#we heard a pipe bursting then it started smelling horribly for a little while but now it's Gone i think.

[roboyomo]

. i think there was a gas leak right next to my classroom.

[witch-and-a-half]

a weasley winter holiday

who’d have thunk i’d get carried away with a christmas story during a september heatwave?

notes: reader x fred, fluff, no specific house/year/etc, a tiny innuendo or two ;)

words: a little over 3k (sorry it’s so long!)

- - -

As the train slowed to a stop, Fred felt his girlfriend’s hand squeeze his gently. He glanced back at her with a soft but still humorous grin, “Nervous?”

“Not at all,” she exhaled. [y/n] did her best to give Fred a confident smile, but her eyes betrayed her. He could see a glint of worry in her eyes. [y/n] had visited the Burrow last summer before going to Quidditch World Cup, but that felt like ages ago. It was easy for her to disappear into the commotion of the Quidditch World Cup, and she wasn't dating Fred at the time. This was going to be her first Christmas at the Burrow… and her first time meeting the Weasley’s as Fred’s girlfriend.

Fred did his best to sound reassuring, “You really have nothing to worry about. Everybody knows and loves you already. You’ll only be meeting Bill and Charlie for the first time…”

“... and they’ll just be glad you’re distracting Fred from bothering them. Actually, I think you should be worried that I’ll be mad you’re hogging my prank buddy.” George finished.

[y/n] scoffed at George’s suggestion. She knew he was only joking, but there was still a little piece of her that wondered if there was some truth to his statement. Maybe her presence really would throw off the whole family dynamic.

The three rose to their feet, and Fred stretched up to grab their things from the overhead railing. Fred handed [y/n] her bag and took note of the way her hands shakily clutched its fabric straps. He pulled down George’s suitcase, shoving it into his brother’s arms with just enough force to knock him back into his seat. “Hey!” George looked genuinely confused. Fred only raised his eyebrows, communicating his irritation with his brother's statement. Fred took her hand and led the three out of their compartment where Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione were waiting. [y/n] took a deep breath. She was determined to squash the nerves before they got off the train.

You know the Weasley’s. She thought. They like you. Fred likes you. George and Ron and Ginny like you. Harry and Hermione will be there too, and they like you.

Fred noticed his girlfriend lighten as you walked through the train corridor. “[y/n] is worried Bill and Charlie won’t like her.” he jokes to the group. [y/n] stepped off the train onto the platform. “I’m not really that-” she started, but was interrupted by Ginny, who came to stand next to her, “It’s okay to have nerves. I’m sure Bill and Charlie will love you; they’ve already heard plenty of good things.” [y/n] shot Fred an accusatory look. His cheeks reddened a bit, “It’s not just me! Georgie and Ron and Gin have talked about you too.”

“There’s mum!” Ron said and he started pulling his trunk down the platform. [y/n] spotted the red-headed woman as she hurried toward the group with outstretched arms. Her face was as kind as [y/n] remembered, but she still felt a wave of worry sweep over her.

Fred had known for a bit that [y/n] was anxious to spend the holiday with his family, but she had been careful not to let him find out that she was most worried to meet Mrs. Weasley. [y/n] knew how loved Molly Weasley was—by her children but also by their friends—and she had been perfectly kind when [y/n] visited before. She had only spent a few hours with Mrs. Weasley before the World Cup though, and who knows how she would feel about her son’s girlfriend. [y/n] fought the urge to tense up as the words “my boyfriend’s mother” echoed in her mind. She knew it would break Fred’s heart if he found out his girlfriend was scared to meet his beloved mother.

[y/n] masked her nerves as Mrs. Weasley released Ginny from a tight embrace and turned to [y/n]. “Hello dear! You’re taller than when we saw each other last!” Mrs. Weasley pulled her into a warm hug. She smelled like fresh baked bread. In a funny way, it reminded [y/n] of the way Fred often smelled of explosives and sweets. “Thank you so much for inviting me to stay with you, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Oh, we are so pleased to have you dear. I’ve been so excited to get to know Freddie’s girlfriend.” She pulled away from the hug but kept her hands on [y/n]’s shoulders. The kind look stayed on her face as she looked [y/n] up and down.

“Yeah, he was basically begging in that letter-” George chortled.

Fred moved to smack his brother on the arm, but Mrs. Weasley beat him to it. “He didn’t beg,” her gaze turned from her sons back to [y/n], “And he wouldn’t have needed to. We obviously want [y/n] here for the holidays.” The hand that was still on [y/n] stroked her upper arm lovingly. “You can call me Molly, dear.”

“Mum, please, I’m starving.” Ron groaned. He had been first to receive a hug, so he had been waiting the longest while she worked her way through the rest of the group. His face turned a bit when both Mrs. Weasley and Hermione gave him a scolding look. He fell into step with Harry as Mrs. Weasley led the way out of the station. “Bloody hell,” [y/n] heard Ron whisper to Harry, “they’re already ganging up on me.”

~ ~ ~

[y/n] was quiet most of the way to the Burrow. She listened intently to the chatter. Mrs. Weasley’s children were catching her up on life at Hogwarts and all the other things they couldn’t fit into letters. Fred noticed his girlfriend’s silence and his heart panged as he realized she might feel out of place. He was just about to tell his mother about the pastries [y/n] had given out before their most recent Quidditch match—they turned half the school’s hair bright red and gold—when they arrived at the Burrow. Fred caught [y/n]’s eye as he unloaded their luggage; she looked content, but Fred wasn’t quite satisfied with that.

Fred and [y/n] were the first inside the Burrow, and they paused a few feet inside. [y/n] had barely begun to soak in how cozy the Weasley home was when she felt a soft pinch on her upper arm. 

“Ouch… Fred what was that for?”

He gave his girlfriend a toothy grin while she rubbed her arm in the same spot Mrs. Weasley had at the train station. “Just checking if you’re alright, love.”

At that moment, Mr. Weasley came into view at the bottom of the staircase. “Surely I didn’t just watch my son pinch his lovely girlfriend?” his tone was mostly sarcastic, but the emphasis on “pinch” turned Fred and [y/n]’s cheeks rosy.

“Yeah, honestly. Who raised you Freddie?” George said from the doorway.

Mr. Weasley patted George on the back as he passed his father to head upstairs. He brought Fred in for a quick hug and similar clap on the back, before extending his hand to [y/n]. His jaunty but firm handshake reminded [y/n] of when they’d met before. Her heart lightened as she remembered how kind Mr. Weasley was. He looked her dead in the eye, “Let me know if he pinches you again. Molly and I will scold him like when he and George were little and would bite their brothers.” [y/n] giggled as Mr. Weasley winked. Fred was too relieved by his girlfriend’s ease to defend himself.

“Oh, I’m sure [y/n} already knows Fred’s a biter.” Ron piped up from behind them.

[y/n] felt her face flush, and she didn’t even have to look at Fred to know his cheeks were the reddest they’d been all day. She turned to Ron just in time to see Mrs. Weasley gently smack the back of her youngest son’s head, “Ronald!” He rubbed the back of his head, still grinning. But the cheeky look fell from his face when he saw the anger in Fred’s eyes.

Ginny giggled and grabbed [y/n]’s hand, pulling her up the stairs “Hermione and I will show you where the girls sleep.”

As they climbed the stairs, Ginny turned back to [y/n] with an amused look still on her face. [y/n] mouthed a “thank you” for saving her from the most awkward moment of her life. As they neared the second floor, [y/n] turned to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Weasley quietly lecturing Ron. Fred stood beside her with his arms folded and face stony. But he still winked when he caught [y/n]'s eye.

Once the three girls reached Ginny’s room, they burst out into laughter. Even [y/n]. Ginny brought [y/n] to sit next to her on her bed. Hermione knelt next to her bag, but rested her hands on her knees before unzipping it, “Fred looked like he could’ve killed Ron on the spot.” [y/n] shook her head and leaned back onto Ginny’s quilted bed. “Oh my god,” she said, giggling in disbelief.

“Welcome to the Weasley home!” Ginny said with her arms spread out ceremoniously.

~ ~ ~

During [y/n]’s first few days at the Burrow, she became much more at ease around Fred’s family. She no longer got lost on her way to the bathroom. When George or Ron poked fun at her, she quipped back as though they were in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Just as soon as she’d nearly relaxed, however, Bill and Charlie arrived. It was just a few days before Christmas and the oldest brothers were greeted with the same warmth and vigor as everyone else. Fred waited until everyone else had gotten a chance to say hello before bringing his girlfriend up to meet his older brothers. [y/n] was ever grateful that he boyfriend thought to introduce her without an audience. He rested his hand on the small of her back as they waited, and he rubbed a few gentle circles with his thumb as he led her forward.

Before she could reach out to shake Bill’s hand, he pulled her in for a gentle hug. She felt the nerves melt as he released her. But the worry rushed back when she heard Charlie’s concerned voice.

“Oh god Freddie…” he said, directing a convincingly sorrowful look at [y/n] and then Fred, “You haven’t told her?”

[y/n] bit her lip and glanced at Fred, whose eyes narrowed in confusion.

Charlie’s face broke into a familiar sunny grin, “She’s horribly out of your league.”

“Charlie, I swear to-” Fred began to lunge at his brother, but was cut off by a chuckle that made his heart leap. He turned to see [y/n] covering her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Oh, nevermind. I guess she already knows.” Charlie nodded, with a humorous glint in his eye that [y/n] had seen before in his brothers’ eyes.

“Just making sure she knows where you got your humor from!” Charlie called as he strode into the dining room.

~ ~ ~

Once [y/n] had warmed up to the oldest brothers, it began to be glaringly obvious which Weasley still made her uneasy. She knew Mrs. Weasley liked her. But everytime she was in the room, [y/n] began to overthink everything she said and did. What if she said something that made Mrs. Weasley think she wasn’t good enough for her son? What if Fred’s arm around [y/n] makes her upset? Aren’t mothers supposed to be judgmental of their son’s girlfriend?

The evening before Christmas Eve, [y/n] and Fred found themselves truly alone for the first time. They rested on a couch in the living room as the fire died out; everyone else had gone to bed or were chatting elsewhere. [y/n] sat next to Fred with her legs draped over his lap and her head rested on his chest. His arm reached around her shoulder, keeping her close to him. The opposite hand sat on her knee, his fingers tapping lightly on the fabric of her flannel pajamas. She closed her eyes and focused on the way his chest steadily rose and fell beneath her. His heartbeat was a bit less steady though.

“Can I ask you something?” Fred said softly. [y/n] had never heard his voice sound so unsure before. When she tried to shift to look at him, his hold only tightened. It was like he was worried she would leave if he didn’t keep her against him. Her voice was shakier than she’d have liked, “You can ask me anything, hon.” The hand on her knee stopped tapping and just held on firmly.

His words made her heart ache worse than she had imagined they would. “Do you-” he paused, “Do you not like my mum?” His voice was low, but clear.

“Oh Freddie…” she felt her eyes prick with guilt. “I absolutely love your Mum.”

His grip on her lightened and she pulled away a bit so he could see her face in the dim light. He wished she’d make eye contact with him though. “But you are so much quieter when she’s around…”

A moment passed before [y/n] looked up at Fred. When he saw the glisten of tears in her eyes, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. His gentle hand came to the back of her head to pull her into his shoulder. [y/n] nuzzled her head into her boyfriend’s neck. She fought back tears, but a few fell when she realized how unfair it was to Fred that she’d been treating his mother poorly and now he had to comfort her. She should be comforting him.

[y/n] wrapped her arms around Fred’s torso and sighed, “I just really want her to like me.”

Fred rubbed his fingertips along the nape of [y/n]’s neck as she explained how worried she was about Mrs. Weasley thinking [y/n] wasn’t good enough for her son. Fred’s confusion slowly melted away. Once she’d finished, [y/n] was startled by the feeling of Fred’s shoulders shaking. At first she thought he was crying, but when she pulled away to apologize, she realized he was laughing quietly.

Now [y/n] was confused. Fred brushed the tears off of her face lovingly, holding back the laughter that threatened to spill out when he saw how confused she was.

“Have you been paying any attention? Didn’t you hear what Charlie said?” Fred asked incredulously.

Lips pursed, [y/n] shook her head. She was only slightly irritated by her boyfriend’s sudden humor.

“You’re out of my league!” He grinned as [y/n] buried her head in Fred’s chest again. When she came back up to look at him, she was smiling too.

“Oh shut up!” she swatted his arm playfully.

“I’m not kidding!” Fred shifted sideways a bit so he could grab [y/n] by both shoulders and look her in the eye. “Do you know how relieved they are that I’ve found such a sweet and down-to-earth girl? My mum was convinced I was going to live here and bother her forever.” His voice was still quiet but earnest. [y/n] could tell he would be talking louder if it wouldn’t attract attention.

“Oh my god..” [y/n] said breathlessly. She felt a weight lift off of her shoulders. How long had she been carrying that weight? Her hands found the back of Fred’s neck and she pulled him in for a deep kiss. Since coming to the Burrow, they had only caught quick pecks or light touches, so the kiss was hungry and full of a welcome relief.

“Mum adores you [y/n].” He said when they pulled apart. His palm still cupped the side of her neck and his thumb rested gently on her jaw. Her breath gently fanned out along his lips as he saw tears tease the outer corner of her eyes. “[y/n], she told me she loves you. She even told me this morning.”

Only one tear fell, and Fred quickly swiped his thumb along her cheek to catch it.

[y/n] thought back to earlier in the day when Bill brought her and Ginny along to help him pick out a gift for his mother. Fred had stayed behind to help Mrs. Weasley bake Christmas cookies. [y/n]’s heart soared and she wrapped her arms around Fred’s broad shoulders. They sat like that, both relieved, for another hour or so. Occasionally, [y/n] would feel Fred’s soft lips on her forehead and she would leave chaste kisses on his neck and jaw in return.

Neither of them noticed when Mrs. Weasley passed by the doorway, pausing for a moment to look at them and smiling to herself. She recalled what her son had told her that morning as they made cookies: “Mum, I think I love her.”

~ ~ ~

[y/n] was shook awake by Fred two days later. “C’mon girls! It’s Christmas!” George exclaimed from the doorway. Hermione and Ginny sat up groggily. The whole family had spent the night before decorating—and eating—the Christmas cookies. [y/n] had gone to bed exhausted but exhilarated by the sense of belonging. When Charlie accidentally broke his gingerbread man, he passed the leg to [y/n] and nudged, “Now it’s a stocking!” And Mrs. Weasley showed her how to make perfectly round buttons on her snowman cookie

Fred sat next to [y/n] on the couch as presents were opened. Everyone had loved the gifts [y/n] had brought: little Muggle trinkets she’d handpicked for each family member. The wide eyed look when Mr. Weasley opened his Mr. Microphone was absolutely priceless.

As the morning came to a close, Mrs. Weasley brought out packages wrapped in brown paper and tied up with shiny red bows. Ron muttered something to George under his breath as Mrs. Weasley carefully passed out the right gift to each person.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” [y/n] smiled, without the hesitation she would have had a week ago.

She patted [y/n]’s cheek lovingly and gave her a knowing look, “You can call me Molly, dear.”

Everyone opened their packages to find the famous handmade sweaters. [y/n] set hers on her lap and gently traced the outline of her initial with her hand.

“Oh it's lovely Mrs.-” but she caught herself, “It’s lovely Molly. Thank you so much.”

[y/n] caught Molly’s gaze just long enough to see the love in her eyes. Before she could fully take it in, she felt Fred nudge her with his elbow.

She looked up at him, a childish smile still plastered on her face. “I thought these were only for family?” she whispered quietly. Fred grinned and brought his head down a bit to whisper in her ear.

“They are.”

[heywardsarchive]

a very burrow christmas {Harry potter}

Summary: Harry and his girlfriend enjoy Christmas with their favourite people, the Weasleys. This is a no voldy au so every one is alive and happy:')

A/n: this is written by me and @pregnant-piggy 

(he has no right to be this cute wtf)                                                    

"Harry," y/n said trying to shake Harry's grip off her waist. "Haaryyy" she said in a sing song voice poking his cheek. "Wake up Potter!" She picked him again. "Ugh, lemme sleep l/n." Harry grumbled pulling y/n closer in his arms. "Five more minutes." He said snuggling his face into her neck. "Fine." She sighed playfully and melted into his embrace, falling asleep once again.

They were woken up properly when sirius barged into the room screaming "WAKE UP." He saw the sight in front of him and he almost let them be and leave. Almost being the word here, instead he called out to his best friend very loudly. "Prongs! Your son is trying to make you a grandfather early!" There was a series of clangs and crashes and ran in James Potter with crooked and a slightly red face. "What? Where?" Sirius snickered and pointed at Harry and y/n who were now waking up due to the commotion. "What's going on?" Harry asked groggily.

"Nothing, just sirius being an arse. Now wake up and get dressed, you both have to go the burrow today." James told his son and his girlfriend.

Harry groaned and nuzzled his face in y/n's shoulder. She giggled and pushed his head away, ignoring the googly eyes Sirius and James were making. 'Come on, Harry. The Weasleys are waiting for us. And you know how Ron gets when he has to wait.' In the doorframe, Sirius and James chuckled, but one look from Harry was enough to send them away. He and y/n got dressed in silence, both lost in their thoughts. When they came down, James and Lily were sitting at the dining table, both a mug in their hand and a smug smile on their face. Harry grumbled something about 'embarrassing him with their stupid faces' and James laughed loudly.

Still slightly grumpy, Harry ate his breakfast quietly. "So y/n, when are your parents returning?" Lily asked Y/n. She put her galss of orange juice down. "Oh, they'll be joining us tomorrow for Christmas at the Weasley's house." Lily nodded. "That's good." "Alright kiddos it's time to go." James clapped his hands together. Both Harry and y/n grabbed hold of their bags. One by one they walked into the fireplace and flooed to the burrow.

Harry reached first. He stepped out of the fireplace and and a second later out came y/n. She dusted the soot of her clothes and smiled at Harry. As Harry turned around, he was immediately hit on the face with a blob of frosting. Y/n burst out laughing. "You look so stupid Harry." She said, still laughing extremely loudly. "What a horrible day!" Harry whined.

The culprits behind the frosting on Harry's face walked to them with sly grins on their faces. Ofcourse it was fred and George. "Hello Harry, did you enjoy your Christmas welcome?" They said in unison. "No." Harry grumbled. "It was amazing, good job guys." Y/n high fived the twins. "Are you my girlfriend or theirs?" Harry asked her feigning betrayal. He put his fingers to his face and removed some of the frosting and rubbed it all over y/n's cheeks. She gasped. "No you didn't!" "Yes I did." Harry said mockingly.

Y/n took the piping bag from Fred's hands and squeezed it all over Harry's unruly black hair. "You've started war woman!" Harry declared and snatched the bag from her and ripped it on her head. "Ewww." She groaned. By then, all the Weasley kids had gathered, hearing the commotion. "Er, hi guys." Harry and y/n said sheepishly. "You had a frosting fight, without me?" Ron asked in betrayal. "Join in?" Y/n asked him. "YES!" He cheered.

Everybody grabbed some frosting bags and started throwing it at eachother. "What is going on here!" Mrs Weasley arrived, looking at the mess created in her living room. Everyone froze in their tracks and dropped whatever they were holding. "I asked you kids to frost cookies, not each other! Now clean up the mess. Stat!" Her face was red. The room was silent. "Do not worry kids, we got this." Fred and George said. They whipped out their wands and muttered a spell and the room was back to normal. "You're welcome." They grinned.

With the very little frosting that was left, it was quickly decided that the cookies would taste just as good without decoration. After everyone was washed up they sat in the living room, calming down from the frosting war. All were happily discussing what gifts they hoped they would get, when Ron proposed to play a game. Chutes and Ladders was taken out and everyone sat around it.

What was supposed to be an innocent game, soon turned into a battle in which no one was spared. Loud laughter erupted every time someone had to slide back to the start and groans from everyone but the player came whenever they could ascend a ladder.

Harry was the first one to give up. He still had the same, although maybe a little less, mood he had had in the morning and when he had to go back to the start for the third time, he threw his pawn away and declared he was done with the game. He pulled y/n on his lap and rested his chin on her shoulder as he watched how she slowly made her way to the last box.

'I won! I won!' she exclaimed when she placed her pawn on the final box and she threw her arms in the air. Everyone laughed bittersweet at her victory, but y/n noticed nothing of it as she turned around to Harry and wrapped her arms around his neck. Harry chuckled and placed a kiss on her temple. She however threw all her weight in the embrace and together with her boyfriend she fell to the floor.

Harry's chest was rising and falling with his laughter and y/n was lying on top of him. She lifted but kept hovering over him. The look on Harry's face was so delicate that she couldn't but place a soft kiss on his lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist and smiled into the kiss when he heard everyone around them groan and yell.

'MOM! y/n and Harry can't keep their hands off each other!' Ron screamed to the kitchen and y/n climbed off Harry, not hiding her smug smile on her lips. She looked at Harry and he winked at her, his cheeks as red as the hair of the Weasleys around him.

It was night by the time the game ended and everyone's stomach was growling in hunger. "Kids, time for dinner!" Mrs Weasley called out. Everyone ran to the table, mouth watering at the smell of the deliciously steaming food. Roast turkey, cranberry sauce, pie and chocolate cake among others was spread out on the table. Everyone dug in and relished the delicious meal. Mrs Weasley this is so good!" Harry said in delight. "Thankyou dear." She smiled. Soon all the food on the table was cleared and nothing but a few crumbs remained.

Since it was Christmas Eve, Hermione suggested that they sang Christmas carols. Ginny decided that they sang o Christmas tree. Everyone sang along singing off tune, but still the Christmas cheer filled the air. The burrow never failed to brighten the mood. After carols, everyone dropped their gifts under the giant tree in the middle of the living room. Fred and George tried to sneak glances at the boxes which had their names on them. They even almost ripped one of the gifts open before mrs Weasley smacked their hands away.

Around eleven pm, mr Weasley handed everyone mugs of hot chocolate as everyone sat in the backyard. It was snowing and one could see their breath in the cold. "It's so nice outside." Ginny muttered. Everyone nodded in agreement. Harry rested his head on y/n's shoulder and she kissed his forehead. "I love you." He whispered. "I love you too." Y/n whispered lifting Harry's chin to place a kiss on his lips. "Gross! Get a room." Ron teased. Harry stuck his tongue out at his best friend and he rolled his eyes teasingly.

It was getting very late and everyone started to nod off. One by one they retired to their rooms. The girls were together and Harry was to share a room with Ron. Y/n placed a kiss on Harry's forehead and followed Hermione into the house.

*****

Full from the food and the merry feelings, y/n found her sleep quickly. The soft chatting of Hermione and Ginny lulled her asleep and soon she was off in dreamland.

Harry in his shared room with Ron missed y/n's warmth and her embrace that he was used to fall asleep to. He kept talking with Ron until the little hours, but eventually he slept in too, the warmth and comfort of the burrow easing him.

If the next morning no one had woken from the rooster that was screaming bloody murder at the crack of dawn, they were woken by the enthusiastic and loud talking of the twins, who were the first ones to wake up and had no intention of letting everyone else sleep in on this Christmas morning. So while Ron tried to turn around in his bed once more, the door of the bedroom burst open and Fred and George jumped on their brother's bed. 'Come on, Ron, it's Christmas!' Fred exclaimed and he and George kept pestering Ron all the way down to the living room, where the rest of the sleepy family sat.

y/n was sitting in the corner of the couch, resting her cheek on her hand. Her eyes were almost falling shut when Harry slumped into the place next to her and rested his head in her lap. She raked her hands through his messy hair and Harry felt his eyes slowly closing.

'I can't believe it, I talked to him for hours last night and he wouldn't fall asleep. You put your hand in his hair and he is off,' Ron grumbled, though he didn't look annoyed; he had a smirk on his face.

'Well, what can I say,' y/n laughed. 'It's a Christmas miracle.' *****

After a delicious breakfast made by Mrs Weasley, everybody gathered around the tree to open the presents. As the last person sat down, James and Lily Potter came out of the fireplace, followed by sirius a few seconds later. "Sorry we're late." Lily coughed. "Someone forgot to do their present shopping." Sirius looked sheepishly at the ground. "But we're here now." He declared.

Gifts were being passed out and everyone was excitedly opening them. Mrs Weasley knit everyone a Weasley jumper with their initial on it. Mr Weasley have everyone gifts depending on their likes. Sirius gave everyone a joke shop gift. Fred and George were the only ones who appriciated the gift. Finally, Harry opened y/n's gift. She anxiously watched his as he carefully opened the wrapping paper. He then lifted the gift, it was a scrapbook that she had spent months putting together. Harry flipped the book open, on the front was a picture of them in their first year, after Harry won the match, then after that there were pictures and small handwritten notes on every page. "Do you like it?" Y/n asked expectantly. "I really do!" Harry replied hugging her.

The gifts were opened and the mess was cleared. The children sat down on the sofa and we're about to play exploding snap when ginny exclaimed, "it's snowing!" The game was forgotten and everyone pulled on their coats and went to backyard. It was the first snow that year and it felt magical. Lily put on a casette that played muggle Christmas carols. They were all wizards but something about the atmosphere felt even more magical.

"Dance with me." Harry extended his hand out to y/n. "Gladly." She took it. He pulled her close and they swayed to the music. "I love you." Harry kissed her forehead. "I love you too " she smiled.

Lily and James watched the two lovers dance outside and their hearts swelled. It reminded them of them in their youth. Y/n's parents had arrived by then and they too watching them dance felt their heart warm up. It was beautiful to see the two of them so young and in love.

Hermione pulled y/n away from Harry, telling him that she needed to steal y/n from him as they needed another team mate for their snow ball fight. Harry shook his head and stood beside ron who was watching Hermione with slightly red cheeks and a small smile. "You should ask her out mate." Harry told him. "I don't know who you're taking about." He said defiantly. "Sure man, I belive you." Harry nudged his shoulder and they both shared a small laugh.

Harry was still talking to Ron when he was hit in the face by a snowball coming from behind a fort of snow a little further in the yard. As the cold snow dripped of his face and ice cold drops of water made their way into the collar of his coat, Harry quickly ran to the fort of the other team. He crouched down behind the wall of snow and turned to George, who was captain of this team.

'Spy on them, while Gin and I get ready to attack them,' George said and he pushed Harry into the battlefield unprepared. A little lost he stood in between the two teams, but then he walked closer to the team y/n was on.

Her team hadn't noticed Harry yet. They were all bent over a drawing in the snow, that Fred was pointing at with his wand. Harry looked over his shoulder and gestured for George and Ginny to come closer. They approached the little hill of snow slowly and carefully. 'ATTACK!' George yelled and he and Ginny jumped over the 'fort', throwing snowballs at the persons behind it. Loud yells and screams erupted from the people behind the snow and a real battle, as the one with the frosting the previous day had been, erupted. Snow was thrown back and forth until everyone was cold and blue and Mrs Weasley called everyone inside for a hot chocolate.

After everyone was warmed up again by Mrs Weasley's amazing hot cacao, they stationed in the living room. Just when Ron was about to sit next to y/n,  Harry jumped in his place, forcing Ron to sit in the spot next to Hermione. Harry shot y/n a sly grin and she rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, while lied his head on her lap, silently asking her to play with his hair.

Y/n chatted with everyone around her while Harry's eyes started to droop. "Done go to sleep now, it's almost time for dinner." He groaned. "But you're comfortable." She flicked his forehead. "I'm up, I'm up." He said sitting up on the sofa. After a few minutes, food was set on the table, once again the table was filled with scrumptious food. Salad, sandwiches, mince pie, pasta and others were layed out.

Conversation flowed nicely on the table as everyone dug into their food. It was the perfect ending to a wonderful day. As Harry watched y/n talk to Ginny animatedly he couldn't help but feel that he was the luckiest man on earth to be with a person like her. He held her hand under that table and she intertwined her fingers with his. They smiled at each other, eyes holding so much love that it almost overflowed.

Harry and y/n were a match made in heaven and neither of them planned on letting the other go anytime soon *******

taglist: @kashishwrites

[ajbwasntwriting]

Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 8. Civil Unrest

First | Previous | Next

For all intents and purposes this is filler so the next chapter will be up in the next few minutes

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

In a few days you were up on your feet, your need to survive driving your fast recovery. As soon as you could sit up without nearly fainting and you could bend your fingers without much pain you started taking patients. Mainly burns and cuts. You kept your head down while working, adding to your intimidating reputation. They didn’t realise you were just trying to conceal yourself while looking for familiar faces. You rarely left the medical bay, even when it was icy cold.

Carol checked on you regularly, seemingly incredibly concerned for you. It almost pained you to suspect her to be out to get you. Luckily she seemed convinced that because you had been alone for so long that you’d take a long time getting used to the walls. Maybe she figured out that you were just biding time for leaving again.

“Are you okay?” Laura pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up suddenly, nodded, and went back to your reading. All these patient profiles from the previous physician were thorough. “Why would Emmett be this detailed with extremely basic medical care” you tought, then again he was a captive here just as much as you were. He probably had nothing better to do. “Are you sure? You look so serious.” She continued. You looked up to her. She was lying on one of the beds chewing on a piece of hard plastic. Having to keep a watch on ‘The New Doc’ would’ve been extremely boring.

“Just a lot of reading” you sat up and stretched your arms, not realising how long you had sat hunched over the hand-written pages. “Doctors have horrible handwriting and this guy sure likes to drag his point out”

“How bad is it?” She asked. You lifted the profile of another patient and followed along with your finger.

“The left Thenar has suffered tremendous infliction resulting in the loss of elasticity and possible avulsion of the tissue” You read aloud in a dramatic voice

“What?” Laura said, taking the plastic out of her mouth for a moment

“He pulled the muscle in his thumb, possibly tearing it” you flopped the paper down, rubbing your forehead.

“And all those pages are full of that shit” Laura pressed. You sighed with a nod.

“I never thought I’d be grateful to have done AP english.” you sighed

“Okay smart ass no need to show off” Laura chuckled, chewing on the plastic again.

“Please,” you sat back in the chair “My old man made me do it. ‘You already speak english so it should be a breeze’ he said”

“Those kind of parents?”

“You’re familiar?”

“Yep” Laura sat up, hunching over her now crossed legs. “My dad was a lawyer. Mom was an accountant. They kept pushing me to over achieve”

“Bet they weren’t happy with that” you spoke, pointing to your neck to reference Laura’s tattoo. Her hand went over it instinctively.

“I had already skipped town with my boyfriend before I got this.” She laughed. The smile melted away as she slowly stroked her neck. “Hadn’t seen them since. Probably dead.”

The room got a lot more quiet. It was crazy to think you both were so close in age but had gone through so much hell in the same world. But Laura was a saviour. You were Negan’s kid. If you were to be friends it would have to be at an arm’s reach.

The momentum changed when Carol arrived in, holding a small tray with cookies on them. The smell told you they were fresh. Your heart wanted to tell her to get out, but those cookies smelled too damn good.

“How’s the hard work going ladies.” she spoke with a cheery voice, setting the tray down in front of you. You were on it instantly. You took a cookie with you as you limped over to lock the door to the medical bay. “Any news?” Carol whispered

Carol had asked you and Laura to investigate the uprising of Negan supporters in the Sanctuary. Well, mainly Laura since she would know more people in Carol’s eyes. The payment, cookies. Though Laura would probably do it for free. She enjoyed the new peace that came with being aligned with the other settlements.

“Just the usual hot-heads” Laura sighed. You limped back to your chair.

“They like to complain to me.” you gently sat down. You’d only been back walking without the full splint for a couple days now but the clunky half splint on your lower leg wasn’t exactly walker friendly. “‘You should’ve seen how great we were when Negan was running the place’ and other shit”

“What do you think of it?” Carol asks you seriously. You suck the sugar off your fingers happily.

“He mustn’t have been that good if he’s not in charge anymore.”

They had their little meeting then as Carol was leaving you piped up,

“How’s the bridge team?”

“No.” Carol retorted quickly as if speaking to a child. “You are not going out there how many times do I have to tell you.”

“I could help-”

“You’re needed here Y/N” she spoke firmly.

“Yes, mom.” you groaned from your chair, earning a laugh from Laura. Carol left quickly.

“Why do you wanna join the bridge team so badly?” Laura asked through a mouthful of cookie.

“I miss the fresh air, I guess” and there’s more chances to get away from you all.

That evening you were restless. Normally it was the pain that kept you up late but it also exhausted you. You got out of the medical bed you’d claimed as your own, one of three that outfitted the med bay. You limped your way out of the medbay, not bothered if you woke Laura. The bathroom was down the hall so she would just assume you had to pee, especially since you had taken the torch dedicated to midnight bathroom visits. Being the medic gave you the luxury of a torch instead of matches and a candle.

It hurt to climb up so many stairs, with both your wounds and the cold seeping into your skin, but you’d be tired by the time you came back down anyway. You walked onto what used to be Negan’s floor. Your ‘family’s’ floor. You’d wanted to see it for a while now, out of curiosity more than anything else.

You first went to your father’s room. Pushing the door open you felt a burst of cold air whip around you viciously. The room has been stripped of its furnishings, right down to the carpets. Taken away to be burned most likely. The windows were shattered, the bullet holes in the ceiling giving away the method. It was so completely devoid of any sign of human life one would say it always had been. You closed the door and continued onto the parlour where the wives would spend their day. This room didn’t have windows but the room was still completely void of any of the glamour that once adorned it. The only remnants was the wall paper which was peeling off due to the damp.

The image of the forgotten rooms didn’t stir emotion in the way you thought they would. You imagined getting overwhelmed with emotion, but you felt nothing. No that wasn’t right, you felt a loss. Not a loss of the grandeur you had gotten to enjoy in captivity, not a loss of the fake smiles from your many ‘mothers’. You felt a loss of your father. You mourned the man you had called your father, and the idea that all that was left of the memory of him were these halls where cowards bowed to him. You felt an overwhelming realisation that the man you called ‘Pops’ had died long before ‘Negan’ formed.

Your final destination was your room. You figured it would also be empty but your room was a bit away, down the end of a hall few knew how to get too. You’d had more roaches as visitors than people. Your father had chosen it for you so the ‘common nobodies’ wouldn’t see you easily, another measure to keep you safe.

It also worked the other way as you round the corner and see a light coming from what used to be your room. The hall was lined with offices and storage rooms you knew you could dive into if someone appeared so you turned off your light and walked down the hall gingerly on your feet. You were now only a couple feet away from the door when you heard voices coming from the end of the hall, from what used to be your room.

“I still can’t believe they put this bitch here to keep an eye on us. That fucking redneck was an ass but atleast he didn’t pretend to be all fucking nice”

“It’s probably a play to get us to relax. They’ve got us locked in this factory and don’t give us nearly enough food, and they won’t let us go to the other settlements”

“We’re prisoners. They said they only wanted to lock up Negan but now we’re all starving.”

“Enough of your bitching.”

They went on to talk about how many people were on their side and their efforts to get weapons. They clearly had no idea you were listening. After all, what kind of idiot is gonna climb up over ten floors for no reason. Other than sentiment perhaps. It sounded like there were about four people in the room, but they spoke like they had a few under their influence. They were looking for weapons and a means to get back at ‘Rick and his posse’.

“We’ll bring them that bitch Carol’s head on a spike for them.”

“What about the bridge? We got people working there for food.”

“And then what? They’re just gonna keep extorting us for slave labour or let us starve.”

You were so drawn in by their words that the door opening startled you. You charged from your spot into an open room, a storage closet of a sort. You knew it was too risky to close the door so you stood against the wall next to the door. They walked along the hall bantering loudly. You sidestepped deeper into the room, knocking something with your foot making a loud metal sound. The voices stopped and you instantly froze, holding your breath like your life depended on it. A light shun into the closet, then the other way.

“Probably just a rat” one of the voices spoke. “We can set some traps and stew it for dinner”.

They continued down the hall, their steps growing faint a minute or so later. The adrenaline began to subside and the pain from the recent strain on your leg made itself very apparent. You stepped out of the closet and walked down the hall to your old room. Maybe they left some evidence you could use to barter for your freedom.

You opened the door to your room, only illuminated by the moonlight coming from the window. Unlike the other rooms, your room hadn’t been completely ransacked. The mattress had been taken off the frame but the metal skeleton remained as well as the rug under your bed. Other than that it appeared empty. You turned on your torch to get a better view.

On your bed frame lay what had to be near a hundred dead wild flowers. Your breath caught in your throat at the site. You moved and sat on the bed frame, the metal sending a chill up your body. You placed a hand on the dry stems and something hit the ground with a thump. You moved to look under the bed as quick as you could, reaching under the bed you cut yourself on something sharp. You moved your torch on it and grabbed it again, this time from a less dangerous end.

Under the bed you pulled out the knife that had your name engraved on it. The metal shun bright in the light as if lovingly polished until it’s inevitable abandonment. You hadn’t realized you had begun to cry until a tear fell onto the blade and began to fill the engraving.

~Tag List~

@bodeckersbitch @lauren-novak​ @aestthete

[kpop-zone]

[Hogwarts AU] Red Velvet reaction to their s/o using dark magic to defend them

Irene

“I’ve heard her parents are death eaters.”

“They probably fought with Voldemort.”

“They are said to have killed countless muggles.”

When you walked up to your girlfriend and heard the evil words that were being hissed behind her back, you could feel an untamable hatred starting to bubble inside of you. The entire student body was lowkey intimidated by Joohyun for various reasons. Some were jealous because her beauty could force whole countries to their knees. Some were in awe because no one mastered spells quicker than her. And others were scared because of her seemingly cold aura. No one was willing to admit that though. Instead, it was so much easier to talk viciously about her behind her back in order to feel powerful. Joohyun always told you that she wasn’t bothered by that, but you could see how her beautiful eyes always got a little sadder whenever someone spread another ridiculous rumor about her. You loathed every single one of those cowards. Therefore, you sat down next to Joohyun while flashing the students behind her a death glare.

“Don’t pay attention to them.”

Your girlfriend smiled sadly and you nodded in response, although your anger forbade you to follow her demand.

“Do you think she killed some too?

“She’s definitely capable...”

Enough was enough. You weren’t going to listen to those jackasses a second longer.

Slowly, you pulled out your wand and aimed at the group of students behind you.

“Mucus as nauseam.”

You whispered with a smug smirk on your lips before letting your wand disappear in your pocket again.

“What?”

Joohyun asked confused and you quickly shook your head.

“Nothing, I was just talking to myself.”

You answered quickly and your girlfriend looked at you in confusion before returning her attention to her homework again.

Her quiet study session was interrupted though, when the students behind you suddenly started sniffling violently before eventually breaking out into fits of sneezes and coughs. Sneeringly, you laughed to yourself until you turned your head and found your girlfriend staring at you angrily.

“Did you hex them?”

Joohyun asked in disbelief and you chuckled nervously.

“Hm? What? No of course not.”

You lied, but the death glare of your girlfriend was telling you that she didn’t believe a single word.

“What? They deserved it.”

You justified yourself and Joohyun huffed while running her hand through her hair in frustration.

“I can’t believe that you would do something like that, Y/N. I’ve told you to stay out of this.”

She whispered in order to not let anyone hear your conversation, but her tone wasn’t any less intimidating.

“Have you thought about how that makes me look? Everyone will think that I hexed them; playing right into the hands of those idiots.”

You gasped in shock when you realized that Joohyun was right and you let your head hang in shame. When you felt fingers intertwining with yours though, you dared to look up.

“I appreciate that you are looking out for me. There are better ways than dark magic though, ok?”

Her voice was soft again and you nodded without hesitation, causing her to smile.

“Ok, then let’s get out of here before we get caught.”

Seulgi

“Sangsik, stop! Please give me back my wand.”

You could already hear your girlfriend’s voice from a distance and your blood immediately began to boil. You didn’t need to see the scenario in order to exactly know was going on. Sangsik, star chaser of Gryffindor’s quidditch team and a world-class A-hole, had made it his job to tease your girlfriend at any given opportunity and you were tired of it. You got it; she was the perfect victim. She couldn’t stay mad at anyone for longer than two seconds and violence was not even a word in her vocabulary. But Sangsik hadn’t taken you into account in his calculation. You wouldn’t let him make fun of your girlfriend.

Furiously, you pulled out your wand as you rounded the corner, just in time to see Sangsik flying in circles on his broom in the courtyard, parading the stolen wand for everyone to see. Seulgi was standing there helplessly while some other Gryffindors laughed at her maliciously.

No more.

“Relashio!”

You yelled as soon as you stepped into the courtyard, aiming your wand at Sangsik who only had time to look at you with a dumb expression on his face before his hands magically let go of his broom, causing him to fall off. With a dull thud he landed on the ground and the laughter and excited chatter around him ceased. With fire burning in your eyes, you stormed up to him and ripped Seulgi’s wand out of his pocket.

“If you only come near my girlfriend one more time, I will repeat this spell when you’re 70 feet over the Quidditch field.”

Your threat was only for Sangsik to hear and his eyes widened in fear. Satisfied with this effect, you turned on your heel and walked to your girlfriend.

“Come on, jagi.”

You said softly and Seulgi followed you wordlessly.

At first, you didn’t think much of your girlfriend’s silence, but when you were almost at the Hufflepuff common room, you were starting to get nervous. Had you scared her with your anger?

“Really warm today...”

You chuckled nervously in order to break the silence, while tugging on the collar of your uniform. Instead of joining in your small talk, however, Seulgi abruptly came to a halt. Confused you followed her example and turned around to look at her.

“You know, I can defend myself. I’m not the idiotic Hufflepuff that everyone thinks I am.”

She huffed frustrated, causing your eyes to widen. You hadn’t intended to hurt her with your action. Before you could explain yourself though, your girlfriend piped up again.

“I especially don’t need you to defend me with such horrible spells. Dark magic? I really can’t believe that you would ever stoop so low, Y/N.”

This was the first time that you had Seulgi ever seen so angry and you gulped nervously.

“I-I don’t think that you’re an idiot. I just wanted to- Seulgi wait!“

Before you could finish your sentence, she stormed off and disappeared behind a painting into the Hufflepuff common room. A feeling of shame and regret caused tears to pool in your eyes and you stared blankly ahead.

You had really messed up this time.

Seungwan

“They really let anyone into Hogwarts these days... who’s next, muggles?”

When you heard Jooeun’s malicious words, you needed to bite your tongue in order to stop yourself from yelling profanities at her. You knew exactly that she had said it loud enough for your girlfriend to hear who she hated with every cell in her body. Jooeun was born into a “pure-blood” family, how they liked to call themselves, and she despised everyone that was of muggle descent. Therefore, she loved to bully your girlfriend.

Like in every class, she sat in the last row with her gang of puppets and gossiped viciously about everyone who was “unworthy” in her eyes. But you knew that it was useless to start a fight with Jooeun. It was impossible to change the mind of such people.

“Come on, let’s sit further in the front.”

Gently you guided your girlfriend through the classroom in hopes that you couldn’t hear Jooeun and her gang all the way in the front row. But unfortunately, your hopes were crushed when you heard her say a word that immediately caused you to burst in anger.

“Mudblood.”

It was the last thing that you perceived clearly before absolutely going blank.

You heard yourself yelling, “Oppugno!”, while pointing your wand at your pencil case before swinging it towards Jooeun. A second later pure chaos broke loose as all of your pencils developed a life of their own and shot in your target’s direction. Jooeun could only do as much as throw her arms in front of her face in order to block the pencils. She yelled at you to stop, but you wanted to make her pay. Only when you could feel Seungwan pushing down your arm, you ripped out of your trance and looked around in shock. Jooeun had several little bleeding wounds in her face and on her arms and the rest of the students were staring at you in shock. Helplessly, you turned around to Seungwan who grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the classroom.

“Are you out of your mind, Y/N?? Do you know what McGonogall will do with you if she finds out about this? Oh my god, do you know what Jooeun’s parents will do with you?? You could be expelled!”

Seungwan’s voice was trembling in anger and fear as she pulled you through the empty hallways to your dormitory. She kept ranting on about how incredibly dumb your action had been and by the time the two of you reached your room, you were feeling nauseous.

“You can’t change someone like Jooeun! When will you finally accept that? And where did you even learn this really impressive, I mean, unacceptable spell?!”

When you met the eyes of your girlfriend for the first time after fleeing the classroom, you could see that she was upset, worried, but also...curious. You didn’t know anyone who was smarter or more gifted than Seungwan. She had mastered every spell in your schoolbooks and you were sure that she was secretly intrigued by the mysterious spell that you had used. Learning was her passion and it was clear that she would sooner or later outgrow the methods that were taught at Hogwarts. For now, however, she strictly abided by the rules of the school and her anger definitely overweighed her curiosity.

Therefore, you hung your head in shame as your girlfriend continued to scold you some more while already making plans on how to save you from a school exclusion.

Joy

“Come on, drink something with me.”

Sooyoung huffed in annoyance when Joonghoo suddenly appeared next to her again and breathed his smell of alcohol into her face.

“For the last time, leave me alone!”

She basically yelled at him by now, because she just couldn’t stand having the hands of this douchebag all over her anymore. He was in love with her since the first year and just didn’t accept a no for an answer. He didn’t even care that she was dating you. Whenever he had the chance, he still tried to woo her; which was especially annoying when he was drunk like right now.

“Come oooon, just give me a chance. You won’t regret it.”

He slurred before gripping her hips and pulling her against his body. Sooyoung gasped in shock and was about to slap him when a loud voice made her flinch.

“Sooyoung, get back!”

She immediately recognized your voice and complied to your wish. With a hefty push, she disconnected her body from Joonghoo’s and jumped back, just in time to hear a spell rolling off your tongue that was unknown to her.

“Confringo!”

You yelled loudly, causing the bottles and glasses on the counter next to Joonghoo to explode. With wide eyes, Sooyoung looked at him, noticing that he was suddenly clutching his arm while his face was contorted in pain. Completely dumbfounded, Sooyoung averted her gaze from him to look at you and saw how you storming up to him with big steps.

“If you don’t keep your disgusting hands from my girlfriend, I will aim at your head the next time!”

You snarled and for once, Joonghoo didn’t have a cocky reply in store, but chose to nod wordlessly instead. Satisfied with his response, you let him be and turned to Sooyoung instead.

“Let’s get out of here?”

You asked and she quickly followed you as you left the pub without paying attention to all the people that were staring at you.

The anger was still written all over your face when the two of you walked back to the school and Sooyoung was still at a loss for words. She knew that that hadn’t been a spell from your school books. It was way too powerful and it did definitely not serve defensive purposes. It must have been dark magic. Sooyoung felt flattered that you had protected her and was also impressed that you had managed to master such a spell. But at the same time, the thought of you using dark magic made her feel nervous. It was too easy to get seduced by the wrong powers as a sorcerer and she didn’t want to be the reason for you to get into trouble. Therefore, she decided that she needed to talk with you about what had happened.

Nonchalantly, she interlinked your arms in order to catch your attention and cleared her throat.

“Y/N...”

She said hesitantly, not knowing how to address the matter without offending you.

“I know. I know that I shouldn’t use dark magic. But seeing him all over you had just made me so angry.”

You cut her short, already knowing what she had wanted to say.

“It’s not like I don’t appreciate you defending me. Because I do. Maybe Joonghoo needed something like this to finally get the hint. I just want you to be careful, ok? Dark magic is not something that should be used carelessly.”

Sooyoung said softly and smiled at you to show you that she wasn’t mad at you. You nodded in agreement before averting your gaze from her again. Using this chance, Sooyoung quickly pressed a kiss on your cheek to break the awkward tension, causing you to giggle happily.

There was no need to dramatize this incident as long as you knew where your limits were.

Yeri

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come here...”

Yeri whispered and clung to your arm even tighter.

The finals were inching closer and closer and by now, all of the students were basically studying 24/7. As a Gryffindor, she didn’t really appreciate that, so you had suggested to sneak out tonight and do something thrilling in order to get out of your heads for a while. At first, Yeri was totally hooked by that idea, but now that you were standing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, surrounded by trees that looked like they were alive and hearing all sorts of weird noises, she began regretting her decision.

“Yeah maybe we should have just explored the dungeon or mixed up all the trophies to annoy Filch.”

You admitted sheepishly while looking around in fear.

“Let’s go back?”

Yeri asked and you agreed without hesitation.

With big steps, the two of you hurried back to the castle, but before you could escape the thick forest, a loud cracking sound caused Yeri to flinch.

“What was that?”

She squealed panicked and you held her hand tighter.

“Nothing! Let’s just keep walking.”

You answered breathlessly, but Yeri knew that you were just lying to calm her down. Your clammy hand was giving away that you had heard the noise too.

The two of you picked up your pace even more, but it seemed like whatever was making the noise did too. The cracking sounds got louder and louder and eventually Yeri could see a movement in the corner of her eyes. Reluctantly, she turned her head, gasping in shock when she was able to make out the dark silhouette between the trees.

“RUN!!”

She yelled, not wanting to get eaten by the gigantic spider that was running towards the two of you in lightning speed. Without talking back, you began running at full speed through the thicket that was making your flight exponentially more difficult. Yeri tried to lift her feet high enough to prevent stumbling over one of the thousands of roots that were sticking out of the ground. But unfortunately, she was running too fast to really have control over were her feet were landing. She could already see the castle between the trees in front of her when she stepped on something uneven, feeling how her ankle gave in. With a loud thud, she fell down and winced in pain as her face collided with the ground. Yeri couldn’t care less about her injuries though as she heard the trampling of eight disgusting legs directly behind her.

That was it. This was how she would die.

She closed her eyes, prepared to be perforated by the fangs of the giant spider any second now. But instead of feeling unspeakable pain shooting through her body, she suddenly heard you yelling something.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Your echo jumped from one tree to the other before complete silence surrounded the two of you.

Confused, Yeri opened her eyes and saw that the spider was motionlessly laying next to her. She was completely speechless and stared at the monster in trance until you pulled her to her legs.

“Come on!! This won’t last long.”

You tugged on Yeri’s arm and she followed you obediently, not wanting to fear for her life a second time tonight.

As soon as the two of you stumbled out of the forest, you fell to the ground with all of your limbs stretched out and your chest heaving violently. Yeri, on the other hand, was still staring at you in awe. She knew that you were an excellent sorcerer because of the classes that you had together, but seeing you using dark magic was even more impressive.

“Can you teach me?”

Yeri blurted out and you looked at her in confusion.

“Can you teach me the spells that they don’t teach at school? I also want to be able to defend myself from creatures like that.”

She explained, causing you to look at her contemplatively before shrugging.

“Sure.”

You answered nonchalantly before leaping to your feet and taking her hand again.

A wide smile spread on Yeri’s face and she started to ramble excitedly as the two of you walked back to the castle after deciding that you had caused enough trouble for the night.

She couldn’t even wait to finally become the outstanding witch that she always knew that she could be.

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Onsra- Chapter 16: The Hunted

Pairing: vampire!jungkook x female reader

Genre: horror, angst, drama, romance 

Word count: 2k

Warnings for this chapter: nothing~

Tag list: @jjungkook99 @ditttiii

Onsra: ML, Previous

Enjoy :)

~

All you can focus on is not letting your legs give out underneath you as you charge for the trees; blocking out the sound of someone shouting for you to come back. You're not going back anywhere without Ga-In and Yuri.    

When you're a little way into the forest you look around blindly, the voices having faded away by now. "Ga-In?? Yuri??" You scream into the night, praying that someone will answer you. Then, you hear a voice call out your name, but your heart sinks in your chest when you turn and see who it is clambering through the branches.

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing?" Jungkook hisses at you through clenched teeth when he sees you crouched on the forest floor, trying to catch your breath.  

"I heard Ga-In and Yuri! I think someone took them." You cry breathlessly when you feel Jungkook come up beside you. Jungkook sighs heavily and grabs your arm, roughly yanking you to a standing position. Your mind is in a flurry, trying to decide which way to run to find them. You push out of Jungkook's grasp and take off further into the woods, ignoring Jungkook's string of curses as he follows you.

"Ga-In! Yuri!" You scream again, then you hear a twig snap somewhere to your right. A dead silence follows, and suddenly you feel like something isn't right...

You look around, then go to whisper shout their names one more time, when a hand clamps down over your mouth.

"Ga-In! Yu-mmmf!"

You reach up to claw at whoever has their hands on you, but you're not nearly strong enough to resist them when they wrap their arms around your torso. The cold hand is still pressed tightly to your mouth as you struggle to break free from their grasp. Your captor easily wrenches you into the air and carries you into the undergrowth, where a huge patch of leaves and bramble are your cushion when they throw you onto the ground. You try to scramble away but you get yanked back and your mouth is covered once again. Then, you feel warm breath on your neck when they whisper harshly into your ear.

"Stop moving unless you want to end up dead."  

Jungkook?

You freeze at his words, your breath going in and out of your nose slowly. You're trying desperately to calm yourself down.

"Nobody took them."

What?

You make a confused sound against his palm and feel his breath against your ear once more, "I said nobody took your friends. It was a trick, and one you fell for so easily. Stupid." He sounds out of breath as he whispers so lowly you can barely hear him. "Don't make another sound."

You steady your breathing as much as you can and then give him a small nod. Jungkook slowly removes his hand from your mouth and you take another deep breath as quietly as you can. You turn to see Jungkook's face extremely close to yours, so you scoot a little to the side, giving him a questioning look as he just glares at you, slowly shaking his head side to side. That's when you hear another twig snap somewhere off to your right.

Oh.

It's nighttime, isn't it?

Dread flows through you and your heart stops in your chest. It was a trick? What kind of trick? Why? Then you remember Hoseok's words, 'It's a diversion! Nobody leave! Stay close to the house!'...You mentally facepalm yourself for behaving so rashly.  

So that means.

Jungkook leans over and whispers into your ear so quietly you almost miss what he says, but you catch it, "You're being hunted." Goosebumps break out on your skin as he moves back, putting a finger up to his lips.

~

The two of you sit there in dead silence, hardly daring to breath. A few times you hear branches snap and footsteps running past your hiding spot, but no one ever finds you. After a good half hour of sitting quietly, Jungkook looks over and sees you curled in a ball, your hands over your ears and your eyes pinched shut.

A hand touching your shoulder makes you jerk your head up in fear, but it’s only Jungkook. He just stares at you blankly while you look around the quiet forest, the only light is coming from the moon as it seeps through the branches of the trees. You look over at Jungkook again and see him staring out of the bushes at the open forest, his eyes unblinking as the moon illuminates his pale skin. You’re not sure how long the two of you sit there, but eventually your feet start to tingle. You’ve been sitting curled up with your feet under you for so long that they went numb a little while ago, apparently they’re waking up again.

The vampire next to you looks almost bored as he stares out into the dark forest. Then it’s like he snaps out of some trance when he suddenly looks at you. You wonder if he forgot you were there for a minute.

“Ok, let’s get out of here.” Jungkook stands up and you stumble over your tingling feet trying to follow suit.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

Jungkook whirls on you angrily at your quiet inquiry.

“Does it matter? You don’t seem to give a damn about safe. You’re constantly getting into stupid situations because you don’t think! So tell me y/n, do you really fucking care if it’s safe? Why don’t you go run off and try to be the hero again and let me know how that works out for you.” You bite your tongue before you lash out at him, you know he’s being an ass just to be one. You’d rather not start crying right now though, so you swallow the lump in your throat and stare at the trunk of a tree, trying to memorize the pattern of bark while you blink back the angry tears.

Jungkook just laughs in disbelief and starts to walk. Following him reluctantly, you wipe at your eyes to make sure there’s no trace of how he made you feel. It’s only a matter of time before you hear his footsteps cease. You bring your head up to see why he stopped but run into his hard back before you can catch yourself. Stumbling back a bit, you catch yourself, then your whole body tenses at the sound of something rustling behind you.

“Run, go go go.” Jungkook shoves you in front of him and you blindly take off. You’re not sure where you’re going, but as long as it’s away from whatever is lurking in the bushes behind you, it’s good with you. You stumble over the branches and logs; your arms stretched out in front of you in case a tree decides to pop out of nowhere and clock you. You can hear Jungkook jogging behind you, when a sudden burst of anxiety makes your legs pump faster. Jungkook’s heavy breathing makes your heart leap to your throat when you realize he’s speeding up too. Now you’re in full on sprint mode as you pray that you don’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip.

Your lungs are starting to constrict as you feel an asthma attack coming on, you push through it. Your legs are aching now, but the sound of something behind Jungkook crashing through the trees gives you a newfound will to keep running as fast as you can. The panic in your body right now could make you freeze up and collapse on the ground, and you’re contemplating on just curling into a ball and giving up at this point. Nature makes that decision for you though, because in the next second, your foot catches on a log and you crash to the ground in a terrified heap. A horrible stabbing pain flares from your ankle up through your leg and it’s all you can do to not scream. You reach down to touch your ankle and pull your hand away when you feel something wet and warm.

What am I supposed to do now? Oh, just let them take me. You think miserably before Jungkook almost trips over you as he comes barreling through the forest, but he stops himself just in time. The ebony haired vampire looks at you, then behind him, then back at you before it seems like he comes to a decision.

Jungkook sighs in irritation at the lump of pathetic pain you are, then he easily picks you up and quite literally tosses you a couple feet into another bunch of bushes before you can even comprehend anything. You land on the ground hard and hiss in pain, then quickly clamp your hand over your mouth when you see something approach Jungkook in the darkness. A couple somethings, actually.    

“Well, lookie what we found here.”

A mocking voice comes from one of the two figures as they stand only about five feet from where you lay in cover. You hear Jungkook chuckle darkly and see him cross his arms over his chest.

“What do you want?”

“Aww, is the little boy lost? Wander too far from mommy?” A second voice pipes up and the two silhouettes start moving around as they laugh. After they get no reaction from Jungkook, they straighten up and the first voice clears its throat, “We almost caught some dinner. Unfortunately, it seems to have gotten away from us. Have you happened to see anything?” You see Jungkook shift a little before he responds cockily, “If I had, you think I’d tell you?”

One of the figures steps towards Jungkook, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

“You think you’re brave, kid? Just be glad I’m in a good mood or you wouldn’t be able to open that sassy little trap of yours ever again.” You hear Jungkook scoff and he’s about to snap back when the second vampire hushes everyone.

“Do you smell that?”

What.

No.

He cannot smell you right now.

What the hell are they? Dogs? Since when could vampires sniff out their prey? You cover the gash on your ankle as best you can while still trying to hold your breath.  

“What is it? What do you smell?”

“Blood.”

Please no.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. Shut up.”

You peer through the bushes and see one of the figures has crouched closer to the ground and is sniffing, moving his head up and down almost like a dog looking for a treat. Your stomach twists into a knot of anxiety as you keep one hand clamped over your mouth, the other gripping your ankle like a vice.

Then something snaps somewhere to the right and the three vampires’ heads shoot up at the sound. You can almost hear the smirk in his voice when the first vampire whispers, “Gotcha.” 

~

Eyes clenched shut and both your hands squeezing your mouth and ankle, you almost scream when you feel a hand grab your shoulder and yank you to your feet. But, once you look up, the fear fades away and is replaced by something you don’t understand when you see Jungkook’s red orbs staring back into your eyes. 

"They're gone. Let's go."

The second he roughly lets go of you and you grunt in pain at the soreness in your ankle, you realize the feeling in your stomach.

Shame.

You hate that he makes you feel like this.

Your cheeks turn hot at the glare he sends your way before he’s stalking back through the bushes. It’s not like you care what he thinks of you, but you realize that the two of you never would have been in this situation if you hadn’t acted out so rashly. You just wish he wouldn’t act like you were a useless idiot.

“Are you coming or did you plan on spending the night here?” Jungkook grumbles ahead of you as he makes his way through the brush.

“My ankle…”

“Your ankle, what?”

“It hurts, I don’t know if I can-“

“Too bad. Get moving now unless you want to be killed and eaten for a midnight snack.”

Your eyes sting with tears that threaten to spill at the tone of his voice. You start to limp after him, wincing as quietly as you can. The blood on your ankle still feels a bit wet as it brushes against leaves and brambles in your path.

It’s so quiet in this forest apart from the sounds of your hushed footsteps that you can’t get rid of the pit in your stomach, wishing you had someone to talk to.

Even talking to Jungkook right now would make you feel better, his rude remarks aside. At least it wouldn’t sound like not a living soul but you was left on this earth. You clear your throat and whisper cautiously.

“J-Jungkook?”

Immediately, a growl leaves his throat and you bite your lips; stopping yourself from continuing. Instead, you start to fiddle with your fingers anxiously; tapping them in a certain beat to distract yourself. You focus on the rhythm you’ve created for your hands and the way Jungkook’s shirt moves as he walks. The moonlight barely seeping through the trees as you desperately try to keep an eye on him, seeing as he’s wearing all black and his hair is dark as night. The little sliver of moonlight is the only thing keeping him in your sight as he moves ahead of you stealthily.

It feels like an eternity since you started walking, but Jungkook is showing no signs of slowing down or that he knows (or doesn’t know for that matter) where the heck you two are and how far away the house is. He just keeps walking, not making a peep. It has to have been at least an hour since you left the spot where the two vampires almost found you. You should be home by now, right?

…right?

A sudden dread fills you as you watch the vampire ahead of you, walking as though he has a destination in mind. He’s not like…leading you away to get revenge for your stupidity…is he?

You accidently let the anxiety of that being the case seep into your chest just before he abruptly stops in front of you. Your heart stopping right along with him as you pull yourself up to a halt, frozen and still staring at his back.

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

a/n: sorry I was gone for so long. I'm back now and hopefully I'll have some reactions out soon, people seem to like those more anyway haha

[lucyhend8]

The Girl

This is a short piece I wrote a while ago. Wanted to post it here!

Cold. All Lucy felt was cold. A shiver ran through her entire body as she lay in the snow. Snowflakes danced through the air and brushed across her rosy cheeks. Her breath came out in little bursts of fog. She could no longer remember how long she had been lying like this. She was yet to open her eyes, afraid of what would appear before her. Her fingers drummer against her sides as she tried to figure out her surroundings. She couldn't open her eyes because deep down, she knew it would confirm her fears. At least with her eyes closed, she could pretend she was somewhere else. Ignorance is bliss after all. It was only when she heard the unmistakeable sound of running on frozen ground that she cracked open her eyes.

Before Lucy lay what can only be described as a winter wonderland. Pure, undisturbed snow encased her. Frozen flakes cling to cobwebs like crystals. The wind whistled gently through the trees, rustling the bare branches ever so slightly. Lucy was surrounded by movement and yet she couldn't move a muscle. She was stuck, lying there. Now that she had taken in her environment, she knew she was back. Back at that place. She hated the fact that she couldn't go anywhere. She was puzzled by how she got there. Surely she wouldn't consciously return to the source of her torment. Surely she wouldn't do that to herself. Surely she'd known better that. Surely- her thoughts were interrupted by a growl.

Lucy's head snapped to the left. The source of the growl became apparent as a wolf emerged from the trees.  Another wolf followed close behind the first but her gaze was fixed on the first wolf. It had a single stripe of brown fur leading from it's nose to it's ears. This was a stark contrast against the rest of it's snow-white fur. The animal paced closer to Lucy. The wind started to pick up. Her hair blew lightly across her face. She paid no attention to it. She only had eyes for the wolf stalking towards her. Fear should have been pulsing through her veins. She should have wanted to run. She didn't. The wolf was now inches from her face. She could smell the rotting meat from it's breath. The wind was raging at this stage. The pale gold strands of Lucy's hair were sent in every direction by the tempest. She kept her gaze locked on the wolf. It studied her. Cold, calculating eyes stared at her. They resembled shattered glass, piercing through her. She knew those eyes. Just like the setting she found herself in, they were all too familiar.

"Lucy! Are you ok? Wake up!"

Lucy's eyes shot open for real this time. Her head shook from side to side, trying to understand what was going on. A slick layer of sweat had built up on the back of her neck and she shrugged the blankets off of her body. A worried face filled her vision. Ah, James, she thought to herself, but where's....? Her question was answered when she flicked her eyes to the end of the couch. She was met with a contemptuous glare. The Girl sat there. She was hunched over at the end of the couch with her chin on her palm and her eyes narrowed. Lucy bit her lip and wondered what she had done to upset The Girl. There were rules, you see, and number one was don't upset The Girl. There would be consequences.

James looked between Lucy and The Girl. He cleared his throat nervously. "Eh.... Lucy. You alright? Seemed to be dreaming something intense there," he questioned. Lucy brought up a hand to scratch the back of her neck-a nervous habit she'd developed over the years. "Funny thing. It's nothing really. Just about... the woods and... stuff." Lucy stammered out. What she didn't mention was that this wasn't the first time a dream had led her to that place. James' eyebrows arched so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. The Girl remained silent but shook her head, empathizing with Lucy. James seemed to reach a decision as he looked at Lucy carefully. "How about we go for a walk, clear your head?" He suggested. Lucy rolled this idea around her head. Maybe that could be a good idea, she thought. "How about we visit that woods that turns you into a sniveling idiot?" The Girl piped up for the first time. Lucy watched as The Girl got up to stand beside her head. James sent a curious glance between them. He was just as uncomfortable around The Girl as Lucy. They both put up with her. Lucy really wished The Girl would leave. Lucy moistened her lips and in a voice much stronger than she thought, she announced "let's go."

Lucy was left to herself to get ready for their trip. She threw in the clothes closest to her. She stood, brushing her pale blonde hair in front of the mirror. Her eyes found the ugly scar that ran from the bridge of her nose to her hairline, just above her ear. She instinctively traced her fingertips alone it. What a horrible mark that ruined a face that could have been pretty, she pondered. She stared straight ahead in the mirror. The same cold blue eyes from her dream stared back at her. A shiver ran down her spine. Something was about to go horribly wrong. She just knew it.

A glint of metal caught Lucy's eyes from the corner of the mirror. She turned and cast her eyes across the room. They landed on an object poking out of James' bag. She tiptoed tentatively towards the bag. The gleam of the metal put her in a trance. Her mum always said she was like a magpie when it comes to shiny objects. She reached the bag and descended to a crouch. Her fingers fumbled clumsily with the material of the bag. She threw her hand into the bag and closed it around something cool and smooth. She drew her arm back and found a knife in her palm. She turned it over, examining it. It shone wickedly in the light. There was something attractive about the sight of the knife in her hand. The potential for destruction that it held captivated her. This power was under her control. In that moment, she could have done anything. She took a deep breath and shook her head, breaking the spell. No, she thought, put that away. She threw the knife away and promptly stood up. She promised herself that she'd revisit what just happened after she returned from the woods. Right then, she had demons to face and they wouldn't appear in this house.

Lucy stumbled through the house looking for her friends. They had vanished. Against her better judgement, she left the house and made her way down an almost-hidden path. The sight of the little brick estate house was a lot more daunting than she remembers as she trekked towards the woods. Somehow, she knew she knew she'd never set a foot back in the house. As she walked between the trees, it was fairly silent except for the sound of branches crunching under her boots. The wind whooped through the trees. Goosebumps prickled up and down her arms. Feelings of fear and confusion bubbled in her stomach. She didn't remember her friends leaving but she knew they'd be there. Her gut told her.

Lucy felt as though she had been transported back into her dream. She got the same strange feeling, maybe it was just the place. Now deep in the woods, Lucy spotted a figure amongst the line of trees. He was half hidden in the darkness but Lucy would have known that face anywhere. Relief washed over her. She surged forward but stopped when James let out a sharp "NO!" As Lucy slowly got closer, she saw the look of sheer terror on his face. His eyes had widened and his hands wouldn't stop fidgeting. He struggled with words and refused to look Lucy in the eyes. She moved forward to put her hands on his shaking arms. He flinched away as if her touch would burn him. "Your fault. It's all your fault" he managed to stutter out. A darkness descended distorting his handsome features. Lucy shook her head. "You're not making any sense" she replied, desperately trying to get him to listen. That only made it worse. Tears fell down his cheeks as he threw his arms out to push Lucy away.

Lucy stepped away and held her hands up in a surrender gesture. James slowly stopped thrashing and slumped dejectedly to the ground. "I'm already doomed" he said defeated. Realization was clear on his face. He started to gently rock in place. His eyes looked lost. He looked up at Lucy but she could tell that she had lost her best friend. He was gone. His mind was too far away to reach. The only word that could describe the atmosphere was despair. All hope was gone. " What do you-". Lucy's sentence was cut short by a loud bang and she knew better than to look down at James. She wouldn't have liked what she saw.

Panic forced it's way up Lucy's throat. She clamped a hand over her mouth to suppress a terrified scream. Tears flooded out of her eyes, leaving trails down her cheeks. She pushed past James' body. She ran blindly through the woods. She needed to get away. She moved as quickly as she could. She had her destination in her mind. She needed to get back to where it all began. She felt as though a cold hand had closed around her heart. Grief ran rampant through her veins. As she made her way, she tripped over the root of a tree. Her balance was thrown and she landed face- first on the damp ground. She supposed she should have felt pain but nothing came. She ran her hand along her hairline and it came back sprinkled with crimson. She considered just giving up and staying there but then she remembered her destination. I must get there, she thought. She pushed herself up and got shakily to her feet. A hand grabbed her arm and she was spun around.

Lucy came face to face with The Girl. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. Not her, anyone but her. The Girl's face was twisted in a half smirk as she took in the sight before her. Lucy's hands trembled so she hid them behind her back. She didn't want The Girl to know how much she affected her. The Girl took on a nonchalant stance. This didn't soothe Lucy at all. "No need to worry". The Girl mocked. Lucy's stomach dropped. What is she going to do to me? Lucy thought frantically. The Girl read her mind. "Ah, Lucy. There's nothing to worry about. What matters is that we're here, together. Alone. As it should be. You and me." The Girl ran a hand down Lucy's cheeks, wiping the tears. She pulled back and moved her hand into her pocket. She pulled out the knife from James' bag. Lucy suddenly felt extremely cold and a scream threatened to burst out of her throat.

To Lucy's surprise, The Girl turned the knife and held the handle towards Lucy. She pressed it into Lucy's hand as her smile grew. "Don't you see, it's always been just us. No one else. Now, do everyone a favor and use this." The Girl hissed. Lucy's attention was brought to the knife. She stared at it and turned it in her hand. She flicked her eyes to meet The Girl's. Cold, blue eyes like shattered glass awaited. Lucy finally understood. Fresh tears welled in her eyes as she realized that she'd always been completely alone.

[mainstream-deviant]

Deathshipping Week Day 7: Free day

This is totally, definitely on time for @deathshippingweek​ Day 7: Free Day. Yep. It must still be Saturday somewhere. Right? Right? ...no? Damn. Well, close enough. ;)

Summary: And eventually, one day Ryou would come home to a plate of homemade cream puffs, and be presented with a much better golden ring than the one he’d worn as a teenager. (Today we come full circle on deathshipping week with a callback to part of Day 1′s ficlet. It’s been fun!! :D)

Rating: F for Fluff (some minor cursing, because it’s Kek and he does that.)

Words: ~1375, below the cut or here on A03

Kek cursed as another glob of dough stuck to his fingers. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves as he held back a frustrated growl. Everything was well in hand. Everything would be perfect. He gently pried the sticky mess from his fingers before dipping his fingertips in water to reform the dough into something better resembling a round blob. A small grin spread across his face as the dough finally cooperated. At least this was all going substantially better than the first time he’d attempted it. He’d still been a bit of a disaster in those days.

~~~~~~~

Kek snarled and only avoided throwing the gods-forsaken bowl across the kitchen because Ryou blocked him. “It won’t fucking combine right! This is stupid!”

“It will too combine right if you have just a little patience! Stop and take a breath before you plunge my kitchen into a shadow game or something. Honestly.” Ryou’s glare was never as intimidating as he seemed to think it was, but this one was particularly vicious, at least by his standards. “I’m serious, Kek. Stop. Three deep breaths, before you start breaking things again.”

Kek growled but slammed his eyes shut and obeyed. He huffed out three quick breaths of air and opened his eyes, still scowling.

“Three proper breaths. I mean it.” Ryou had added crossed arms to his little scowl. He looked like a grumpy kitten.

Even still, Ryou meant Kek’s glare without flinching, and after a few long moments Kek acquiesced and closed his eyes again. He sucked in a deep lungful of air, letting it out slowly to the count of three the way Ryou had showed him. He repeated the action, hoping that it would stop Ryou’s complaining.

The fact that he felt substantially calmer after completing the little ritual was surely a coincidence.

He opened his eyes, and was met with Ryou’s cheerful smile. “There. Feel better? You look calmer, anyways.”

Kek grunted and shrugged a shoulder. “That didn’t help the damn recipe, though.”

“Well, no, but you might have ten seconds of patience to watch me help you now. C’mon, I’ll show you.” Ryou stepped up to the bowl and went back to mixing the batter. Nothing happened for a while, and Kek was ready to open his mouth and gloat. Then, as though by magic, the batter seemed to instantly transform from a mess of floury globs and stringy egg into a thick smooth paste.

“See? Patience. Cream puffs really aren’t that hard, but you have to take the time to do it right.”

~~~~~~~

Ryou had been incredibly patient throughout the whole ordeal. How Ryou had found the patience to try to teach a “useful skill” like cooking to someone who hadn’t even figured out how to be a proper human being yet was still beyond him. Kek had wanted to be helpful, true, but surely there would have been a better way. Still, he was thankful for it – for all of it. Kek formed the last little blob of dough and slipped the pan into the oven. There.

While the shells cooked, he worked on getting everything else set up. By the time they were cooked and cooled, the apartment was tidy and smelled like the fresh flowers he’d bought earlier that morning.

Kek grabbed a small paring knife and picked up the first shell. With a grin, he started stabbing small holes in the bottom of the pastries so he could fill them. This was definitely still the fun part.

~~~~~~~

“These look pretty good for your first try! Aren’t you glad you didn’t throw the batter across the kitchen?”

Kek poked at one of the crisp brown little balls, and looked up at Ryou’s joyful expression. He didn’t really get it, but Ryou seemed happy. “I guess? They don’t look very interesting.”

“Well, that’s because they’re not done yet. Here!” Kek blinked as Ryou handed him a small knife. “We have to stab them a bit so we have a place to put the filling in.”

Kek’s grin widened, and he quickly ran one of the balls through with the knife to the hilt. He held the skewered pastry out to Ryou with a flourish. “Now what?”

Ryou burst out laughing. “Um…maybe that one is a practice puff, then. They only need to be poked a little bit. That one will leak all over. Here, see?” Ryou pulled out another small knife and delicately cut an x into the base of one of the other puffs. “Then you can fill it with something sweet without it exploding everywhere.”

Ryou’s method didn’t seem like nearly as much fun, but Kek soon found that they still made a delightful crunching sound as he inserted the blade. That was better than nothing, at least.

~~~~~~~

Kek put the last filled pastry back on the tray and grinned. They looked pretty good. He drizzled them with splatters of white chocolate he’d dyed a deep blood red. It wasn’t exactly the traditional topping, but fuck it, they weren’t the most traditional people to begin with. Now, one last touch and he’d be ready.

Kek had just placed the last puff on the very top of the stack when he heard the front door open, and Ryou’s cheerful voice calling out a greeting.

Kek hurried to the door and pecked a kiss to Ryou’s lips as soon as he could. “Welcome home.”

Ryou beamed. His smile was easily the best part of any given day. “Thanks. Ugh, I’m so done with running around, I’m ready for a of night cuddling and watching horror films. You in?”

“Absolutely.” Kek wrapped an arm around Ryou’s waist. “I made you a treat, too. Come see.”

Ryou perked up when he saw that they were heading to the kitchen. “Ooooh, I like where this is going. Is it something tasty?”

“Keh, I hope so. I learned from the best.”

Kek preened a bit at Ryou’s happy squeal when he saw the pile of cream puffs. “Ooh, they look so good! And the red icing is perfect for a horror movie night. I love them.” Ryou reached up to peck a kiss to Kek’s cheek. “In fact, I’m going to steal one right now. Who says you have to eat dinner first?” Ryou plucked a creampuff off the top of the pile and gleefully shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

Kek’s eyes widened. “No, wait! Maybe you should – ” Kek was cut off by Ryou suddenly going into a horrible coughing fit. He spit out the mess into his hand and slapped it down on the table as he gasped for air. Kek cringed and ran a comforting hand up and down Ryou’s back. That could have gone better.

“Are you ok? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Ryou’s breathing had calmed down and he glanced up at Kek. “I’m fine. I think maybe you lost the piping nozzle in that one or something though. You know, if you wanted to kill me you really should have picked something more elegant than a pastry tool. I’m almost insulted.” Ryou gave Kek a cheeky grin and grabbed a napkin to start cleaning the mess. Kek started to internally panic.

“Well, actually I-”

Ryou froze and looked up at Kek with wide eyes as he held the napkin out. “Kek…is this a ring?”

Kek gave a rather sheepish chuckle. “Um…yes? Surprise?” He watched while Ryou stared down at the cream-covered ring in his hand for several long moments, apparently stunned to silence. “I didn’t mean to practically kill you with it though.”

Kek wasn’t quite sure if the sound Ryou made was a laugh or a sob, but he didn’t have time to figure it out before his arms were full and it didn’t matter anymore anyways. He crushed Ryou to his chest and nuzzled into his hair. “I assume that’s a yes?”

Ryou leaned back to cup Kek’s cheek in his hand. “You know it would have been a yes even if you were trying to kill me with it.” Kek get out a happy burst of laughter and swooped down to capture Ryou’s mouth in a kiss. He’d been right. Everything had gone perfectly.

**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**

((And so we end a wonderful week! It's been fun - thanks for reading! :D ))

[authormitchel-blog]

SS: Part 4

Malfoy couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw Harry that morning, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Harry smirked at him leaving the room with a, “Scared, Malfoy?” before heading to the Great Hall for breakfast.

            After filling in Ron about the package from Gringotts they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

            “It’s either really valuable or really dangerous,” said Ron.

            “Or both,” said Harry.

 Both Neville and Hermione had refused to utter a syllable about what had happened the night before. Other than the mystery and three headed dog, things were going great. Hogwarts was beginning to feel more like home that Pivet Drive ever had. His lessons too were becoming more and more interesting now that they had covered the basics.

            On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced the shared Gryffindor and Slytherin charms class that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly.

            When Flitwick partnered them Harry got Blaise while Ron, not so lucky, got Hermione. At least, it wasn’t Seamus Finnigan who Harry noted hadn’t managed to float his feather but had succeeded in making it burst into flames.

            When Hermione had successfully managed to levitate her feather, Ron had soured. He was in a very bad mood by the end of class.

            “It’s no wonder no one can stand her,” he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, “she’s a nightmare, honestly.”

            Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione, Harry caught a glimpse of her face—and was startled to see that she was in tears.

            “I think she heard you.”

“So?” said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. “She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends.”

Hermione didn’t show up for their next class, and wasn’t see all afternoon. On his way to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast Harry overheard Pansy Parkinson telling Tracey Davis about how she had seen that “bushy haired know it all” crying in the bathroom earlier, but that she had shooed off the two of her dorm mates that were trying to talk to her saying that she wanted to be left alone.

            “I’d be upset to if I had that head of hair,” Tracey Davis said tossing her long perfectly straight hair over her shoulder. Harry wanted to hex all her hair into the floor.

            Harry had never seen so much food in his life as he had since he’s been at Hogwarts. After periods of near starvation at the Dursley’s, Harry wasn’t shy about pilling up the food. Malfoy had said something snide once about his table manners, but Harry had just ignored him and kept eating. He hadn’t said anything since. The rest of Harry’s housemates clearly had different upbringings than Harry did. All quaint bites, and use of all their silverware. Harry didn’t care, though. He knew what it was like to be hungry, and he wasn’t going to let the likes of Malfoy and his minions keep him from not having not feel that way here, not at this place that was starting to feel like a home.

            That’s why Pansy Parkinson’s snide voice caught his attention when she spoke.

“You really think you need all that, Bulstrode? No wonder you always dress in the bathroom.”

            And okay, Harry knew Millicent could take care of herself. Harry had heard her creative use of language on more than one occasion since he got here, but before she told Parkinson to shut her little dog face, Harry saw the flash of hurt flick across her face. She stayed long enough for everyone to forget the incident and move on, everyone but Harry.

            So, when Millicent got up and headed out the doors of the Great Hall, Harry noticed. Harry was about to stand to follow her out when Professor Quirrel came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore’s chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, “Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know.”

            He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers from the end of Professor Dumbledore’s wand to bring silence.

            “Prefects,” he rumbled. “lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately.”

Harry heard Percy Ron’s brother yelling frantically to Gryffindor house, while Flint tried his best to sort the Slytherins into a line. Harry knew it was now or never. As far as he knew Millicent was still out there. Ducking his head down, he joined a group of excited looking Hufflepuffs moving toward the direction of what Harry thought was the closest girl’s bathroom.

            He had just turned the corner when he heard footsteps behind him. For a second he thought it might be Flint or maybe Blaise, but it wasn’t them, it was Snape. Harry watched as he crossed the corridor then vanished out of sight.

            Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and a pile of rotten bananas. And then he heard it, a low groaning, and the shuffling of footfalls of gigantic feet.

            It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It was carrying a large wooden club that dragged along the floor.

            The troll stopped at a doorway before slowly moving into the room. Harry was going to lock it in, but as he reached the door he heard something that made his heart stop—a pair of high pitched screams coming from the room the troll had just walked into.

            Could he run for help? Would it be too late? Another scream made the decision for him, he couldn’t leave Hermione and he wasn’t going to leave Millicent. Harry pulled the door open and ran inside.

            Hermione Granger and Millicent Bulstrode each stood on one side of the troll wands in the air attempting to shoot sparks at the beast but everything was falling flat.

            “Come on, Granger, you’re a witch aren’t you?” Millicent shouted.

The troll moved towards Hermione apparently thinking she was the easier target when Harry shouted, “Confuse it!” at the top of his lungs effectively drawing the troll to his side of the room. The troll stooped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly to see what had just made the noise. Its eyes saw Harry reaching for him, club in hand.

            “Troll!” Hermione yelled from the other side of the room, metal pipe in hand as she threw it up to hit the troll square in the shoulder. It didn’t feel the hit, but it did hear her voice turning just enough for Harry to slide by it.

            “Come on now, run, run!” Harry yelled at Hermione, but that only succeeded in turning the troll towards Millicent. The troll was so close to her that she was backed against the wall, her mouth open with terror. All the screaming was making the troll go berserk.

            Then Harry did something stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll’s neck from behind. The troll couldn’t feel Harry on his back, but he did feel the long piece of wood shoved up his nose, Harry’s wand hanging triumphantly out of the troll’s nose.

            Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life, any second, the troll was going to buck him off or Hermione and Millicent were going to be taken out by his wild club.

            “Together!” Harry heard Millicent shout. And as one Harry heard Millicent Bulstrode and Hermione Granger shout at the top of their lungs: “Wingardium Leviosa!”

            The club flew suddenly out of the troll’s hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over—and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner’s head. The troll swayed before falling flat on his face on the bathroom floor.

            Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Both Hermione and Millicent just stood there with a look of sheer amazement on their faces.

            It was Millicent that spoke first.

“YES, GRANGER!!!” Millicent shouted exuberantly. “We did it! Potter!”

            Hermione smiled, a shocked laugh pulling its way out of her lungs.

“Is it—dead?” she asked.

            “I don’t think so,” said Harry. “I think it’s just been knocked out.”

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll’s nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

            He wiped it off on the troll’s trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn’t realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard them. Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrel came bursting into the room. Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall looked angrier than Harry had ever seen her. She looked from Harry to Millicent to a still awe struck looking Hermione.

            “What on earth were you thinking? You’re lucky you weren’t killed? Why weren’t you in your dormitories?”

            Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He could tell he was about to get a dressing down, and was bracing himself when a small voice came up beside him.

            “Please, Professor McGongall, Professor Snape—they came looking for me.”

“Miss Granger!”

            “I went looking for the troll because I—I thought I could deal with it on my own—you know, because I’ve read all about them.”

            Harry was flabbergasted. Hermione Granger telling a downright lie to a teacher?

“If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up his nose, and Millicent…”

            “Hermione and I…” Millicent spoke up.

Hermione looked at her. “Millicent and I knocked it out with its own club. They didn’t have time to go and find anyone. It was about to finish me off when they found me.” 

            Professor McGonagall looked straight through them.

“Miss Granger, you foolish girl ” said Professor McGonagall. “How could you think you could handle a mountain troll on your own?”

            Hermione hung her head. Millicent looked like she wanted to say something, but the fierceness in Professor McGonagall’s voice thankfully kept her silent. “I’m very disappointed. Five points from Gryffindor for your actions.”

            Millicent broke.

“But she helped us, Professor, we couldn’t have taken out that troll if it wasn’t for….”

            “And,” Professor McGonagall said. “Five points to all of you for achieving something kids in higher years would have trouble succeeding in.”

            “Do you have anything to add Professor Snape?”

Snape regarded them coolly.

            “If none of you are in need of Madame Pomfrey I would suggest getting back to your dormitories, but in the interest of this new interhouse unity, minus ten points from Slytherin.”

            With a quick nod, they were excused from the chamber, and didn’t speak at all until they got back to the entrance of the Great Hall. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

            Harry’s stomach grumbled loudly.

He laughed. “I guess fighting off a troll really makes you hungry. McGonagall did say something about the food being brought to the common rooms.”

            “Yeah,” Hermione said.  

“Yeah,” Millicent said. “I think I’m going to go get something to eat,” she said pointedly looking at Harry. Harry smiled, grateful that all it took was taking on a giant troll for Millicent to realize that Pansy and her horde weren’t nearly as important as she thought they were.

            “You did good, Granger,” praised Millicent.

“Yeah,” Hermione smiled. “, but you know, I think you and I could have handled it even if Harry hadn’t have showed up.”

            “Ha,” Harry scoffed. “Tell that to my wand.” And the three of them laughed for awhile before agreeing that it was time to head back. As Harry and Millicent made their way to the dungeons and Hermione to the tower the three looked back at one another and from that point forward Hermione Granger had two new friends.

[curlicuecal]

Black Sheep (2/?) (packstuck au)

In which Slick does not eat Dave and Jade only nibbles him a little.

<<ch 1

—

For the Psychic Wolves for Lupercalia event.

relationships: Jade/Dave, endgame is JadeDaveKat, but I figure I’ll wait until I actually get them all on the same page to tag that.  Also: Jade & Wolf!Slick

notes: fantasy au, demonstuck, demon trolls + dancestor wolves. also dave is hella davesprite-ish/bird-demony, but I don’t think you can really count a character as davesprite if they don’t have the ‘am I just the back up version’ issues.

Read on AO3

—-

The voices of the townsfolk still call in the distance, sounding indistinctly back and forth through the shallows of the woods in several directions as you pick your way back to where you left your hunting site.  “Can you tell what they’re saying?” you ask Slick, where he pads beside you, a rangy black shape.  

He sends you a fuzzy tangle of scents and colors–more a confused burst of sensory input than any kind of words.  But you have a lot of practice picking apart Slick’s way of communicating.  Right now, the answer is something like –( no//don’t care.)–

You tug the thick fur of his ruff, near his bandana.  “Wow, thanks.”

Slick slants one lupine eye up your way, a glint of gold in black.  He taps his tail very briefly, and the peppery mental flare of his amusement makes your nose itch in sympathy.  You roll your eyes at his tail as he lopes off ahead, vanishing deeper into the forest.

Vanishing to your eyes, anyway.  He’s always right there in your head, the familiar, alien pressure of his mind a comforting constant, like a low-level static charge.

You couldn’t feel that other wolf-demon or his troll at all.

Is that normal?  Maybe that’s normal.  You wish you’d thought to ask.  Damn it, you have so many questions, and you finally get someone who might be able to answer them in front of you and you hardly get any of them answered at all.

You picture the pair as you first stumbled onto them, shy and wild, demon-gold eyes so like Slick’s, wary upon you, the black that gold was set in just beginning to spark with some other color.  Slick’s eyes glow like bottled swamp gas when he’s upset, green and furious.  So maybe that’s a species emotional signal of some sort?  Social communication, like a blush or a frown.  And not just for the wolves–you’d seen that troll’s eyes flicker, too.

Blowing a stray hair out of your eyes and adjusting your gun, you try for positivity rather than either wistfulness or rabid, unsatisfied curiosity.  At least they had decided not to hate you in the end! You think.  And if you ever run into another troll or wolf-demon you will know much better how to start and what inter-cultural pitfalls to avoid!

Or maybe all the rest of them will want to take Slick away from you, too.

Nope, positive!

Think about how interesting that troll-demon was! With his wolf-eyes and his orange horns and his black floof of hair.  And those cute little point-tips to his ears with just the hint of fluff.  You’re just sad he didn’t have a tail.  In the stories, trolls have tails, like their wolves.

Oh, oh! Or proper wolf ears.  His had been much more human than you’d think, for all their points and the way they twitched about with his thoughts.

His face was surprisingly human, too–something a bit alien in the lines and the way his face sloped into his nose, but not at all like you’ve heard.  Well–you suppose he’d have had to be a bloodthirsty, slavering monster to really live up to some of the stories about trolls and their hellhounds, but you still hadn’t expected him to look quite so… ordinary in his extraordinariness.  

Approachable, maybe.  

Angry eyes gone vulnerable-uncertain in that all-too-human face; saw-edged teeth caught in dark, almost human lips; frown just fading into puzzlement.  Soft, all over grey velvet, pale against the dark of his hair, against the curve of his claws.

The pads of his fingers had been black and furless, startlingly warm when he touched you.

You catch up to Slick at your campsite.  He’s lounging beneath a tree, near your bedroll and camouflaged blind.  “Don’t go rolling all over my campsite.  If you get your scent everywhere nothing will come near and I’ll have to find another spot to stake out,” you tell him, as you make your way down the slope.  You might have to anyway–you haven’t had a scrap of luck catching the erstwhile sheep-thieves here.  

You’re nearly certain you’re looking at a wasp-demon attack–they’ve been unusually common enough in the area some of them might have hived up and started taking larger prey–but you haven’t been able to track any of them far enough to turn up a nest.  You’re still hoping you can find the right place to properly stake out their flight paths, but that might take nights yet.

Slick’s thought tangle is dismissive: the dusty smell of long-dried bones, the rumble of empty stomachs, boredom.

“Nothing to hunt doesn’t mean we’re not still hunting ,” you say marching up to him–and then eep and stumble backwards as something drops from the trees into directly into your path.

“There you are,” Dave says, brushing leaf litter from his palms as he rises from his landing crouch.

“There you are,” you say back to him, when you have decided not to have a heart attack.

–(The tasty bird-fluff is here,)– Slick indicates to you, mildly, in a sensory jumble that is nevertheless inescapably smug.  You can just smell the amusement rising off his thoughts like bright burnt metal.  

You can’t help but start laughing.   –You’re an ass,– you tell him, adding to Dave, “You scared the bejeepers out of me, geez.”

Dave looks briefly bewildered–and then his jaw sets in that flinchy, unhappy angle he gets when he realizes he’s done something a little too far outside human norms.  Something like drop out of a tree faster than his hunter-girlfriend can react.  Oops.  You pull him into a tight hug before he can think too hard.  

“How’re you feeling?  Better?  You look better.”

Dave raises his eyebrow at you from where you’re holding him at arm’s length for inspection.  “Yeah, it’s usually hard to top my extreme attractiveness, but luckily ‘poisoned by a fucking demon-scorp’ gives me a long way up to go.”  He lifts his cloth-wrapped right arm in demonstration.  “Last of the swelling went down last night.  Still itches like the devil’s own wooly underwear in a sandpit, but I guess this demon-touched feathery shit’s gotta be good for something.  These bandages are now officially 100% aesthetic only.”  He strikes a pose, arm swaddled dramatically to his chest, butt pushed out.  “Just some fine-ass Strider styles of the medi-fashion variety so the locals don’t wonder why I’m such a quick-healing hottie.  No big.”

Pfft.  You lean up to drop a kiss on the tip of his nose and grin when he goes pink.  “You’re a cutiepie all right.  You bring me breakfast?”

“Breakfast and news.”  Behind his shades, Dave’s face is unusually serious.

“The townsfolk?  I heard them out calling.”

“Eat first,” Dave says, and presses a paper wrapped packet into your hands.  You recognize the tavernkeeper’s baking.

“It’s that bad?”

“You just might not want to stop to eat after.”  He nudges the packet in your hands again until you finally settle against Slick, swinging your gun to one side but still in reach, and set about unwrapping your meal.  Dave makes a face at Slick and doesn’t join you on the ground.  He hovers over you instead, pacing and tapping his fingers and generally doing his best impression of a fluttery mother hen.  You stare him down over your meat pie, and then wiggle your eyebrows and grin at him as you take a very pointed bite.

That earns you a flash of a smile.  “Marni sends her best with the pies, by the way,” Dave says, finally dropping to squat opposite you. “She says I’m ‘not to let that nice hunter girl get away from me.’”

“Marni is very correct,” you say around a bite of food, and then pause to grin at him.  “Besides, you’d have to shake me off your trail first.”

“D’awww,” Dave says deadpan, like he’s joking, even though you can tell he really isn’t.  He produces another wax-paper packet from his pack, unwrapping it for Slick.  “Here, fur-face, a horrible pile of body parts from the butcher’s scrap bucket. Yum yum.”

Slick snaps at his retreating hand without any particular intent, his mind humming lazy pleasure and amusement.

“You boys play nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Dave says, tilting his head to flutter his eyelashes at you over the top of his shades.  When he thinks you’re not looking, he sticks his tongue out at Slick.  

You snicker and nearly inhale a chunk of onion.  When you’re done choking and otherwise reaffirming with your body which items go down which pipes, you lick gravy from your fingers and look up at Dave, one eyebrow raised.  “Okay, I’m eating.  What’s up?”

He sighs out a long breath.  Fiddles with the dirt by his feet.  “Bro says we need to get out of town.”

Oh.  “Another of his notes?”

“On the pillow this morning,” Dave agrees.  “I swear to fuck I closed the window; I don’t know how he got a bird in.  You think their little feet could work a latch?”

“I’d be more concerned with how a bird could move a window twenty times its weight.”

“Maybe you’d need twenty birds,” Dave says.  “Shit.  Now I’m picturing, like, stalker bird conga lines outside my window while I sleep.  I’m never gonna close my eyes again.”

“Ha.”  Your meat pie seems a lot less delicious than it did a few minutes ago.  You make yourself keep eating anyway.  “I guess he didn’t say why we needed to leave.”

Dave shrugs, working his shoulders like the baby-fine feathers hiding along his spine need help to settle.  That’s a sure sign he’s more unhappy than he’s letting on. But then, Dave always blames himself for these things.  Dave’s a big dummy.  “You know Bro.  Dude loves his cryptic messages.  It’s like, ‘I can monitor my baby bro all across hundreds of miles of countryside to know when there’s trouble coming his way, and I can painstakingly bird-courier a note across said hundreds of miles to let him know he ought to skip town, but do I have the time to jot down the five extra words that would tell him what the hell is going on?  No.  No I do not.’”

“Well!”  If it’s not all the way to cheerful, you at least manage brisk and firm.  But really, it’s not like this is bad news.  “We would have been moving along soon anyway.  I’d’ve preferred to track down the wasps or whatever’s been picking off the livestock first, but it’s not much sooner than what we were thinking.”  It’s a nice town.  The people here always seem happy to have a hunter visit, and remarkably tolerant of your group’s little collection of eccentricities–but there’s no point pressing your luck.  

Slick mutters a low tangle of anger and dissatisfaction and dismissal into your mind.  That makes you smile.  Slick is not a people person.

Spirits strangely brightened by his misanthropy, you shake the last crumbs of pie crust into your mouth, and gather up your and Slick’s wrappers, folding them neatly before passing them back to Slick.  He stretches, gets to his feet, and trots a little ways away to bury the trash in the dirt with a few negligent flicks of his paws.

Padding back your way, he wanders over to go snuff at Dave’s hair.  For his part, Dave pretends not to notice the giant black wolf invading his personal space.  You hide a smile as the pretend nonchalance turns into pretend-not-to-be-having-a-stealthy-shoving-match.  They do enjoy one-upping each other.  “Those hunters a few towns over are supposed to be heading this way any day now, aren’t they?” you ask.  “They could handle a wasp nest, or whatever else this is.”

“Runner said they might even make it in later this morning or afternoon.”  Dave’s looking tense again.  

You inspect him through the broad lenses of your glasses.  “Anyone we know?”

“Not that I heard.”

“You think that’s what your bro was warning us about?  These hunters?”  

Hunters are… well it’s hit or miss whether they’ll be substantially more tolerant of Dave and his demon-touched gifts, or less.  You both try not to bring Slick into the question at all.  Everybody knows you have some kind of high-content hybrid animal and you leave it at that. (Wow, though, the idea of wolf-demons breeding with actual wolves.  Ew?  You are pretty sure they would not be down for that.  They’re not some near-animal lesser demons–Slick’s as much a person as you or Dave.)  So, whatever. Let folks think you keep your “dog” mostly out of towns and out-of-sight because you don’t quite trust him with strangers.  It’s not like that’s a lie.

Dave shrugs a response to your question, frowning at his fingers where they lightly brace his perch in the dirt; picking absently at the hint of scales on his unwrapped wrist.  He doesn’t even seem to notice when Slick sets his teeth testingly in his shoulder–not until the bite grows hard enough for him to turn and swat reflexively at the wolf.  “Ow, lay off already, you overgrown dustbunny!”

Slick releases him without appearing to pay any mind to the batting hands.  His mind buzzes a staticky cloud of irritation.  –(Distracted,)– he pronounces.  He prowls over to sit next to you, eyeing Dave with a look you think might not be dissimilar to the intensifying scrutiny in your own green eyes.

“Daaaaave,” you say.  “I can see you thinking.  Tell me.”

“Nah, it’s nothing really,” Dave says, sounding entirely like it’s something.  “I’m just thinking–we really oughta clear out of here, shouldn’t we?”

Your lips purse further.  “Yeah, probably we should.  But there’s something else, isn’t there?  Something you’re not telling me.”   You narrow your eyes behind your glasses.  “Those townspeople didn’t get all riled up and go running around in the woods without a very good reason.  That’s not safe.  What happened?”

“I’m not saying we should stay…” Dave starts, reluctantly.

“Dave Strider.  I am about five ‘dot dot dots’ from dying of impatience over here, mister.  Just tell me already!”

His words come all in a rush.  “Shia Keeper’s youngest didn’t turn up for breakfast this morning.”

You blink.  You sit back heavily on your tush.  

Now that Dave’s started, he doesn’t seem to want to stop.  “It’s still too soon to tell, but they think he might have gone out to see the sheep.  He’d been talking about them, I guess.  Knew the adults were worried.  There’s no sign of a struggle or an attack anywhere–some kicked up leaves, maybe, in the pasture near the shallows, but who knows what that means.  None of the dogs picked up any trail.”

You blow out a long breath, thread your fingers into Slick’s fur beside you.  He’s an anchor, his mind a little more alert and interested, but otherwise unmoved.  “Outside the village ward circle?”

“Yeah,” Dave says.

Your fingers tighten further.  “Same details as the missing lambs.”

“Yeah,” Dave says again, and doesn’t say anything else.

“If it’s a wasp-demon nest he might still be alive.”  For a while.  Weeks even.  They like to paralyze prey to keep for their hatchlings.  You pet Slick’s fur, focusing on the texture of it.  “Her youngest,” you say after a little while, trying to sort faces in your head.  Maybe it will distract you from the sick churning in your gut.  “That would be… Odain?”

“Ossi.  He’s six.”

Nope, your gut is definitely still churning.  “Fuck,” you say, with feeling, and stop trying to pretend like you’re not upset.  Slick lays his head on your leg, fixes you with his cold golden eyes–not like he’s sympathizing, but still like he doesn’t want you to be distressed.  Maybe it’s not nice of you, but you’re grateful for that crisp, clear wind of pragmatic disinterest that is Slick’s thoughts.  Sometimes, maybe, you need a little ruthless selfishness to deal.  

…Sometimes, it would be nice not to care.

You give yourself just a very few minutes to regroup, pull yourself back into working order.  Life’s massively stupidly unfair sometimes, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to keep going.  Look at this situation head on.  Problem solve.  “All right,” you say with a little of that borrowed briskness.  “So he’s either dead or he’s stuck somewhere we can’t find.  Only one of those options is time sensitive.”

Dave nods, does that uncomfortable shoulder-shrug/feather-settling motion again.  “He still might just be wandered off somewhere,” he adds.  “It’s only been a few hours.  Kids do dumb shit.  Not like there’s any evidence something actually snatched him.”

“Could be.”  You don’t really believe it.  Dave doesn’t either.  You’ve both been out on the roads long enough to have a good idea both how nice and how not-nice the world can be.  “Either way, if he’s anywhere a little kid or normal predator or even a  lesser demon could have gotten to, the townsfolk’s search parties will turn him up.”

“That just leaves mids and up as the possible nasties they can’t deal with,” Dave says.

“Like the wasps.  And there’s more hunters due in town any minute.”  

The pair of you share a look, trying to convince each other and mostly failing.  Dave’s Bro’s warnings are sometimes cryptic, but they’ve never led you wrong.  You should let these other hunters handle the situation.  You should, but…

Your mind snags on another factor you hadn’t considered.  “Oh.”  Angry alien face under a dark tangle of hair, watchful eyes, fur and teeth.  …Demons.  “Um.  So.  Dave!  Did I mention Slick and I had an interesting encounter this morning?”

He must be a  little too familiar with that chirp in your voice, because Dave’s mouth goes instantly flat with suspicion.

“We, um.  Met another wolf-demon and his troll.  Actually, I think it went pretty well!”

Dave’s bland expression doesn’t twitch, but there’s a subtle movement along his scalp like a wind ruffling through.

“I mean, except for when Slick bit them, or when they got all snarly about me being with Slick, or when we kind of sort of may have lost our tempers a little bit.”

“Jade.”  Dave’s orange-blond hair still rises almost invisibly, fluffed by the feathers underneath.

“But it all worked out and nobody shot anybody and I think they probably even didn’t want to fight us anymore in the end!”

“Oh, god.”  Dave still sounds completely calm.  Also kind of low-key dramatic, but if he wasn’t he wouldn’t be Dave.  He presses his hands to his temples like he is trying to hold his head together.  “Jade.  Why.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time?”  

In your head, Slick is snickering evilly at both of you.  He lifts his head from your knee to gape his jaw in a toothy doggy grin.   “Slick started it,” you add, tossing him ruthlessly to Dave’s disapproval.  Slick internally rolls his eyes at you, a very human cloud of thought.  Dave is not distracted.

“Holy shit,” he mutters.  “It’s like I can’t leave you alone for even five minutes or you’ll be out petting the bugbears and trying to ride the dryads.  Must you constantly attempt to befriend the big scary monsters that want to eat you?”

“Hey,” you say, a flash of anger actually licking through your veins.  

“Present company excepted, of course,”  Dave corrects easily.  “Slick being a big scary monster that does not want to eat you.”

You purse your lips at him, but your anger’s already gone.  Slick’s not offended and you know Dave really doesn’t mean it. Also it’s a little bit accurate.  “They didn’t want to eat me either,” you say repressively.  “Honestly, Dave, it’s not like being a demon automatically determines your personality.  They were just curious and shy and…” –that last moment, when you were all hollowed out and heartsore, and the troll had crept towards you, brows furrowed, hand outstretched– “…kind of protective towards Slick.”

Dave sighs and bounces to his feet, standing to pace back and forth in front of you.  You draw your knees up to your chest and watch him. You do not point out that his steps have gone just a little too fluid–a series of rapid, focused movements like–well, like a long-legged bird stalking along the ground.  He scrubs his hands through his unsettled hair.

Finally, he paces out his thoughts.

With another sigh, Dave drops down beside you all at once.  He doesn’t even react when Slick lazily flashes his teeth just on principle, and then flops partway onto your lap.

“You okay?”  Dave asks you, voice quiet now.

You smile a bit, stroking Slick’s ear.  “I’m good.”

“You said you lost your temper.”

There is absolutely no judgment in his voice, just a careful, abiding concern.  Dave would throw himself on knives for you, and he’s never liked that there are some injuries he can’t take.  That’s all right.  You decided years and years ago that you’re not letting anything happen to Dave.  You’ve never forgotten that, no matter how crazy things get.  Anything else that goes wrong is just noise, stuff you can fix later.

“Almost,” you confess.  You sigh and lean into him, settling your head into the curve of his neck and shoulder.  He smells like the trees he’s been travelling through and a little–you try not to let Slick’s thoughts color yours too much, but it can’t be denied–like something feathered and edible.  It’s nice, in a way that makes you want to burrow into him harder.

“We’re fine,” you tell him, and mean it.  “Slick and me.”

Dave huffs a breath that might be amusement or agreement or aggravation and turns his head in and down towards yours, face nuzzling automatically into your hair.  His hand around your shoulders starts preening out the ends of the locks, where it always tangles, a faint, pleasant tug against your scalp.  It’s familiar, reflexive kind of gesture, and you know it’s as much to comfort himself as you.  

You think it’s super cute when Dave does his bird-cuddle thing, but that is another point that you know he would prefer not to be reminded about.  Oh, well.  You’ll just have to remember it for him.  One of your arms is looped partway around Slick’s muzzle and neck in your lap, but you sneak your free hand out to pet at Dave’s shirt, straightening the collar, smoothing out the creases in it and the way it lies under the straps for his pack and katana.  Preening back.  You hum a little satisfied noise as he melts against you.  

“Was touch and go for a bit,” you tell him, “but we worked it out fine.  And they really didn’t mean it, Dave.  They were trying to look out for Slick.  They backed right off when they saw they’d upset us.”

“Hmf.  More like they backed off when they saw what a fuckin’ awesome bamf you were,” Dave mumbles into your hair, fond and amused.  “Nobody fucks with Harls and the Slick-meister.”

“Or you.”

“Damn straight,” he agrees.  “No fucking all around.  Between the three of us we’ve got the damn monopoly on unfuckability.”  You snort gracelessly and Dave huffs into your hair.  “That came out wrong.”

You can hear him smiling.

You snuggle further into his neck and nip lightly.  “Maybe a little fucking?”

His skin heats against your lips, but his voice remains deadpan.  “Gasp.  Madame, you offend my virtue.  My little heart, it is all a flutter.  To think that you would suggest such liberties with me, a delicate maiden–”

You’re outright laughing now, elbowing Dave in the stomach and curling over so your glasses go askew.  Slick makes an irritable noise where you’re bouncing his head in your lap.   –If you don’t like it, move,– you tell him, pulling a mental face at him, still giggling.  

Slick just hunkers down intractably.   –(No. Mine.)–

Ah-haha, these boys.  

“Jade,” Dave says, sobering up some.  His fingers still fiddle with your hair.  “I gotta ask.”

Oh, that does not sound promising.

“We’ve got a missing kid and some coincidental demons in the area…”  His words make your draw yourself up without even meaning to.  Dave’s arm tightens, holding you close.  “I’m not saying they did it!  I’m not saying anything.  Hell if I know, I never even met the dudes.  I am not the demon-whisperer, here.  My troll-demon knowledge file is sitting at a big oh oh, and my wolf-demon file is only one tick better.  Though extensive.  I just… gotta ask.”

You blow out your breath.  Roll back your head on his shoulder and frown up at the canopy and make yourself give the topic proper consideration.  It is, you know, a very fair question.  You’re not sure why just the suggestion of it bothers you so much.  You thread your fingers through dark black fur, mentally leaning in to the still mildly bored hum of Slick’s mind.  

Maybe it bothers you because it could so easily be asked about you and Slick.  (About you and Bec.)  

But Dave’s right.  You don’t really know them.  They might not be monsters, but they’re also not Slick.  “I got the impression they were trying to stay away from humans.  They said they were just passing through,” you say slowly, thinking aloud.  “With their pack, looking for territory.”

“There’s been sheep going missing for weeks,” Dave says.

“I think he was telling the truth when he said they hadn’t been in the area very long, but I can’t say for certain,” you confess.  “Still.  I could see the lambs, maybe. Heck, we’d probably poach a lamb if we were hungry enough and we couldn’t find any game.  But a kid?”

“It’s not a troll kid, though,” Dave points out, voice still mild, neutral; fingers soothing along your shoulder.  “Would they see a difference between a sheep and a human?”

Your first thought is of course, but your second thought is maybe.  That troll had spoken to you, snarked and bantered and asked questions of you… but he’d also clearly seen you as something automatically other, something different and potentially dangerous.  Something that couldn’t be trusted with Slick.

Would they think like a human about this topic?

You run the velvet of Slick’s ear through your fingers over and over again.  He’s watching you, golden eye tilted upward from your lap, as aware of your busy, uncomfortable thoughts as you are of the current serene simplicity of his own.

“What do you think?” you ask him, forming the words as mental question simultaneously.  It always takes a little extra effort to be sure complicated ideas get across clearly.  But Slick and you have been making your strange, static-y psychic connection work for years.  “Do you think a wolf-demon would eat a person?  A human kid?”

Slick blinks lazily at you.  His response is a tangled haze of disdainful negation. Not so much a ‘no’ as a general disapproval of the concept.   –(Why/stupid/pointless).–   You get another cloud of thoughts and pictures and smells.  Some of them remind you very much of his psychic name– of the smell of death, of the slipperiness of blood under paw, of the cold, and the dark.  Slick doesn’t remember exactly what happened to his pack for you to find him young, alone, a chained captive in a human merchant’s caravan.  But he doesn’t not remember, either.  

“He says you never meddle with the pups if you’re going to leave the parents alive,” you translate for Dave.  

“Charming,” Dave says, but the snark sounds mostly pro forma.  Dave has the same idea of what lies in Slick’s past as you.  Fighting is just how he and Slick bond.

“It’s a good point, though.  It would be a dumb thing for them to do.  They weren’t dumb, Dave.”

“And this conversation just continues to be a source of great comfort and reassurance to me.  The possibly hostile, possibly human-phobic, possibly mad-at-you pack of troll and wolf demons are not dumb.  Excellent.  How much of a powder keg do you think this situation will become if the townsfolk figure out that there’s a pack of high level demons passing through the area?”

Your stomach rolls uneasily.  

–(Much,)– Slick thinks with the first interest he’s shown in the conversation.

You hope, again, that your advice got those two safely out of the path of the human searchers.  Surely you’d have heard something by now if it hadn’t.  Wouldn’t you? “With any luck they’re long gone and it will never come up.”

“Bite your tongue,” Dave mutters.

You both fall silent, contemplating the current predicament and all the many ways this situation could spiral into a less-than-happy ending.  Well, you and Dave contemplate.  Slick seems content to doze peacefully on your knee.

“So,” Dave says after a while.  “That’s the thing.”

“That’s the thing,” you agree.

“We still need to leave,” he says.

“We really, really do.”

“We’re not going to, are we?”

You look up, and meet the reflection of your gaze in Dave’s shades.  It looks steely and determined.  His face has the slightest hint of a smile on it, like now that you’re both acknowledging the dumb thing you’re going to do, he already feels better.

You quirk a grin back at him.  “Nope, sure aren’t.”

“I’ll head up through the trees and scout around, see if I can spot anything,” Dave says.

“I’ll take Slick and see if we can pick up a scent trail somewhere.  Though with half the town out in the woods…”

“Thought you might say that.”  Dave pats his pack.  “Brought you two one more present.  Stopped by the Keepers’ place on the way out of town.  Special delivery, one wax-wrapped bundle of dirty nightclothes, full of stank.”

“Dave!  You always know just what I like.”

Slick has tuned fully in to the conversation, head picked up, ears alert.  His mind hums and pulses with anticipatory energy.  He might not care about the missing kid, but he does love a good hunt.

You give him anticipation and determination right back.  It’s a much, much better emotion than sitting here feeling distressed and helpless and sad about everything.  “If we can’t pick up the kid’s trail we’ll go back to staking out flight paths for the wasps.”

“Yeah, well whatever you do stay clear of the search parties,” Dave says. “Or at least make sure Slick keeps that bandana super apparent.” He reaches out to flick at the patchwork of brightly colored cloth tied around Slick’s neck, retrieving his hand before Slick can take a piece out of it. “People are twitchy as hell.  Don’t need either of you getting shot.”

“Oh?”  You turn around, sitting up on your knees to look him straight in the sunglasses.  “And what about you mister?”

“I’ll be careful,” Dave promises.

You raise a wry eyebrow at him.  “You’ll be flitting around in the trees making a target of yourself.”

“I’ll be a careful target,” Dave insists.

“Uh huh,” you say.  You eye him thoughtfully. “Maybe I should put a collar on you.”

Dave’s pokerface is even cuter when his ears turn pink.  “Promises, promises.”

“Dave.”  You place a hand on his chest, resting over the scar you know is there, under the fabric, right over his heart.  The one that reminds you exactly how lucky you are to have this.  The one that reminds you that you’re never going to let go, and you’ll fight anyone who says different.

Dave’s yours.  

(And you’re maybe still riding a little too close to Slick’s thoughts with his anticipation for the hunt, with his mine, mine, mine, that he drove like blades at that other wolf and his troll, but hey you can defensive-possessive him right back.  They’re both yours.)

You close your fingers in Dave’s shirt, pull him in, and kiss him like you want to eat him so he’ll be safe.  He hums and leans into you like he’d let you.

Slick’s head butts between you.  He doesn’t nip Dave, so he must be in a really good mood.  

You send him a wave of utter annoyance.

He sends you nothing but impatient anticipation back–the crisp smell of wind rustling the trees, of a lightning storm building in the air.  The scrabble of prey fleeing for their life.  Slick’s front feet pat the ground and his golden eyes stare at you unblinkingly.   –(Go/now/hunt.)–

“Nobody asked you,” Dave mutters, apparently entirely willing to hold a conversation he can only hear one side of.

You sigh.  Right.  Things to do.  And all of them life-or-death important.  You can’t quite make your hand release Dave’s shirt yet, but you lean back on your heels.  “We should go.”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful?”

“The carefulest.”

“Meet you for dinner?”

Dave curls his hand over yours on his chest, leans back in, smile hiding on his lips.  “If I don’t, you’ll come hunt me down.  Right?”

You smile and press your forehead against his.  “Always.”  

He smiles back, for real.

You let him go.

You turn to Slick.  And you go hunting.

[wombathos]

1. “This will be the last time you lie to me.” Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers (BtVS); canon-divergence Enemies (S3E17), 4,6k words

When Faith burst out of the mansion, Buffy followed her.

She could hear Angel shouting after her - and going by the sound of footsteps pounding from behind, he tried to follow them. But maybe their head start was too much, perhaps it was Faith throwing him on the floor before sprinting out that did it, possibly two slayers running at full speed through the night was pretty hard for anyone to follow. Even for a vampire. Either way, she never saw him again that night.

“Give up!” yelled Faith over her shoulder, the last Buffy heard of her for a while. And Buffy nearly did, probably should have. This was a bad idea.

Why am I doing this?

As Buffy ran, breathing heavily with arms pumping furiously, tracking the blurry figure through the chilly night, she could barely hold on to a coherent thought. Certainly couldn’t explain to herself why she would possibly want to chase after Faith, with the sting of the knife to her throat still stinging and the ghost of the kiss to her forehead still haunting and the wind throwing itself against her as if begging her to turn around. Are you going to kill her? asked her mind with every heavy step on concrete, mud, grass, then concrete again.

You’re not ready.

That’s what I thought last time. And then…

Angel had lost them. And they were still running.

She had drawn closer to Faith and fallen away again and almost lost her as they moved into Sunnydale proper and started an increasingly elaborate game of hide and seek. Slayer lungs were certainly strong but they could burn too. And burn they did. As did the chill in her throat and the spots on her skin where Faith had marked her. And they didn’t slow down.

Buffy skidded into an alleyway, just able to see the back of Faith’s jacket before she disappeared around the corner, and threw herself into another sprint, straining her ears for any indication of where Faith went next, forcing her mind to recall any convenient hidey-holes she might jump into. When she rounded the next corner, she entered a tighter, narrow alley that was far away from what counted as a main street in Sunnydale. A dead end. Had Faith known that? Sound fell away entirely there, replaced only by the pungent smell of the bin bag spilling over onto the slick concrete. The windows were high on either side, with a dry cleaner facing out of the alley to the left and a shuttered building Buffy hadn’t recognised to the right. Not many lights were on, which might be because of how late it was, or, given the general state of disrepair, a sign of abandonment. This town was too small to have this many places left to rot.

“It’s just us now,” yelled Buffy into the night. She jerked around when something clattered against stone, but it was only a tin rolling out from the bin bag. A cloud passed and the moon reemerged, giving her just a little more light to work with. It barely helped.

Maybe Faith had gotten away already, clambered up the pipes and up over the rooftops. But Buffy had to believe she would have heard that. Faith wasn’t that stealthy.

She was being pretty stealthy right now, though. With the bins and a pile of old wood planks and darker, indistinct shapes further down the alley, there were certainly enough places for her to hide. Buffy felt at her jacket pocket, the familiar bulge of knife as well as stake. It made her shudder, the memory of seeing what that piece of wood with the force of a slayer behind it could do to a man’s chest. What it looked like when a stake did not just produce dust but left a body in its wake.

Would you do it?

Buffy’s fists clenched. Faith was bad, she had turned from them, was helping a monster and with her power could cause so much harm. But was she evil?

That was when the dropkick landed in her stomach.

It sent her flying back, her mind incapable of anything but confusion at where the hell Faith had come from and how she had been able to sneak up so far that she could take Buffy from the front - accompanied by the suspicion that Buffy had simply been an idiot, too distracted by her own qualms and misgivings to notice her. That too was all gone when her back hit stone, her head almost snapping back far enough to crunch against the wall. She was able to save her skull, but the impact still winded her, and it took her a second too long to recover so that when Faith’s fist hit the side of her face, she couldn’t do much to cushion it.

Buffy keeled over, barely having the wits about her to spin her legs around in a poor attempt to sweep Faith off her feet. While it didn’t work, it gave her the time to roll away behind Faith and get to her feet again, readying herself for what was to come. A wave of pain hit her, almost threatening to knock her over again. Her cheek, hit by a slayer. She should be used to pain by now but…

Buffy raised her fists to face her enemy, who had turned and half-snarled at her. They both panted with exhaustion, both seemed beyond speaking. Faith had lost her patience. Had taken her longer than Buffy would’ve thought. She had assumed Faith would be eagerly anticipating another round.

Faith, instead, seemed distinctly frustrated. When she sprung forward, she was easy enough to evade and off-balanced so that Buffy’s next kick could land. That made Faith angry, and her next blows came fast and hard. They tussled for a bit, the adrenaline still pounding through Buffy. But she had chased Faith so far, so hard, that it couldn’t last long.

Faith disengaged first, panting. And finally spoke. “You really don’t give up, huh, B?”

“No,” said Buffy, doing her best chirpy smile, “I hunt the baddies, remember?”

“Or you get all close and nasty with them,” said Faith, eyebrows raised all suggestive as she wiped her knuckles across her cheek. Behind them was that familiar half-smile, like Buffy hadn’t just uncovered the whole big lie and tricked Faith into revealing it herself. Like she hadn’t fooled Faith. Like she hadn’t beaten her.

Buffy lashed out again, fist curving around straight for Faith’s jaw, but the blow was easily deflected. Faith’s counter was just as easily dodged. This was a pretty poor showing all round.

It’s just been a long night.

They were a few feet apart again, now, slowly circling each other, fists half-raised as the wind howled in the distance. Sweat trickled down Buffy’s temples, the cloying smell of the alley making it harder to get the oxygen she dearly needed. Faith’s breaths came short and fast still, hair sticking to her cheeks and forehead, making her look wilder than ever.

“Come on then, you really want to take me now? You couldn’t earlier. Now there’s choices for you to make all over. Should’ve just let me go.”

“No.”

“Or you’ve decided to gut me? Preferred to do it when fang face wasn’t around? He’s seen way worse. Or you just don’t want him to see you like that?”

“No,” said Buffy, teeth gritting.

“You took so long to figure it out. Didn’t think you’d still be so trusting and all. What do they say? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…” A grin. “Well, shame on you. Want to make it a third?”

“No.”

“Really? Because I kinda want another go at it. I’d been thinking a lot about just how I’d tell you and I think I did a nice job of it, working with what I had when we hit showtime. But the way I was thinking, I’d have you alone, maybe in some cellar somewhere your ex-murder fling isn’t buried in, or in your house where you feel all safe. Yeah, get you in that fluffy bedroom of yours and chain you to the bedpost, make an evening of it.”

Buffy tilted her head to grin at Faith in turn, refusing to be rattled by whatever this was. “I knew you were a murdering psycho, but thanks for also letting me know you’re completely insane.”

“Hey, you’re the one who let herself be chained up.” Faith tugged at her lower lip and when the last tooth slid over it, back into place it snapped. This was when Buffy realised how close she had gotten. The few feet apart had turned into more like… two. “That’s practically begging for a redux.”

Buffy leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “It’ll never happen again.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’ll never trust you.”

Faith’s smirk didn’t even twitch. “Is that a promise?”

“A promise,” she said with a terse nod. “No more games.”

“Everything’s a game.”

“You murdered someone.”

“I’d murder you.”

“Likewise.”

“Better watch out. The boytoy’s a better liar than you are.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Really? I’m worth so little even little miss perfect would do me in? Careful, B, you’ll become just like me yet.”

“That’s never going to happen. And you crossed a line.”

“Time to punish me,” murmured Faith, the grin as taunting as she’d ever seen it. “That’s the only thing you can do. Or let me go and I’ll show you just how many lines I can cross.”

“No. No more,” said Buffy, putting all the weight she could muster into the words. “This is as far as you go. This will be the last time you lie to me. Or trick me. You won’t hurt anyone else.” Not because I allowed…

“Or what?” Faith cocked her head to one side. “Or you take me out? We both know you’re not ready.”

“People tell me that a lot.”

“You talking vamp boy? Yeah, I guess you went for the kill there. But this is different. I’m all alive and human-y and souled-up.”

“That was harder than this.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I loved him.”

Faith’s expression froze, eyes fixated on Buffy for a way-too-long second before the corners of her lips curved up and she grinned. As she tilted her head, the light bounced off her eyes, making them give off a shimmer that almost mesmerised Buffy. She’d asked Giles about vamp-hypnosis way back when and he’d told her not to worry about that: only very old, very powerful vampires were meant to be capable of affecting the mind with just a look. Then the Master had frozen her in place in the horrible cave and she had learned to fear that loss of control, of no longer being able to make her muscles do what she wanted. Of helplessness.

Slayers didn’t have any hypno powers, however evil and murder-y and all round irritating they were. Well, Buffy certainly didn’t. Who knew about Faith. Who knew what Faith could do to her.

“If you don’t care, why not get it over with?” asked Faith, eyebrows crawling away from the eyes that held Buffy captive.

“I didn’t say I didn’t care,” she exclaimed, angry and knowing it was in her voice and face and all over her. Faith saw it, didn’t understand. As ever.

“Yeah, you care,” she said, nodding slowly, the grin turned sour. “You care because somebody didn’t play along with your pretty little act. I know I was meant to go perfect Buffy and kneel down in front of you and worship at your feet, praying you might deign to pet my head and tell me I’m doing a good job, while really just hoping you’d remember I’d exist, but I hate to break it -”

“I didn’t want that,” said Buffy, shaking her head. “You have no idea, you’re still -”

“But I hate to break it to you,” Faith repeated, louder, baring her teeth, “that we’re not all your little playthings. I didn’t get what I deserved. I didn’t get any of it. But you will. You’ll get what you deserve and in the end, you’ll be begging for mercy.”

“In your dreams.”

The teeth parted to allow for the tongue to slide across a taut upper lip. Buffy stared at it too long before finding Faith’s eyes again. “Not in yours too?” asked Faith and her voice did something funny then, and Faith was looking at her all suggesti- suggesting something and - get a grip, Buffy. This wasn’t fair, none of this was fair.

Buffy shivered. The chill was getting to her.

She had to end this. But she was so angry.

“Why did you do this?” she yelled, raising her fist as Faith took an instinctive step back, seeming startled by the sudden fury. “I didn’t want you to kneel down,” she snarled, striking out as Faith ducked, “didn’t want you to worship me,” she growled, trying to get a knee into the stomach but being easily blocked, “didn’t want to pet your head,” she groaned, bringing her hands down from up high in an attempt to knock down Faith’s shoulders. She managed, but it wasn’t much use, and Faith was free to push Buffy away. Instead, after pulling her off, Faith pulled her back in again, grabbing fistfuls of her jacket in both hands and tearing them towards herself so that their noses were almost touching.

Buffy bared her teeth. “Tell me why you’re working with him,” she shouted, aware of the spittle flying from her lips and landing squarely on Faith’s face. “Tell me!”

“You already know,” snarled Faith in response.

Buffy ripped herself free and kicked at Faith’s side, so hard that it almost knocked Faith over. She straightened, looking at Buffy all angry and weary. Buffy leapt forwards again, punching Faith’s chin.

“Tell me!”

She tried to knee Faith again and it was successful this time, and as Buffy pushed Faith back a part of her brain was telling her that Faith wasn’t fighting back. Not really.

“Tell me!” she said, hitting at Faith’s chest. They were so close again and Buffy didn’t know how she felt, never knew how she felt except that she was angry and hurt and betrayed and it was all so confusing and -

She hit her chest again and Faith was barely responding, barely pretending to cushion the blow.

“Tell me why you hate me so much.”

“Because you don’t!”

Buffy stopped at that, briefly. Just long enough to stare in utter bewilderment at Faith. Then she grabbed at her arms and began shaking her in earnest as if she could shake the truth right out of Faith, the fury returning with a vengeance because Faith wasn’t making any sense.

“You want me to hate you?” yelled Buffy. “You want me to hate me so bad, like you do me? You’re doing a great job of it right now, why would you -”

“You don’t hate me,” said Faith through gritted teeth, eyes never leaving Buffy’s as she tensed up in Buffy’s grip. “You don’t, not like you hated him. You don’t.”

“It’s not a competition!”

“Everything is.”

“You’re insane, why - why would -”

“You don’t even know I exist!”

Once again Faith’s words stopped her in her tracks. She stared uncomprehendingly at Faith, who was so close now with Buffy’s hands on her arms, feeling the strained muscles even under the musty-smelling jacket, their chests almost touching as she could feel the heated breath bouncing off her chin, intermingling with her own. Of course she knew Faith existed, she could feel her see her and she was right there and… and she always saw Faith, at the beginning when everyone had been all wowed and then when she’d… been around… and the new watchers and training together and slaying together and when Faith had murdered someone and…

Buffy hadn’t ever paid that much attention though. Not like she was doing now.

She could gut me right now. Where was the knife?

This was Angel all over again, except Faith was very much human. Alive and breathing and… and how could Buffy be feeling this much again? It should be easier. Sure, Angel was all undead, but he was still Angel. Her Angel.

“You’d have to notice me to hate me,” said Faith, taking the protracted silence as a sign of confusion on Buffy’s part. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but Buffy was already several steps ahead of her.

“Right now, I hate you.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Faith. Then a pause. The wind and their heavy breathing was the only sounds here, the cars too distant to make much of an impression.

“You don’t care,” said Faith, face contorted but also hurt and why…

“I don’t think you get how angry I am.”

“I was never even in your little band. Not really. Not enough that you’d trust me with anything. So what does it matter?”

“You betrayed -”

“You didn’t trust me.”

She realised she was still holding on to Faith’s arms, which gave her the opportunity to shake her again. There was no resistance. “Listen to yourself! You killed someone and then you joined psycho mayor who wants to eat the whole town and you’re going all mopey because I wasn’t nice enough to you? Didn’t bring cookies around to your flat once a week?”

“I didn’t want that!”

“I’m sorry we didn’t know what was in your head and I’m sorry you didn’t feel included and I’m sorry about - about everything, but that’s no excuse! You blew it and now you’ve - you’ve joined forces with a monster and for what?”

“If I’m so hopeless, why are you still talking to me?” yelled Faith.

“I don’t know!” yelled Buffy back. “I guess I wanted to hold out hope for you! I guess I’m always the dumb idiot who wants to believe that there’s another way - but, hey, you got me. You tricked me. Well done.”

Faith did not look happy at all at this. Her gaze briefly dropped and Buffy realised she was still holding Faith and… well, no point in letting go now. They’d come pretty much to a standstill and it was odd, really, to know that right now either one of them could beat the other if they made the first move. But here they were just… yelling at each other.

“You don’t understand anything,” said Faith.

“I asked. I went to you. You never told me anything.”

“And now it’s too late.”

Buffy shook her head in disgust. “You don’t have to continue down this path. But hey, if you want to, then I guess we’ll fight again and again and I’ll have to stop you because you’ve decided to go all evil and -”

“I don’t wanna do this, I never -”

“Then don’t.”

“I can’t just…”

She took a deep breath, trying to calm down enough to get her brain back into gear. Noticing the desperation in Faith’s eyes.

This isn’t Angel. Maybe she just needs a way out.

“You can. Whatever you’ve done, we’ll…” She stopped, gaze dropping to Faith’s jacket and the knife she knew was there. What would happen? Would she extend an offer and get a knife in her gut for her trouble? Was she damning herself right now?

Buffy took another deep breath. Looked back up at Faith, who was watching her, all tensed up as if ready to be pushed away. “Just tell me what you want, Faith. Just tell me.”

“Why are you still here?” asked Faith, a tense anger to her voice. “Why not just take me in, ship me to the Watcher’s Council? Or just kill me and get it over with?”

“I never wanted to do that,” said Buffy, then took the plunge. “And you were right. I can’t kill you.”

Faith stared at her, said nothing. She still looked angry.

“Please,” said Buffy, and had she really just said that? After everything Faith had done today… Faith had been ready to kill her and Angel and… This is your last chance - “Just tell me. I don’t want it to be like this.”

“Tough,” said Faith and grabbed at Buffy’s shoulders, weakly pushing her away. Her foot briefly slipped on wet concrete, but Buffy didn’t let go. God, she was tired. She was so tired and knew that Faith might kill her at any moment and… and that they were here again, like she’d been with Angel and she had never thought she’d feel that way again, like anything could possibly compare to that pain, but it had and this did and she just didn’t want to do this any more -

She could’ve given up. She could’ve let Faith go. She could be with Angel right now - Angel, who had pretended to lose his soul tonight and even though she’d known all along, it had still been so… so like that, so like losing grasp of it all again, of all she had slipping away and…

“Why do you hate me?” asked Buffy again. She stared straight into Faith’s eyes, who was still feebly struggling and looked just as tired as Buffy felt.

And Faith gave in. “I just - I just want you to care,” she whispered.

“Why?”

Faith leaned forwards to close the last few inches between them. Then she kissed Buffy.

Buffy’s brain stopped functioning as soon as she could feel what were definitely lips pressing against her. There was a pounding in her ears as the wet exterior of those lips dug between her own, the kiss deepening with Faith leaning in, and Buffy’s frozen hands still on Faith’s arms which were now moving to the cusp of her lower back and then lower, firmly squeezing so that she almost yelped - but all the while frozen, so that she continued staring right at Faith, whose eyes had briefly closed in apparent ecstasy but had opened again to carefully watch Buffy - no, not carefully, desperately, fearfully watch her, judging her reaction and as those hands pushed them further together it was almost like she was lying in wait so that if Buffy escaped she would -

What? What? What?

Her brain was still disfuntion-y and the tongue was all wet and the eyes were all dark and the air was hot and very cold at the same time and the wind was picking up again and what? What?

And she needed to do something but - oh god there was so much hair, so much dark hair all around her and god she’d thought about running a hand through that hair before, because there was so much and she had thought it’d be quite nice to feel how it felt like and yes, Faith was very close a lot of the time and she’d felt her hair against her own face before but this was very different and if Faith had turned evil then she never would’ve been able to feel that any more except if they were trying to kill each other and hadn’t Faith turned evil? Were they still doing that? What were they doing? And there was so much hair? Where had the tongue gone? Would Faith ever stop looking at her again? How could she do anything, how could she even attempt to move with those eyes looking at her? Where were those hands?

What?

This feels nice.

What am I… And a strong gust of wind hit them, blowing a lot of the brown hair into Buffy’s eyes. When she couldn’t see Faith’s eyes any more, it was like she briefly got back control over the part of her brain that actually did the motor functions. So that was something. She finally managed to push herself away from Faith and because Faith kept holding on to her, she had to do it roughly and…

And she pulled away, shocked and bewildered and with the taste of Faith on her lips, and there was Faith look at her, Faith who was breathing heavily and whose eyes carried a wildness and a desperation beyond anything Buffy had seen before, Faith who closed the distance between them and when Buffy turned her face away reached out, snarling - then subsided as Buffy took another half-step back. And then Faith was grabbing Buffy’s hand, bringing it against her own cheek. Buffy could feel Faith’s hot face under her fingers as Faith pressed her hand and brought Buffy’s other hand up, jerking them around so they rested on Faith’s hair and cheeks and brow as Buffy stood there, limp.

“Just - Please…”

Her hands, pressed against Faith’s face, and the way that Faith shivered, keened under her touch and… and what was happening? What had happened? Why were they…? What…

“Faith, I -” she started, feeling her face contort when she found absolutely nothing to finish with. Something about her face must’ve done it, because suddenly Faith looked horrifyingly hurt and broken and angry and tore away Buffy’s hands from her face and stared and exhaled loudly -

Faith spun around in sudden motion, tearing away from Buffy. Sprinting away, once again. No - Buffy’s steps followed her one, two, three - so close she almost stepped on Faith’s heels, grabbed at her sleeve and pulled her around, pulled her close and -

- they stared at each other, Faith feebly struggling. Like they already had, but now Faith had almost fallen and instinctively Buffy had put a hand on her back and now she was holding Faith up, staring down at her face and…

“No,” managed Buffy, barely, “We talk.” She tried to raise Faith to her feet. Faith did not cooperate.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Buffy let out an involuntary laugh. Faith looked hurt.

“Let me -”

“No,” said Buffy again, firmly, refusing to let go of Faith even as she straightened her up so that they were facing each other again. Her lips were feeling really really weird. She ran her tongue over them, saw Faith watching. Oh god. Faith had kissed those lips. Oh. Faith had kissed her. They had kissed. They had… They were… Oh. Oh. What?

“You made it clear what you thought,” said Faith, something odd and husky to her tone. But she was hurt, she was definitely hurt. Because… Because…

“I wasn’t thinking,” said Buffy, which was a so-so response going by Faith’s face.

“Neither was I,” said Faith and tried to turn away again.

Buffy didn’t let her. “No. We talk.”

“No. I’m with - I’m evil now, remember?” And more words spilled out. “Just… I don’t get why you even chased me or kept talking to me or did any of that, why would you - why would you…” She tried to shake Buffy off but neither of them were doing a great job at that tonight.

“I care about you,” whispered Buffy. A confession - one that made Faith look up instantly, looked at her like she was trying to figure out whether… while Buffy was trying to figure out whether…

“You - like -” She tried again, Buffy stopped her. Tried to turn away again, Buffy stopped her too. “What do you want?”

“Not like that,” said Buffy. “Not because… Not to keep you.” Keep? “Can we go back?”

“I can’t…”

“Can we go back now? We can go to the library. Or to my place. Can we go home?” She held Faith, saw herself winning the battle against her fellow slayer’s resolve. “Let’s go home.”

Faith hesitated, but she had already lost. “You’re not going to… Wesley…”

“Wesley can do one.”

“And Giles?”

“We’ve seen worse. It’s just… just come home, Faith. Let’s just go. It’s warm. My mom’s got cookies. Can we go now?”

They held each others gazes for a long moment. Then Faith nodded, and the corner of her mouth twitched, very nearly turned upwards.

“Cookies sound nice.”

[listlesslady]

Wicked Girls

I’m back on 4thewords! This is technically the beginning of volume 2 but I wanted to share.

 She'd overheard the negotiations, refused to believe that it might be true yet here was Greymane the Awful sitting with an arrogant smile in her father's office.

           “You understand that this is for the greater good, don't you Elaina?” Her father's normally soothing voice did nothing to calm her frayed nerves. “This will strengthen business with the pirates to the North.”

           Elaina kept her eyes trained downwards. He'd certainly see the fear and loathing in them if she looked up. Greymane was known for his questionable morals and horrible treatment of women. The leer he kept sending her way made her skin crawl. The meeting went by in a blur, she barely registered the words. Finally, her father sent them away with his blessing and a prayer. She ignored the unspoken apology in the strong press of his hand.

           “Alright then, bride mine,” Greymane said picking her up, “we've some business to attend to before I can unravel that delicious frame of yours.”

           A carriage awaited them in the warm sunset. Elaina had to bite her lower lip hard to stop the tears from coming. She didn’t even spare her home a last backwards glance for fear it would prompt her to run away. In what seemed like no time in the dark silence of the carriage, they arrived at the inn the rogue occupied near the docks, paid for of course by her doting parents. Two of his trusted men stood guard right outside their room.

           “Now sweetheart,” he sighed as he sat down on the bed. “Your father said he was giving me an invaluable treasure and I'm fairly certain he wasn't referring to you.” He crossed his arms. “My guess is you're the only one with a map and what's yours is now mine. I suggest you give up the goods.”

           Elaina remained silent, eyes to the ground. She would never yield to this brute. He caught her chin in a grip infinitely stronger than it appeared, something evil lurking in his foam green eyes.

           “You will tell me where the map is, wench. I will get the precise location from your pretty lips one way or another.”

           She looked at him then, defiance clear in her straight backed posture. “You will get nothing out of me.”

Greymane smiled at that. “Oh we shall see.”

          The terrible monster finally revealed itself, punching, slapping and kicking her whenever she refused to answer him. Finally, in a last fit of rage, he held her against the wall by the neck. The two guards outside ignored the noises inside, used to their boss' violent antics.

           “If you won't give me the map, no one will have it.”

           Elaina found it in herself to smirk. “Good.”

          Her neck snapped and he dropped her limp body. Suddenly spent, he sat next to the corpse. His men entered then, noting the lifeless girl,  and closed the door behind them. They sat in silence, observing the her.

           “How are we going to explain this?” One of them finally piped up.

           Grey grunted, lost in thoughts; the map had to be on her...

           He never saw it coming. The knife was in his shoulder a second before it landed in one man's eye and across the other's neck. He hollered half a second before she was back on him. Fortunately for him, his men burst in before she could finish the job and unfortunately for her, not before he noticed the pattern drawing itself dark red against her skin.

           She swore, filthy enough to get a smile out of him and leapt out the window, agile as a fox. The men swarmed their captain and their two bleeding companions, a few running back out the door.

           “Out of my way, fools!” Greymane growled, pushing his men away to stand. “This oughta be fun.”

           Elaina zigzagged in the streets, rage still throbbing in her veins. She didn't know where she was going, only knew she had to get out of there. The smell of salt lured her to the docked boats as Greymane's men screamed and chased after her. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up this pace. She spotted another girl running when she burst into the open chaos of the seaside. Instinct told her to call out.

           “Wait!”

           The blonde girl turned her head towards her, still running. For a moment, they stared at each other then she nodded her forward, still running towards a ship with a red flag. The Alleycat loomed in the distance, its crew busying themselves like ants. A flame haired figure stood at the prow, watching their approach as the anchor was drawn up. The blonde nimbly jumped up, catching a dangling ladder then leaned out to extend her hand to the running Elven princess. At the same moment, Greymane's crew reached the docks as well, weapons in hand, a mass of angry murderous men. Elaina gave a last burst of energy, grabbing onto Merkate's hand.

           With surprising strength, the ex-mermaid pulled her onto her back then rapidly scaled up the ladder pulling it in as the boat sailed away from the swearing men. Elaina sat shivering as she caught her breath, the red marks slowly fading from her skin. Captain Alixiel Ravencroft jogged up to them, brows furrowed.

           “The next time you pull a stunt like that, Kate, I'm leaving you on land. What in Poseidon's name were you doing?” Her eyes rested on Elaina, slowly registering the royal garments and fast disappearing red swirls. “And what fresh Hell is this?”

           Kate shrugged, looking from Elaina to her lover. “She looked like she needed help.”

           Alixiel looked back towards the dock, where men stood cursing. “No kidding.” The bruises were starting to show. “Who did this to you?”

           “Greymane the Awful.”

A strange smile twisted Alixiel’s lips. “Imagine that.” Turning back to Merkate she followed. “She’ll be bunking with you. See if Seren has anything to warm her up then bring her to my cabin.”

Merkate nodded, standing the shivering princess up. “Come on. We’ll take good care of you.”

Seren gave them the evil eye when they showed up at the doors of the kitchen but once Merkate had explained the situation, his glare dimmed and he let the princess be seated at the counter where he was eternally chopping vegetables.

“What happened to her?” He asked.

“I reckon we’ll learn soon enough.” They both observed the shell shocked girl for a moment. “The Raven wants to speak with her after this. Think you have some brandy to kickstart her?”

The albino boy thought for a moment then bent beneath the sink to pull out a shabby bottle full of amber liquid.

“Not quite brandy but I doubt she’ll have any complaints.”

Merkate poured out a shot and pushed it against Elaina’s lips. “Come on, little princess, open up.”

The first swallow made her blink and cough violently. She pushed Merkate’s hand away, spluttering, tears beading at the corners of her eyes.

“What is that?!”

“Dragon piss.” Seren replied, unperturbed.

Elaina blushed. “Why, I never!”

“I bet.” He turned to Merkate. “Out.”

Nodding, she brought Elaina up to Alixiel’s cabin. The captain was already waiting for them, staring intently at a map of the world. She waved them to her desk when she heard the door. They stood in silence for a while, Elaina fidgeting nervously as the tension grew. Finally, Alixiel Ravencroft turned around, every inch the ruthless captain she was rumoured to be.

“State your identity.”

“Elaina Draken, Princess of the Elven kingdom.”

Alix raised an eyebrow at that. “How did you come to be aboard the Alikat?”

Elaina faltered. “T-the alley cat?”

“My ship, this beauty. She is the Alikat.”

“U-um,” she glanced at Merkate who sat in the corner, looking studiously bored but not looking directly at either of them. “I uh…”

Alix struck the table with her hand, startling the elven princess. “Look at me when answering. She is not in charge here.”

The captive bit her lip. “I was running away from Greymane’s men.”

“And why, pray tell, were they pursuing you?”

She faltered once again. “I-I…” She fought against the urge to look at Merkate again but avoided Alixiel’s eyes. “My father sold me and Greymane killed me. For treasure.”

She missed the greedy light that entered the Raven’s eyes when she mentioned treasure. “You look very much alive.”

Elaina’s hands tightened in fists, her swimming gaze focused on her knuckles. “He killed me.” She amended fiercely. “My blood gift saved me.”

“Blood gift?”

She regained some of her haughtiness, staring Alixiel in the eyes as she replied. “It is none of your concern.”

In little to no time, the captain had vaulted over her desk to stand behind the elven princess with a knife to her throat. “Listen chickie, if you want to stay, you need to be cooperative or I don’t have much use for you either.”

Elaina swallowed with difficulty, mind racing. “If you kill me, you won’t be able to find the treasure.”

There was a pause before Raven walked back around the desk to stand in front of the elven princess once more. “Alright, we’ll go with that. Where’s the treasure?”

“I… don’t know.”

Alix threw her hands in the air. “There you go being useless again!” The void in her eyes chilled Elaina to the bone. “Don’t think I can’t throw this knife between your lovely eyes, Princess. My patience is not without limits and you are very quickly reaching the ends of it.”

The elf looked away, her heart beating in her ears like an 808 drum. Would it be safe to tell her? After all she’d just be putting the secret in another fiend’s hands...She shook herself quickly. No! Her father had told her to keep it a secret but it was her secret now. Her father had sold her. She was on her own and she would take whatever help she could get.

“There is a map in my skin that leads to a great treasure.” She announced clearly. “It can only be called by blood.”

Once again, the captain of the Alikat raised an eyebrow. “Fancy talk all that, where’s the proof?”

Elaina maintained eye contact with her as she answered. “You will pay the blood toll or I cannot help you.”

Merkate and Alix exchanged a look. Blood magic was extremely powerful and it only took a drop of your blood to put you under a magician’s control. Merkate gave a slight nod of her head, poised to intervene in any case of trouble from the elven princess. The captain of the Alikat rolled up her cuffs, set the knife to the meat under her thumb and sliced deep. A line of red immediately welled up. Elaina watched the blood roll over the pale flesh and fall onto her dress. Slowly, she raised her own hand to catch the blood onto her skin. A warmth spread like wildfire under her skin, the map drawing itself in burning lines. It felt like being cut with a knife. Elaina gasped softly, withdrawing her hand as the rest of the map drew itself onto her.

Alixiel retreated, whistling long. Merkate watched impassively. Elaina watched the lines she could see.

“Now you know.”

“Well.” A rakish smile now lit the Raven's face. “Welcome aboard, Princess. You're our precious hostage until we find your treasure.”

[readbookywooks]

DEEPER MAGIC FROM BEFORE THE DAWN OF TIME

WHILE the two girls still crouched in the bushes with their hands over their faces, they heard the voice of the Witch calling out, "Now! Follow me all and we will set about what remains of this war! It will not take us long to crush the human vermin and the traitors now that the great Fool, the great Cat, lies dead." At this moment the children were for a few seconds in very great danger. For with wild cries and a noise of skirling pipes and shrill horns blowing, the whole of that vile rabble came sweeping off the hill-top and down the slope right past their hiding-place. They felt the Spectres go by them like a cold wind and they felt the ground shake beneath them under the galloping feet of the Minotaurs; and overhead there went a flurry of foul wings and a blackness of vultures and giant bats. At any other time they would have trembled with fear; but now the sadness and shame and horror of Aslan's death so filled their minds that they hardly thought of it. As soon as the wood was silent again Susan and Lucy crept out onto the open hill-top. The moon was getting low and thin clouds were passing across her, but still they could see the shape of the Lion lying dead in his bonds. And down they both knelt in the wet grass and kissed his cold face and stroked his beautiful fur - what was left of it - and cried till they could cry no more. And then they looked at each other and held each other's hands for mere loneliness and cried again; and then again were silent. At last Lucy said, "I can't bear to look at that horrible muzzle. I wonder could we take if off?" So they tried. And after a lot of working at it (for their fingers were cold and it was now the darkest part of the night) they succeeded. And when they saw his face without it they burst out crying again and kissed it and fondled it and wiped away the blood and the foam as well as they could. And it was all more lonely and hopeless and horrid than I know how to describe. "I wonder could we untie him as well?" said Susan presently. But the enemies, out of pure spitefulness, had drawn the cords so tight that the girls could make nothing of the knots. I hope no one who reads this book has been quite as miserable as Susan and Lucy were that night; but if you have been - if you've been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing was ever going to happen again. At any rate that was how it felt to these two. Hours and hours seemed to go by in this dead calm, and they hardly noticed that they were getting colder and colder. But at last Lucy noticed two other things. One was that the sky on the east side of the hill was a little less dark than it had been an hour ago. The other was some tiny movement going on in the grass at her feet. At first she took no interest in this. What did it matter? Nothing mattered now! But at last she saw that whatever-it-was had begun to move up the upright stones of the Stone Table. And now whatever-they-were were moving about on Aslan's body. She peered closer. They were little grey things. "Ugh!" said Susan from the other side of the Table. "How beastly! There are horrid little mice crawling over him. Go away, you little beasts." And she raised her hand to frighten them away. "Wait!" said Lucy, who had been looking at them more closely still. "Can you see what they're doing?" Both girls bent down and stared. "I do believe - " said Susan. "But how queer! They're nibbling away at the cords!" "That's what I thought," said Lucy. "I think they're friendly mice. Poor little things - they don't realize he's dead. They think it'll do some good untying him." It was quite definitely lighter by now. Each of the girls noticed for the first time the white face of the other. They could see the mice nibbling away; dozens and dozens, even hundreds, of little field mice. And at last, one by one, the ropes were all gnawed through. The sky in the east was whitish by now and the stars were getting fainter - all except one very big one low down on the eastern horizon. They felt colder than they had been all night. The mice crept away again. The girls cleared away the remains of the gnawed ropes. Aslan looked more like himself without them. Every moment his dead face looked nobler, as the light grew and they could see it better. In the wood behind them a bird gave a chuckling sound. It had been so still for hours and hours that it startled them. Then another bird answered it. Soon there were birds singing all over the place. It was quite definitely early morning now, not late night. "I'm so cold," said Lucy. "So am I," said Susan. "Let's walk about a bit." They walked to the eastern edge of the hill and looked down. The one big star had almost disappeared. The country all looked dark grey, but beyond, at the very end of the world, the sea showed pale. The sky began to turn red. They walked to ands fro more times than they could count between the dead Aslan and the eastern ridge, trying to keep warm; and oh, how tired their legs felt. Then at last, as they stood for a moment looking out towards they sea and Cair Paravel (which they could now just make out) the red turned to gold along the line where the sea and the sky met and very slowly up came the edge of the sun. At that moment they heard from behind them a loud noise - a great cracking, deafening noise as if a giant had broken a giant's plate. "What's that?" said Lucy, clutching Susan's arm. "I - I feel afraid to turn round," said Susan; "something awful is happening." "They're doing something worse to Him," said Lucy. "Come on!" And she turned, pulling Susan round with her. The rising of the sun had made everything look so different - all colours and shadows were changed that for a moment they didn't see the important thing. Then they did. The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan. "Oh, oh, oh!" cried the two girls, rushing back to the Table. "Oh, it's too bad," sobbed Lucy; "they might have left the body alone." "Who's done it?" cried Susan. "What does it mean? Is it magic?" "Yes!" said a great voice behind their backs. "It is more magic." They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself. "Oh, Aslan!" cried both the children, staring up at him, almost as much frightened as they were glad. "Aren't you dead then, dear Aslan?" said Lucy. "Not now," said Aslan. "You're not - not a - ?" asked Susan in a shaky voice. She couldn't bring herself to say the word ghost. Aslan stooped his golden head and licked her forehead. The warmth of his breath and a rich sort of smell that seemed to hang about his hair came all over her. "Do I look it?" he said. "Oh, you're real, you're real! Oh, Aslan!" cried Lucy, and both girls flung themselves upon him and covered him with kisses. "But what does it all mean?" asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer. "It means," said Aslan, "that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know: Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards. And now - " "Oh yes. Now?" said Lucy, jumping up and clapping her hands. "Oh, children," said the Lion, "I feel my strength coming back to me. Oh, children, catch me if you can!" He stood for a second, his eyes very bright, his limbs quivering, lashing himself with his tail. Then he made a leap high over their heads and landed on the other side of the Table. Laughing, though she didn't know why, Lucy scrambled over it to reach him. Aslan leaped again. A mad chase began. Round and round the hill-top he led them, now hopelessly out of their reach, now letting them almost catch his tail, now diving between them, now tossing them in the air with his huge and beautifully velveted paws and catching them again, and now stopping unexpectedly so that all three of them rolled over together in a happy laughing heap of fur and arms and legs. It was such a romp as no one has ever had except in Narnia; and whether it was more like playing with a thunderstorm or playing with a kitten Lucy could never make up her mind. And the funny thing was that when all three finally lay together panting in the sun the girls no longer felt in the least tired or hungry or thirsty. "And now," said Aslan presently, "to business. I feel I am going to roar. You had better put your fingers in your ears." And they did. And Aslan stood up and when he opened his mouth to roar his face became so terrible that they did not dare to look at it. And they saw all the trees in front of him bend before the blast of his roaring as grass bends in a meadow before the wind. Then he said, "We have a long journey to go. You must ride on me." And he crouched down and the children climbed on to his warm, golden back, and Susan sat first, holding on tightly to his mane and Lucy sat behind holding on tightly to Susan. And with a great heave he rose underneath them and then shot off, faster than any horse could go, down hill and into the thick of the forest. That ride was perhaps the most wonderful thing that happened to them in Narnia. Have you ever had a gallop on a horse? Think of that; and then take away the heavy noise of the hoofs and the jingle of the bits and imagine instead the almost noiseless padding of the great paws. Then imagine instead of the black or grey or chestnut back of the horse the soft roughness of golden fur, and the mane flying back in the wind. And then imagine you are going about twice as fast as the fastest racehorse. But this is a mount that doesn't need to be guided and never grows tired. He rushes on and on, never missing his footing, never hesitating, threading his way with perfect skill between tree trunks, jumping over bush and briar and the smaller streams, wading the larger, swimming the largest of all. And you are riding not on a road nor in a park nor even on the downs, but right across Narnia, in spring, down solemn avenues of beech and across sunny glades of oak, through wild orchards of snow-white cherry trees, past roaring waterfalls and mossy rocks and echoing caverns, up windy slopes alight with gorse bushes, and across the shoulders of heathery mountains and along giddy ridges and down, down, down again into wild valleys and out into acres of blue flowers. It was nearly midday when they found themselves looking down a steep hillside at a castle - a little toy castle it looked from where they stood - which seemed to be all pointed towers. But the Lion was rushing down at such a speed that it grew larger every moment and before they had time even to ask themselves what it was they were already on a level with it. And now it no longer looked like a toy castle but rose frowning in front of them. No face looked over the battlements and the gates were fast shut. And Aslan, not at all slacking his pace, rushed straight as a bullet towards it. "The Witch's home!" he cried. "Now, children, hold tight." Next moment the whole world seemed to turn upside down, and the children felt as if they had left their insides behind them; for the Lion had gathered himself together for a greater leap than any he had yet made and jumped - or you may call it flying rather than jumping - right over the castle wall. The two girls, breathless but unhurt, found themselves tumbling off his back in the middle of a wide stone courtyard full of statues.