing your hand to regain your attention from an old black and white photo showing a group of young witches. 

“Those girls adore you Delia, I’m sure it’s just teenage girls wanting some freedom on the weekend like every other teenager.” You comfort, smiling knowingly at her mother hen instincts and how protective she can be over her own. She bumps her shoulder lightly against yours for teasing her a little before pushing open a large door. 

“Is this your office?” You murmur,  looking around the large room with glass panelled windows behind a wooden desk. You raise your eyebrow at the desk eyeing Delia, who stands by a drinks cabinet, pouring the brown liquid into two whiskey glasses. She smirks at your subtle nod at the desk joke you made a few months back as you walk over to her, taking the offered glass before sitting on the long white plush sofa gestured to your right. Delia sits elegantly in the oval chair across from you, confusing you at her attempt to keep some distance. Her eyes follow your movements as you take your first sip of the brown liquid. 

“I want to apologise again for not messaging you, Y/N. I was being a coward by avoiding you and thinking it would work. I didn’t take into account your feelings and that was wrong of me.” She apologises, before taking a quick sip of her drink for dutch courage. You place yours onto the glass table that fills the gap between the two of you. 

“Cordelia, I’m not a child. If you wanted to stop this, you could have just said so instead of stringing me along. I really like you Delia, like a fucking lot actually. I thought we were going somewhere with this,” you confess, your voice quiet and full of doubt. Thoughts spiral in your mind, doubt creeping in as you come to the conclusion that Delia may not reciprocate those feelings. 

“I… Y/N, I like you a lot too. But I... I don’t think this is going to work. We are two very different people and not to mention your human.” She pauses as she processes her next words, her eyes full of sadness. “ I don’t think you realise just how fragile that makes you and I can’t always be around to protect you Y/N. So, I think we should end this before we get in too deep. I’m sorry darling.” Her chin trembles as she fights back her tears, her regal posture slouches as she leaves her chair and moves to crotch in front of you as you continue to stare at the white wall trying to collect your thoughts as tears fall freely. Her forehead rests softly against your knees as you blindly place your hands on top of her blonde locks. 

“You knew this from the beginning… Why did you bother pursuing me? Did you think it would be funny, see if you could get the boring ol’ human girl to fall in love with you?” You say, suddenly feeling angry by her words. She lifts her head back shocked by your accusation and stands abruptly making you copy her position, leaving you both standing off to one another. 

“You know that’s not true, Y/N. Don’t be so childish, I’m just trying to be realistic here. We tried and it didn’t work, why is this so hard for you to understand?” She spats, her hands gesturing wildly. “You know, you are just proving my point Y/N. You are so ignorant to everything around you, I’m the fucking supreme that comes with a lot of enemies and I can’t be concerned about you while also trying to protect the coven. I’m sorry you can’t seem to take this break up in a mature way.” She huffs.

“Why are you being like this?” You whisper, hands sagged to your side, defeated. 

“I’m being a realist, Y/N. Maybe you should try it sometime.” Her words are harsh, as she holds your gaze, no longer showing those sweet signs of affection. You hold her gaze a little longer hoping to see her falter and retract her hurtful words but nothing else is said, which leaves you with your answer. You laugh humorlessly before heading for the office door, your hand wraps around the door handle before pausing. 

“If this is your attempt at pushing me away, it won’t work.” You inform, loud enough for her to hear. 

“Y/N, I’m not..ugh.” The painful groan that fills the room makes you turn quickly towards the source of the sound as you watch in terror Cordelia hunching over in pain, holding her stomach area tightly. 

“Delia!” You launch forward ready to help her settle onto the long sofa you were previously sat on. 

“Hey hey, you're okay. That’s it breath for me Delia, that’s my girl.” You comfort, whispering softly while brushing wild strands of blonde hair from her now pale face. Her eyes glossy as she watches you move to fill a glass of water for her. You gently tip the water into her mouth while she holds onto your wrist delicately whispering her gratitude, you stay crouched in front of her keeping a close eye on her as you take away the now empty glass.

“What’s going on Delia, I want the truth this time.” You enforce, brows furrowed in worry. She drops your gaze as she plays with the rings on your fingers, collecting her thoughts. 

“When a new supreme raises the other must fall.” Her words full of strength and sorrow as free falling tears spill onto her pale cheeks. 

“I.. I don’t understand. You’ve only been supreme for what five years, you must have gotten it wrong... No, no this isn’t happening. We gotta talk to Myrtle, she’ll know different. You can’t die Lia you… you-” The soft hand placed on your cheeks stops your rambling, knowing eyes fall onto your own broken ones as silent tears fall between you both. 

“But we haven’t had enough time together,” you whisper weakly, leaning into her touch. The feeling of her skin against your own giving you the only comfort that’s available while Delia regains her strength from her dizzy spell. She smiles tearfully, brushing her thumb over the escaped tears. 

“Then let’s make the most of it, I don’t want to spend my last how many months on earth avoiding you and regretting it.” Her eyes full of thought as she processes her next thought. “Let’s go somewhere, anywhere. I’m just so tired of all these negative thoughts and feelings, I want to fill these months with good, happy memories, with you and my girls, but I understand if you want to let this go now to avoid the hurt later on...” She murmurs leaning her head into the cushion, her face turned towards your own, suddenly vulnerable. The sudden urge to protect her and give her everything she wants overwhelms your instincts, making you launch forward to capture her wet lips with your own in a silent promise. 

“I am going to make you the happiest woman, Cordelia Goode. I’m not going anywhere, you have me for as long as you are breathing and walking on this earth.” You vow against her salted lips. 

There are still so many things left unsaid but in this moment you are willing to savour your time with this woman and be with her, to remember every twitch of her nose, every sparkle in those brown eyes and most importantly, giving her every reason to smile that breathtaking smile until she can no longer bear it. Because Cordelia Goode deserves all the happiness in the word and if the world can no longer keep her in it, you will be damn sure to give her everything in it and more for as long as you walk on it with her. 

I’m sorry🙃x