#they should’ve been having a fun little pot luck but no

[theagentace]

mf got kidnapped on thanksgiving

[bunnylovesani]

Miss Congeniality

Chapter 1

Content warnings: suggestive and derogative language, reader being humiliated, mentions of panties and arousal

WC: 2.4k

You stared at the clock and huffed, it was 10 minutes past midnight. Your older brother Jaden and his best friend Anakin should’ve come home by now.

“Good night honey, don’t stay up too late, you need your beauty sleep for the pageant tomorrow!” your mother cooed as she walked past your door, peering into your admittedly childishly decorated bedroom.

You had turned 19 last month but still hadn’t gotten over your fixation for all things pink and frilly, your walls adored with posters of your favourite singers and your bedsheets decorated with petite lace bows on every corner. You wrapped your satin bedrobe tight around yourself as you got up and headed downstairs to the lounge, where you’d spent many nights staring at the door waiting for your favourite boys to come home from their escapades.

Your gaze settled on a large framed photo of you resting on the mantlepiece, wearing a pageant crown and smiling gracefully. Sure, you were mommy and daddy’s pride and joy, the most beautiful girl in the county and latest winner of the teen Miss Naboo competition, but you were bored. A whole lifetime of always being the good girl had taken its toll and left you with a feeling of discontenment and envy. You saw the way other girls had fun, sneaking out at night and going to parties with handsome boys- Anakin always had a crowd of women swarming him and you hated that you felt jealous at the attention he gave them.

You knew ultimately you were above all that, you knew that you were saving yourself for a worthy man, one who would appreciate the efforts you made to keep yourself pure. But sometimes, when you saw the veins snaking their way down Ani’s arms, with his black band tees rolled up to his muscular elbows and his plump lips playing with his tongue piercing, you feared you might not be able to hold back much longer. As if your thoughts summoned him, the door swung open and the raucous laughter of the boys filled the stately family home.

“Did you see the way that chick was giving me fuck-me eyes? She totally wants it, I’ve got half a mind to - oh. Sis, what are you doing still up?” Jaden’s face fell as he hung his coat up.

“I was just making myself a cup of cocoa, trying to soothe my nerves for the competition tomorrow.” You lied. You couldn’t care less about the pageant and you didn’t even really like cocoa. You just wanted to be there to catch a glimpse of your favourite emo boy.

“Oh yeah, forgot that shit was tomorrow. Do I still have to drive you?” Jaden rolled his eyes, he never did understand the appeal of being paraded around like a prized pig.

“No, I presumed you’d be too inebriated from the night before so I asked daddy already.” You happily chittered, unconsciously raising your nightie just a little so that your brother’s friend might catch a better glimpse of your freshly moisturised, strawberry scented thighs. He didn’t pay it any notice as per usual, not that it stopped you from trying.

“Ah you know me too well.” Jaden chuckled “Good luck with that, let’s go Anakin.”

“Wait, wait! How was your night? Did you guys have fun?” You pouted, big doe eyes staring at them in disappointment to have not been filled in on their nighttime adventures.

“Oh you don’t wanna hear about that sweetheart” Ani finally spoke, smirking. “Your brother is quite the Cassanova.”

“That’s enough of that, off to bed with you” Jaden interrupted him, motioning for you to leave before slipping into the kitchen to help himself to the pot of fresh cocoa you’d made.

“You know, you look really creepy when you’re sat there like that right in front of the door. At least turn on a lamp or some shit.” Anakin uttered harshly, making your cheeks burn up with embarassment.

“Um, I, I’m sorry? I’ll make sure the place is lit up like a christmas tree next time.” You muttered, staring at the ground and silently cursing your obedient nature. God, he had a way of making you feel small. The slight smirk that creeped up on his face made you suspect that he liked that.

“Now that I think about it, why is it that you happen to be in the living room every time I come through the door? Do you wanna hang out with us that bad?” Anakin sniggered in that signature cocky way only he knows how.

“Oh shut up, I have better things to do than to sit around smoking joints with 2 college dropouts.” You rolled your eyes, was it that obvious? Clearly you would have to find a better cover than drinking hot chocolate.

“Goddamn, this cocoa tastes like shit. Are you sure you didn’t make it with mud?!” Jaden emerged from the kitchen sipping from his mug and scowling, eliciting a cackle from Anakin. “Don’t ever try cooking sis, stick to looking pretty in dresses.” he tousled your hair as he walked past you and up the stairs to his room. Anakin gave you one last look, subtly dropping his glare down to your legs before smiling ever so slightly as he followed his friend. The second of eye contact made your heart pound with a worrying intensity and you had to calm your racing mind before the inappropriate thoughts started forming again.

It had been a week since the last time the boys hung out, and in this moment you wished it’d been longer as you sat in bed, enveloped in your pink fluffy blanket - huffing at the sounds of Anakin and Jaden howling with laughter next door. What could possibly be so funny that it induces such animalistic noise? Once the guffawing was so loud that you could no longer hear your movie over it, you resolutely climbed out of bed, slid your slippers on and marched over to your brother’s room across the hallway. As soon as you opened the door, the pungent smell of their sweet, earthy joint hit you.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re laughing so hard.” You cross your arms at the sight of them convulsing with giggles. “Can you cretins keep it down?”

“Apologies, are we disturbing your Barbie movie marathon?” A very dishevelled looking Jaden grinned. “Or are you watching Enchanted again? How many times have I told you, stop dreaming about Prince Charming, he’s not coming.” You furrow your brows, about to launch a tirade on your brother when Anakin interjects.

“Oh my God, what are those?” he points at your slippers. “Are you wearing fluffy pink bunnies on your feet? Seriously?” He covers his mouth with his hand to stop the giggles that threaten to burst through. You stare down at the dopey faces of the little bunnies sticking out of your shoes.

“No! I mean yes but these are old, mom bought them for me, they were just lying around and I’m kinda cold.” The excuses started flowing out as Anakin glared at you endearingly.

“Oh my God, why are you lying? They’re her favourite ones, she wears them every day.” Jaden sniggers and you wonder why you even tried to lie with your brother there.

“Aw, you don’t have to lie sweetie, I think it’s cute. Pretty little pageant princess in her pink slippers.” Anakin smiles and you’re unsure whether he’s mocking you.

Feeling mortified, you run out and slam your bedroom door closed- a resounding bang being heard as the bedrobe and nightie that hung on the back fell off the hook and spilled onto the floor. For their information, you were watching a documentary. You know he dismissed you as nothing other than his friend’s childish little sister, just a brat who couldn’t ever keep up with him- he was 4 years older than you after all.

But you’re not a little girl anymore. Sure, your favourite colour was pink and you pranced around on stage in ballgowns, but you were a woman now. You had come into your own this year and you saw the whole world differently. You had never usually paid any mind to the boys that circulated around the house with your brother- but now they piqued your interest immensely, one in particular. You’ll never forget the first day you really noticed him.

It was last winter, you had gone to support your big brother at one of his hockey matches as you often loved doing. It was the semi-finals and he had led his team to a resounding victory as captain, rushing the barricades towards you and your parents, arms raised and fists curled in a triumphant dance that you mirrored. He engulfed you in a callous bear hug, easily enveloping you before clambering over to your parents. Over the broad shoulders of the players, you caught a glimpse of him.

His dark hair swooped messily over his forehead, thick eyebrows furrowed over his piercing blue eyes as he hung back from the rest of the team, choosing to avoid the adoring crowd and slip away into the changing rooms. You experienced a visceral response to seeing him in that oversized hockey jersey, so much so that you saw it in your dreams for the next month.

Suddenly, the unobtrusive guy who hung around your brother and occasionally teased you for the way you dressed became so much more than that. You felt on edge every time he came over, rushing over to your room to put on some lipgloss or change into a cuter dress before casually walking past the hallway a suspicious amount of times, hoping he would get a glimpse of you through the open crack in Jaden’s door. Luckily for you, your oaf of a brother never caught on, and if Anakin did, he never made it known.

Whilst reminiscing, you heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Ani’s sweet voice sounded. “I didn’t mean to upset you, we were just playing around.” You got up from your wallowing position in bed and straightened up like an arrow.

“Oh no, it’s fine, I wasn’t upset. I’m used to it.” You smiled sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But thanks anyway.”

“I meant what I said. It’s good you have a strong identity, it’s what makes you you. You shouldn’t pay any mind to what others say, least of all me. I mean I’ve had plenty of choice comments about my look but I wouldn’t be Anakin without the piercings or the headphones or the bad attitude now, would I?” He leans on the doorframe and looks at you curiously. You have to take a deep breath to suppress a full body shiver, you don’t think you can take much longer of him staring at you like you’re his next meal.

“What’s all this- oh my“ he spots your nightie on the floor and picks it up. “Who are you trying to impress wearing this missy?” he closely inspects the white satin dress adorned with a lace trim, rubbing the rough pads of his fingers over the smooth fabric.

“And this?” He picks up the scandalous red panties sprawled out next to his feet and observes them as they dangle off his finger.

“Anakin! Put those down!” You jolt up towards him in an attempt to frantically snatch them out of his hand but he simply holds them up in the air so that you can’t reach. You weren’t a short girl by any means but you felt like one next to Ani’s staggering height.

“Oh this is priceless, are you telling me you actually wear these around the house? Or is it to your pageants, do you have some kind of boyfriend we don’t know about?” He laughs, clearly enjoying this abuse of power.

“No I don’t, not that it’s any of your business!” You huffed, slapping his chest in indignant frustration. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look pretty for yourself.”

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t believe you. Because these aren’t pretty panties, this is a very slutty thong. One that someone would only wear if they were expecting to get laid.” His raspy voice dropped in tone, like he was saying something he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “Are you trying to get laid?”

A whimper almost escaped your lips at the unexpected question. Suddenly you were aware of how close your face was to his and that both your hands were resting on his chest.

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.” You muttered quietly, maintaining eye contact.

“Ah, who would’ve thought Jaden’s little sister would be such a slut. I bet daddy wouldn’t be happy to find out his little girl wears these.” He wraps his hand around the panties and subtly pockets them into his baggy black jeans.

“If I were really a slut then you’d be the first to know about it.” The words slipped out as you turned away from him.

“What?” He grabbed you by the wrist and turned you back around. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve never even been with one guy, let alone enough to make me a slut.” You admitted coyly, regretting the words as soon as they came out.

“You really are a good girl, aren’t you?” His gaze is so intense you worry your knees might buckle. “Something’s gonna have to be done about that.”

His fingers trace your collarbone as he takes one last look into your helpless eyes before turning around, smirking to himself as he leaves the room. You sigh a breath of relief at his absence, trying not to pay too much attention to the growing wetness between your thighs. This was not going to bode well for your vow of chastity.

Wait a minute, did he take your panties?

Next Chapter

[adarlingmess]

Ugnayan

Summary:

Filipino word, noun: connection between persons, groups, countries, etc.

A collection of works detailing a manananggal clan’s relations with the Treses, and their allies.

II: Bad Habits

Summary: After disrupting one of House of Arko’s operations, one of the Kambal meets up with their informant.

Words: 4540

Characters: Basilio, Crispin, Sabina (OC), Alexandra Trese (mentioned only), Ammie (mentioned only), Reyna Manananggal (mentioned only), Dominic Villaceran (mentioned only), Mama Grande (mentioned only)

Relationships: Basilio/Original Female Character

Language: English, with a few Filipino words and phrases sprinkled in.

Rating: 16+

Warnings: Strong language, violence, mentions of abortion, references to human trafficking + sexual trafficking, sexual themes

Author’s Notes:

I am: back on my bullshit again

People were looking for a part 2 so have more Basilio x OC stuff. Spoiler warning for Verdugo: Takutan because this story heavily references its lore and events! The comics are known to be darker in tone, and so is this fic, so heed the warnings above. No Taglish version this time, Darling niyo pagod na 😩

This was supposed to be a simple job.

Get in, rough up House of Arko’s operation while Bossing is paying them a visit in their mansion, get out, and watch as Bossing confronts them about it at the next social gathering they’ll host.

But nothing was ever simple about the aswang, right?

Now there’s a huge one trying to eat Basilio alive.

“Damn it, Basilio. Your recklessness is a bad habit that’ll bite us in the ass later!” his older brother berates him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever! Now might be the right time to call for backup kuya,” he strains, attempting to pull the  magubat’s jaw apart with his superhuman strength. His fingers slip from the drool and it almost bites his hands off.

Crispin’s busy with a horde of mailap, taking turns in taking pot shots from him in the shadows. “We should’ve taken a page from Carlos’ book and brought palm fronds. Who should we call?”

“What about Maliksi?” Basilio suggests.

“What’s one tikbalang to all these aswangs? We need something bigger, maybe a higante to take on that magubat!”

“Gago, a higante can’t get here as fast as a tikbalang!” Basilio snaps.

“Mas gago ka! What about that playmate of ours from when we were kids, y’know, the one that tipped Bossing off about this whole trafficking operation anyway? Think she can fly her way here?” Crispin growls, shooting down a mailap who was foolish enough to ambush the more cautious twin from above.

Ah, yes. Sabina.

Boyish, intimidating, hard to figure out- but still hot enough to flirt with, despite being aswang; that’s how Basilio would describe her. This Sab was a far cry from the Sabina Marie he once knew years ago, the one who used to wear an all-girl Catholic school uniform, shyly shared her snacks and books with him, and kissed him farewell when her mama told her she’ll not be coming with her to meetings with the lakan anymore.

A few days after they caught up with each other, she turned up at the Diabolical not too long ago with a flash drive for Alex’s eyes only. She didn’t even breathe a word to him, much less look at his direction, but Basilio could only surmise that it’s his fault.

“Sabina? Well, manananggals who follow the queen can shoot. It’s- ungh- worth the shot!” Basilio answers back, straining as he gets swatted to the side with one gigantic claw. “You make the call, my hands are full!”

“Give me your phone, I don’t have her Facespace.”

Basilio looks down from several feet, and gives his brother a sheepish smile. “Uhhh, okay, but she’s been seenzoning me.”

From behind his mask, Crispin frowns. “What did you do?”

“She might’ve seen me tagged in Ammie’s story when I was supposed to watch her gig. I got there when her set was ending, and she was pissed.”

Grumbling, Crispin takes his frustrations off on a mabangis charging towards him, a flurry of bullets raining upon its body. “What did Bossing say about getting personal with informants?”

“What? It’s Sab. She’s-”

“An aswang who might have an ulterior motive in helping us. Tangina Basilio, think with your head sometimes! The one between your shoulders!”

Distracted, Basilio failed to stop the jaws of the magubat from closing in on him. As quickly as his reflexes allow, he tosses his brother his phone.

“Just call already! Tell her it’s an emergency.”

The older Kambal flies up and extends his free hand to catch it. Crispin launches Basilio’s Facespace app and begins to search for their informant. He found her under the name Sab Evasco. Crispin pretended not to see the string of messages Basilio left for her, all left on read.

Her phone rings. One time. Two times. Three times. Crispin dials again. Twice. Thrice.

Someone picks up. He puts the call on the loudspeaker.

There’s someone strumming a guitar in the background, accompanied by a drumset’s cymbals. They come to a halt and Crispin hears a frustrated woman’s voice from the other end of the line.

“Ulol gago, fuck you Basilio, you can tell me if you’d rather go on Starbreaks coffee dates with a wind girl than watch me play.  I’m a grown woman, I can handle a simple ‘no’. I’m not in the mood for your games! Now fuck off, I don’t want to hear from you. I have a gig to practice for.”

Basilio cringes as he listens to Sabina’s tirade. Crispin guns a charging mabangis down, and his mask dematerializes for a brief moment, just enough for him to mouth to his brother “Gago ka talaga.”

“Sabina, it’s Crispin. We could use some backup here. We’re being swarmed by aswang.”

The sound of a guitar being unceremoniously dropped and the mad shuffle to catch it can be heard from Sabina’s line, followed by quick footsteps. Sabina talks again, calmer this time. “What? Couldn’t Basilio get his own ass on the phone and tell me himself?”

With an exasperated expression, Crispin turns on the camera, and points the phone at Basilio, who’s caught between the magubat’s jaws. “He said you were ignoring him, and he can’t get on the phone right now, as you can see.”

The Kambal heard her fumbling with more equipment, which sounded like a guitar case being zipped up and carried. A brief argument with her bandmates follows, then Sabina talks again.

“I’ll be there. Stay on the line.”

Now they wait.

As much as Crispin wanted to help his little brother, his hands were full with the wave after wave of aswang coming after them. They’re relentless. This is their food supply the Kambal are cutting off, after all.

“Any luck with Sab?” Basilio asks, attempting to shoot the roof of the mabangis’ mouth.

The bullets barely penetrate the thick membrane. He’ll need to transform the Armas Infinitum into a more powerful weapon to lobotomize the gigantic aswang, but seeing how he’s separated from his twin, it’s impossible at the moment.

“She said she’s on the way. She’s still on the phone. Here!”

Crispin throws the phone back to Basilio, who catches it with one hand, while his other arm continues to struggle with the magubat trying to swallow him whole. He tucks it in his breast pocket, and he jumps near the row of the magubat’s front teeth, prying it open with both arms.

Through the aswangs’ growls, Basilio could faintly hear a woman cursing and the jingling of keys from the other side of the line.

“Hey Sab! It’s Basilio. Sorry again about missing your gig.”

“Shut up and hang tight. If I didn’t care for you at all...” Sabina snaps. Basilio could barely make out the words Sabina was saying due to the wind and sound of traffic. “I’m on my way.”

“Ngh, can’t you come any sooner? I heard that aswang intestines are nasty.” Basilio pauses, realizing his mistake. “No offense.”

“I said zip it. Isn’t it enough that I went out of hiding and agreed to be Trese’s informant? Now I have to be your backup too?”

“Working with Bossing has its risks. We made that clear, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.”

There’s more turbulence and wind from Sabina’s line. If Basilio guessed, she’s now flying to the scene. The Kambal’s struggle with the aswang continued until they heard their informant’s voice through the speakers again.

“Big bad war demigods can’t handle a single fucking magubat?” Sabina deadpans, the turbulence and noise no longer accompanying her voice. “Open the fucker’s mouth wide. Make sure he’s facing east.”

“Kuya! She’s in the area, help me pry the jaws open!” the younger Kambal shouts to his older brother, who dodges a leaping mailap and quickly flies up to his aid.

“What’s the plan?” Crispin asks, and Basilio shrugs.

“I don’t know, she just asked me to do it!”

Before Crispin could question Basilio, a shot rings throughout the building, and the magubat collapses. The Kambal let go of the heavy jaws and flew away, watching the near-twenty foot aswang crush a few of its regular-sized kind. Upon closer inspection, a bullet has torn its way through the roof of its mouth. It’s a clean shot. The magubat isn’t regenerating, much to the Kambal’s surprise.

It’s a pleasant surprise, nonetheless.

“That’s for trying to eat my brother,” Crispin spits, kicking the dead aswang’s head.

Soon, more of the aswang started dropping like flies, too. Razed by bullets from an unknown assailant, the House of Arko aswangs started to panic.

“Wait a minute, I know manananggals who follow the queen can shoot, but Sabina is a sniper? Do you know about this, Bas?” Crispin exclaims, tearing his eyes away from the dead magubat to face yet another wave of mabangis.

“No! Damn, she’s using special bullets too. Where’d she get those?” Basilio mutters. A mailap attempts an ambush attack, and before he could react, Basilio watches it get shot mid-air as it attempts to jump him.

“You’re mine,” Sabina hisses, her voice crackling through Basilio’s phone speaker, smooth through the static.

Her emphasis on the word “mine” made goosebumps ripple through Basilio’s arm.

“Hot. Could you say that again?”

What he got instead was a groan. “Fuck, don’t distract me Basilio. I’m not here for fun.”

“You seem to be having fun shooting House of Arko’s minions though.”

“Fair. You two better look for the hostages. I have a bone to pick with this lot.”

The Kambal looks at each other, and nods. Glass shatters as they fly out the building’s windows, to the upper floors. After taking care of the guards, they saw them. Men and women in cages, all naked, and herded like livestock. 

“Please, help us,” one of them whimpers, crawling to the front of the cage and grabbing Crispin by the arm. She’s dirty, and her belly is swollen. Basilio turned on the lights and they saw it clear as day: most of these women are pregnant. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

House of Arko farms their food, breeding humans like livestock, and harvesting fetuses from them.

Sirens are blaring outside, both from police cars and ambulances, waiting for the hostages to be rescued.

All is well, or so they thought.

“Fuck!”

The cry came from their informant’s line.

“Everything alright?” Basilio asks her after fishing his phone out of his breast pocket.

“There are a few of them who found my vantage point. They’re heading towards my position.”

“Get out of there already, the hostages are secure.”

“They saw me. I can’t let them report back to Mama Grande and her sons that a manananggal is helping you. Suspicion would fall on my clan.”

Crispin nudges his younger brother. “I’ll handle the hostages and wait for Bossing. You make sure our informant’s alright.”

“Way ahead of you kuya,” Basilio replies, taking his guns out and flying out the window.

Under the pale moonlight and the city’s lights, Basilio spots a group of aswang scaling a dilapidated building east of him. On the rooftop, he sees it. Wings black as night, flattened against the concrete. Sabina lies prone and is aiming her scoped hunting rifle downwards, picking off the advancing horde one by one.

“Time to play.” The demigod rushes in and makes bullets rain on the hostiles.

He takes out a mabangis approaching their sniper from her blind spot. Those who didn’t die from being shot fell to their death, regeneration halted either by his or Sabina’s doing.

Basilio descends on the rooftop, and he walks his way towards the manananggal. His mask dematerialized, and the wind tousled his long hair. Just to be safe, he kept a pistol in one hand.

Across him, Sabina takes out her wireless earbuds and puts them away. Then, she slings her rifle on her shoulder, safety on. With her wings, she crawled towards his direction, like how a bat would move. Then, uses her wings’ sharp claws to plant herself on the concrete, a feat regular bats couldn’t do.

“Thanks for the help, Sab. About that gig…”

Before any more words could come out of his mouth, Sabina holds up her forefinger and presses it against his lips. “Shh. No more apologizing about the missed gig. Just make up for it. You owe me.”

Basilio nods, smiling at her. He watches as Sabina fishes out a box of cigarettes and a lighter from her vest. She’s wearing a black, long-sleeved polo shirt underneath it, and its sleeves are rolled up. Her shirt was unbuttoned just enough for him to catch a glimpse of lace peeking through. For all her boyish, edgy posturing, her choice of underclothes is girlier than what Basilio expected.

It almost makes him want to unwrap her like a Christmas present, but he’ll keep that thought to himself.

“Nice outfit. You were rehearsing in that?”

“We had a presentation for a class. No time to get changed. Now there’s a hole in the back, so I might as well wear this more often on future operations,” Sabina replies, placing a stick of Marlborough Reds between her lips.

“I’m in the mood for a smoke and maybe a chat,” she continues. “Join me?”

Basilio nods.

“How did you know about House of Arko’s human trafficking thing, anway?”

“Believe it or not, it was a hunch,” Sabina explains, black fingernails scratching the sparkwheel several times. “Ugh, fucking lighter dying on me again. I just had it refilled… must be the wind,” she growls.

Basilio couldn’t help but chuckle at her frustration. “A hunch?”

“Hmm… maybe hunch isn’t the right word. It’s an educated guess. Mama Grande loved serving boiled fetuses to her house guests, correct?”

Basilio nods, waiting for Sabina to continue her explanation.

“I suppose that it’s my place to judge if their mothers didn’t want to raise them… I’m a manananggal, for fuck’s sake. But there’s one red flag House of Arko failed to hide. From what I can tell, those fetuses are around five to eight months old.”

Sabina’s lighter finally lit up, and with a triumphant laugh, she lit her cigarette. Then, she carries on with her explanation.

“Most abortions happen during the first three months of pregnancy. It’s rare to see expecting parents get rid of them that late.”

“So? What does that have to do with the whole thing?”

“House of Arko serving older fetuses could mean one of two things: either all, and I mean all of the abortions they performed are from those who are truly in need of one that late, or they’re getting them from another source, possibly an illicit one. They don’t have the most benevolent reputation, so my intuition tells me it was the latter. So, I paid the place a visit and recorded what I could. I guess I should be thankful that your bossing found that blurry video trustworthy enough,” Sabina concluded, watching as the victims were clothed and herded into ambulances.

Dumbfounded, Basilio scratches his head. “Wow. Glad you’re on our side. How did you know that three month thing anyway?”

“Research and personal accounts.” Sabina’s response is clipped. Cold. Abrupt. It only raised more questions than answers.

“Personal accounts? You’ve met people who got them?”

There’s a flash of regret in Sabina’s eyes; regret that she opened her mouth and let him know more than needed. She cuts him off. “I can’t put my informants’ identities in jeopardy either now, can I?”

Per his older twin’s advice, Basilio’s finally using the head between his shoulders. “No offense, but you’re a manananggal. Y’know, known for eating babies? Hearing that from you is suspicious.”

“Yes, I am,” Sabina says through gritted teeth, glaring at him. “I can assure you, I’m following the accords and I’m not exploiting loopholes like what House of Arko is doing. I’ll reveal everything in due time.”

“Alright, keep your secrets. For now.”

A tense silence has befallen them.

“So- '' the manananggal blows a cloud of smoke away from Basilio, “-is this going to be a regular thing? Because if it is, I might finally quit smoking. Nicotine makes my hands shaky. Can’t risk accidentally shooting your ass.” She pauses, looking at him in jest. “ I’d rather do that intentionally.”

“You’re breaking my heart, Sabina Marie,” Basilio retorts, clutching his chest in mock pain.

They share a laugh over it, the mood lightening up.

Basilio looks in the distance, taking in the view of the cityscape. “Maybe you should quit. Singers shouldn’t be smoking in the first place.”

“The tar helps me belt out raspy screams, but yeah, you’re right,” Sabina chuckles.

“So, when is this next gig?”

“Next week. In Ilocos Norte. All the way up in House of Arko’s ancestral home.”

“Should I take that info to Bossing?”

“Yep. It’s open to the supernatural public anyway, so it's not like I’m giving you top secret info. Even the wind tribe is invited, despite their bad blood with my clan. Hopefully things won’t get physical. Most of my sisters are still bitter over how they blew us away when my mom- I mean, Inang Reyna decided to side against the Treses.”

So that explains some things.

“I dunno, maybe I should bring Ammie so I can watch the two of you in a catfight.”

Sabina elbows him in the chest, hard.

“Not funny at all, Basilio. I don’t even know her personally! It’s you I was pissed at.”

Now he grabs his chest in genuine pain as he croaks out an apology. “Sorry.”

“Whatever. Bring whoever the hell you want, just keep your distance from me when you decide to go. Even my father’s going to be there. I need to be on my best behavior.”

The demigod turns to their aswang informant, interest piqued. She’s divulging a lot of information. Perhaps he can sway her to spill more secrets.

“Didn’t know that the Reyna Manananggal had a king.”

“Oh, no. She’s not the type to share her power with a man.” Sabina pauses to take another hit of her cigarette. “I meant my biological father. Villaceran.”

Now that was unexpected.

“You drop bombshell after bombshell whenever we meet. Tomas Dominic Villaceran’s your old man?”

“Look at me. I’m almost the splitting image of the guy. If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it’s inheriting his good looks.”

Basilio grins. “Can’t deny that. Most of the manananggal kuya Crispin and I encountered look...”

“Hideous, I know,” Sabina says outright. “You still haven’t seen that side of me, so don’t be too quick to judge my sisters.”

Basilio treads carefully, knowing that he might be prying on a sensitive subject. “So, about Villaceran…”

“I’d rather not talk about him. Our relationship is… strained.”

Giving her a sympathetic, understanding look, Basilio nods. “Right. Never mind.”

Another interval of silence passes between them. This time, it’s a little somber.

“So, does this party have a dress code?”

“Yeah. Filipiniana. Wear a barong. It’s one of those pretentious events that attempts to make House of Arko more appealing to the masses or whatever. Manipulative assholes.”

“You can just refuse to go, Sab.”

“I could, but being Trese’s mole among the aswang means I have to attend clan activities to supply more information. That also means attending every single party those Arko fucks throw.”

“You really hate House of Arko, huh?”

Looking towards his direction to meet his gaze, Sabina’s eyes are filled with a sea of emotions. Hatred, indignation, and something Basilio couldn’t quite place.

“Why wouldn’t I? Mama Grande raised boys who can’t take no for an answer. The Arko brothers have no respect for us manananggal. As if we weren’t fetishized enough in Manong Karma’s stupid aswang dating book...”

Sabina clears her throat and calms herself down. Bad blood between aswang clans could mean war. Basilio knows he should take that to the boss. His gears are turning tonight. He asks Sabina questions that could risk her support.

“Is that why you agreed to be an informant? You wanna bring House of Arko down? Then what, your clan will fill the space they’ll leave?”

“What? No, I have no desire for power, not like how Mama Grande or my own mother does anyway. My personal gripes with them aside, the House of Arko wants to ‘unite the aswang under one banner’ with no respect to the other clans’ autonomy and customs.”

“So you wanna protect your clan?”

“That’s one of the reasons, yes. Mama Grande’s been trying to play kumare with mom- I mean Inang Reyna-” This is the second time Sabina slipped and called her mom. She clears her throat and composes herself. “And I need to stop that. Inang Reyna already made the mistake of going against the Accords once. Allying with the House of Arko will ruin us further.”

Basilio leans in closer. “And what are your other reasons?”

Sabina looks at him for a few, quiet seconds, and looks away. “I’ll reveal them-”

“In due time. Yeah, yeah, I can take that as an answer. So, making you sing in that event is a result of them being magkumare?”

A defeated laugh bubbles from Sabina’s chest. “You got it.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t invite sirena to sing.”

Sabina rolls her eyes and tosses the butt of her expended cigarette on the concrete. Basilio took it upon himself to crush the embers under his heel, seeing how her lower half is hidden someplace else.

“Oh please, this is House of Arko we’re talking about, Bas. They believe aswang are superior. Letting them shine would take away the spotlight from the aswang. Mama Grande asked for me from Inang Reyna so they can gloat that even aswang can make better singers than the famed sirena. Ugh, I doubt my singing style even matches the performance they want from me.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of performance are they going for?” he asks her.

“Now that’s another secret. You have to show up to find out,” she hums in response.

Turning away from him, Sabina checks how many sticks are left in the box. Two. She takes one and lights it up.

“Screw it, I’m going cold turkey. I guess this will be my final box. Maybe for tonight. Maybe forever.”

“Then maybe you should stop with the stick you’re smoking and throw the last one away,” Basilio suggests.

“Are you mad? That’s a waste of money!”

“Still counting your blessings even with your mama’s wealth huh?”

“Old habits die hard.”

Sabina blows smoke away from Basilio’s direction. The wind made it waft to his face anyway, and she mumbles a quick apology. He shrugs it off. Not like the adverse effects of secondhand smoke affected him anyway. Hank smoked and was polite enough to turn away too, but Basilio can still smell it. He didn’t mind it. Still, Hank had told him and Crispin that it was a tough habit to break, so he never touched a cigarette.

Not until now.

Basilio takes the box from Sabina and picks up the last stick with his lips. Then, he inches closer to her.

Ironically, in an attempt to help an old friend quit her smoking habit, Basilio engages in it himself.

Little did he know, a new bad habit was forming between him and the little lady before him.

“I’ll make sure it won’t go to waste then. Light me.”

Sabina raises an eyebrow. “Just don’t start at all. Give it back.”

“One smoke isn’t going to get me hooked, princess.”

Brows knitted together, Sabina chastises him. “Take it from me, bad habits start with just one little taste, Bas.”

“One little taste never hurts anyone...”

“One little taste could leave you wanting for more.”

Basilio can feel himself getting hot under the collar. He’d never thought an aswang of all creatures could make him feel all bothered, yet there he was, getting turned on by her choice of words.

“Princess, are we still talking about cigarettes, or something else?”

Hearing his question, Sabina exhales sharply through her nose, cheeks dusted pink. “Maybe both. Whatever. Come here.”

Black fingernails scratched at the sparkwheel. Sparks were flying, but there was no flame. The cigarette remained unlit.

“Well, it looks like fate isn’t letting you smoke, so better just give me the damn cigarette back, Basilio.”

With a sly look, Basilio closes in on her, and presses the end of his cigarette to the embers at the end of hers, linking them together.

To his surprise, Sabina is neither backing away nor babbling defensively like she usually does whenever he gets close. Instead, she presses her chest to his, a challenging look in her half-lidded eyes. She wasn’t wearing her glasses like usual, giving Basilio an unobstructed view of her heated gaze. Was it bloodlust or desire? Either way, it got his blood pumping.

“You’re chattier than usual tonight,” Basilio comments. “Bolder too. I like that.”

In the form she’s in now, Sabina’s eyes glowed an eerie white, and aside from the wings sprouting from her back, little horns sprouted from her scalp, the root concealed by her crown of short, wavy hair. Basilio didn’t pay mind to her dangling guts, instead, his eyes were transfixed on that cute little lace bra again.

Through the layers of cloth between them, he can feel her heart beating. Basilio faintly remembers the taste of human and sigbin hearts.

Now, what does aswang heart taste like?

A dark part of his psyche- perhaps from being Datu Talagbusao’s son- wanted to tear it out of her chest and eat it to find out.

Basilio felt the urge to taste all the battles she fought through her blood, and possess her heart in a way no other person can.

The memory of seeing his father tasting his mother’s blood inserts itself in the present, and the fear of turning into the monster he was is enough for him to shake that thought away.

Basilio tries to focus on something else.

His eyes wander to Sabina’s mouth. He might’ve imagined something else between her dark lips, in place of the cigarette. Something bigger.

Something of his.

Sabina’s been pliable tonight. Perhaps he’ll push his luck with her one last time.

“So, any plans tonight, dear princess?”

“Unless you intend to treat me like one, don’t call me that.”

“I’m done with work, so if you want me to make good on that and make up for my mistake…”

Giggling, Sabina flies a few feet away from him. The black wings on her back are translucent against the pale moonlight. They almost looked like a dark shade of red.

“Go tell your brother about the information I gave you for now, then meet up with me afterwards. I hid my lower half in an alleyway behind that motel,” she tells him, pointing to the building’s direction.

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to rearrange my guts. Literally and figuratively.” Sabina continues, a naughty smirk blooming on her lips.

Taken aback by the pun, Basilio laughs. “I didn’t think you were capable of dirty jokes.”

“You should know by now that I’m full of secrets and surprises.”

Grinning darkly, Basilio finishes the rest of his cigarette as he watches her fly away.

“And I’ll uncover them all, dear princess.”

Translations:

ulol - crazy; Filipino profanity

gago/gaga - foolish or stupid; Filipino profanity

tangina - contraction of putang ina, lit. whore mother. Used as an expression to express irritation, anger, or astonishment

Inang Reyna - lit. Queen Mother.

mare/kumare - derived from the Spanish word madre/comadre; kumare a reciprocal appellation for the godmother or for the child's mother. In a more modern and colloquial context, it’s used to refer to a female friend. Magkumare means women who are friends with each other.

Filipiniana - Philippine related book and non-book material

barong - also known as Barong Tagalog. An embroidered long-sleeved formal shirt for men and a national dress of the Philippines.

[asknarashikari]

Minific

Tsukasa, after hearing about the Magirangers room of magic, decides to try and break in. He forgot that the entire family are Rangers, even the old couple are rangers and are still kicking ass. What makes this worst is that Urara and her husband were visiting at the same time.

You would think that he won't mess with Ranger Bases after the incident with the Dekarangers.

(Breaking into a police station and making false announcements are not a valid excuse.)

Or the time he boarded the Toqugers' train and went on a joy ride.

(Kids tend to have messed up punishments.)

At this rate, Tsukana will somehow piss off the Gorengers before learning to stop breaking into Ranger Bases and Rider Bases.

You’d think he’d learn, after getting KO’d by a non-Rider with a frying pan, but nope, he really has to be a sucker for punishment

In hindsight, Tsukasa should’ve seen it for what it was, considering who had told him about the place. And honestly, he really shouldn’t have pushed his luck when he found out who exactly resided in the house he broke into. 

A magic room with only one way in or out...

He thought he had it all planned out perfectly. After stalking observing the people who lived in the house for a week and a half, he had a pretty good gist of who was home or not at any particular time of day. After chancing upon how they got in and out of the pocket dimension from one of these sessions, it was only a matter of manipulating his dimensional curtain into appearing in that room.

He hadn’t expected to appear in the middle of the room, at a time when everyone was supposed to be out, only to see the shocked faces of the Ozu family staring back at him.

A magical room. Ozu. The Magirangers. 

He should’ve known.

The entire family- all of them, much to Tsukasa’s surprise- transformed to deal with the intruder. He’d known about the kids being the magical Sentai, but the parents and the son-in-law, too? And the old man and lady hadn’t even slowed one bit, despite being old enough to be grandparents.

And to add insult to injury, the darned talking plant even decided to lend a hand, digging himself out of his pot so his scream could knock him out! 

Needless to say, he’d gotten his ass kicked and was swiftly defeated.

When he awoke from being knocked out by the mandrake, he found himself in the hospital, wrapped in emough bandages to give a mummy a run for its money, with Daiki looking over him with a shit-eating smile on his face. “So, how did your little meeting with the Magirangers go?”

“Fuck you, Daiki,” Tsukasa growled, not at all amused. “You should’ve told me it was the Magirangers’ place.”

“Eh, but where’s the fun in that?” Daiki grinned impishly at him. “Besides, why are you acting like it was my fault? You’re the one who broke in. And that, after everything you’ve been though?”

Tsukasa grunted, not wanting to concede the point- which was that it wasn’t the first time he’d broken into a Sentai’s base and gotten his ass kicked for it.

Of course, there was that time he infiltrated the Shiba mansion to gather info on the samurai Sentai, and the subsequent trips he made just to mess with their leader. And there was that time he broke into SPD headquarters, proclaiming himself a criminal, only to be tased and thrown into the drunk tank. And that time he “borrowed” the trains of the Rainbow Line in the name of comparing them to the Den-Liner.

“Just face it Tsukasa, you’re as much of a criminal as I am,” Daiki said with a smirk. “You break and enter, and I steal and rob. Kind of a perfect match, don’t you think?”

“Fuck you Daiki!” Tsukasa cursed as the dimensional thief leapt through a curtain.

[lupinlongbottom]

Practically a Weasley Epilogue

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: Little Kayda has finally finished her seven years at Hogwarts, much to the cheer and delight of her parents, Charlie and (Y/N). Her future is crawling near, if only her parents knew what it could possibly hold.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is mostly centered around Charlie and his girls, I will make that clear. The reader is there, and she’s important, but I wanted to highlight their daughters, as this is an Epilogue. I hope you all enjoy their three tornadoes angels as much as I do. Enjoy!

Part 1 … Part 1.5  …  Part 2 … Part 3

__

The end of the school year finally came, leaving many Hogwarts students to come home for the summer holiday. For some, this was their first year at the school for young witches and wizards, eager to share their stories with their families. For others, it was their final trip from the platform, until they choose to have kids of their own to see off. Regardless, the reunion of the various families on the platform at Kings Cross was a warm one.

“Dad…” Kayda moaned, trying to wriggle herself from Charlie’s grip. No luck.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Charlie exclaimed, hugging his daughter tighter. “Missed your birthday, two weeks ago! Consider it a late birthday present.”

“I’m eighteen now, I don’t need to be coddled at the platform,” Kayda sighed, patting her dad’s back. After finally wriggling herself free, Kayda nodded at her friends passing by, snickering at her father’s bear hug. “You can hug me more at home.”

“I plan on it,” Charlie beamed. Coming from the other end of the platform, (Y/N) walked between two redheaded girls, identical in their freckled face, both pushing their respective carts. “I see your mum found your sisters. Why didn’t you sit with them?”

“I sat with them at the beginning of the year,” Kayda shrugged. “I offered for them to sit in my compartment, but they said they had their own friends now,” she looked up, noting the presence of her sisters and mother. “Hey, mum.”

“Kayda,” (Y/N) said, tears glistening her eyes. “I know you probably don’t want a hug right now,” Kayda gave her dad a pointed look. Charlie smirked, shrugging. “But know that I’m so proud of you.”

“What about us?” the twin wearing a Slytherin scarf retorted, eyes turned downward, almost sad.

“Yeah, aren’t you proud of me and Harper?” the other added.

“Ellie…” Charlie sighed. “You know we’re proud of you two, but Kay just finished her schooling. It’s a big deal.”

“Well we just finished our first year. Big deal all around!” Ellie exclaimed, crossing her arms. “Besides, Kayda didn’t get to do hardly any of the fun stuff we did.”

“Like what? Going into each other’s common rooms? Wearing the other’s uniforms?” Kayda laughed, mirroring her sister’s stance. “I know you two switched. Often, at that.”

“You two did what?” (Y/N) asked, glaring at her twin daughters. “Harper? Ellie?”

“Come on mum,” Ellie laughed. “You really think that we wouldn’t try it? Harper’s in Slytherin, I’m in Gryffindor. It was bound to happen.”

“Ellie!” Harper hissed. “I thought we weren’t going to tell mum and dad!”

“Did you ever get caught?” Charlie asked.

“No,” Harper admitted. “Well, I guess Kayda knew, but she’s our sister, so…”

“Nice,” Charlie said, lifting his hand up, ready to give his daughters high-fives. (Y/N) grabbed his wrist, bringing it down.

“Charlie!” (Y/N) said, glaring at her husband. “I guess it’s not the end of the world. I should’ve known the two of you would’ve pulled something like that the second we heard you two weren’t in the same House.”

“I’m sorry, mum,” Harper said, her hands gripping her cart a bit tighter. “But on the bright side, I grew to like my House a bit better, even after everyone made fun of me being a Weasley!”

“Yeah?” (Y/N) smiled, noting the way her daughter’s blue eyes lit up. She had been worried about this very thing. Not every day a Weasley gets put into Slytherin House, is it? “How so?”

“Conrad has been hanging out with me in the common room and helping me study,” Harper said, smiling lightly. “He’s been keeping the bullies away too!”

“Conrad Lee? Barnaby’s son?” Charlie asked, crossing his arms. Harper nodded. “He’s a nice kid, coming from his parents it was bound to happen,” Charlie laughed, recalling the Magizoologist and his Curse-Breaker wife, close friends of his from his time at Hogwarts. “I figured he’d look out for you.”

“He only did that because Kayda asked him to do it,” Ellie said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t know how, seeing as they snog more than talk—”

“Ellie!” Kayda exclaimed, slapping her sister’s arm. Ellie winced for just a moment, fully prepared for the slap she received. “Shut it!”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Kay,” (Y/N) laughed, the panic on Kayda’s face not fading. “Conrad’s a nice boy. His mum and dad raised him well,” she smiled, patting her daughter’s back. “You’ve always got off well with him whenever they’d come to visit. Playing around in the dirt and whatnot.”

“Isn’t he a year younger than you?” Charlie asked, eyes pointed at Kayda, crossing his arms.

“Don’t you and mum have like five years between the two of you?” Kayda retorted, mirroring his pose.

“She has a point, Charlie,” (Y/N) laughed. “Enough of this idle chatting! We have a portkey to make if we want to get back to the cottage in time,” She pushed the twin’s backs, pushing their carts forward.

“You just don’t want to be stuck chatting with the entire family,” Ellie yawned, slowing her pace.

“I talked with Harry and Ginny, James just got done with his second year,” (Y/N) scoffed. “Your father caught up with Bill and Percy with their girls, too. We’re seeing Fred and George for dinner, we’ll be chatting with them then.”

“I don’t buy it.”

__

The warm glow of the kitchen radiated throughout the cottage. After Charlie and (Y/N) received the news of their, rather unexpected twins, the two moved to the Romanian countryside. It was farther off from the sanctuary, so Charlie had to either Apparate or take his broom, usually he chose the latter, enjoying the quiet moments of the morning rolling through the valley from up high, wind in his hair.

“Dad, should I take the pie out of the oven?” Harper asked, staring at the light brown crust intently.

“No,” Charlie hummed, pushing his sleeves up. He continued chopping the onions. “Shut the oven door, Harpy.”

“Sorry,” Harper said, gently shutting the door. Her fingers traced over the handle for a brief moment. “Do you need any help?”

“Blimey, I thought you’d never ask,” Charlie laughed, tilting his head at the aprons hung on the wall. “Grab your apron, kiddo.”

“Mum’s soup recipe?” Harper asked, tying the red apron around her waist, enjoying the feeling. She always liked helping her father out in the kitchen, ever since she was young. Molly often noted how her knife skills outshone those of her father, bringing much pride to the girl.“I can cut the carrots—”  

“No carrots,” Charlie said, sternly.

“Right, sorry dad,” Harper giggled. “I quite like the carrots in this soup though. Mum added them whenever you were out for work…”

“Well I’m here right now,” Charlie huffed, pushing the onions into the simmering pot on the stove. “You can chop the cabbage. Speaking of your mum, is she still helping your sister pack?”

“Yeah,” Harper nodded, eyes focused on her knife. She hadn’t had much practice at school, only using the skills in Potions class. “Why are you letting her move?”

“She’s an adult,” Charlie shrugged, stirring the burbling pot. “She said that she got a job and plans on moving this summer to start it. Still hasn’t told us the job… but she said she’ll tell us tonight.”

“Aren’t you going to miss her?”

“Of course I am,” Charlie said, washing his hands. “You, on the other hand, aren’t allowed to move out. Ever.”

“Dad!” Harper giggled. “I don’t want to move anyway. I missed the dragons terribly enough when I was at school.”

“The dragons missed you too. Well, I can only imagine. Can’t speak dragon. Harriet seemed rather glum, though,” Charlie clicked, drying his hands off with a towel. “Wait until third year,” Charlie mused, crossing his arms. “Care of Magical Creatures is going to blow your mind, kiddo.”

Charlie loved all of his daughters equally, so he said, but the connection he had with Harper was undeniable. While Kayda took much after her uncles—to Charlie’s dismay—and Ellie took after her mum—to an extent, the lip on that girl was unquestionably a Weasley trait—Harper took most after Charlie. She adored creatures, dragons especially. He would take her to the sanctuary whenever she asked, from a distance, per (Y/N)’s request. She was soft-spoken, hardly the one to lead her siblings, but her heart was bigger than her mouth.

“I can’t wait!”

“Can’t wait for what?” Ellie asked, throwing herself onto one of the kitchen chairs.

“To learn something I’m genuinely interested in,” Harper said, finishing her cabbage. She silently looked at Charlie, who nodded. “I mean, I like Charms and Potions, but I have a feeling Care of Magical Creatures is going to be a good one.”

“Well, I like Herbology—”

“You like Professor Longbottom’s face,” Harper snickered, pushing the cabbage into the pot.

“I never would’ve pegged you for the Herbology type, Eleanor,” Kayda smiled, walking into the kitchen. “Smells good, dad.”

“Shove it! Both of you!” Ellie exclaimed, her face growing pink. She tapped her nails against the counter. “I-I just think he’s a good teacher, that’s all.”

“He’s married you ninny,” Kayda said, flicking Ellie’s forehead. “Or did you not pay attention to the way he stares so sappily at the Potions Professor?”

“Wait, that’s his wife?” Ellie asked, rubbing her now red forehead. “They don’t have the same last name, though!”

“It’d be confusing to have two Professor Longbottom’s, wouldn’t it?” Kayda laughed. “She uses her maiden name for teaching at school. Her last name’s still Longbottom, though.”

“How do you know?” Ellie spat, voice dripping with venom.

“I took her N.E.W.Ts level class. Hardly a big class,” Kayda shrugged. “Always willing to chat with us, especially if we’ve done well in lesson. You never would’ve stood a chance, you’re nearly twelve.”

“I know,” Ellie huffed, the realization dawning upon her.

“Charlie,” (Y/N) said, stepping into the kitchen. “Oh, everyone’s here. It’s been a while since the kitchen was this full…”

“Flower, don’t start crying again,” Charlie said, wrapping his arms around his wife. “If you start crying, I’ll start crying.”

“You two are a bunch of saps,” Kayda laughed, noting her parent’s glistening eyes.

“Yet, you came from this bunch of saps,” Charlie laughed, kissing (Y/N)’s temple. “Think about that.”

“I try not to think too deeply about it,” Kayda said, rolling her eyes, fighting back a grin. She missed her parents, no matter how disgusting their lovey-dovey nature may be. “What time are Fred and George coming?”

“Any minute now,” (Y/N) said, glancing at the clock. “Fred said they’d Floo here by six—”

“Did someone say my name?” A voice bellowed from the living room.

Kayda’s eyes lit up, a grin spreading to her face. “Uncle Fred!”

“Hey there, partner,” Fred winked, pulling his niece into a side hug. “Hi (Y/N). Hi Charlie.”

“Glad to see you still don’t pick favorites,” Charlie smiled, nodding at his brother.

“We could never, Charlie. Just because we like our little Kay-Kay better than the two of you doesn’t mean we pick favorites,” George said, entering the conversation. “Honestly, you’d think our brother would know us better.”

“No, not at all,” (Y/N) laughed. “Where’s Angelina? Or the kids?”

“Get this,” Fred moved his voice to a small whisper. “Dragon pox, the both of them.”

“Fred’s lying,” George laughed. “Mine’s at his mum’s this week,” he shrugged.

“You’re right,” Fred sighed, taking off his bright orange jacket. “Angelina wanted to spend more time with our boy now that he’s home from his first year, much like Harper and Ellie. Nearly bit my head off when I told her I was coming here tonight instead.”

“They’ll all be sorely missed,” (Y/N) hummed, glancing at the large pot on the stove. “Though, had you two told me, I wouldn’t have made so much soup—”

“You didn’t make the soup, dad did!” Ellie pointed.

“And I helped!” Harper added, crossing her arms.

“You should’ve never had more kids, mum,” Kayda laughed. “Little snitches, the both of them.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years,” Fred agreed, placing his arm around Kayda’s shoulder. “One and done. Angelina and I listened to it. George had no choice, poor girl broke it off with him after their little one was born—”

“Honestly, Fred? Pipe down,” George said, growing annoyed. George never liked talking about his ex-girlfriend much. They had dated for a few years before she became pregnant, but they split a year after their son was born.

“Please,” (Y/N) scoffed, trying to diffuse the situation. “You two were beyond thrilled when you found out that Charlie and I were having twins!”

“We thought you’d name them after us!” George exclaimed, falling wistfully onto a dining chair. “But then you had more girls, what a waste of perfectly good names!”

“Technically they did,” Ellie said, groaning. “I’ve hated my middle name as long as I can remember.”

“I quite like mine…” Harper said, voice growing small.

“Your name isn’t ‘Eleanor Frederica’, Harper. All my friends have normal middle names, but no,” Ellie pointed at Charlie and (Y/N). “You had to make my life hard!”

“Ellie,” (Y/N) sighed. “Middle names aren’t the end of the world. Be happy you’re named after two of the coolest people on this planet.”

“Gross,” Ellie groaned again. “If you want to name me after someone cool, take a look at James! He has a cool name! James Sirius Potter, even the sound of it makes people sigh!”

“Ellie, we love your Aunt Gin,” Charlie said, glancing down, “but we’ve never been in real favor of their children’s names. A bit heavy handed, honestly.”

“When she told us the name of little Al, we nearly passed out,” George nodded. “Next year’s going to be a fun one for him, starting school with a namesake like that.”

“Having Frederica and Georgina is the least of your worries,” Fred laughed. “At least you,” he pointed at Ellie, “you got the better of the two.”

“I prefer Harper’s name,” George quipped, “sounds cooler, more hip.”

“Can we stop talking about my children’s names?” (Y/N) said, finally growing tired of the arguing. “Ellie, sweetheart, your name is fine. Fred, George, both of the twins names are equally sweet, be grateful that Charlie agreed with the idea.”

“It’s true,” Charlie hummed. “I wanted more dragon-related names…”

“I could’ve had a dragon name?!” Harper practically screamed, forcing her voice towards her parents. “Why does Kayda get one?”

“People don’t mispronounce your name,” Kayda retorted. “Never get ‘Kayla’ Weasley? Do you?”

“Oh my God,” (Y/N) groaned. “I wanted to have a normal family dinner, now my daughters are screaming bloody murder about their names—”

“Sounds like a normal Weasley dinner if I’ve ever seen one,” Charlie said, ignoring the bickering, the loudest coming from his three daughters. “Love, you knew full well what you got yourself into almost twenty years ago.”

“Hardly gave me a moment to think about it, didn’t you?” (Y/N) smiled, glancing up at her husband. “Pulled the rug out from beneath me that day.”

“Like you weren’t expecting it,” Charlie smirked. “I told you almost a year in that I wanted to marry you. Besides, you said yes.”

“I did. I don’t regret it,” (Y/N) sighed, glancing at her beautiful daughters, now arguing with their lively uncles. “How could I regret this?”

__

“The soup was great Charlie,” (Y/N) said, dabbing a napkin on her lip. “Harper, you did a great job helping.”

“Thanks, mum,” Harper smiled, feeling the pride well in her chest.

“Fred? George? You two have been awfully quiet,” Charlie said, noting his brother’s unlikely silence, “what’s up?”

“Well…”

“Actually…”

The twins looked to Kayda, who still had a spoon in her mouth. All of the Weasley’s eyes fell to her, watching as she fumbled with the silverware.

“Oh,” Kayda said, fumbling with her hands. “Do you think…?” She looked to her uncles, as if for permission. Fred nodded, George merely winking. “Well, I suppose,” she stood, seated at the foot of the table. “So, I’ve accepted a job—”

“We know,” Ellie sighed, twirling her spoon against the table. “You’ve only been talking about it the last month of school…”

“Eleanor,” Charlie hissed, eyeing his daughter. “Let your sister speak.

“Sorry,” Ellie lied. She hardly was sorry about anything.

“Anyway,” Kayda said, scowling at her younger sister for a moment. “So you know Zonko’s, in Hogsmeade? I’ve accepted a management position there—well, not at Zonko’s, I wouldn’t work there,” Kayda paused, flushing over her words. “I mean, I wouldn’t not work there, but I’ve been working at Fred and George’s place the last few summers and holiday breaks, a-and they’ve offered to buy out Zonko’s and—”

“Spit it out!” Ellie cut Kayda off again, growing more annoyed.

“Alright!” Kayda exclaimed, slamming her hands onto the table. “Fred and George are opening a branch of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes in Hogsmeade, in the old Zonko’s shop, and they’ve asked me to be the manager, want me to run it.”

“Kayda, that’s wonderful!” (Y/N) said, clasping her hands together. She looked to her brother in-laws. “You’ve always wanted to buy out Zonko’s, why now?”

“Well, we finally have our little prodigy out of school,” Fred looked to (Y/N). “Seeing as you lot wouldn’t let her drop out early, much like her successful uncles—”

“Who turned out to be quite the entrepreneurs despite it all…” George added.

“I wasn’t going to drop out, mum,” Kayda said, assuring her mother. “It seemed like a good time, me fresh out of school, ready to take it on.”

“So you’re running it on your own?” Charlie asked, eyeing his daughter down, a bit of hesitation in his voice. “All by yourself?”

“We’re going to let her do as much as she wants on her own, but we’re always a call away,” George said, fiddling with his spoon. “She’s already come up with at least a hundred and ten new ideas for products and marketing—”

“All based on what a student is really looking for outta jokes and tricks these days,” Fred said, cracking his knuckles. “Gotta keep the products young and hip as we can, what better way than insight and perspective from a more recent former student? Considering the market is loads of Hogwarts students on their weekends off?”

“I suppose…” Charlie mumbled, looking in his hands. “Are you going to be living on your own?”

“Dad, I’m eighteen, I think I can manage on my own, especially in Hogsmeade. I found a little apartment to lease, it’s near the shop.”

“I’m sure Conrad’s going to be moving in after next year anyway…” Harper mumbled from her mother’s side, glancing at her half-full bowl of soup. She didn’t exactly have the appetite for it, all things considered.

“He’s thinking about it,” Kayda added. “We’ve talked about it.”

“Nope,” Charlie stood up from the table, pushing his chair back. “Nope, not happening. Absolutely not.”

“Charlie…” (Y/N) sighed, pressing her hand against her husband’s forearm, her fingers tracing a recent burn.

“Nope, not happening until I sit down with the Lee’s,” Charlie said, pacing lightly. “Maybe take Conrad down to the sanctuary…”

“Dad!” Kayda cried. “My boyfriend doesn’t need an interrogation!”

“Boyfriend?!”

“This is getting good,” Fred said, leaning into his brother’s good ear.

“Way better than what mum used to spout, Charlie’s a spittin’ image of her I reckon,” George added, leaning back in his chair, noting how red Charlie’s face was turning. The father and daughter continued to shout, much to (Y/N)’s dismay. Her head was in her hands, sighing loudly.

“See, mum? This is what happens when you let your daughter run wild with a Slytherin,” Ellie said, reaching over the long table to gain her mother’s attention. “Dad’s gone mental.”

“I’m a Slytherin!” Harper added, her cheeks growing pink. “What does that say about me?”

“You know I love you, Harper,” Ellie sighed, looking at her twin. “But Slytherin stinks. Your common room isn’t even all that neat, green is such a boring color and your Quidditch team sucks. Besides, a Weasley in Slytherin? How absurd! Half the Great Hall nearly lost their lunch at the sight!”

“Hey!”

It wasn’t long before the entire table was up in a roaring thunder, the youngest Weasley twins were bickering—like always— Kayda and Charlie were near a dueling stance over some boy, and the eldest twins just sat back and laughed at the continued horror. (Y/N) sat idly by, truly ignorant to her wishes of a functioning family unit. How long had she waited for a moment like this? Her family back together? Surely she didn’t expect her eldest and her husband going almost as far as a duel, she also didn’t expect her youngest daring to speak the few swears she picked up at school, either.

But, deep down, (Y/N) knew this was her ideal life, the one she had dreamed of years ago. A hearty family, filled with enough personality to go around thrice the time as normal. Her daughters were intelligent, bright and full of spunk, her in-laws were closer to her than blood would allow and her husband… Godric, her husband was more than she could’ve dreamed, attentive, loving and protective of their family—even if it was a sore subject in the moment, considering the environment. (Y/N) knew that the dream life she had planned was far from her reality, but she wouldn’t change it for the world. After all,

She was a Weasley.

__

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[pcychedelic]

Purple Rain (Part II)

Relationship(s): Kim Junmyeon/Reader

Tags: Professor-student relationship, college AU, slowburn; angst, smut

Rating: Explicit (mature themes, strong language, and sex)

Synopsis:  After a fateful encounter that results in the trunk of your car getting wrecked, the handsome stranger responsible for it turns up in your lecture hall and introduces himself as the professor.

Chapters [Word Count]:

Part I: Chapters 1 to 5

Chapter 6 [3.6k]

Chapter 7 [3.8k]

Chapter 8 [3.4k]

Chapter 9 [6.0k] + Chapter 9.5 [4.2k] ᴺᴱᵂ

Next update to be determined

Click on the links above to read the latest chapter on Asianfanfics (AFF).

Friendly reminder that mature words are censored when you’re reading as a guest on AFF, so make sure to log into your AFF account and turn off the content filter to read the chapters without censors.

Read Chapter 6 below.

Chapter 6

The urgent knocking on your apartment door interrupts you in the middle of making dinner. You glance at the wall clock, the time reading 9:01 p.m., and you wonder who could possibly be at the other side of the door at this hour. You aren’t expecting anyone this late at night.

You pad toward the door in your bare feet. A familiar face greets you when you peek through the peephole, though the sight of him standing outside your apartment door isn’t familiar at all. It’s so strange that you have to remind yourself that you aren’t dreaming.

You open the door.

“Junmyeon?”

“Hi,” he smiles. “Can I come in?”

“Uh…”

“Were you studying?” he asks, already taking off his jacket. “I hope I’m not bothering you. I should’ve texted first, but I kinda came here on a whim.”

You shake your head. “No, no. I was just making dinner.” You open the door wider and let him inside, bringing him house slippers to change into.

“What’s for dinner?” He looks around your apartment, his eyes eventually settling on your kitchen counter. A smirk creeps into his lips when he sees the pot of water over the stove and the noodle packs. “Instant ramen,” he says. “How very… college student of you.”

“Hey!” you protest. “I happen to like instant ramen, thank you very much. It’s delicious and it’s cheap.”

Junmyeon scoffs as he sits on the couch. “You’ve deluded yourself into liking it because it’s cheap,” he corrects. “Stop eating that garbage. Your body will thank you in ten years.”

“I’m sorry, what are you doing here again?” you ask, because you’re pretty sure that he isn’t there to just criticize your dinner choices. “And how did you come up? Mr. Bong just let you?”

You’re not sure if you’re seeing things, but you can swear you just saw Junmyeon’s cheeks blush a little. “Oh, your doorman let me up because… um, because he saw us…”

“Oh.” Now you’re blushing, too. “Right.”

You know that he’s talking about the night of your birthday, the night he drove you home from Esperanza, the night you kissed.

You still remember everything about that kiss, even the tiniest of details. You still remember how Junmyeon’s lips still had a faint taste of strawberries because of the ice cream the two of you shared before he drove you home. You still remember how his perfume smelled like lavender, warm and comforting. You still remember how soft his lips were, and even now, about a week later, a phantom of that kiss still lingers over your mouth.

It had been everything you imagine it would be, and more.

Definitely more.

“Water’s boiling,” Junmyeon says, reeling you back into the present. You head toward the kitchen and put the noodle squares into the pot. Junmyeon follows you, this time settling on a seat at the dining table. “I came here because… Well, I wanted to talk about that night.”

Your heart suddenly feels a bit too heavy on your chest. He’s here to lecture you again, isn’t he?

“I’m sorry,” you tell him.

Junmyeon doesn’t say anything. But you feel him stand up from his seat and walk toward you, coming closer and closer until he’s close enough that the skin on your neck tingles from his proximity.

“I’m not,” he whispers.

“You’re not what?”

“I’m not sorry.” You turn around, and the first thing you see is Junmyeon’s chest. He towers a couple of inches over you, so you have to look up to meet his eyes. “I’m not sorry,” he repeats. “God knows how many times I’ve imagined that happening. I know it’s a wrong thing to imagine, but it’s true. And I’m not sorry.”

“Jun—”

“But,” he cuts you off, “that doesn’t mean we can be reckless now. I like you. A lot. Maybe more than a lot. And I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, which is why we have to be careful.”

“I understand.” Truly, you do. Junmyeon has said it over and over again, that he doesn’t want you to get in trouble because of him and especially now that you’re just a few exams away from graduating.

After all, you know now how Junmyeon feels about you. I like you, he had said. That’s a guarantee you didn’t have before, and now that you do have it, it makes the complications more bearable.

“You only have about a month and a half left,” Junmyeon says. “After that, we’ll talk again. If our feelings haven’t changed, that is.”

You shake your head. “I’m afraid my feelings aren’t going anywhere. Not sure about yours, though…”

Junmyeon laughs, his cheeks beaming as he does. “My feelings don’t change so easily, either.”

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“I can’t,” he says. “I have to grade a bunch of term papers. I still haven’t read and graded yours, to be honest. Besides, I’m not really a huge fan of instant noodles.”

You playfully slap his arm. “Stop making fun of my dinner.”

“Alright,” Junmyeon laughs again, and you can swear that it’s the sweetest sound you’ve heard all your life. “Good luck on the rest of your finals.”

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “Don’t I get a kiss? For good luck?”

The smile dissolves on Junmyeon’s face. He steps toward you, walking until his face is only a couple of inches away from yours. He cups your cheek in his right hand, the pad of his thumb brushing your lower lip. An electric jolt races up your spine.

But he pulls away.

“No more kisses until graduation,” he says.

You had expected this, but it was worth a try. “And after graduation?”

“We’ll see,” Junmyeon says. You catch the corner of his lips curling into a smirk once more before he suppresses it.

* * *

On your way back home from your last final exam, you run into an old friend at the convenience store you always go to after school.

You almost hadn’t recognized him. The last time you’d had a good look at him had been a couple of months ago, and that hadn’t exactly been a friendly encounter.

“Chanyeol?” you call incredulously as you approach him by the beverage section of the store.

The last time you’d seen him, his dark mop of hair had been long and unruly, almost covering his eyebrows. Now it’s bleached strawberry blonde and cropped short, like a military haircut that has grown a bit longer, the undercuts fading from the crown. Chanyeol has always been handsome, but the clean hairstyle has accentuated his features even better.

“Long time no see,” he says in that deep voice that used to tie your stomach in knots. It still does, actually, but maybe not as much as before.

“Your hair… Wow.”

You can’t stop staring at him. He doesn’t quite look like the Chanyeol you knew, but at the same time, seeing him look so differently floods your brain with so many memories, and surprisingly, none of them are bad.

Perhaps it’s because he looks like a better version of himself, the version you’ve only seen in the happy memories you have of him, the version you would’ve enjoyed to get to know more back when you still loved him.

You still feel something, especially now that he’s standing right in front of you, but you’re sure that it isn’t love. It’s more of a what-if. No other term can encapsulate Chanyeol better. What if.

“Is it bad?” Chanyeol asks shyly, running his hands through his new hair. The dimple that you had always found adorable appears on his cheek as he smiles.

“No, no. It’s good. It’s very good.”

Chanyeol laughs. “That’s a relief. I thought it looked horrible on me since everyone can’t stop staring.”

“Well, it’s just that… You look so different.”

“Yup,” he says, “that was the idea. I wanted to be different. Figured I should look the part while I’m at it.” He looks down at his feet, and swallows nervously. “Listen, um… I’d like to talk about a few things, if that’s okay with you.”

You stare at him for a while, trying to gauge his expression. He looks apologetic — sad, almost — and you can tell which direction this ‘talk’ would be veering toward.

But there are still some loose ends to tie up, and you figured that this conversation is long overdue.

You nod. “Sure, Chanyeol. Let’s talk.”

  The afternoon is relatively cool for an April one. The streets are filled with college students going out to eat and whatnot, filling the air with the buzz of chatter and laughter.

You and Chanyeol have taken a table outside the convenience store, a rectangular umbrella sticking out of its center and hanging over the two of you. Wisps of steam rise from the cups of coffee you’ve bought from the store. Neither one of you has drank.

The tension in the atmosphere is thick, not with resentment, but with awkwardness. It’s as if the two of you have forgotten how to talk with each other. You want to ask him, How did we end up like this? but you already know the answer to that.

Finally, when you can’t stand the silence any longer, you say, “What did you want to talk about, Yeol?”

The nickname feels strange as it rolls off your tongue, like it no longer belongs there, but you say it anyway to show Chanyeol that you no longer harbor bad feelings toward him.

You’ve forgiven him, even if he hadn’t apologized properly, because that’s the only way for you to stop hurting. And it has worked. So far, at least.

“Right,” he says. “I’ve talked to Kyungsoo and Jihyun, too. About the, um, way I’ve been acting for the past months. I’m sorry about ghosting you guys suddenly. It’s just that… I needed a lot of time to myself. To think about the shit I did. I’m sorry if it took so long for me to figure out.”

“I understand,” you answer.

Not It’s okay or It’s fine or any of that. I understand. That’s the best you can give him — your understanding. You’ve forgiven him based on that, but that doesn’t erase the pain he’s caused you.

Chanyeol continues. “I’ve apologized to Kyungsoo and Jihyun about those things, and you’re the last person I wanted to apologize to because… well, you’re the one I hurt the most.”

The cups of coffee have gone cold on the table, and so has your heart.

“I know that apologizing doesn’t cut it, but still, I’m sorry,” says Chanyeol. There’s no question about the sincerity of his tone. It’s the most genuine sentence you’ve heard from him in all the years that you’ve known him. “I’m sorry that I led you on, that I took advantage of how you felt for me, that I didn’t think my actions through when I was with you. I just want you to know that it’s not your fault. None of it is. It’s me. It’s all me. I was too afraid of my own feelings. That’s the truth.”

You stare at him, your throat beginning to tighten.

Chanyeol’s eyes are traveling everywhere except on you. You’re not sure if you’re just imagining things or if his eyes have really turned watery.

“I know that nothing’s gonna change what happened before, and I’m not even entirely sure if it’s gonna change anything now, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the things I did, the things I’m doing right now that I may not even be aware of, the things I’ll do in the future. I’ll never do anything intentionally that’ll hurt you, I just fuck up sometimes. I’m pretty sure I’ll fuck up in the future, too, but I’ll try to be better. I’ll try if it’s the last thing I do. I care about you. A lot.”

The awkwardness seeps back into the air. Chanyeol picks up his coffee, which probably doesn’t taste that good anymore, and takes a small sip from it.

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago, Yeol,” you say after a few seconds of silence. “There’s nothing else to forgive. But I appreciate your apology.”

It’s true. What’s done is done. Neither of you can do anything about the bad memories you have of each other now. All you can do is move past all that.

Chanyeol may have done a lot of hurtful things, whether intentionally or not, but it’s not his fault that he didn’t love you the way you loved him.

“I know I’m not in the position to ask for favors, but can I ask one all the same?” Chanyeol asks.

“Sure.”

“Can we be friends again?”

You smile. “I’d like that. Yeah, let’s try again as friends.”

Chanyeol’s lips curl into a smile as well, his dimple making another appearance. “Thank you. For hearing me out. And for the coffee,” he says. “See you around?”

“You can’t stay for a while?”

Chanyeol regretfully shakes his head. “I have to study for my major demo prod final.”

You can’t help but laugh. “You are different,” you say. “You never studied before.”

“Never too late to start again, right?” Chanyeol laughs. “See you around.”

You nod. Chanyeol stands up from his seat, gives you one last smile, and then disappears into the fading afternoon. Your heart feels the lightest it has been for a while, and you wonder until when this happiness will be good for this time around.

Apparently not for long.

Your phone dings, displaying an e-mail notification from the last person you’d expect it from. The message reads:

  From: CCU Department of Literature (literature@ccu.edu)

  Good day.

  You are respectfully invited to the department chair’s office for a dialogue regarding a sensitive matter. Kindly reply promptly with the schedule that works for you.

  Best,

  Lee Yeong Hoon, PhD

Chair, Literature Department

* * *

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst inside your chest any minute now.

You’ve never been personally asked into the department chair’s office in all your four years in college, and the churning in your gut tells you that your first visit isn’t going to be a pleasant one.

Students only ever go to their department chair’s office for either one of two reasons: (1) to ask for recommendation letters, in which case they go willingly, or (2) they fucked up and are in trouble, in which case they’re asked to go whether they like it or not.

You definitely aren’t there to ask for recommendations, so the only other logical option is that you’re monumentally screwed. As far as you’re concerned, you haven’t done anything to warrant the department chair’s attention.

Well, there is one thing…

No, you tell yourself. That’s impossible.

How could Dr. Lee have known? How could anyone have known? You and Junmyeon have been careful enough around campus. Heck, you haven’t seen him more than once outside of campus since the night he drove you home from Esperanza. It just isn’t possible that you’re in trouble because of that.

The shrill, robotic sound of a telephone snaps you back into reality.

The department secretary immediately picks it up. “Sir? Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” She turns to you, placing the handset back on the hook. “Dr. Lee is ready for you, sweetie.”

You can’t quite place the secretary’s expression. Is it distaste? Pity? Nevertheless, you thank her, and then hesitantly make your way toward the office.

The second you open the door and see who’s in the room aside from Dr. Lee, your heart sinks right through the floor. The other man is sitting with his back facing you, but he doesn’t need to turn around for you to know who he is.

Junmyeon.

He’s already occupying one of the two chairs in front of Dr. Lee’s desk, so you naturally go for the other seat. Your entire body has gone cold.

“I suppose you already know why I asked you here this morning,” Dr. Lee says, talking to no one in particular. Neither you nor Junmyeon respond.

Dr. Lee brings out a small, dark brown envelope from one of his desk drawers. He pulls out a single sheet of glossy paper — a photo, you realize — and places it gingerly on the table, as if mishandling it will make it explode.

Junmyeon doesn’t move an inch, perhaps because Dr. Lee has already shown him the photo while you were waiting outside just a few minutes ago. You straighten in your seat, craning your neck to see what’s on the photo.

It’s a bit dark and grainy, like it was taken on a phone from a distance, but there’s no doubt that the two people in the photo are you and Junmyeon. It was taken on that night, the night you sometimes still can’t believe ever happened. There it is, the first kiss you and Junmyeon have shared, immortalized in a photo meant to destroy the both of you here and now.

“This was dropped anonymously into my pigeon hole about a week ago,” says Dr. Lee. “The only people that have seen it are the people in this room right now, and my secretary. She opens my letters, you see.” He takes the photo, puts it back in the envelope, and then returns it inside his drawer. “No one will ever see it again.”

That takes a huge chunk of weight off of your chest, but it doesn’t remove all the dread.

Despite the anxiety simmering in your stomach, you manage to say, “Thank you, sir.”

Dr. Lee simply nods. The neutrality of his features is a bit unsettling, but it’s better than him being angry. Or maybe this is how he naturally is when he’s upset? That’s even more unnerving.

“As Chair of the Literature Department, it’s my responsibility to make sure that… things like this do not spill over to the entire Liberal Arts College.” He said ‘things’ with such dismay that you know he said it not because of the lack of a better term. Dr. Lee continues, “We have to deal with this on our own. Our department cannot have any more attention toward it, especially not after the scandal last trimester with Ms. Jeon. We have to cut off this problem’s head before it bites anyone else. Do you remember your Greek mythology?” he asks you.

The sudden question causes your brows to furrow in confusion. “Sir?”

“You were my student in World Literature 1. Do you remember your Greek mythology?” Dr. Lee repeats.

“Uh, I g-guess, sir.”

“Good. You will understand my analogy, then. You see, problems are like the Hydra — cut off one head, two more take its place. How did Hercules kill it?”

The answer comes naturally to you. “He burned the stumps before they grew back.”

“Good,” Dr. Lee says, his tone void of any emotion. “We have already cut off the head by not telling anyone else, and this is how we will burn the stump of this problem so that it remains beheaded.” He leans back on his chair, folding his arms in front of him. “I have already discussed this with Mr. Kim earlier, but for your sake, we will discuss it again.”

You turn to look at Junmyeon — the first good look you’ve had of him since you entered the room. His face is as rigid as a rock, his eyebrows scrunched together. He hasn’t spared you a glance, not once, since you sat down. He hasn’t talked, either.

Dr. Lee sighs. “Given your father’s position in the university and the fact that you are merely awaiting graduation, I am inclined to grant you the utmost leniency regarding this matter. Personally, I do not care about other people’s relationships, especially if they are of legal age, but unfortunately, my personal bias is suspended when I am acting as department chair. Because of that, I have no choice but to not invite Mr. Kim to teach at the university next trimester, or in the trimesters to come.”

Did you hear him correctly?

“You’re firing him,” you sum up. Your voice doesn’t feel like it’s coming from you; it feels like it’s echoing from someplace else.

Dr. Lee leans forward, propping his elbows on the wooden table. “My dear, I am not terminating Mr. Kim’s contract. I am simply not renewing it. There is a difference.”

“Well whatever you call it, it isn’t fair, it isn’t—”

“Don’t,” Junmyeon’s stern voice cuts you off. He throws you a pointed glance, silently saying, Please stop talking right now. He’s angry; that, you are sure of. What you aren’t sure of is if his anger is directed at the whole situation or simply at you.

He has the right to be furious at you, doesn’t he? After all, all of this wouldn’t be happening if you just hadn’t let yourself get swayed by your emotions and kissed him that night.

The fault is yours alone.

“It is settled,” Dr. Lee says with such finality that it’s hard to argue.

Unfortunately, you’d never been one to know when to give up. “Dr. Lee, please. It isn’t his fault, it’s mine. Please don’t—”

“Enough,” the department chair says. His tone has gone from neutral to venomous. “The only reason I am not taking your diploma away from you is because your father is the president of this university. One more outburst like that and I will no longer hesitate to forfeit your degree.” That shuts you right up. Dr. Lee then turns to Junmyeon. “It is settled,” he repeats. “Thank you for your time in this university, Mr. Kim. I wish you good fortune in all your future endeavors.”

Junmyeon stands up from his seat and offers his hand to Dr. Lee. “Thank you, sir,” he says. After the handshake, Junmyeon walks out of the room, and all you can do is watch.

What you don’t know is that it’ll  be a while before you see him again.

If you enjoy my work and want to send a bit more love, you can buy me a coffee! Donors will receive a small gift from me. ♡

< Part I (Chapters 1 to 5) • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 > Chapter 8 > Chapter 9 > Chapter 9.5 >

[bigcat-hanson]

Staring At The Stars [Part Two] | Arin Hanson X Reader

Part One

Arin’s voice is absolutely breathtaking. What will he think when he hears yours?

Word Count: 1130

     Your coffee had run out quickly, leaving you to resort to the questionable, cold pot in the studio for the next few hours. Despite the amount of caffeine that you thought you had consumed over the past few hours, Ross had to shake you awake at least four times by the time dinner came around.

     “Are you sure you’re good to drive? I don’t want you to crash behind the wheel.”

     “I’m good. It’s only a few blocks away. I can manage. Holy shit, it’s cold out here.”

     “I’ll buy you a real coffee when we get there. Drive safe.”

     “You too, Ross.”

     If there was one thing you couldn’t stand, it was drunk people who couldn’t sing to save their lives trying to do karaoke. The god-awful, tone-deaf screeching that you were met with as you walked into the restaurant woke you up better than you knew any amount of caffeine ever would. It took every ounce of determination you had not to just walk out when you saw Dan taking a seat with everyone else at a table close to the speakers.

     “If this guy’s so-called singing makes me claw my ears off, your eyes are next, Avidan,” you practically shouted, sitting across from him in the only open seat next to Arin. 

     “I didn’t even choose the table! Ross got here first!” 

     You were hoping the look you gave Ross would at least scare him a little, but all you got in return was a sly smirk that you wanted to smack off his face.

     “Oh, you’re in for it now, O’Donovan!” you threatened, trying to fight the smile that desperately tried to show itself. 

     “Someone hates karaoke,” Arin chimed in.

     “I don’t hate karaoke. I hate drunk people who think they’re doing karaoke but are actually just slurring bullshit into a mic.”

     “Well you’re not gonna be happy when I get up there later,” Dan laughed, thanking the waitress that had just placed his drink in front of him.

     “Lord help me.”

~~~~~

     You wanted to kill him. You hated him for winning, and you hated yourself for agreeing to Ross’ stupid arm wrestling challenge. You knew you weren’t all that likely to win, but your competitive side got the better of you. The look of satisfaction on his face pissed you off, but what pissed you off the most was what you now had to do.

     “What are you waiting for, (y/n)? Get up there!” he laughed, gesturing to the stage with the glass in his hand. 

    “I can’t even sing, man! This isn’t fair!”

     “You shouldn’t have lost then!”

     “Fuck. Alright, just shut up and pick the song.”

     “I’m sorry, what’s the deal here?” Arin asked, sitting down right as you pushed out your chair.

     “I was a dumbass and arm wrestled Ross. The deal was that whoever lost had to do karaoke to whatever song the winner chose, and I am about to- no, Ross is about to ruin my social life because I’m definitely not gonna be able to show my face after this.”

     “Oh boy. I mean, good luck. I’m sure you’ll be fine, but he is probably picking something that’ll feel ridiculous.”

     “End me.” You groaned as Ross gestured for you to get on the stage, mentally preparing yourself for whatever humiliation was about to come your way. You took a moment before giving the ok to figure out just what he had given you. Part of you was happy that it wasn’t something insanely weird, but it was definitely embarrassing. Of course he would choose the song he knew you had on repeat as an outlet for your feelings for Arin. You never should’ve told him. Bastard.

     You gave the ok, but you were not feeling ok.

Think of me when you're out, when you're out there

I'll beg you nice from my knees

And when the world treats you way too fairly

Well it's a shame I'm a dream

     Looking at anyone was out of the question. Your eyes were glued to the screen in front of you, pretending to read the lyrics that were burned into your brain by this point. 

All I wanted was you

All I wanted was you

     It was the longest four minutes of your life. You knew they were looking at you the whole time, and there was no way they didn’t hear any of it because they were so close to the speakers. The second it was over, you placed the mic on its stand, ran to the table, grabbed your coat, and hauled ass out to the parking lot.

     You were just about to unlock your car when you heard a voice behind you.

     “(Y/n)!” Arin was the last person you wanted to see right now, so of course he was the one to run out after you.

     “I’ve gotta go, man. I’m really sorry. It was really fun being there for the recording sesh earlier, but it’s getting late.” You sifted through the keys on your keyring as you spoke, hoping that he would sense your urgency and go back inside without pressing the issue further.

     “Are you ok? You don’t usually run out like that.”

     “Well, usually I don’t do embarrassing shit like that in front of the only people whose opinions I give a fuck about.”

     “Shit, was it really that bad? I thought you did great-”

     “Well it was nowhere near as good as Dan and sure as hell not as good as you. Not to mention the fact that he definitely chose that song just to embarrass me in front of you.”

     “In front of me? Why? I’ve never even heard-”

     “I really just want to go home and sleep off the overwhelming urge to punch something, ok? I’m overwhelmed as hell and I just-... I can’t be around you or Ross right now.”

     “Can I at least ask why not me?”

     “Fuck Arin, I’m into you! Ross knows that, and that’s why he chose that fucking song. He’s been pushing me to tell you nonstop an he finally got his fucking wish. I didn’t want to say anything because I knew you would never reciprocate, but at this point, fuck it. I might as well humiliate myself one last time before I-”

     You didn’t expect the hand pulling you closer, and you especially didn’t expect the lips that were now pressed against yours. The shock wore off fast, and you melted right into him. The cold night air was gone, replaced with the warmth of the hands that were settled on either side of your face.

     “Are you gonna shut up and come back inside now?”

     “I don’t know, I think I might need a little more convincing.”

     “Oh, my god. Come here.”

[the--blackdahlia]

Too Young to Fall in Love Chapter 38 (Dirt!Nikki x Reader)

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 38

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings:  Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

The outing for ice cream was a success, even with Ziggy trying to pull them everywhere he wanted to explore and making them fall into each other when he wrapped around their legs. When they returned to Nikki’s house, Nikki dropped (Y/n) off at her room giving her a chaste kiss goodnight before retreating up stairs to his. Laying in his bed he gave a small smile closing his eyes allowing the new memories to sink into his mind.

(Y/n) laid in her room. She heard whimpering outside her door. Opening it, Ziggy ran in and jumped on the bed.

“Does your daddy not let you sleep in his room?” She asked, kissing the top of his head. “It’s okay. You can sleep with me. No one else seems to want to.” She crawled back under the covers. Ziggy laid his head on her legs, falling asleep by her.

Nikki awoke the next morning and sat up concerned. Usually, Ziggy would be scratching at his door whimpering. Grabbing his robe he put it on and walked down stairs. The dog was nowhere in site. Nikki ran to every room in the house looking for the dog trying not to wake (Y/n).  But he had now luck. He didn’t want to do it, but he opened the door to (Y/n)’s room. And that’s where he found the dog, spread out on the bed by (Y/n).

“Ziggy,” he whispered to the dog. “Come on boy.” Nikki sighed when the dog simply lifted his head and huffed. With a silent groan he walked up to the dog and pet him. “Come on you need to go out to pee man.” he whispered as the dog reluctantly followed him.

Nikki opened the door to the patio letting Ziggy run around sniffing and marking his territory. With a sigh, he walked to the coffee maker and made a pot of coffee.

“Shit!” He heard (Y/n) yell before some thuds coming from the guest room.

“(Y/n)?!” Nikki rushed towards the guest room, “You ok?”

“I’m late getting to the office!” She yelled. She was still on New York time. Where in her head it was 10, it was only 7. Nikki couldn’t believe he was even awake that early, but the absence of a dog scratching at his door threw him off.

“(Y/n), you’re in California,” he walked up to her and held her gently. “It’s 7 am.” She took a deep breath and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’ve been in more timezones in the past month than I have been in my whole life.” She admitted. “I’m just having a hard time keeping everything straight. I’m sure you know all about it. Going to sleep on the bus or plane in one city and waking up in a whole new one miles away.”

“Yeah it was no picnic,” he rubbed her back. “You can go to sleep and I can set an alarm for you. Though honestly you sound like you need a vacation,” he sighed and kissed the top of her head. “How did you sleep?”

“It was okay. The bed is comfy.” She offered him a small smile. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course,” Nikki smiled at her. “I made coffee.”

“Thanks. I can use it.” She followed him to the kitchen. Ziggy happy barked when he saw (Y/n).

“He really likes you,” Nikki smiled as he sipped his coffee. “ I can make breakfast if you want.” Nikki tilted his head at her. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” She offered him a small smile. “I think I want to get a shower if you don’t mind.” She closed her eyes. “Damn it. I didn’t have time to get new stuff.” She sighed. “When it rains it pours. Can I use your car and run to the store?”

“Want me to get dressed and go with you?” he offered.

“Only if you want to. I don’t want to ruin your rockstar image by having you awake before noon.” She laughed a little. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”

Nikki reached for her and pulled her into a hug, “are you sure you’re ok?” he whispered. He could just tell there was something there, he could feel it. She just buried her head in his chest and held on to him. He could feel her shaking in his arms.

“I’ll be okay.” She whispered. “Thank you for everything Nikki.”

“Anytime sweet girl,” he lost himself and pulled her in for a kiss. His fingers raking through her hair. She kissed him back, letting him hold her close as it started to get a little more heated. Pulling away he breathed a bit heavier as he closed his eyes and took in the feel of her next to him. “Sorry.”

“I liked it.” She admitted. “I...I’ll go get dressed.” She sighed and made her way back to the guest room.

Nikki ran his fingers across his own hair and groaned. Maybe Mick was right, maybe he was moving like a sloth. But if he didn’t, he could run the risk of losing her. Feeding Ziggy, he made his way upstairs and got dressed. He looked at the picture from Disneyland all those years ago and tilted his head with an idea.

“Okay, I gotta get some hygiene items, then come back, shower, and head to work.” (Y/n) told Nikki as she came out of the room to where he was waiting. She sighed a little, not wanting to go in but knowing she had to. “They should tell me today if I’m staying here or not.”

“OK,” Nikki said as he held out his hand to her. “Lets go so you can get back here and have a chance to relax before you go in.” he offered her a smile. She smiled back and took his hand, letting him lead her out to the car. They headed out of the neighborhood into town, where he pulled into the store.

“It’s so pretty outside.” (Y/n) whispered. Yeah, New York had sun, but after growing up with sunny beaches and bright color, New York felt dull. “Okay, I’m gonna head in. Do you want to come with?”

“How can I say no to that beautiful face?” he teased as he leaned in and kissed her. “Let’s get you what you need sweet girl.” Nikki walked around and helped her out of the car leading her inside the store.  

(Y/n) made her way to the shampoo. She was browsing the items when someone pulled her down the aisle.

“Don’t scream.” Vanessa whispered.

“Vanessa? What the fuck? Couldn’t you just say hi like a normal person?” (Y/n) laughed.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Vanessa laughed. Nikki looked around. One minute, (Y/n) had been standing there, the next she was gone. He looked around frantically and sighed. He wondered if he messed up? Could she have decided to run off?

“(Y/n)?” he went around the corner of the next aisle but she wasn't there.

“How are things with you and Sixx going?” Vanessa asked as she watched Nikki look for (Y/n).

“Things are good I guess.” She sighed. “It’s like he’s afraid to touch me. But do you blame him?” She sighed and looked down. “I don’t know if he’s just being polite or what. I should get back to him before he has a heart attack or something.”

“Ok hold on.” Vanessa pulled her back. “What are you talking about? And he could survive for a minute while you tell me what’s wrong.”

“He’s kissed me a few times, but every time it starts getting a little heated, he pulls back. He just seems like he wants space between us.” (Y/n) started to tear up. “I messed him up, didn’t I?” Her emotions were so unbalanced here the past few months. She was wondering if her meds weren’t working right.

“Could it just be he wants to take it really slow?” Vanessa reasoned with her. “I mean… maybe he’s scared he’s going to hurt you again (Y/n/n). I think you both just need to get locked in a room and not come out until you’ve fucked each other senseless,” Vanessa sighed.  

“And then Tommy came by last night and told him about the...thing.” (Y/n) siad. She had told Vanessa about it after it had happened and she spent a week in New York with her. “I just, maybe I should’ve stayed in New York. Everyone might have been happier except me.”

“That’s not true,” Nikki muttered from behind her, “Hey Nessa.”

“Hey Nikki,” Vanessa smiled. “I agree with him, that’s not true. A) I need my best friend. B) he was a miserable ass without you.”

“Hey…” Nikki started.

“It’s true now hush!” Vanessa looked at both of them. “Now, both of you get what you both need head back to where ever you were and just fuck already!” she sighed.  

“Vanessa!” (Y/n) shook her head. She looked over at Nikki. “I’m almost done shopping.”

“(Y/n)...” Nikki began. She walked past him, getting her hair stuff. Vanessa and Nikki looked at each other.

“New York stole her soul.” Vanessa whispered to him.

“Yeah, and I’ve been trying to make sure she doesn’t fall apart but…” Nikki sighed.

“I wish I could tell you what she needs, but she’s not even telling me anymore.” Vanessa admitted. She looked over at the bassist, who was watching (Y/n). “I think that there was more to the incident than she’s letting on about, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Nikki sighed and ran his hand across his face. “I… Ness I’ve been fighting really hard, not to just throw her over my shoulder and take her to my bed. I can’t just…. I have to do this right this time.”

“Do you ever think that maybe she’s just happy to even just lay in the same bed as you or something?” Vanessa suggested. Nikki realized then that yesterday, she had been so happy when she woke up after their nap together. And when he visited in New York, she had laughed more and smiled when they were just together.

NIkki grabbed Vanessa by her shoulders and kissed her cheek, “Thanks Ness, I owe you.” he said as he chased after (Y/n).

“I like steak and lobster!” She called after him before shaking her head. “Crazy ass kids.”

Once everything was purchased, Nikki let (Y/n) have her space to get ready for her day. He paced his living room nervously with Ziggy watching him walk back and forth. He needed to find the right way to ask (Y/n) to sleep with him without sleeping with him. Yeah that was going to be a great conversation.

“Okay, I’m gonna call for a cab to take me to the office.” (Y/n) told Nikki. “I...do you want me to see about getting a hotel for the remainder of my stay?” (Y/n) asked him.

“What? NO! I mean no… please don’t go,” Nikki held her hand. “I… ok maybe Mick was right and I’m moving like a sloth here but… maybe tonight we can share one of the beds?” he cringed at his choice of words. “And if you want I can drive you to the office? You won't have to waste your money or hell you can borrow the car.” Nikki rambled.

“If you want to drive me, I wouldn’t mind.” She told him. “I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting.” She offered him a smile.

“You have nothing to be sorry about sweet girl,” Nikki said. “I just want to do this right.”

“I know you do.” (Y/n) told him. “Okay, well are we ready?”

“Wanna drive?” he held out the keys to her and smiled.

“You trust me to do that?” She laughed. “I’ve been told I’m the reason there’s a low speed limit in the hills.” She smirked at him.

He placed the keys in her hand and gave her a smirk, “Let’s live dangerously then.”

“Okay Mr. Wild Side. Let’s go.” (Y/n) snagged his keys and headed out the door.

The drive to MCA was filled with loud rock and laughter. Nikki couldn’t help but smile as he watched (Y/n) having fun.

“Okay, we’re here.” (Y/n) smiled at Nikki. “Want me to call you when I’m done? I’m sure you have to get over to the studio though, don’t you?”  

“Yeah,” Nikk smiled as he got out of the car to switch places with her. “You can call me at the studio and I’ll come pick you up.” He pulled her close to his body and kissed her deeply. She moaned into the kiss but eventually got out of the car and headed inside. Nikki got into the driver's seat and headed towards the band meeting.

Parking his car he made his way inside ignoring the dirty looks Tommy was giving him. He walked up to Mick and gave hims a high five.

“Mick you were right, I was being a complete sloth,” Nikki lifted his hands in defeat.

“You may keep your turtle badge then bassist.” Mick laughed. Tommy wouldn’t even say anything to him. He just looked at his cymbals.

“Ok, so what song should we work on first?” Nikki looked at the guys. “Hooligans Holiday?”  

“That sounds great.” John said, nodding. Tommy huffed.

“Problem?” Nikki asked.

“Yeah. I was worried about my sister and she was sitting in your house.” Tommy grumbled.

“I told you she just showed up and I let her in and we talked ok, I’m sure she would have called you.” Nikki sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you really going to be that petty right now?”

“Yes I am.” Tommy stood up. “Because she seems to trust you more than she trusts her own brother apparently!”

“Look, I don't want to fight Tommy,” Nikki sighed. “She came to me ok what do you want me to say? Maybe it might have to do with how you treated her in the past ok? But don’t be like this not with her not with what she's gone through please?” Tommy just rolled his eyes and slammed down his sticks.

“What she’s gone through?” Tommy asked, staring Nikki down. “She was a fucking coward. Instead of facing her problems, she ran off to New York and tried to kill herself.”

“Yeah I figured when she mentioned whiskey and pills but what was the better option Tommy?” Nikki shook his head, “Staying in a state where her junkie ex boyfriend and junkie brother could what? Remind her of everything that fell apart?”

“Well, she didn’t do a good job at either of her options, did she?” Tommy gave a drunken laugh.

“And then you wonder why she didn’t come to you Tom? Listen to what you just said,” Nikki shook his head and gave Tommy a pitiful look. “I mean am I even still your friend? Or have you been pretending?”

“You’ve been my friend long before you started screwing my sister.” Tommy hissed. John looked over at Mick, wondering what the hell was going on.

“So then why are you acting like a major dick right now?” Nikki spat. He glanced behind Tommy to where Mick had picked up an almost empty bottle of whiskey and waved it around for Nikki to see. The reason that Tommy was being a dick was right in the guitarist hand.

Nikki sighed and closed his eyes and looked at Tommy with pity. “Somebody take him home or call him a cab,” he shook his head and bit his lip. “All you had to do was talk to me Tom.” was all Nikki said as he packed up his bass and looked at Mick. “I’m going to go pick up (Y/n), call me when he gets home safe.”

“Will do bassist. Come on drummer.” Mick said, getting Tommy to his feet. “Trouble in paradise or something?”

“Wife hates me.” He grumbled as they left. Nikki sighed and looked over at John.

“You don’t wanna know man.” Nikki said, shaking his head before heading out.

Driving to MCA, Nikki wondered how he would tell (Y/n) what was going on with Tommy. He felt bad for Tommy, maybe he was a bad friend. Pulling up to the side of the building, Nikki put the car in park and waited.

A little bit later, (Y/n) came out. She made her way over to the car and slid in, leaning her head against the back of the seat.

“That place is a zoo.” She laughed. “How was recording?”

“It was eventful,” Nikki sighed and squeezed her hand. “We both need a long vacation.” he groaned and kissed her hand before making the drive to his house. Opening the door Ziggy barked happily and jumped to both of them.

“Hi boy.” (Y/n) bent down to show him some loving. A bit later, she stood up. “So...I was given my options for MCA. I know for sure I won’t be returning to the office in New York.” (Y/n) told Nikki.

“Ok that’s good,” Nikki smiled. “What options did they give you?”

“If I want to retain my position and pay, I...I have to go to London…” (Y/n) sighed. “And if I’m willing to take a cut and such, I can stay here in LA.”

“What do you want to do?” Nikki led her to the couch and sat with her holding her hands.

“I think...I know, I want to go wherever you’re going.” She told him. “I want to stay wherever you are. That’s why I took the pay cut.”

“(Y/n)...” Nikki whispered, “are you sure that’s what you want? I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I did bad moving to the other side of the US. Could you imagine me in a whole other continent?” (Y/n) laughed a little. “I want to be wherever you are Nikki Sixx, even if it’s just as your friend.”

“I…” Nikki licked his lips and looked at her. “I don’t want to just be your friend (Y/n).” he whispered. (Y/n) looked into those beautiful green eyes.

“I don’t want to be just your friend either.” She told him softly, caressing his cheek.

Nikki leaned into her touch and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat before leaning in and kissing her softly. His fingers raked through her hair with one hand, before snaking around her waist with the other pulling her close. She felt herself pressed up against him, but she knew how this would end. He’d pull back, they’d get food, and she’d go sleep in the guest room. That’s how it had been for months now. She knew the ending to this story. Except, this time Nikki pulled her onto his lap. He let her straddle him as he kept his lips on hers.

“(Y/n)?” he whispered.  

“Y-yeah?” She asked, resting her forehead against his.

“Sleep in my bed tonight?” Nikki pressed a kiss on her lips, “just sleep we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Same to you.” She said, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I don’t want to make you do anything.” She felt him pulling her closer.

“Hungry?” he asked still kissing her. “Or I can just take you to my room right now?”

“Let’s go to bed.” She whispered. “If we’re hungry later, we can always come get a snack.”

“Whatever you want sweet girl,” Nikki muttered against her lips as he carried her to his room. Gently laying her on the bed, he held her close. “Nap time?”

“Sure.” She stretched as he laid her on the bed. “Your bed is bigger than my apartment Nikki.”

Nikki shrugged, “guess I held out hope you’d come back,” he settled under the covers and pulled her close. “This feels nice.”

“Thank you.” She whispered, snuggling into his side. “For everything.” She held onto him, afraid that she was going to wake up alone in New York. That everything would have just been a dream.

“For you, anytime sweet girl,” Nikki muttered as he kissed the top of her head and fell asleep. She fell asleep, her head pillowed on his chest, at peace.

Forever Tags:  @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme

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Too Young to Fall in Love Tags:  @kingbouji3 @leximus98 @thekidbakerinthetardis @crystalbaby12 @shawnsstxtches @knockemdeadgirl @deansgirl1993

[astrodances]

19 with Scroldie!

Anon. Anon, I owe you (and a couple other anons) a thousand-and-one apologies for taking so long to get to these prompts. (What, you sent this in spring??) I don’t know if you’re around anymore, but I’m finally getting to them!

That said, I’m even more sorry that your request actually only plays a small part in this. I ended up coming up with something for my Diamond Thieves AU though, so I thank you for that! (What’s the Diamond Thieves AU, you may ask? Check out chapters 2 and 3 of this.)

Anywho, your prompt from this list was: "kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing” with Scroldie. I hope you enjoy!

AO3 link

A Hot Pair We Will Be

“Damn it, I fold,” Goldie declared, throwing her cards down on the table before her as she leaned back in her chair. The happy, oblivious grin of her opponent as he collected the pot (all they had were coffee beans to bet with) made her cross her arms in sour indignation. “Beginner’s luck,” she mumbled.

Scrooge didn’t miss a beat as he drew the beans into a little pile off to the side, then tossed three back to the center as ante. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

She harrumphed in response, but nevertheless added her ante and began to gather up their cards to shuffle them.

They’d been playing poker for about an hour now––or, more accurately, Goldie was trying to teach Scrooge the ways of the game through trial and error after a couple practice rounds––as they waited for the victims of their next heist from their hotel room’s window. Soon enough, some oil tycoon and his wife would be rolling into Devil’s Dust, and as soon as their carriage stopped at the hotel, the two thieves would make their move.

But for now, poker.

After finishing her shuffle with an expert flourish, Goldie dealt out five cards each to Scrooge and herself while noting, “I still can’t believe you’ve never played poker before.”

“Believe it, lass.”

“But there must’ve been some games going on during all your boat rides around the world. What were you doing instead?" 

Scrooge shifted his glance out the window with a small grimace. "Usually stoking the ship’s boiler so I could be on it in the first place. That, or writing letters.”

Goldie winced. She hadn’t meant to undermine his voyages, but still, the revelation was hard to believe. Almost forty years old and not one hand played before? She shouldn’t have been luring him to the Blackjack to steal his gold nugget; she should’ve been bringing him in to teach him a thing (or two) while having fun.

Still, better late than never. And with a future as uncertain as the unseen cards that lay before her, they had plenty of time to get him up to speed.

Cards dealt, they picked up their hands, and the game commenced.

Three-of-a-kind of twos. Not the best hand, but Goldie could work with it. Keeping her expression neutral, she peeked up at her partner.

Rules and card skills aside, there was one thing that Scrooge desperately needed to work on more than anything else: his poker face. He thought he was being slick by trying to school himself into looking indifferent every time he saw his cards, but right before that, he always gave himself away. If he had a good hand, his eyes would crinkle up with the barest hint of a smile. A bad hand, and he’d flick the corner of his cards with his thumb. In all likelihood, he hadn’t noticed he was doing these things, but Goldie sure had. And as amusing and adorable as it was, she couldn’t let it continue for much longer.

This time, it was a smile, and a rather surprised one at that. He must’ve had an amazing hand, or what he thought was one. Goldie couldn’t tell for sure. Hand rankings were something he was having an easier time learning, or so it seemed.

But she didn’t want to let him win again, not after his luck on the last two rounds. And after he placed a bet of ten coffee beans (their limit), she was determined to not let him win again.

When Scrooge caught a yawn with the back of his hand, Goldie saw her chance to set things straight. After matching his bet, she asked, “More coffee?” After all, they were still conducting a stakeout and needed to stay alert for it.

“Yes, please.” Scrooge laid down his hand on the table and slumped back in his chair as she got up and set their room’s kettle on the stove to heat it up. Popping open the top button of his collar, he added, “I hope these Vanderquacks don’t take too much longer to get here.”

“Should be within the hour.” Goldie sauntered back over to him, draping her arms across his shoulders and pressing a kiss to the corner of his beak, then another, and another. Anything to keep his mind off the lack of carriage outside and, more importantly, their game. Her hands massaged his arms as she kissed further down his neck, and he hummed his content.

By the time the kettle whistled, Scrooge had pulled Goldie to the side of his chair so he could kiss her properly, or as proper as a lazy summer night’s kiss could be, holding her close with a hand on the back of her neck. Goldie was sure that if he had a choice, he would insist on cuddling up together in their bed and listening to the crickets chirp outside for the rest of the night.

A tempting want, but there were people to rob. Coffee to drink. A game to win.

Once they each had a steaming mug of caffeine in front of them once again, the game resumed.

Goldie drew two cards for herself, biting back a sigh when the new cards didn’t offer anything better for her hand. She looked up at Scrooge expectantly. His eyes were analyzing his cards, but other than a long sip from his mug, he did nothing.

When he noticed her waiting, he quirked an eyebrow, prompting her to ask, “Well, aren’t you gonna draw any cards?”

With another glance at his hand, he shook his head. “Nope.”

Drat.

After some wavering, she laid out her cards, calling, “I fold.” She’d get him next time for sure, but she wasn’t going to wager anymore this round.

Scrooge’s cheer was sudden and loud. “Haha, yes! I win again!”

That competitive fire sprang to life in his gaze once more, but there was something different to it this time. It was more…confident. More smug. With a glance down at his cards, she saw why.

A single pair of fives were all he had to boast.

She’d been duped.

Goldie leveled him with a look of offended astonishment and Scrooge simply laughed, gathering up his winnings proudly. “Didn’t see this one coming, did ye?” he taunted.

She really hadn’t. Sure, his actual poker face still needed work, but that had been one hell of a bluff.

With a nod of approval, she mused, “We may just make a player out of you yet, Cowboy.”

[welcometophu]

Into the Split: Avalanche 5

Twinned Book 3: Into the Split

Avalanche 5

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Nikolai vaguely remembers dinner parties, but the idea of one never really applied to him as an adult, or even in his teen years. They didn’t have friends to gather with, and once he and Seth were on their own, it certainly wasn’t something he thought about. And yet, he’s walking up to the larger of the Benford houses, with Seth carrying a pan still warm from the oven, meeting a large mixed group of people in order to eat.

As far as he knows, that’s a dinner party.

Heather throws open the door as they approach and motions them up the steps and inside. “We decided on buffet style because we couldn’t fit enough tables together to make it anything like a formal dinner and there are so many of us. We figured it’d be easier to make small groups around and just… eat when we can and what we want. There’s a lot of food.”

“Clan’s good at that,” Ethan says cheerily from behind her. “I think Alaric’s already eaten three plates full, and we’ve just gotten set up.”

Alaric’s growl rumbles in the distance, but he doesn’t deny it.

“It’s kugel,” Seth says, holding the pan out. “Sweet.” He looks down at the pan, wrapped in a towel. “It’s not exactly like Bubbe made, since we don’t have normal sugar or cinnamon. And there’s a part of my heart that hurts because I’m changing tradition, but I think she’d understand. I used dried apples instead of raisins, to go with the maple and black walnut, and I haven’t tasted it yet, but I think it’ll be good.”

“I can’t believe you remember how to make something that you haven’t had in years,” Heather says. She gestures to one table off to the side, laden with desserts. Seth slides the pan in next to a dish that Nikolai thinks might be some kind of corn pudding. “I can’t remember how to make something I had a recipe for last week. So we let Alaric tell us what to do. He’s better in a kitchen than any of us. And everyone brought something. Even Alia and Val are here.”

From what Nikolai can see, everyone’s here. Maybe not everyone in Havenhill and not even everyone he’s met, but it’s still a crowd to him. He can’t see Alaric, but he can hear him from where he guesses the kitchen is, arguing over something with Mac. Nikita sits with Carolyn and Pawel. Josef is squeezed into a single chair with Amaranth and he grins when he spots Nikolai, waving for him to come forward. Which he would, but every surface is taken, to the point where Jefferson is still standing, gesturing with gloved hands as he speaks to an older man that Nikolai doesn’t even recognize.

Nikolai stalls, not sure where to go. The house seemed big when Nikita and her friends had moved in. Now it seems closed and small.

Nikita slides off the couch and Sakura takes her seat almost before she’s gone. Nikita approaches quickly, hooking her arm around Nikolai’s and drawing him into the next room down, a dining room off the kitchen. “We’re serving in the entryway, because there’s room, and then people can eat either in the living room or in here, but no one else has come in here yet.” She nudges out one of the chairs, and Nikolai takes it.

Seth sits on his lap and Nikolai wraps his arms around him, presses his face against the back of his neck and inhales roughly as he centers himself.

“I didn’t realize there were going to be this many people here,” Seth says quietly. “I don’t think I made enough kugel.”

Nikita waves his comment away. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone brought something, and we have enough food to feed a small army. Pot luck dinners always go like that.”

Nikolai will take her word for it; he can’t remember anything useful right now.

Ethan and Heather drift in, along with the man Nikolai saw talking to Jefferson.

“I heard someone mention kugel,” the man says, holding out a hand to Seth. “My name is Shamir.”

“Seth.” He takes his hand, shakes it firmly. “I didn’t have cinnamon.” It comes out apologetic.

“We’ll have it someday,” Shamir says with a small grin as he takes a seat. “It’s been an age since I’ve had a kugel—either sweet or savory. My bubbe favored savory, but my wife’s liked sweet, and we always had that for every holiday before the Split. I’ve actually been doing some research since I determined that I can connect to the rest of the world safely, and I’m working with Amaranth to see if we can introduce certain spices to our greenhouse, cinnamon included.”

“Then your wife can make you a more traditional—” Seth’s voice falls away at the shift in Shamir’s expression. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

There’s no need for more explanation; they know that look.

Shamir spreads his hands, shrugs his shoulders. Nikolai isn’t exactly sure how to interpret that particular response, but it stalls the conversation in its place, leaving behind an awkward silence.

“So,” Ethan says, leaning on the table where he sits. “This whole party got bigger than expected and Mom should’ve convinced Alia to move it up to the main house. But, Alia was insistent that your friends wanted it to be here, and that it was important to them, so here we are. Squeezed in.”

“Your brothers and Amaranth are here, and the two of you,” Nikita says, gesturing at Nikolai and Seth. “All of us, Mattie included. Alia and Val, which means Ethan and Marybelle. And Sakura, Jefferson, and Genevieve are here, along with Shamir and Amerika. They’re the Technopaths.” She wrinkles her nose. “Which means we’re talking magic later, I’m sure. It feels a little like Pawel’s assembled a crack team of Talent more than a fun dinner.”

“It’ll still be a fun dinner,” Ethan says. “We’ll make sure of it.”

“I think your Pawel has an ulterior motive.” Shamir leans back in his chair. He’s not a tall man, but he’s broad-shouldered, and Nikolai thinks that maybe this is a bit what Seth might be like when he gets older. Tight curls cropped close and greying. No glasses, but other than that there are similarities to his features, to the roundness of his face.

“Pawel wants to go home,” Nikita says quietly. “He’s torn, I think, between learning more, and trying to push through and get home.”

Seth nudges his glasses up his nose. “Please use different words. Push through makes me think he’ll be breaking down walls and letting more Shadows in.”

“Which would be very bad, considering what I’ve been learning,” Shamir says. He raises a hand, starts to speak but pauses as a clap echoes from the other room.

Nikolai looks at the wall, as if he might see through it. Alia’s voice comes clearly, despite the barrier.

“Eat first, and talk after. Be social first, research after.” There’s a small pause, and Nikolai imagines her looking at Pawel on those words. “Enjoy what Havenhill has to offer, and enjoy the time with our family and friends.”

“And we do as Alia says,” Shamir murmurs, pushing back his chair. “Come eat. There will be plenty of time to talk once we’re sated.”

It’s a crowd, but it’s worth it to get the food. Nikolai fills his plate and eats quietly, sitting on one half of a chair while Seth sits on the other side of it. They balance carefully in order to eat at the table, along with eight other people. The group changes regularly, some people drifting away for more food and others taking their place. For a time, Nikolai sits outside on the front steps with a roll stuffed with roast beef and a bright, sharp horseradish sauce. When he makes his way back in, Pawel is standing with Alia and Val in the middle of the entryway, gesturing with his empty plate.

“You keep saying eat first—”

“Because this is a dinner among friends and family,” Alia says mildly. “I know, you want to discuss your options. Your world. Your findings. You want to find more ways to open Havenhill up to the world at large. But this is, first and foremost, a meal to join newcomers with Havenhill. Your welcome continues.”

“Why are we still celebrating our arrival? We’ve been here almost two weeks,” Pawel protests. He reaches to the side and sets the plate down on a table without looking. Both hands go into his hair, fingers threading through the strands, pulling at it roughly. “We’ve been here for almost two weeks,” he repeats. “And my son has been home without me. I need to push this, Alia. We need to take care of whatever we’re here to take care of.”

“Or you need to realize that this is your home now, because if you destroy the veil between the worlds, what else will come out?” Alia’s voice rumbles, elevating to a roar by the end.

Pawel takes a step back, his hands dropping. “I will not allow Shadows—”

“You say that now,” she says, taking a step closer. “You say that now, but we know what happens when the walls are torn between dreams and reality. That is how the Shadows come into this world. And you want to rip them apart on purpose, to make your way back. Do you realize what probably followed you here?”

Nikolai remembers the thick wave of Shadows chasing these people when they first met. The way they swarmed, like a solid wall of darkness, trying to capture them. He’d thought they were attracted by the blatant use of Talent.

Maybe they’d come through with them, slipping in from the Split.

Nikolai swallows hard, exhales roughly.

Pawel shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that.”

Alia raises an eyebrow. “Put yourself in my position, and tell me—if you were home, and you saw this risk to those you protect, would you allow them to put everyone in danger?”

“If I knew it would work, then it wouldn’t be a risk,” Pawel insists. “That’s why we need to know the details. That’s why we need to have these conversations.”

“And we will.” Alia pauses, glancing at Val who has a hand on her arm. “Just not yet. Give it time, Pawel. Allow yourself time to acclimate, to understand where you are so that you can understand your resources. You cannot know anything will work if you do not take the time to see your options.”

Pawel makes a strangled sound, throwing his arms wide. He stalks past Nikolai and yanks the door open, exiting and slamming it in his wake.

“He’s like a child,” Alia murmurs.

“He’s stressed,” Mac replies quietly. “Tell me. If you had a small child, wouldn’t you move heaven and earth to be with them? Isn’t that what you do here, when you reunite families? That’s all he wants. But at the same time, he feels responsible for all of us. It’s a lot.”

“And I’m responsible for everyone here.” Alia’s gesture includes more than just the house. “Give him time and he’ll grow accustomed to his role, and he will figure it out. Once he learns what he needs to learn.”

“The problem is, the risk already exists,” Shamir says quietly. He glances at where a woman stands across the room. She’s small and sturdily built, her features dark aside from pale blue eyes. She makes a face at Shamir’s words, and moves to join him.

“He’s not wrong,” she says, her tone as low as his, and just as serious. “Shamir and I have been putting out feelers into the network, trying to reach other Technopaths around the world. Some are just coming back to the network like us, and some have been out there all along, creating a….” She trails off, glances at Shamir.

He smiles slightly. “I hesitate to call it a shadow community, but consider it something like the Underweb. Not the dark web that existed for illegal activity before the Split, but something created in and around the network out there, almost entirely for Talented use. There are some Technopaths that have created private network access in their spaces, and Amerika’s working on pulling together old technology here that might be able to do that for us.”

“Creating a link between Havenhill and the world that can be followed,” Alia says sharply.

“Only by Talents,” Amerika replies. “And only by people we trust. We’re taking this slow, and trying not to expose more than we have to. At this point, no one can trace where we are, and we haven’t announced ourselves to the world. We’re working together to make sure we present a united front and don’t contradict each other. But yes, we are trying to link to other communities, because we can’t survive alone.”

Alia lifts one eyebrow as if to argue the point.

“What we have learned is that the Shadow infestation is growing.” Shamir speaks quickly, as if to forestall further argument. Or maybe get the point out before they can go off on a tangent.

Nikolai can think of a few tangents to explore. Like the idea Mac brought up about the human government using Talented people to track other Talents. Restricting something to Talents only might not keep the humans out as well as they think.

“Please don’t call it that,” Mattie says mildly. “We aren’t an infestation. We aren’t cockroaches, or carpenter ants. We’re people, beneath the mindless hunger that our Emergence creates. It’s an invasion.”

“Invasion implies intelligence,” Val says.

“Exactly,” Mattie replies.

And that’s also a disturbing thought.

“Focusing on news from our own country,” Shamir says, raising both his hands. “Boston and Los Angeles have been consumed.” He gestures first with his right hand, then his left, then slowly brings them together. “Which, combined with the idea that this attack has intelligence behind it, implies that they will be working from both coasts towards the middle. I haven’t had time to safely dig past that, but I can add that I have yet to meet a Talent from Florida in the Underweb, so I suspect a southern route is included.”

“How do you know about Boston and LA?” Nikita asks. “How do you know for sure?”

“We know both cities have gone dark, according to Talents who live near there,” Amerika explains. “Los Angeles was one of the largest and brightest walled spaces. Even from a distance, it was obvious when it went dark.”

Nikolai shudders at the idea. He may not be a fan of the human settlements, but he knows that the bright lights, the intensity of the daylight even in the depths of night, is what keeps the Shadows at bay. A city gone dark means it has to be dead. Consumed, as Shamir put it.

Even Mattie is sober at the news.

“It’s going to take time to learn more,” Amerika says. “Which is why it’s important to create these links to other communities of Talent out there. We are the only people we can trust, and we need to be able to get this information. We’re safe here now, but without more information, we can’t be sure we’ll stay safe.”

Alia’s brows are furrowed, her lips pressed thinly, and Nikolai swears he hears a soft growl that fades when Val slides an arm around her wife’s back and tugs her closer.

“Safely,” Alia snaps. “We only do what we can without revealing Havenhill’s location, and without exposing us to further risk.”

“And we try to stop the Shadow invasion,” Nikita adds.

Nikolai can’t even think how.

“What?” she continues when no one responds. She spreads her hands, takes a step forward until Heather’s hand on her arm gently stops her. “Isn’t that why we came here? To help you find a way out from under the darkness. We need to make sure you survive.”

“And you’d do that by punching a whole through the dreams to let more Shadows through,” Alia says dryly.

“Just like that, we’ve come full circle,” Seth murmurs, standing close enough to Nikolai to keep the words between them alone. Nikolai slips an arm around his shoulders, draws him even closer; he exhales when Seth’s lips brush his cheek.

“We’d do it by healing the Split,” Nikita protests. “It’s a huge gaping wound between our worlds, and Shadows are festering there. The worse it gets, the more Shadows there are, and the worse the invasion becomes. They’re breeding.”

“How do you know that?” Alia asks, and Nikita takes a step back into Heather’s grasp.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “It just seems logical. But we need to find out for sure, and the only way to do that is to go into the Dreamscape and—”

“No,” Alia cuts her off. “Again, you want to put Havenhill and our people at risk. I have never denied sanctuary to any Talent, but you are pushing the limits of what is acceptable.”

“Nikita, we have to be careful,” Alaric rumbles. “Split might just exist. Might not be able to be healed.”

“And if more of those things that killed your brother get into our world?” Nikita protests, despite a soft hey from Mattie. “This world is what ours can become. We’re tied together. Twinned. We need to remember that because this isn’t just some weird vacation. This is us seeing what our world could become.”

“What if we could create a network of Dreamwalkers, similar to the Technopaths,” Heather says slowly. Seth tilts his head, shifts a little further away from Nikolai as he looks at her, and Heather focuses her attention back on Seth in return. “What if we could create a network that exists only in the Dreamscape, and allows us to communicate with Dreamwalkers around the world. Safely. Even ones from our world could participate—this could potentially become something that links the worlds.”

“Endangering us,” Alia points out. “Exposing us to rifts and holes.”

“Or maybe patching those, if we can all work together,” Seth says slowly. “What if that’s what we’ve been doing wrong all along? What if everything needs to be fixed from the other side, and because we’re so scared of going there, we haven’t even been able to see it?”

“You mean go into the Dreamscape,” Nikolai says, as the idea shivers through him. “We usually try to avoid that. It’s dangerous.”

“It is,” Seth agrees. “But you wouldn’t be doing it alone. We’d have an entire network of Dreamwalkers and their Empaths to anchor them. Just like you and I bring a bit of the Dreaming here when we scare off the Shadows, maybe that’s something we need to do on a more global scale.”

Nikolai glances at Nikita, who’s smiling like the sun. “Or a multi-global scale,” Nikolai adds.

“We don’t need to heal the Split,” Nikita says, clapping her hands together. “We just need to heal the breaches into our worlds.”

Alia still looks uncertain, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead she goes as Val tugs her into the living room, and that seems to release the tension that holds the people in the entryway still. Seth tucks his hand into Nikolai’s and together they go to the dessert table and fill a plate to share. They end up back in the dining room with Nikita, Heather, Mac, Alaric, Ethan, and Marybelle. Conversation slips away from the potential death of the world at the hands of the Shadowwalkers and into more mundane topics.

Alaric growls loudly to punctuate a story, something about a bear and football, and Mac leans in with her hand on his shoulder. Seth leans against Nikolai’s hip, the two of them sharing a single chair again, as Nikita perches on Heather’s knees on the next chair. Nikita glances at Nikolai, smiles, and whispers, “Dreamwalkers unite,” as she offers her pinky. She wiggles it, and Nikolai carefully links his own pinky with hers as she grins.

He’s going to miss them, Nikolai realizes with a sudden aching certainty. These strangers from another world will go home eventually, and someone else might become his neighbor, and he will actually miss these people who tumbled into his world without explanation.

“Do you really think the network could reach between our worlds?” Nikolai whispers, leaning his elbows on the table as he tilts towards Nikita.

She smiles slightly as she leans closer to him. “I’m positive it can,” she whispers back. “After all, we lived each other’s dreams, right? We found each other, and we reached across worlds to do it. We can’t be the only ones who can, and if we encourage everyone to meet in the middle, it should be even easier. Like how Del is in her forest.”

They’ll have to plan to meet up again, then, after Nikita is gone. After everything’s done and everyone’s safe and they’re all where they belong on opposite sides of the Dreamscape. At the least, he and Nikita can see see each other, which suddenly feels like the right answer to everything.

Apparently she really has adopted him as her twin and brother, at least in the world of the Dreaming.

The front door opens and closes with a bang, and Alaric stops mid-word to growl softly. He rises, hands on the table, stopping only at Mac’s touch to his back. “If you say what is it, Lassie right now, I swear I will….” Alaric’s low grumble fades as Mac laughs at his threat.

“I’m guessing Corbin says that to you, right?” she asks, laughing more when Alaric just mutters under his breath.

“Smells like death swept in.” Alaric pushes out of her touch and away from the table, stalking out of the dining room.

Nikolai thinks he should stay put, but everyone else rises, and as much as he doesn’t feel like meeting anything that smells like death, he goes along with them.

Pawel stands in the entryway, combing his fingers through his hair, then slowly peeling off his jacket. He looks up and blinks as they all enter, Alia and Val coming in from the living room. “It’s getting dark outside,” he says, and Nikolai hears something else in his words.

Mattie makes a small noise, and Pawel looks away from her.

“Pawel,” Heather says, too gently not to be using her empathy.

“Smells,” Alaric says, nostrils flaring.

“Like death, you said,” Mac agrees. She inhales roughly, shakes her head. “I just smell the earth. Wet earth, like just after a rain.”

“Decomposition,” Alia corrects, moving past Pawel to the door. She has one hand on it when Pawel slides in next to her, holds it against her attempt to open it. “Pawel,” she says.

“I wouldn’t.” His voice is flat. “There was a face in the darkness.”

Mattie makes a small, pleased noise.

“Shadow,” Alaric says suddenly. “Not death, it smells like Shadows.”

“We don’t smell,” Mattie says sharply. When Alaric looks at her, she crosses her arms, adding, “We do not stink.”

“Matter of opinion,” Alaric rumbles. “Smells like the Berman house back home. That layer of thick, dark magic, like something died long ago and is just waiting to take us with it.”

“I don’t like the sound of this.” Alia turns and at her gesture, Val motions for those in the living room to join them. “Sakura, Val; we need to check the wards. We are within the first grove. The Shadows should not be able to reach us here.”

“I’ll check on the groves,” Amaranth offers. “Josef, ride with me?”

Josef leverages himself up, balanced carefully. “Always.”

Nikolai feels a sharp strike of guilt at that. His brothers have been here all evening and he has barely acknowledged them. He certainly hasn’t spent time with them. “Come back after?” he asks. “To mine and Seth’s place. We didn’t really get to spend any time together.”

“I’ll go with them and make sure we all get back safely,” Mikhail offers. “If I drive, you two can focus on the grove.”

The party breaks up quickly, and in the chaos, Nikita pulls Nikolai to one side, staying perfectly still when Pawel moves to the kitchen with Mattie.

“What are you doing?” Pawel asks, voice low and dark. “Every time I mention—”

“I’m not doing anything,” Mattie says. “And neither are you. But you’re here, and that’s enough. I need to go.”

“Mattie—damn it!” Something breaks in the kitchen, and a moment later there’s a low murmur of voices as if Mac has appeared there as well.

“We’ll just get this cleaned up. Pawel, stop, you’ve already cut—”

“I’m fine. I don’t need you to mother me.”

“We’re friends.”

Nikolai meets Nikita’s gaze, and she smiles weakly. “Maybe it is us,” she says softly, and Nikolai feels all the hope in his heart drain out.

“I think it’s time to head home,” he replies, because it’s the only thing he can think to do right now. Walk home with Seth, back to solidity and walls and safety. Back to a place where it’s just them, like it’s always been.

“Make a plate,” Nikita says, and Nikolai does that, because she said to. But he’s not sure he’s going to taste any of it when he gets home. Not when each bite is a reminder that they may have found Shadows within the wards of Havenhill.

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[jimlingss]

Hello dear!! Do you still write drabbles for DOL? I think the girls parents reaction whn meeting jimin for the first time in his human form would be fun n cute, knowing jimin knws them pretty well. N jimin's reaction himself! He'd be so overwhelmed n touched tht they can finally see him right? Btw i love this fic so much idc how long it is im gna keep rereading it until i die lol

oh my god, I thought people would forget about the DOL drabbles ahahahaha. I learnt I’m not a huge, huge fan of writing drabbles, just cause I always have so much to say that the word count gets ridiculous and it’s no longer a drabble and I like leaving my finished stories as is without messing with them further. But I guess since I opened Pandora’s box....why not...

Devil’s Own Luck Drabble #6

Read the originalRead the other drabbles

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Jimin finally meets the parents he’s known his entire life....technically they’re not ‘the’ parents, but also ‘his’ parents....they just don’t know that.

{Age: 24}

“Shouldn’t you be a little more nervous?”

Jimin strolls up to the house with his hands in his pockets, whistling like he owns the place or he’s the son of some rich mogul, eyeing the land like he’s going to buy it all. “Why should I be? I know them probably better than you do.”

He throws his arm around your shoulder, laughing at your little pout. “Yeah, but they don’t know you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Didn’t you know? I’m charming.”

“You’re a demon,” you correct and with a sigh, your finger presses on the doorbell. It’s not like you’re feeling particularly anxious either —you just hope he doesn’t burn down the place.

On the other side, the tinkling bell sound echoes throughout the home and then there’s a stampede of footsteps, loud murmurs leaking through the open window. In the next breath, the front door is swinging open and your mom’s standing with a smile, eyes flickering to your face before the male beside you.

“This must be...”

“Jimin!” He grins. The breeze cards through his fluffy brown hair, eyes crinkled into half moons like an angel and he extends his arm, shaking her hand. Aside from when it concerns you, if the demon be emotional, he would feel pretty touched right now. After all, your parents have long been his parents too. This is the mother-figure he’s been around while growing up with you, the closest thing he’s had to a maternal figure, and now she could finally see him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says with a soft smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Her eyes are wide and she clears her throat, shifting the door so it’s open wider. “Come in, come in! You both must be starving. The trip must’ve been tiring.”

“It wasn’t too bad.” You take off your coat, throwing in on the hanger. “Where’s dad?”

“Here.” A man stands at the living room doorway, arms crossed and brows furrowed, expression stern. Yet, Jimin doesn’t feel the slightest bit threatened. If anything, his grin expands and without thinking, the idiot devil runs over, engulfing the man in a hug, making him stagger back with an ‘oof’.

“Jimin!” You gasp, jaw dropping and eyeballs nearly falling out of its sockets.

They’re going to think he’s insane.

But your mother just laughs at your dad’s shock, finding it all too amusing. And all at once, your dad’s strict facade crumbles, and he peels your boyfriend off from his body. “Sorry…” Jimin finally register what he just did, but he’s still too excited to repress his grin. “I just heard a lot about you, that’s all. It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Uh..um...no...I-....that’s completely fine.” He clears his throat. “I’m….uh...looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Y/N, why don’t you show him to the kitchen?” Your mother tells you as she joins your dad’s side with a fond smile.

Okay. You take it back.

You’re getting really nervous.

And it’s not because you’re afraid of your parent’s reactions or of Jimin becoming jittery and accidentally setting fire to the walls of your childhood home. Rather, you’re afraid because he’s too goddamn comfortable!

The man skips happily into the kitchen himself without you having to show him the way and he peers into the pot on the stove. He takes the ladle and swirls the stew. “Oh! I love this!”

Your mother trails behind with a surprised expression. “You do?”

“Yes! I like how soft the potatoes get.” He smiles and then stumbles, nearly slamming into the wall when you harshly nudge him. “I mean…..it looks soft. And I like it because it smells so good!”

He awkwardly laughs and you might get a concussion with how hard you want to facepalm yourself.

The demon skedaddles away into the dining room before your mom can get in another word and he brushes past your dad who’s still setting up the table. Jimin’s nose presses on the window and his palms press against the clean surface as he looks outside into the backyard. “Oh, you repainted the porch? I like the light birch colour.”

Your dad freezes. His neck cranes. “What.”

Jimin’s face pales and he turns his head too, stiff smile pulling on his lips. Fuck. He realizes his mistakes and he wonders if he could just temporarily possess your parents and put them into bed and make it seem like this was all a dream. He could start over again. But you probably would not appreciate that. At all.

“Y/N was telling me about it.”

“She didn’t know I repainted the porch.”

“She told me it was a dark brown before,” the demon counters with a mischievous glint to his eyes, though sweat begins to drip from his forehead.

Your dad lifts a brow in suspicion. “She told you the colour of her old porch?”

“The things we talk about…” Jimin nods and pinches the bridge of his nose. “....it gets very detailed sometimes.”

You barge into the conversation with a piercing scream. Both males turn their heads towards you, flinching from the sound. And you fist pump the air. “I...I am just so, so excited to tell you about what’s been going on lately! We should eat. Right now. So I have time to tell you my stories!”

All your hair is falling out.

All your hair is turning gray.

This was a terrible idea. No matter how much your parents asked about meeting your ‘new’ boyfriend, you should’ve known better. You should’ve known three decades would be shaved off of your life from pure stress.

“You know, you feel very familiar,” your mom interjects in the conversation in the moment you’re caught off guard, taking a rest from chatting and accidentally daydreaming.

Jimin quirks his head to the side, amused smile on his plump lips. “Am I?”

“Like the son I never had.” She laughs and you breathe a sigh of relief. It still surprises you how she’s taken a liking to him already and it’s almost offensive how your parents ignore you.

“You know, now that you mention it, it’s kind of funny,” your dad starts. He swallows his mouthful and looks at the devil beside you who’s innocently batting his lashes, the apples of his reddened cheeks making him ironically look like a cherub and every parent’s dream child. “Didn’t Y/N have an imaginary friend named Jimin?”

“Really?” He props his elbows onto the dinner table, hands threaded together and underneath his chin. He slightly turns towards you. “You did?”

“Y-yeah…” You swallow hard, wondering how the hell he could make you suffer like this in your own home. You were the only one suffering under the burden of his secret and he was having a good old time being chaotic as usual.

“That’s right.” Your mom snaps her fingers and sips her wine. “She loved that imaginary friend so much, couldn’t stop talking about him for years. She ate with him, talked to him, took baths with him, even said she slept next to him. I thought there was something wrong, but thankfully she grew out of it.”

No one notices.

But you’ve been with Jimin for twenty years and you catch the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“What a coincidence.”

[butlifegoeson]

Thasmin One Shot - The Beach

New to Tumblr, not sure what I’m doing, but thought someone might enjoy this if they (like me) are suffering thasmin withdrawal...

‘Yaz, Yaz.’ She poked her finger against my thigh and I squirmed, opening one eye against the sun. ‘What, doctor?’ ‘How long exactly do we have to sit here?’ I should’ve known that sunbathing was definitely not going to be her thing but I’d hoped that maybe she could relax a little bit, enjoy it. I rolled over on the towel, looking at her sat next to me, the sun was hot on my back and the lapping of waves was the only real noise, it was blissful. ‘We don’t have to stay here,’ I smiled at the relief on her face, ‘what do you fancy instead?’ The beach was almost empty, with only a few people further down milling around by the shops and I could tell that she’d been having a good look. Today had been my choice of destination and I was loving it, the boys had disappeared off to go and explore, but the doctor stayed with me, as had become the norm, and we had spent the last half an hour lying here, chatting and dozing in the sun. ‘Fish and chips?’ She asked, a smile playing on her lips. It wasn’t long before I caved and agreed to leave my spot on the sand. It wasn’t as though there was any chance of me denying her something, the second she smiled my willpower disappeared, every time. She waved her hand out in front of her and helped me up, holding it as we walked over to the shop. The sky was a beautiful blue and it was practically a perfect day, one of those unexpected nice days, early on in the Summer where nothing is too crowded and it’s pure luck that you decided to go to the beach then. ‘What do you fancy?’ I asked, queuing up, pulling my purse out of my bag. ‘Fish fingers?’ She squinted against the sun at the menu, before deflating a little as she realised there obviously weren’t any fish fingers. I raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it, knowing better than to apply any logic to the situation. ‘Just fish and chips then, I suppose.’ I nodded and paid for our order, happy to sit back down on the beach to eat them. There was a little breeze and I couldn’t help but watch the doctor as she ate her food, chatting and looking out to sea. I’d never expected, when we met, that this could ever happen - not the alien stuff, in some respects, that was the most believable - but the friendship, the love that I now felt. She made me feel so at ease and she obviously cared about me, about all of us, even back then, even when we’d only just met. ‘Yaz - hello?’ She stole a chip off my plate and I couldn’t help but laugh, sticking my tongue out at her. ‘Come on, I know what we’re going to do this afternoon,’ I stood up and beckoned for her to follow me, going round the back of the fish and chips hut and into the building behind. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the dinginess of it, and the first thing I could make out was the doctor’s smile. The noise was almost too much to be able to hold a conversation, the lights flashing from twenty different machines, bouncing around the room. I walked to the other side of the room, taking in the familiar feel of it, the afternoons that I’d spent here when I was on holiday as a kid. ‘Thanks,’ I said, handing over a fiver and receiving a pile of 2p pieces in return. The doctor hung back a little, still watching everyone. Kids, their mouths sticky with sweets, littered every corner of the room, rolls of tickets clasped in one suncreamed hand as little pots of coins were held in the other. I knew I was beaming, and as I crossed the room my walk was verging on a skip. There were only two machines left, next to each other, and I put the coins on the top between them. ‘This is the best.’ Her voice was loud, but not loud enough, and I had to get her to repeat herself a couple of times, each time her leaning in a little closer to me. It was as though I could smell the sun on her skin, the warmth of it radiating across the space between us as I turned my head, bending over to get close enough that she would hear me. ‘I know, it’s one of my favourite places. Ever.’ She laughed and stopped to watch me for a second, my gaze shifting awkwardly under hers I started to put the coins into the machine, gradually my timing getting better as I watched the rows of prizes move further and further forward on their wave of coins. She started to do the same and soon it became a fight for the last few coins, her tongue sticking out a little in concentration as her hand moved blindly towards the pot, hoping to free the keyring which was teetering over the edge. Surprisingly quickly we were out of coins, roaming around the room in search of a new game. We each won a lollipop and moved on to the basketball game, getting competitive. I felt her hand reach up and tickle my waist, cool against my skin where my top had ridden up, my arms held above my head as I went to shoot the last basket, her eyes glistening with mischief as she took the final ball off me, throwing it in an arc that bounced round the rim before falling in. She wrapped her arms round me, lifting me a little off the floor as she span round in victory, my laughter loud enough to be heard over the chaos around us. Outside, the sun was beginning to set and I reckoned we didn’t have much longer before the boys would be done, ready to move on to the next adventure. She held her hand out to me in a high five, taking it as I hit hers, our fingers intertwining before she brought them down, holding my hand as we made a final lap of the arcade. ‘Had we better go and find out where the others have got to?’ I asked as we approached the exit again and she scrunched her nose up, as though I was ruining all the fun, and I half expected her to plead for just five more minutes. ‘I suppose we better had.’ She rubbed her thumb over my hand, still in hers, and began to make her way towards the door before stopping suddenly. My mind was too wrapped up at the sheer proximity of our hand holding and it was only because she spoke that I looked up and managed to stop from careering straight into the back of her. ‘We didn’t go on this one?’ She pointed towards the prize grabber machine and I shook my head almost sombrely, at the glass box filled with little fluffy teddies. ‘It’s impossible, we were never allowed on it as kids, I’m surprised it’s still there.’ ‘It can’t be impossible,’ her eyebrows furrowed a little as she looked at it, ‘we’ve got time to have a little go now, I’m sure… You might get lucky!’ I shook my head. ‘Not in a million years. I’m telling you, it’s rigged.’ She held out one of the last remaining coins from her pocket and I couldn’t help but smile conspiratorially as I put it in the machine. My concentration grew and I felt my hands grow sweaty as I tried desperately to position the claw above by far the cutest purple teddy, feeling the doctor’s head resting on my shoulder from behind me as she gazed at the machine I squeezed her hand in excitement as the claw grabbed at the teddy, lifting it a few inches of the ground, before it began to slip a little. I felt her hands grip a little round my waist and I put my hands down to rest on her arms, turning my head to look at her before smiling and looking back, sure I was going to see the game over. Instead, I turned just in time to see the cuddly toy fall down the shoot. Her arms instantly withdrew from my waist and I turned to see her beaming, I grabbed the teddy, and then her hand before realising that she was already holding something else. ‘Doctor, did you just sonic the machine?’ A blush was on her cheeks before I’d even finished the sentence and I bit my lip to keep from laughing. ‘Absolutely not. I was just doing routine checks on… things and stuff.’ She grabbed my hand again and led the way out of the arcade. I opened my mouth to say something again but was cut off as she started to talk. ‘Ice cream?’ I giggled before clapping a hand to my mouth, watching as she went and got two 99s. She really was impossible, this woman, and it just made me fall for her even more. We sat on the wall eating our ice creams, our legs dangling, occasionally rubbing up against each other as we watched the sun sink lower in the sky, the boys having told us they’d meet us at the Tardis in an hour. After we finished eating we continued to sit in silence, before I plucked up the courage to scoot a little closer to her, my head resting on her shoulder. ‘You really are too cute, you know that, don’t you?’ I stroked the fluffy toy that was still in my hands. My voice had been little more than a whisper against the lapping of the ocean, but I heard her reply clear as day. ‘And yet, still not as cute as your face when you won that toy.’ She dipped her head in a nod towards my lap where the toy lay. I elbowed her lightly. ’Shuddup.’ I mumbled, more into her shoulder than anything else, as I returned to watching the waves in front of us, smiling, one of her hands wrapped in mine.

Enjoy :)

[eeveevie]

Returned Goods (3/3)

“Do you know how rare it is for a thief to return stolen goods?”

A game, a secret, and the return: a story of fate told in three parts.

Brynjolf x F! Dovahkiin

previous

3894 (chapter) | Teen+ | Ao3

PART THREE: THE RETURN

Skyrim, 4E Present Day 

Fiona was in Riften by the next day. She had traveled all night through the rain and snow, nearly collapsing as she finally made it to the city gates. She handed off her horse to Shadr and took a quick glance at the night sky. Instead of storm clouds, there were clear skies, marked by the striking orange hue of the sunset. It brought Fiona a moment of peace from her otherwise frantic thoughts that had been plaguing her for hours. She had been in a daze since she left Kynesgrove, struggling to recall memories from a former life that she was sure she had long forgotten. 

An entire lifetime of events had happened to her since she left Cyrodiil. Helgen, the Civil War, Alduin…Fiona wouldn’t be able to recognize her younger self after all she had been through. There was a reason she had left, and there was a reason why she had chosen not to tell anyone the truth. She just didn’t know it would come back to haunt her in such a way.   

She was also struggling to come to terms with what Brynjolf’s role in it all meant. He had always been secretive about his past, but was never shy about his life of crime. He was a thief—always had been, and always would be. Fiona just couldn’t believe that before she came to Riften, before they met at the Bee and Barb, their worlds had collided. And when faced with her—their—past, and what it possibly meant, what had she done? 

She ran.  

“Coward.” She mumbled to herself out loud as she approached the graveyard entrance to the Cistern.

It would’ve been smarter to just head straight for Honeyside, but she needed to drop her stolen valuables from Windhelm with Delvin before the next day, and before Brynjolf decided to catch up to her. If Brynjolf decided to catch up to her. The Cistern was surprisingly quiet for it being nighttime, with most of the Guild members out on their night jobs within the hold. She silently greeted those who remained as she made her way to the Ragged Flaggon, hesitating slightly as she went through the fake cabinet door. 

What if Brynjolf had chased after her and arrived in Riften ahead of her? What if he was waiting for her at the Flaggon bar? She took a step backward, wondering if she really ought to just head for her estate. But what if he was there instead? It wouldn’t be the first time he broke into Honeyside. It wouldn’t be the first time he broke into any of her chambers. Fiona closed her eyes and groaned in despair. This was the turmoil she had been battling with since she had left him the previous night. Brynjolf didn’t deserve to be ran out on, half naked in a Braidwood Inn bed. Surely, he had questions about her reaction and she wasn’t even sure she knew how to answer them. Not yet. 

Fiona found Delvin at his usual table near the bar and sat down across from him, quickly scanning the darkened ratway for any sign of the red-headed thief in question. Even though she didn’t spot him, it didn’t give her much relief. She silently thanked Vekel as he brought her a tankard of dark ale and wondered if it was smart to be drinking when she was so exhausted, but took a swig anyways. 

“Ah, our Guildmaster returns,” Delvin greeted her. His tone shifted as he noticed something was wrong the minute he got a look at Fiona’s face. He glanced over his shoulder towards the Cistern. “Where’s Bryn?” 

Fiona’s tired brain couldn’t come up with a lie fast enough and just sighed. The truth would have to do this time. “He’s still in Kynesgrove.” 

“Trouble in paradise?” He raised his voice and flicked his gaze over Fiona’s head. She could only assume he was signaling to Vex. “The two of ya’ have been fawning over each other lately. So what’s soured the pot?” 

“We have…not,” Fiona didn’t mean to sound so doubtful, but even she couldn’t deny the way her and Brynjolf acted, considering what had transpired in Kynesgrove. Apparently they weren’t too great at hiding it from others. Maybe it was time to just admit that she had deeper feelings for the man than she initially realized. 

“Seriously. Two of you haven’t had an argument since before Snowveil Sanctum,” he paused when Fiona frowned. She didn’t like to remind herself there was a time where Brynjolf thought she was dead, let alone under a myriad of other Mercer’s manipulations. 

Delvin opted to stare at her with an amused expression. “So, what happened?” 

“Remember when I asked you about my mother’s stolen ring?” she hesitated. She was already starting to piece it together in her head. Perhaps she already knew the answer and just needed to hear it from somebody else to confirm. “Has Brynjolf ever been to Cyrodiil?” 

Delvin’s eyes lit up as if she had handed him all the gold in Solitude’s vault. 

“Divines Damnit!” Vex shouted from the bar. Fiona flinched and turned, watching as the icy blonde rushed over and slammed a handful of gold on the table in front of Delvin before stomping away towards the Cistern entrance. Fiona looked at Delvin in annoyance.   

“A man’s got to keep himself entertained,” he explained smugly. “And you and Brynjolf are proving to be quite entertaining.” 

Fiona didn’t respond—mostly out of frustration, but also to give Delvin the chance to explain himself. 

“Brynjolf traveled to Cyrodiil a few years back now,” he started. “Jobs dried up in the Rift and we had no name anywhere else in Skyrim.” 

“We don’t always like to meddle with the Gray Fox’s affairs…” Delvin trailed off for a moment to nurse his own cup of ale. Fiona copied him. “Bryn was gone for a long time without any correspondence. Mercer was about to cut him as a loss.”

 “On with it, Delvin,” Fiona didn’t mean to be rude, but she was fighting anxiety and sleep. 

“When he returned, he was in high spirits,” he grinned. “Showed off and shared his bounty of stolen goods from some noble wedding he had crashed.” 

“Or at least, that’s the way he explained it,” Delvin shrugged a little but continued when Fiona didn’t correct him. She didn’t feel like giving Delvin any details. Not before she could speak to Brynjolf. “When everybody walked away, he showed off this sparkling silver ring with sapphires. His share of the cut, and rightfully so.” 

Fiona swallowed the heavy feeling in her heart. Delvin already knew the true origin of the ring and how important it was to her. He frowned, knowing his choice of words were not the wisest. “Did you try to fence it for him?” she questioned. 

Delvin nodded. “He said after all the trouble he went through to get it, he wanted to keep it as a good luck charm.” 

“What he didn’t tell me was that he stole it off of a sleeping bride-to-be.” 

“Yes,” Fiona confirmed. “I’m sure he had his reasons,” she continued flatly. 

“So, when I told you about…” she tried to read his expression. She was still hesitant to give too much away. It was clear that while Delvin was good at keeping secrets, he was also good at hiding important information as well, especially if it benefited him for his amusement. “You didn’t think it was important to tell me that Brynjolf had my ring?” 

“You were a footpad,” he explained. “Needed to earn your trust. Then you and Bryn started dancin’ around with each other like love-struck fools, and me and Vex thought… well, we could have some fun with this.” 

“All of this could have been prevented, you know,” Fiona pressed a hand to the bridge of her nose. “There really is no honor among thieves.”

 Delvin chuckled at that and Fiona sighed. She really couldn’t blame Delvin. He was right—her and Brynjolf had acted like fools. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Fiona,” Delvin tilted his head to the side. “As long as I’ve known Brynjolf to carry that ring, he’s kept it around his neck, tucked away from sight.” 

Fiona didn’t think her cheeks could get any redder. “I—I don’t know what you’re insinuating.” 

“Well, well,” he chortled, eyebrows arching in surprise. 

After a few more moments of silence and scrutiny from Delvin, Fiona cracked and told him what had transpired the night before. He was as amused as she knew he would be, but also seemed sympathetic to how terrible she felt for leaving. 

“Do you think he’ll be upset?” she asked, resting her chin in her palm, elbow on the table. 

“Not in the slightest,” Delvin scoffed. “He’ll be here by morning.” 

She didn’t mean to, but she had started to doze off at the mention of morning. Just what time was it anyways? 

“Boss?” Delvin reached across the table to tap her arm. “No way you’re feeling that tipsy after one drink, are ya’?” 

Fiona laughed off his tease. At this point she hadn’t slept in over two days. “Delvin, I need a bed.” 

“Maybe you should’ve stayed with ol’ Bryn,” he remarked. She didn’t have the mental energy to reply to his comment. Instead, she leaned into his hand as her eyes became heavier. “Need som’ help getting home?” 

“Please,” Fiona agreed. She could barely lift her head at this point. If she was going to talk to Brynjolf, which was bound to happen sooner rather than later, she needed to sleep.  

It was well past nightfall by the time Brynjolf made it through the Riften dead gate, the darkened sky lit up by the green aurora borealis. He thought it would be wise to wait out the storm in Braidwood Inn, but when it didn’t pass, he decided to head for Riften anyways. It delayed his travel, and the cold settled into his bones despite his Nord heritage. He should have ran after Fiona—he was still berating himself over that foolish decision as he made his way to the cemetery. 

It didn’t take Brynjolf very long after she left for him to figure out what had scared her off in the first place. He reached up to feel at the worn silver ring that rested around his neck. The same ring that he had kept with him now for years. Ever since he stole it from Cyrodiil. Ever since he stole it from…Fiona.

 Before this realization, before Kynesgrove, he had been battling with unfamiliar emotions for the lass. He wasn’t afraid to admit he had been physically attracted to her from the moment he met her in the Bee and Barb, but over time, the attraction had turned into something else. With Fiona he wouldn’t be able to just bed her and leave without a trace. Not that he wanted to. No, what Brynjolf wanted was much more than that. And that’s what scared him. 

It was overwhelming. Even with the knowledge that Fiona was the person he stole the ring from, it didn’t seem to change how he felt. If anything, it only made his feelings stronger as he thought about his life, his past, and how fate brought him to the places he needed to be. Or rather, how fate brought the two of them together. He needed to see her and finish what he had started all those years ago. 

Brynjolf weighed his options on where Fiona might be. The Cistern or the Ragged Flaggon? Possibly, but unlikely at this hour. The Bee and Barb? No. He started to walk through the marketplace and noticed that Honeyside was dark, yet smoke rose from the chimney. Despite this he frowned and his stomach dropped with a sinking feeling. For all he knew it could be Iona, her Housecarl. Was Fiona even in Riften? Brynjolf quickly shook the thoughts from his head and continued on. 

Instead of approaching from the East, he looped around the city gates, falling into the comfort of the shadows to keep him hidden from the Riften guards. They didn’t need to see him breaking into the Dragonborn’s personal residence. He easily crept up the porch steps, and stared at the door for a moment, wondering what he’d find beyond it. He wasn’t a religious man, but he prayed that it would be Fiona, and that she wanted to see him.

He felt at ring around his neck again, simultaneously reaching for a lockpick from his pocket. The first two snapped instantly, the third had better luck but still fell apart in his fingers. Brynjolf had been to Honeyside plenty of times before and was now kicking himself mentally for not pocketing the extra key Fiona had, or remembering the sweet spot from the last time he broke in. The irony in how history was repeating itself was not lost on him. 

When the lock finally clicked free, he nearly exclaimed aloud and took a moment to gather his thoughts and nerves. What was he expecting if Fiona was there? What was he going to say? What was he going to do? Brynjolf was the master of improvisation, always able to put on a show—but this was different. He couldn’t just woo his way through life like he had almost done in Kynesgrove. He wondered if it was even possible for him to convey those feelings to her, or if he was a lost cause. 

Impulse won out and he entered through the door. The fireplace in the kitchen was dim and provided the only light on the first floor, the shadows dancing across the walls as Brynjolf inched more and more into the room. Right away he was reminded at how close Fiona’s bed was to the porch entrance, and it was clear to see that she was home.   

He couldn’t help but think back to Cyrodiil; her arm was bent across her chest, the other tucked beneath the linen sheet. He stared at her face, desperately wanting to brush the loose blonde fringe from her temple, especially now that he knew just how soft her skin was. She was as idyllic now as she was then. And he still wanted to take her away with him. He wistfully smiled—temptation was a cruel mistress. 

Brynjolf took more careful steps towards her bedframe. The wooden planks beneath his feet began to stress and she flinched. He clenched his teeth and tried to crouch to distribute his weight, but it didn’t help. The floor creaked louder as he moved and he cursed. Almost instantly Fiona was up, arm outstretched and a dagger clutched between her fist. 

“Fiona!” he caught her wrist, leaning back as the blade nearly sliced his cheek. Her eyes were wild; clearly she had been startled from a deep slumber. He gripped her other arm as she nearly toppled off the side of the bed in a daze. 

“Bryn?” she yelped, breathing ragged. She dropped the dagger from her hand but didn’t relax in his grip at first. “What are you doing here? You can’t just—” 

“Break into people’s homes?” he cut her off. He slipped his hand down to her elbow and tugged her closer. He bit his tongue. Hadn’t he agreed to not be the typical roguish Brynjolf, but a sensitive, honest man instead? “Lass, I’ve been doing it all my life, I don’t plan on stopping now.” 

Fiona balanced herself against him as she moved off of the bed, taking one hand away to adjust her night coat for modesty before placing her dragonbone dagger on the edge of the bed behind her. Brynjolf couldn’t help but notice the flush on her cheeks. She still wasn’t complexly relaxed, but he understood why. A long stretch of silence fell between them as they simply just stared one another down, his emeralds gazing into her sapphires. Just like the damned ring. 

Hesitantly, he pulled his hands away long enough to produce the piece of jewelry tucked at his collar, and pulling it over his head. Fiona’s eyes widened a little when he cupped her hand upwards in order to place the ring and chain inside. He softly chuckled at her confusion, and found it endearing. 

“Do you know how rare it is for a thief to return stolen goods?” 

He held her hand in his, the other moving back to her side in any effort to keep her close to him. He still wasn’t sure how this was going to turn out. Fiona stared at the garnished silver for a long moment before flicking her eyes up to him.

“I think I owe you a secret,” she spoke softly. 

“Aye lass,” Brynjolf responded with a nod. “That you do.” 

“This is my mother’s ring,” she started in a low voice. “My parents were nobles in Skyrim, Nords. I was born here. In Falkreath.” 

“They moved to the Imperial City when I was a baby to be with Imperial extended family and got caught up in the Aldmeri Dominion takeover of the city,” Fiona’s expression fell and Brynjolf instantly placed his hand to hers. “They were Nords, and were killed in the confusion. I was smuggled away to live with some of my Imperial cousins in the mountains near the border.” 

Brynjolf stayed silent for the time being. He already felt guilty enough and didn’t want to make it worse by saying something stupid. Fiona had heard his story about his mother and father, and hoped that she knew that he was telling the truth. Their backgrounds were not so different. She squeezed his hand as she rolled the ring between her fingers. 

“This was meant to be a dowry,” Fiona’s lips skewed to the side as she smirked. “I was being married off to some rich Imperial noble twice my age.” 

Her eyes locked with his again. “And then some thief snuck into the castle on the eve of the wedding and broke into my chambers. Stole some of my wedding gifts and this ring off of my finger as I slept.” 

“In all the confusion as the guards hunted him…you down, I took it as a sign from the Divines,” Fiona got a soft wistful look in her eyes. “The last thing I had of my parents was gone, and the life that was being built for me was not something that I wanted. So I ran. When I came to Skyrim, I was a runaway bride.”

Brynjolf’s instant reaction was to laugh, much to Fiona’s shock. He quickly offered an explanation. “Do you know how close I came to taking you with me for ransom?” 

“What?” Her eyes went wide. She shoved him a little and Brynjolf’s amusement increased. “Bryn, this isn’t funny! I just told you about how my parents were killed and I was almost part of an arranged marriage and you laugh?” 

But then she started to laugh with him and she shook her head in disbelief. Brynjolf pulled her back to him, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. Her laughter subsided, and warmth enveloped him as her arms slid around his middle in a return embrace. This is what he wanted. 

“Could you ever forgive me, lass?” he asked against her temple. Fiona nodded against his shoulder and pulled away. 

“I forgave the person who stole my mother’s ring a long time ago,” she explained. “But it could have been in worse hands.” 

“Do you forgive me for leaving you in the Braidwood Inn?” she bit down on her lip nervously and he furrowed his brow in thought. 

“I think we can work something out,” he teased. She pulled a face, calling his bluff.   

Brynjolf watched her as she examined the ring again for a few moments before lifting the chain back over his neck, her fingers lingering at his chest. Out of all the possible outcomes, this is one that Brynjolf was not expecting. Fiona idly played with the silver chain. “I think you should keep this.” 

“Why?” he asked.

“After all the trouble you went through to get it,” she smiled. Fiona was the most content he had seen her in a long while. “I hear it’s brought you good luck?” 

“You’ve been talking to Delvin?” Brynjolf breathed out a sigh as it dawned on him. Fiona must have seen the realization on his face. 

She waved it away. “We’ll deal with him later.” 

He focused on the present moment. “Are you sure, lass?” 

“Yes.” She was so sure, and it made Brynjolf that more confident. 

“What made you decide to come to Skyrim after leaving Cyrodiil?” he started. 

He wasn’t sure where he was going with this line of questioning, but it turned out thief Brynjolf and honest Brynjolf were one in the same—and Fiona was charmed by them both. 

“I’m a Nord, Brynjolf,” she scoffed. “Besides that, stories of Skyrim have always made me happy. Being here now has made me happy.” 

Brynjolf thought on that for a moment as she eyed him. “In Riften?” his chest tightened in an unfamiliar but welcoming way when she nodded. “With the Thieves Guild?” 

“With you,” she clarified. She lifted a hand to brush her thumb across the scar on his cheek in an affectionate swipe. He was taken aback by the softness of her expression, and couldn’t recall a time when anybody had spoken to him with such sincerity and conviction. He was dumbstruck. When he didn’t respond, she faltered slightly. “I don’t need you to say—” 

He reacted without hesitation. His hands had framed her face and before she could finish her sentence he had kissed her. Not as forceful as before in Kynesgrove, but with just as much passion and meaning behind it. Fiona had leaned into him almost immediately, her hands gripping his wrists to brace herself to avoid toppling over his feet as she moved as close as possible to him. He kissed her until his lungs burned for air, pulling away if only to rest his forehead against hers as he breathed in deeply.

“After all the trouble I went through?” he teased, mimicking her. “Don’t doubt me, Fiona,” he puffed out another breath and grinned. “But I can give you a heartfelt confession if you’d like.” 

Her cheeks darkened, expression coy. “Maybe…later.” 

“Just know,” Brynjolf pulled away in order to look at her fully. “I feel the same way.” 

Fiona had the calm smile she held before as she nodded. A comfortable silence fell over them, just the two gazing into each other’s eyes. Brynjolf was about to speak when her expression shifted, lips tilting into a smirk. “Are you going to ask me?” 

He was confused by her question at first and he racked his brain at the possibilities. Her eyes glanced towards the bed for a brief moment. He flashed a sly grin. The minx. 

“Aye lass,” he breathed with a hearty laugh. He rested his hands on her waist, bringing her closer. 

“Would you like me to keep your bed warm tonight?” he finally asked. 

Fiona smiled and draped her arms around his shoulders, yelping at first and then laughing out as he lifted her up in his arms. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Two Degrees of Jeff, part 1

 or more properly:  Two Degrees of Andy Jeff

Summary: Two days in the life of Andy...er....Jeff, and his skeleton friends.

Notes: I’ve always liked an outside perspective on my favorite boys and Jeff’s is fun to write. Warning for mentions of depression.

Also on AO3

By Any Other Name masterlist, recently updated!

~~*~~

The Beanery was, by far, not the closest coffee shop to Jeff’s apartment. By his reckoning, the bus took him past two Starbucks on the way here. He didn’t mind going out of his way to meet Stretch, though; thanks to the ‘Monster Friendly’ symbol stickered on the window glass up front, they could pretty much guarantee being able to meet in peace for a coffee and a chat.

Not that they’d had any issues past the whole ‘bus incident’ but eh, why take a chance? Plus, they had great coffee.

On this particular morning, Jeff got there early so he could buy his own coffee before Stretch could do it for him. Passive-aggressive, maybe, but hey it worked. He wasn't quite at the same level with the baristas as Stretch was, but she gave him a smile of recognition before taking his order.

Twenty minutes later his coffee was gone, and he was still waiting. The buses in Ebott were pretty dependable and to be honest, so was Stretch. He loved texting, Jeff couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t send one or several if he was running late, probably laced with bad jokes and puns.

He gave it ten more minutes before sending one of his own. hey, you running behind? Not to get on your ass, I know you don’t actually have one

At the very least, that should have gotten him an lol, and more likely a bombardment of terrible jokes. But his phone remained stubbornly quiet.

Jeff chewed his lip, considering. He could text Edge, let him know he was a little worried. The problem with Edge was he didn’t do anything by halves and would probably be on his way home or send out the hounds or something. They were meeting for coffee, not planning world domination, there was no reason to hit worst case scenario right out of the gate.

Option two was to take a ride over there himself. It was only about a fifteen-minute ride and another bus would be here in five. If Stretch didn’t get off the bus, then Jeff was getting on it, he decided. He gathered up his stuff, tossed his cup in the trash and gave the barista a wave before he went out to the stop.

A few monsters got off the bus, one of them he recognized from the wedding and they gave him a toothy grin as they walked past. No skeleton monster though, so Jeff scanned his bus pass and took a seat. With his luck, Stretch was on the next one and they’d be like ships passing in the night, but eh, he’d rather risk acting like a bad romantic comedy than just sit there waiting.

No text came, no sign that Stretch was only running late. At the gate to New New Home, the guards checked his ID diligently even though Jeff was here a few times a week, and Jeff thought he might mention that to Antwan, let him know they were doing their jobs right. It was probably boring hanging out at the guard station all day, they could use some recognition.

The shuttle dropped him off and the brief walk to the house offered no answers. Edge’s car was gone, no surprise there, and a peek in the garage told him that his motorcycle was inside, beneath a heavy dust cover. Not that he thought Stretch had taken it out for a spin or anything; from what he knew, Stretch hated driving which was why he stuck to the bus.

Jeff knocked hesitantly on the door, then a little harder, and waited. The minutes ticked by and after a moment of internal debate, Jeff gingerly turned the knob. The door swung open, unlocked, into the darkened front room. Okay, now he was getting more than a little concerned.

The living room offered no clues, and neither did the kitchen. Not so much as a coaster was out of place, only a coffee cup was drying in the dish rack. The coffee pot was on, at least, half a pot still sitting on the warmer, but there was that faint, burnt smell in the air that said it had been there for a long time.

Jeff had never been upstairs and felt like an invader going up them, every creak accusatory.

The first room was locked and he left it alone. The second was a guest room, the blankets drawn tightly over the bed with military precision and the paint a welcoming sunny yellow. The third revealed a large bed, the blankets and pillows rucked up around a shape beneath them.

Okay, now he knew where Stretch was, so what did he do? Jeff shifted from foot to foot awkwardly, trying to decide. Let him sleep? But maybe he was sick or hurt or something, maybe he needed help.

It felt so completely wrong to walk around the bed, leaning in to get a look at him.

The covers were rising and falling ever so slightly with his breathing and his sockets were closed. It really was fascinating the way their skulls moved; they weren’t pliable like human flesh but somehow it worked. Magic, the universal answer to all Monster questions.

“Stretch?” Jeff whispered, reaching out to gently shake him, trying again, “Stretch?”

He stirred, his sockets blinking open. His eye lights were wide and almost fuzzy, and Stretch looked at him in confusion.

“andy?” Stretch asked, his voice rough. He cleared his throat and sat up. The blankets slipped down and left him bare to the hips and Jeff felt his face warm, looking away.

It was a note on how much his perspective had changed that he could be embarrassed to unintentionally see some naked bone. But then, Edge and Stretch didn’t look like Halloween decorations or science room displays; their bones were kinda similar to humans but not completely. Plus, they were so very obviously alive, their magic was visible in their joints, and the way their skulls were somehow malleable. They were Monsters that looked like skeletons, an important distinction.

“andy?” Stretch said again, and his gaze sharpened, taking in the room. “what...uh…” He hauled the blankets back up a little more modestly.

“Sorry, I was worried,” Jeff said meekly, a little embarrassed at coming all the way out here to creep into Stretch’s bedroom like a fucking idiot. Should have texted again or maybe knocked harder, he should’ve done something. “You weren’t at the coffee shop and…”

Stretch’s groan interrupted him, and he flopped backwards on the bed. “fuck, i’m sorry, i just…i was having a bad day and i went back to sleep.” He didn’t seem worried about Jeff sneaking into his room like an idiot, but then, that was Stretch all the way. His concepts of proper behavior were a hell of a lot looser than the ones Jeff had grown up with.  “i completely forgot we were supposed to meet. i’m really sorry.”

“It happens,” Jeff shrugged that off. To be honest, he was only relieved that nothing was wrong. Except— “Is everything okay.”

There was a long pause as Stretch seemed to actually consider the question. “yeah. i think so…shit,” he said suddenly, “i haven’t been outside to see the chickens, don’t even remember shutting off my alarm.”

“You want some help?” Jeff asked, equal parts hesitant and curious. “I haven’t seen the chickens yet outside of Instagram.”

That got him a grin. “sure, handy andy, come on out and live up to your name. give me a minute to get dressed, I’ll meet you downstairs.” He hooked a thumb at the door and Jeff went, sitting on the sofa until Stretch tromped down the stairs, dressed from toes to throat in jeans and a heavy sweatshirt, a bright knit hat on his skull.

The chicken coop looked sort of like a gingerbread house, except instead of Hansel and Gretel, three birds came barreling out of an entrance near the bottom, clucking eagerly as they waited by the wire mesh gate.

“sorry, gals, it’s a little late,” Stretch sighed, gently pushing them back with his toes as he opened the door. The chickens milled around his legs, getting even louder as Stretch poured feed into a little trough. They were bigger somehow than Jeff expected but what the hell did he know about chickens? He was more familiar with them in their nugget form.

Stretch left the door open as he came back out. “give them a minute and they’ll wander out to inspect you properly. c’mon, let’s have a seat.”

Beneath a large tree was a frankly charming little patio that wouldn’t be out of place at a sidewalk cafe, with chairs and a small table. Stretch dusted fallen leaves from both and sat down.

“you’d think the leaves would drive the Edgelord nuts,” Stretch said, stifling a yawn, “and that he’d have them bagged and tagged before they hit the ground, but he actually likes them. tries to say they’re good for the grass.”

“I like them, too,” Jeff admitted. “I didn’t see too many leaves where I grew up.”

“yeah?” Stretch chuckled. “me either. okay if i smoke?”

“It’s your yard.”

“it’s your lungs.”

Jeff shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me, go ahead, just exhale the other way.”

It was chilly out, well into October as it was, but in a good sort of way, the kind you could enjoy on your face so long as the rest of you was bundled up. There was a faint hint of smoke as Stretch lit his cigarette, but the breeze carried it the other direction. They were both in warm sweatshirts in the same autumn colors as the leaves, and it was nice to sit out here and watch the chickens, take in the breezy air.

Or at least Jeff thought it was, until Stretch tapped the ash of his cigarette into an ashtray on the little table, saying quietly, “i really am sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jeff insisted because seriously? What else did he have to do anyway? Nothing that he’d enjoy more than this, for sure.

“except for how you had to drag your ass all the way out here,” Stretch said. It was his tone of voice that was really bringing home how serious he was. Stretch had, not an accent exactly, but a way of speaking that was sort of laconic, his words rounded and easy. Right now, he sounded more like Edge, all crisp syllables.

“It’s not even twenty minutes and I was coming here later to meet Antwan anyway,” Jeff countered. “I didn’t have to take an Alaskan expedition or anything.” For a minute, he thought that was it and they could move past this, maybe enjoy the morning.

“you should probably know i’m not a very good friend,” Stretch said abruptly, ruining that hope. “i have a fuckton of problems that edge already has to deal with, so i won’t blame you if you want to back out of the whole friend thing.”

“Seriously?” Jeff groaned. “Man, you overslept one time. What kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“No but…look, it doesn’t make you an asshole to not want to deal with me.” He exhaled long and slow. “i have depression with manic episodes, ptsd, plus a laundry list of issues i could put together for you.”

“Okay,” Jeff said slowly. “So, you’ve got a diagnosis. From your therapist?” Something about that made a flash of discomfort cross Stretch’s face and he ducked his head, looking at his untied shoes.

“yeah,” he muttered.

“Good, that’s much better than WebMD. Besides, if you look there, it’ll probably say you have cancer.” It made him laughed a little in a way that sounded more like him and Stretch shook his head as Jeff went on, “We’re friends, okay? Even if you fuck up sometimes. Besides, this gives me an opportunity to fuck something up.”

Stretch gave him a wobbly smile. “you think you’re going to fuck something up?”

“Oh, I know I am,” Jeff said matter-of-factly, “If there’s one thing I’m great at, it’s fucking up. But if we’re both fuck ups then we make the best of friends, right?”

“i’m not sure that theory pans out. might need a little more study.”

“Sounds good.”

The chickens had wandered out of the coop during their stroll through the emotional minefield and were at their feet, shuffling through the leaves. Jeff flailed a little when the largest one hopped onto his leg, riding his wild movements easily and plucking at the front of his shirt.

“Oh,” Jeff stared at it in surprise, his hands rising and falling as he tried to decide what to do with them. “I didn’t know chickens were…friendly.”

“these ones are pretty friendly,” Stretch grinned. “they’re all hens. you can pet her, go ahead, noodle likes it.”

Hesitantly, he did, stroking the soft white feathers as the chicken clucked. “Oh,” Jeff said again, softly, “they’re nice, aren’t they.”

“They are,” Stretch said. His tone was a little odd, a little quiet, but Jeff’s attention was on the chicken in his lap. The other two came over to inspect his shoes, demanding their share of his attention and Jeff couldn’t help laughing, trying to pet all of them at once while Stretch only sat at watched him, lighting another cigarette and smiling.

end part 1

Read Part 2

[canaryatlaw]

okay, well today was fine but I’m in a bit of a funk now about job related stuff that’s just kinda got me discouraged. I didn’t get till bed till fairly late last night and I was dead exhausted, so I just let myself sleep in for a while, lol, so I think it was like 3:14 when I actually got out of bed. Had some breakfast (”breakfast”), and the first order of business was contacting stubhub about the mess that unfolded with the tickets yesterday, so I got them on the chat function on their website and then tried to explain and they were like “well it shows here that we contacted you and you never responded so the order was cancelled” and I was like “actually I did respond and I have screenshots showing so, as well as a timestamped email that I already sent those screenshots to you” so I had to send them all my proof and ultimately prove that the issue was on the buyer’s end and I did everything I was supposed to do, which they eventually agreed with and reversed the decision not to give me the money from the sale, which honestly I was kinda surprised actually happened because I was pretty sure they were just gonna be like “tough luck” so I was pleased to see that was not in fact the case. After that I accomplished some random around the house stuff for a bit, listening to podcast episodes, including our latest episode of the batwoman podcast we recorded last week and got released today. I was dismayed to find out I talk too fast for me to be able to use my speed listening podcast app that I use on every other podcast I listen to 😂so I guess that’s a sign that I need to slow down (I’m from New York, we talk fast) before starting on dinner, which was a dorito chicken casserole, basically crushed doritos on the bottom and top of a mixture of chicken and cheese and like sour cream and cream of chicken soup, plus a few more other things lol. but the chicken of course had to be cooked before that is put together and the recipe called for 2 cups of chicken, so I consulted the internet about how much in ounces I should make and it said 8 ounces, and the internet lied to me and when I had the chicken cooked and shredded it only made one cup, so I had to quickly cook another 8 ounces (which is obnoxious because I was just going to make 16 oz to begin with) so I basically just threw it in the pot without defrosting it lol which took a little longer but ultimately was pretty quick, so I was able to get it in the oven by like 6:15. A little while after that Jess showed up and we soon had dinner and watched the new legends episode. To be perfectly honest I was a bit underwhelmed with the episode, I felt like we didn’t accomplish all that much storyline wise and being that next week is the season finale I feel like more should’ve happened by now. The actual episode was fine, I just feel like we’re not at the point where the season is ready to be over next week, I feel like there’s way too much for them to try to wrap up in one episode which probably means the finale’s going to be somewhat disappointing so I’m kinda annoyed about that, but I guess we’ll have to see. I still love Legends of course, but it’s been hard seeing this season not quite live up to how good season 3 was. And I mean I know this happens with pretty much every tv show, it’s just how it is sometimes, but it’s still disappointing, especially being that Legends had progressively been getting better from seasons 1 to 3, so this is the first time the quality has actually declined. Jess headed out after Legends because she was tired like a little bitch (I’m just dragging her for when she searches this post for her name) and I continued watching for the Arrow season finale. so.....this episode was definitely like, intended to be the finale of the actual series, and for Oliver to die in the crossover next year, so I’m kind of ???? about what next season is going to be?? I’ve heard that it’s supposedly going to be all of the next gen, but that doesn’t really explain how any of the crisis stuff is going to fit into it, so that’s all a bit unclear at the moment. The actual episode though I really enjoyed, I think it was the first time I really got into the future plot and was like, on the edge of my seat when they were flipping back and forth between Oliver and Mia saving the day in their respective time periods, which was a very well shot and directed scene, so kudos for the crew on that. Seeing them officially wrap Emily Bett and knowing she’s not coming back is sad, but it is what it is I guess. So that was a lot. After that was over I watched The Fix, which I also don’t know how they’re going to sum up by next week’s season finale, especially if they aren’t renewed for a second season (I have no clue if they are or not). Watched that into the news and then Jimmy Fallon because Jimmy Kimmel was a repeat I’d already seen, ended up watching pretty much all of his show before showering and getting ready for bed, and now I’m here, While I was watching the news and Fallon I started looking at job applications because I had meant to do that today but I slept most of the day instead, and I ended up just feeling really shitty and discouraged about all of this. The major trigger for this was seeing that OPG had listed that they were hiring for GAL positions on the job listserv from my school which was really just a punch in the gut, because I still want that so badly, and knowing they have openings but they already turned me down is just really discouraging. I sent a couple applications in for random jobs, nothing too interesting, but I kinda just felt shitty about the whole thing and am starting to really loathe the entire process. I’m just so tired of all of it, I just want to be done with it already. I can feel my depression creeping in during the time I’m alone, it’s fine generally when I’m hanging out with people and having fun, and it’s definitely not at the point where I’d be willing to mess with my meds (I do have a psych appointment on Wednesday but at this point I’m not taking the chance of fucking with my meds and making it worse given what happened last time). It’s just so frustrating knowing at this point that whatever job I end up in very likely isn’t going to be one I actually care about, and they’ll probably want me to be totally committed to it when it’s always just going to be nothing more than a job to me, not a life because it’s not where I want to be. I haven’t heard back from legal aid about that one application I thought I’d be really good for, I’ve thought about following up with them but at this point I’m not sure what good it’d actually do. Sigh. so I’m just feeling really shitty about all of that and I’m so tired of being trapped in my apartment all the time with nothing to do, I just want things to go back to normal, it’s been way too long. Sigh. I guess that’s it for now, it’s almost 2 am and I have to wake up to go to the allergist (not like, early, but earlier than I would’ve naturally woken up) before the chiropractor tomorrow so I should probably be getting to bed, so I think I will do that now. Goodnight dearies. Hope your Monday didn’t suck.

[dayawantstosleep]

Burning Love - Witch AU

by dayawantstosleep                                     January 17 2019

Part 2

Genre/Warnings: Mild Swearing

Word Count: 1,409

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader

Summary: Park Jimin is an idiot. Only he would think that hexing a freshman to have pink hair for a week was fun.

Park Jimin was an idiot. Only he would think that hexing a freshman to have pink hair for a week was fun. Taehyung hexed him back as revenge and how he was on my couch spitting out phrase Shakespearian style.  

“Taehyung wilt payeth” I turned to Yoongi who looked like he had internal conflict.

“Payeth?” I was utterly confused at what he said. Wilt? What is that?

“Taehyung will pay. I looked it up on a website.”

“Ah, thanks Yoongi poo.” I blinked multiple times to get a reaction. He just stared at me as if I had two heads.

“This gent wilt feeleth mine wrath,” Jimin said

“Gent? You mean Taehyung?”

“He will feel my wrath,” Yoongi said. I clicked my tongue and crossed my arms.

“It's you're own fault, Park. You know how Tae is."

“That gent spendeth most of his time with Jungkook than with me.”

“He spends-“ I interrupt Yoongi’s speech.

“Thanks, Yoongi poo, but I actually understood that one.”

”I get it, you're jealous. But, that doesn't mean you could hex him. You brought this on by yourself my friend.” He sighed and flowers started sprouting from an empty pot next to my kitchen.

"You're doing it again." Yoongi crossed hear arms

“My most humble apology, it's the nerves.”

“Sorry, it's the nerves?”

“Yeah. You get it.” Young answered and turned to Jimin.

”I can help with that." He walked over to the kitchen and I turned to Jimin.

"Anyway, why can't you be friends with Jungkook? I mean, c'mon, he's adorable." Jimin smirked

“Is that a crush I heareth?”

“Pfft, no. I just like the way he lights up the whole room when he smiles, and those biceps are huge. And not to mention his abs. I mean, not a lot of people know have abs. I mean, Yoongi doesn’t have abs.” I turned towards Yoongi and my eyes widen. His face as all black and I rushed to my kitchen, “ Min Yoongi, what this you do?”

“I tried making some tea.”

“With what? A nuclear bomb? My kitchen is burned!”

“Oh c’mon, you don’t even know how to cook.” He crossed his arms

“Well I mean yeah, but, Tae and Jin are coming in like a few hours with Jungkook. I need everything to look presentable, including my kitchen.” Yoongi huffed and shook his head.

“I think I have a spell that can reverse this.” I take out my mini spell book from my pocket and begin skimming through it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of blue light but I ignored it and kept searching for the spell.

“I found it. Reverso-“ I looked up and I cut myself off. The kitchen was spotless. The blackness disappeared and everything seemed clean. I turned to Yoongi and opened my mouth to say something.

“This is important for you. Here.” A cup of liquid appeared in his hand. He liked making food appear and disappear from his hand or the kitchen counter.

“Tea, for good luck” I smiled at him and took the cup.

“Have I ever told you, you’re the best roommate ever?”

“Lots of times.” I sipped my tea. It was sweet and citrusy in flavor.

“Did Tae say when the spell wears off?”

“Not so. ’Tis what I’m worried about.”

“What?”  

“Nevermind, you’ll be fine Jimin. I gotta get ready. I’ll be out in a few.”

“A good wish upon you .”

“Does that mean good luck?” He tilted his head

“Thanks Jiminie.” I walked towards my room and lock the door. ———————————————————————————————————

I was freaking out. Teahyung and Jungkook were here and I forgot to buy snacks. I could feel my anxiety rising. I just keep biting my nails.  

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to buy snacks.” Yoongi sighed

“We’ll be right back. We forgot something at the store.” I announced the two boys playing video games on my couch and walked to the door. I got in the car with Yoongi as the driver.

“I owe you one.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it. I’d do anything for you.” Somehow that made me happy.

“Thanks.”

“So, you like him, huh?”

“Jungkook? Yeah, I mean, he’s nice and I don’t know what to say when we ttalk. He’s this ray of sunshine, not like Jimin but close enough.” He grunted, never taking his eyes off the road.

“I approve, he’s a nice kid.”

“Thanks Yoongi.”

“Is that what made you like him? He seems like you’re type.”

”Yeah, it is. I’ve always been attracted to guys with bright smiles. He fits the bill.”

“That’s good to hear.” In front of me was the grocery store and Yoongi cut the engine. I smiled at the awesome person that is Min Yoongi and get off the car.

“Yeah, it is.”   ———————————————————————————————————

“We’re ba-“ I stopped mid sentence and felt tears on my eyes. I saw Jungkook and Jimin…making out. I hurried to my room when I heard “what the hell is this?” midway. I locked the door and fall face-first on my bed. I should’ve told him I liked him, things would’ve turned out differently. I heard Yoongi yell and the door open.

“I’m sorry.” I felt strong arms around me and knew it was him. The bed dipped and he pulled me towards his chest.

“Shh!” He stoked my hair and kissed my forehead

“You’ll be fine. This will pass.”

“I know. I probably shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.” I hastily wiped my tears and sat up.

“What will I do without you?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering for a year now.” I smiled at his attempt to cheer him up. My phone beeped and I reached for it.

“It’s Jungkook.” I held my phone for him to see.

“Are you ok? You were crying.” 

“I’m fine. Just cramps.” 

“Do you want me to get you some Advil and make you some tea?” 

“No thanks, Yoongi’s with me.” 

“Hyung better take care of you.”

“Course I will. Who does this kid think he is?”

“My crush. Who unwillingly broke my heart.”

“He will, chill.” 

“Do you wanna go get food? I’m hungry.” 

“Sure, I’ll be out in a few.” 

“Great.”

I turned my phone off and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“With who?”

“Jungkook.”

“You still want to give him the time of day?”

“I’ll get over him, don’t worry oppa.” He sighed and closed his eyes.

“I’ll be back in a bit. I love you oppa.” I walked out the door to see a disheveled Jimin. I pretend my heart didn’t break in two and sniffled.

“You ready?” I smiled at him

“Yeah.” I walked out the door, to my car. Jungkook got in the passengers seat. The back door opened and in came Jimin.

“Um, whatchu doing?”

“Oh, he’s coming too. I didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“Sorry.” I smiled with gritted teeth.

“It’s fine.” 

The car ride was torture. I didn’t want to talk, so I turned the radio on.

“This is my jam.” I say as ‘Fake Love’ comes on.

“Who is this?”

“It’s WINNER, the best boyband in the world.” I turned the music up and kept my eyes on the road. A few minutes later, we got to our destination.

I sat down in a booth and took my phone out. Jungkook gave me a puzzled look.

“Are you ok?” 

“Just peachy, hun.” Jungkook sat down next to me. 

‘Oppa!!!!’ I texted my roommate 

‘What?’ 

‘Jimin came along.’ 

‘What? Didn't you say you’d get over him?’ 

‘I will, but its awkward after what I just witnessed.’ 

‘I’m on my way.’ 

‘Thanks oppa.’ I turned my phone off and face one of my best friends.

“I see the spell wore off.”

“Oh, yeah it did.”

“How did this happen? I mean last time we talked you didn't like Jungkook.”

“What? Really?”

“Pffhh, no.” Jimin pursed his lips at me.

“So, are you gay now?” I turned to Jungkook, who wouldn't look at me.

“Kookie, hi, funny meeting you here.” I looked up. In front of me was Yoongi.

“Yoongi poo.” I blinked repeatedly

“Yoongi poo?” Jimin asked

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” Yoongi sits next to Jimin.

“So, you’re dating your roommate?”

“What?” Little shit!

“No. We’re not.”

“Are you sure? You two seem comfy.”

“I’m sure Jimn.” I grinned. He wants war? He’ll get it.

“Good, the food’s here.” The waitress handed out plates.

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

A/N: I hope you liked this part. I had fun writing it Give me ideas, I need some. PM me if you have any ideas.