#es watered down n like grass

[soulmvtes]

a friend just messaged me saying she tried a warm vanilla matcha and gets the hype... this is my only purpose

#diary #tiyas thoughts #converting everyone to matcha lovers #strong believer that more people would like matcha if they just had it more authentically rather than from chain coffee stores where it tast #es watered down n like grass

[wrathbites]

Get to know me

Tagged by: @dandenbo​, cheers :)

Relationship status: single

Favourite colour: purple (the deeper and darker the better)

Favourite food: t a t t i e  s c o n e s

Song stuck in your head: “Beast” by Ocean Jet (some of those lyrics pack a punch for vampire!Rhys, what can I say?)

Last thing you googled: “Geth armature” (could I remember how to spell it?  Absolutely not)

Time: 23.33

Dream trip: oh jeez I don’t know, it changes from year to year.  For now I’m longing to go on a trip further north in Scotland, get out of the main cities and smell the fresh air and listen to the birdsong and the wind rustling leaves and grass and lapping over water, feel the air cool the closer you get to sea, buy some pretty paperweights and wool spun from the local farms and sit outside and knit/crochet in the sunshine.

Last book you read: I’m currently reading “To Be Taught, if Fortunate” by Becky Chambers, but the last completed read before that was “The long way to a small angry planet”, also by Becky Chambers :)

Last book you enjoyed reading: “The long way to a small angry planet” lol

Last book you hated reading: Hate is a strong word I very rarely apply to books, but there’s one from a couple years ago that fits the bill.  I can’t remember the name, I’ve burned it from memory at this rate, but I have never had a book fill me with so much rage before.  See, the main character is an artist, and she sketches, right?  Very skilled at it, too.  And the author decides, if I remember this right, that she’ll be able to sketch a perfect likeness of someone in the space of half an hour?  She only encountered them once or twice, but gets a perfect likeness of them.  From memory.  In that timeframe.  Okay, I can go with that, seems a bit iffy but okay, if she’s been perfecting her skills for a good couple of years - and then a killer who has broken into her house and is LIVING THERE is messing with her lines and erasing them and reworking them and I’m just !!! do you mean to tell me she’d not realise something was going on with her art?  Of course then she did, and fixed them.  Again, from memory, and I’m just hmmmmm.  Bit less believable there, pal, but sure, okay.  The rest of the book was... okay.  It did the job of passing the time but I read it once and returned it to the library and I’ve never bothered to venture back near it - nor look at any other works from the author.  The way he passed the woman off as “going crazy” and “imagining things” and “I must have been tired” and then in the latter part of the book revealed “no!  Actually!  You’re completely sane!  A killer has found out your home address!  And is messing with you!  In the leadup to killing you!  Because he had a falling out with your family member!  And he has been actively living in your property during the day and coming out at night when you’re sleeping and you totally haven’t noticed any of your belongings being moved at all!  Don’t you feel safe still staying in that house after he’s killed off? :)” just absolutely 100% pissed me right the fuck off.

Bonus:

Favourite thing to bake: hazelnut loaf, hands down.

Favourite craft to do in your spare time: aside from writing fanfic (lol) that’d be knitting/crochet.  Can’t do much beyond basic patterns for scarves, blankets, but I’m not looking to make my own wardrobe of clothes or anything, just something low-key to keep my hands busy and mind free from stress.

Most niche dislike: the keyboard sounds on mobile phones when the volume’s turned up full.  Especially on public transport, when you can’t just escape the noise.  All those key tones so high pitched just plays merry hell with my hearing and actually causes pain.

Opinion on circus(es) now and in history: never liked them as a kid when there was still a main focus on performing animals.  It just seemed cruel to me, all for a laugh?  No thank you.  I don’t have much of an opinion on them now, since I haven’t been to one in years - the general racket of crowds is a nope for me.

Do you have a sense of direction and if not what is the worst way you ever got lost: lol nope.  You can orientate my phone to register the same direction I’m facing for me to get from A to B and I’ll still wind up lost.  I once had to meet someone at a gym and wound up going the exact opposite direction and only realised my mistake when I came up to a football stadium and had a “huh” moment and asked a passerby for the gym - think I made his day with that laugh rofl

People I’d like to get to know better: uhhhh... I’ll skip this part - I’m late to the thing so folks I’d tag have probably already filled it out, time for me to go browsing XD

#Wrathanswers

[thewinterwaifu]

hello! can I request a scenario with part 4 josuke saving a fem!reader from drowning? (I'm sorry it's kinda weird lmao) (also holaaa poca gente veo por aquí que hable español)

You can!Not weird at all!

ALSO HOLA LA VERDAD ES QUE HAY POCOS AJDNSNS

~*~

It had all happened too fast. Josuke had invite Y/N to a picnic by the river and it was all calm for a while. Both of their heartd were beating like a drum, almost as if threatening to jump out of their chests. They were so in love after all!Josuke still couldn't belueve his luck:that she actually returned his feelings and that she had accepted his confession.

But, as soon as he let his guard down for a second, he found that she wasn't next to him anymore. And then, he heard the screams. Y/N had fallen into the water and was struggling to keep herself float. Fear took over his mind. He couldn't lose her, he couldn't!

Without any hesitation, he jumped right into the water, coming to her rescue.

"I'm here!I'm here!"

With his strength, he was able to fight against the current and get them back to the grass, letting her lay down.

"Y/N!"Y/N!Are you okay?!"

The girl coughed and coughed, spitting out water and trying to get some air back in. His expression made it obvious that he was worried. But...the first thing she did when she could breathe again wasn't what he would have expected. She...let out a small chuckle.

"Josuke...I'm so sorry I got your hair all wet...I know how important it is to you"

"Are you kidding?!I don't care about my hair right now!" And that was a lot coming from him! "I was...so worried. Are you alright?"

"Yeah!But still...I ruined our date" she sighed "Sorry for that...I can't believe I just falled like that

"You didn't ruin anything!" He insisted, pulling her close into a hug. "I'm just glad you're okay!" Now that he didn't have to worry, he got his goofy smile and tone back. "Well now!We should both go home and change. We don't wanna catch a cold!But...I wanna spend more time with you" he pouted

"Hmmm" she mused in thought "Hey!You could walk me home!"

"Oh right!" He said with a huge smiled. "Let's go!"

With enthusiasm, he held her hand as they walked. Her touch was just magical...even after that big scare, it managed to make him blush and swoon

"That a blush I see, Jojo?"

"I'm not blushing!" He chuckled nervously

"Yes you are!"

He really was head over heels huh

#josuke higashikata #josuke higashikata x reader #josuke jjba #jjba josuke #jojo josuke #josuke jojo #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jjba scenario #jjba scenarios #jojo scenario #jojo scenarios #diu #diamond is not crash #diamond is unbreakable #diu x reader #part 4 jojo #part 4 jjba #jjba part 4 #jojo part 4 #jjba fics #jjba fic #jojo fic #fic jojo

[liebegott]

Passing Cars. | Joe Liebgott

as requested by lia_hale_ on wattpad

(click here to read on wattpad)

feel free to send me a request!

pairing: n/a

wc: 1.5k

synopsis: easy goes to liberate the women’s camp in landsberg.

a/n: she had requested a fic based upon the liberation of the landsberg camps in episode 9. this fic is entirely in liebgott’s pov. in no way, shape, or form am i belittling the experiences of the men. i’ll never know what impact finding those camps had on them.

i’m sorry in advance if this has offended anyone. any thoughts or feedback would be much appreciated. ++ i used almost all my german for this fic plus some help from my dad, so sorry if i butchered anything or got stuff wrong. i’m not fluent 😓 

i hope you enjoy this one! thank you for reading.

i mean no disrespect to the real joseph liebgott. this is all purely based on ross mccall’s portrayal of him in band of brothers.

tagging: @floydtab​ @alienoresimagines​ @order-of-river-phoenix​ @julianneday1701​ @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant​ @wexhappyxfew​ @rarmiitage​ @mavysnavy​ @punkgeekchic

***

Laying on a mattress that felt like clouds, your had your hands over your head to cover your eyes. “Germany might just be the best fuckin’ place we’ve ever been to,” you mumbled, nearly choking on the cigarette between your teeth, “No snow, no Krauts. Hitler shoulda shot himself ages ago.”

David looked up at you from the notebook in his hands, shrugging, “It really is, but there’s something definitely wrong about this place.”

“Aw, shit Web” you replied, tossing your helmet at him, “You’re just jumpy. We’ve had the best food we’ve eaten in months here.” David caught your helmet and set it beside him, ignoring your comments.

Returning to his notebook, you rolled your eyes at him and lay back down on your bed.

Suddenly, “Joe, Web,” a voice called, breathless, and you looked up to see Frank, “You two better get out here. We found something in the woods, and it’s crazy.”

David looked at you, an I-told-you-so look on his face, but the look on Frank’s meant it was serious. “What is it?” you asked as David handed you your helmet, and you flicked the cigarette to the floor.

“I,” Frank paused, trying to catch his breath, “I’m gonna be honest, I got no clue.”

***

When Frank said they had found something in the woods, what you saw was the furthest from what you had imagined. You couldn’t believe your eyes, and the first thing that hit all of you was the smell. What in heaven’s name happened here? You understood now why Frank was so jumpy. Turning to look at him, he had a terrified look on his face. In fact, everyone had it on their face.

You turned away, walking back slowly to the truck. All the men were gathered up in front of the gates, and on the other side, prisoners faced them, clinging to the gate like their lives depended on it. Prisoners? Was this a prisoner camp?

“Liebgott,” Lipton called for you, “Major needs you up front, right now.” You bit your lip and jogged towards Major Winters who was trying to speak to one of the prisoners. You began talking to the man, his frail form trembling in front of you.

“Was ist das für ein Camp?” you asked him, What kind of camp is this? The man responded with a word you didn’t know— Unerwunscht. “Unwanted, disliked maybe?” you said to Major Winters, whose eyebrows were furrowed.

“Criminals?” Major winters asked, and you asked the man in front of you in return.

“No,” you translated as the man spoke, “Doctors, musicians. Tailors, clerks. Farmers, intellectuals. I mean, normal people.”

“Juden,” the man cried, “Juden.” And your heart started beating in your ears, the air escaping your lungs.

“They’re Jews,” you mumble, fighting the thoughts that clouded in your head, “Poles and gypsies.” The man turned to the east, and pointed towards beyond the fence.

“Liebgott?” Major Winters asked, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, biting down on your lip to control your emotions, “The women’s camp is at the next railroad stop.”

You stood there briefly, watching helplessly as the man knelt and cradled a body on the ground, cries escaping his lips. I can’t take this, you thought, quickly turned, heading back to the truck.

Crouched down behind the truck, your head in your hands, you wondered to yourself, What was so wrong with who they were? What was so wrong with who you were?

***

At the women’s camp, you never expected it to be worse. Again, the smell was overbearing, but your heart hurt so much you couldn’t move. You had cried in the truck on the way here, the men holding onto you so tightly, reminding you where you were.

“Hey, Web,” you said quietly, nudging him with the butt of your gun, your voice still hoarse, “I take back what I said. Germany is the fuckin’ worst.” David didn't say anything in response, and instead squeezed your shoulders tightly.

Stepping in, you nearly dropped your gun, your hands trembling. Women clung to you and all the other men as they swung open the gates, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again.

I can’t breathe, you thought to yourself, as thin hands gripped onto yours, and sobs filled the air. Major Winters spotted you, saw the look on your face, and instead called for Webster to translate. You gulped, prayed a silent thank you, quickly turning and walking away from everyone else.

Taking out a cigarette, you cried softly, your shoulders shaking. You couldn’t understand what was happening. Where the hell were you? We weren’t too far from the town. Why didn’t anyone say anything?

Suddenly, you heard a whimper from below you, and you looked down to see a young girl, her back against one of the huts. Her small frame was shivering in fear.

You tried approaching her slowly, crouching down to be eye level with her, but she quickly crawled away, fear taking hold of her body. The young girl grabbed at the ground and sobbed, shaking her head rapidly.

“Fuck,” you yelled, and she shuddered at the sound of your voice, startled. You bit down on your knuckles and released a whimpered cry, running a hand through your hair. At that, she stopped, and although her hands were bloody, she was no longer crying.

You sat across from her, a considerable amount of space between the two of you. She watched you lower yourself to the ground, her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes still wet. “Warum bist du hier?” Why are you here? you asked softly, raising both your hands to show her you weren’t holding anything.

The small girl didn’t reply at first, watching you cautiously, and you realised then how pale she was. You took out your canteen, poured a little water on the ground to show her, then slid it across the grass. She grabbed it so quickly it surprised you, and she hurriedly took in big gulps.

“Mama sagt, es ist, weil ich ein Jude bin,” was all she replied, wiping her mouth with her scarred arm. Mama says it’s because I’m a Jew.

“Du bist?” You are? you said, trying to plaster a fake smile on your face, “Ich bin auch.” I am too. The tremble in your voice had given away your facade.

She tilted her head at this and gently put down the now empty canteen. “Warum bist du dann in Uniform?” she answered, wiping her hands on her torn up shirt. Then why are you in uniform?

You stood, believing you had earned her trust, but at your movement, she once again began crying, crawling further from you. “Bitte verletz mich nicht,” she begged, her hands balled up into fists, her fingernails digging into her skin. Please don’t hurt me.

Standing above her, only then did you notice the bruises on her legs and around her neck. You shut your eyes tightly, taking deep breaths, and once again you backed away.

“Wie alt sind Sie?” How old are you? you asked, trying to steady your shaky voice, “Ich were rich night verletzen.” I’m not going to hurt you. You didn’t sit this time, anger clouding your brain.

“Ich bin elf,” she whispered, “Bitte nicht.” She was eleven, and you cursed under your breath. At eleven, you were throwing eggs at passing cars. At eleven, you were drawing on the sidewalk with chalk. But here she was, at eleven, begging you not to hurt her.

“I’m American,” you whispered softly to her in English, in hopes she would understand. Thankfully, she did, and the young girl slowly opened her eyes, allowing you to sit by her. Taking out bread from your bag, you handed it to her, and she devoured it hungrily.

As she ate beside you, you leaned your back on the hut she was perched by and watched as all the other women were being fed slowly.

“Ich möchte, dass du rich erinnerst,” I want you to remember, you said to her, and she looked at you with wide eyes, the bread in her hands already finished, “Es ist nichts falsch mit der Person, die du bist.” There is nothing wrong with the person you are. The young girl nodded slowly, and you stood, extending your arm to help her up.

As you both walked back towards the other women, hand-in-hand, you now fully understood the meaning behind all the sacrifice, the bloodshed, and the tears. You looked down at her, her hand still tightly wrapped around yours, so small and fragile, and yet so strong. She looked up at you and smiled. Despite everything, she still smiled.

Soon, she would be back to drawing with chalk on sidewalks, and throwing eggs at passing cars. And you were glad she could raise hell.

Countless men have lost their lives for that very reason.

#band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fic #band of brothers #bob #hbowar #hbo war #band of brothers oneshot #band of brothers imagine #joseph liebgott #joe liebgott #joe liebgott fanfic #joe liebgott oneshots #joe liebgott drabbles #band of brothers drabble #giana:parsuna

[falseroar]

Dog Days Part 9: Preparations

((Marvin and Jackie talk about some of the preparations they need to make now that Y/N is in the house.

A little shorter compared to Part 8, but setting up a few things for later.))

Marvin cracked open the door to his room and waited, listening carefully to be sure that the noise had finally died down before venturing out into the hallway. He paused by the bathroom to look in at the wet floor and the damp towels littered everywhere before shuddering and moving on toward the living room.

There he found Jackie struggling to get his soaked hoodie off, the red fabric sticking around his chest and head until he managed to free himself and toss it over the back of the couch with a groan.

“That bad, huh?” Marvin asked.

“Like you couldn’t hear all of that,” Jackie pointed out. “Funny how you suddenly aren’t too busy when it’s all over.”

The magician at least had the decency to look a little bit ashamed, but he was quick to defend himself. “Hey, I’ve been up to my ears in spells today. Adding another room onto the house isn’t exactly easy, even with my notes from last time. Did that prescription stuff from the doctor help any?”

It was the whole point of the bath, after all. The doctors said mixing it with the water would help soothe the werewolf’s burns, although apparently no one considered the logistics of trying to bathe a reluctant and temporarily blind werewolf before the bathroom turned into a water park.

“Maybe? Hard to tell when they can’t say anything, but they seem to be feeling well enough to either sulk or have fallen asleep,” Jackie said, and Marvin followed his gaze to the sliding door, through which they could clearly see the wolf lying on their back in the grass of the backyard, paws up in the air. “And I don’t have a clue what Chase or Jameson are doing with that rake, but at this point I’m afraid to ask.”

From the look of it, neither of the men outside were very clear on what they were doing either, and as Marvin watched Chase broke off their argument by pushing Jameson into a nearby pile of leaves, his laughter cut short when he was dragged down with him in a splash of red, yellow, and brown leaves.

Jackie rubbed his bare arms with a shiver as he watched, and Marvin thought he was about to go and get a dry hoodie from his extensive collection. It was rare to see him without one, and the white t-shirt he had been wearing underneath looked thin. Thin enough to make out the scars on his back and chest, which along with the matching ones on his arms normally went unseen, even if Marvin tried not to look at them too closely.

Instead, Jackie asked, “Were there some new wards among all those spells you were doing?”

“…Yes,” Marvin answered. “Y/N’s room is just as protected as the rest of the house.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Jackie looked back at the magician, who reluctantly met his gaze. “Tomorrow night is a full moon.”

“I checked the spell I put on them, and it’s still active. They should be able to control their self without any problems,” Marvin answered. “…But I’ve already talked to Henrik about getting Chase and Jameson out of the house, just in case.”

Jackie nodded. The two of them could handle it on their own if something went wrong, especially if they didn’t have to worry about the others getting hurt. The thought they had to be prepared in case it came to that at all was what bothered Marvin, along with the kind of wards and spells he had been researching all day. It seemed a blessing that the spell he had cast all those years ago was still holding strong, especially when Marvin wasn’t sure what the alternative would have to have been. Or might be.

The magician jumped as a laughing shriek came from the backyard, where the werewolf had suddenly sprung up to go diving into the leaves along with the others.

“Careful, Y/N, the garden’s just a few feet in front of you,” Chase warned. “JJ might have to give you another bath if you crush his petunias!”

“Don’t sign me up for that,” Jameson protested as he sat up, leaves still on his shoulder and stuck in his hair. “Remember, you told me yourself you know all about taking care of dogs, including washing them.”

Chase grimaced, remembering too well what he said before offering to get Y/N into the waiting bath, only to realize that when a wolf didn’t want to go somewhere, they tended to be a bit harder to convince than your average terrier.

“Maybe we can just hose them down in the backyard next time,” Chase suggested, only to get a huff from the wolf.

“How are you feeling, Y/N? Did the medicine help?” Jameson signed and Chase repeated aloud for the wolf’s benefit.

“I think that’s a yes,” Chase said, translating the noise from the wolf’s chest even though the fact they were currently sprawled out on their back, wiggling back and forth on the crinkling leaves like they had just landed in the middle of a soft mattress, was a pretty big hint.

Jameson looked at Chase and signed again.

“Oh. Uh, Jameson wants to know if it’s okay if he pets you?” Chase said, only for Jameson to correct him with a glare. “Sorry, hugs you.”

Y/N rolled over and sat up, their ears alert but otherwise unmoving for a second. Until they stood and moved toward Jameson, who slowly directed them toward himself before pulling them into a hug, his arms wrapped around the wolf and his face pressed up against theirs.

From outside the hug, Chase could see the brief wince from the wolf, their tense stance before they slowly leaned into it. The doctor had said it might take a while for the medicine to really have an effect, but now didn’t seem to be the time to remind Jameson of that, not when he could see the man’s eyes were shut tight and the glimmer near the corners of his eyes. Meanwhile, despite Henrik’s hopes of recovery, the wolf’s eyes were still clouded with silver, unable to read what Jameson wanted to say without help, and as much as Chase was willing to interpret, he knew there were some things that just didn’t sound the same coming from him.

Eventually, Jameson let go and the wolf leaned against his side gingerly, ears moving to follow every rustle of the leaves or caw of the crows watching from the other side of the yard like this was the most interesting thing they’d seen since Jameson tried to make that scarecrow they had promptly adopted as one of their own.

After checking that Chase was okay with translating for him, Jameson started to sign.

“You can come and go to the backyard anytime you want, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I added some ropes to both sides of the sliding door so you can pull it open yourself,” Chase added, having been eager to share that for a while now.

“And Marvin is adding another room to the house for you, if you wish to have your own space,” Jameson said, before adding to Chase, “I hope that is okay.”

“Mi case es su casa or whatever, as long as the roof doesn’t fall in, I think we’re good,” Chase said with a grin. “Honestly, having you guys living here with us has been a big help for me and Jackie. Marvin’s protections are a literal lifesaver, plus the extra paychecks aren’t too bad when Jackie eats like a horse and his…regular work doesn’t really help pay the bills.”

“Ah! I do hope to put on a show soon which might help,” Jameson signed. Thanks to Henrik, they had kind of figured out a wolf would need a lot of food to stay healthy, which they seemed to have been missing out on for a while now. Chase was quick to reassure him that it was okay and not to worry about money right now, so Jameson returned to what he had been saying. “None of the neighbors can see or hear us here, so it is private enough. Marvin has protected the backyard as much as the house with all of his spells, and although he tells me there is nothing to be done about those pesky crows, you should feel just as safe out here as inside.”

Chase suppressed a grin, knowing full well that Marvin loved the birds and was on a secret long-term campaign to befriend them that maybe involved the occasional sacrifice on the part of Jameson’s garden. “Marvin’s added spells to some of the things we carry with us to keep us safe outside of my house, like in my cap or in Jameson’s hipster bowler hat. He can probably add something to that collar if he hasn’t already so you can go out for a walk with one of us if you ever want to.”

A grumble came from the wolf at the reminder of the collar, while Jameson indignantly signed, “It is not hipster, it is vintage! I’ve had that hat since it was new!”

“Then maybe it’s time to update to something new, grandpa,” Chase countered.

The wolf swayed as Jameson lunged forward, their ears following the ensuing wrestling match with a curious and almost fond tilt of their head.

That quickly turned into a yelp of surprise when a stray pile of leaves hit them in the face, followed by the apparent determination to tackle whoever was closest and sit on them until they learned their lesson.

Inside the house, Marvin joked, “Looks like you might need to brush up on your wrestling skills for tomorrow night, just in case.”

Jackie shook his head and went in search of a dry change of clothes, leaving Marvin alone and free to chew on his bottom lip while he thought of a few more books he could check, just in case. Hopefully after tomorrow night, he could prove to Jackie that all of this extra preparation was completely unnecessary. And hopefully by the morning after, he could shake his own bad feelings about all of this and focus on finding out what happened to his friend.

Except he had learned a long time ago to trust his bad feelings. Like the one he felt every time he looked at the wolf, the quiet but hard to shake fear that they could disappear again at any second.

He still hadn’t told the others about how nearly every ward on the house activated the last night when they brought the werewolf home. Thankfully, they all held strong, but a divination spell cast while Jameson and Chase were giving Y/N a tour of the house confirmed that someone out there had been trying to find them.

Someone knew they had left the mirror, probably someone who had a hand in putting them in there in the first place. If that was the case, then Marvin wanted nothing more than to be ready with a tracking spell of his own should they be foolish enough to try again.

Marvin touched the cheek of his cat mask and forced himself to take a breath and calm down. Save the anger for later, when he could do something with it.

((End of Part 9. Thank you for reading!

Link to Part 10: Limited Supply.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox ))

#markiplier #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #monster hunter au #werewolf au #wkm district attorney #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #chase brody #jameson jackson #the da is going to walk out of this story with so many hugs #have to make up for all the ones they missed

[vicecityhq]

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: walking through fields of daisies, an acid tablet on your tongue, the glitter of the sun on the moving, blue, water . With a slight resemblance to CHOI CHANHEE of/the THE BOYZ.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

last name, first name: doe, john alias: blue realm of birth(if earth, nationality): cosmic age: n/a - officials labeled found child to look around 5 human years, legal age 22 date of birth: n/a gender: non-binary male preferred pronouns: he/they species: planetary elf sexual orientation: homosexual

VISUAL FILE:

skin color: grey with a glittering shift to it eye color: one grey/casted  over, the other blue crystal like. scars: one large birthmark like scar over hist stomach. piercings: up both ears, and one in his belly-button tattoos: a few tiny, delicate ones on various parts of his body hair color: natrually white, currently and constantly kept baby blye. abnormalities: his casted over eye, glittering tears horns/ wings/ etc: pointed ears transformed form: the lights on their feet and palms only glow when the sun sets, and their grey skin shifts like the diamonds their eyes used to resemble.

PERSONAL FILE:

religious belief:  n/a sins:  greed  /  gluttony  /  sloth  / LUST  /  pride  /  ENVY  /  wrath virtues: CHASTITY  /  CHARITY  /  diligence  /  humility /  KINDNESS /  patience /  justice known languages: italian and korean, average english secrets: after blue was assaulted by an ex, that ex…mysteriously went missing savvies:  fashion, painting, sculpting, drawing powers & abilities: space/star elf physiology ( these types of elves live in space and reside in communities where magic and technology are one. this means that the technology they use will either be crystalline, or organic constructs that are both in tune with nature and capable of destroying whole cities.), cosmic entity physiology, star mediation, illusion magic, celestial magic, night vision, lunar (dark) magic. traits: resilient & indulgent

BACKGROUND CHECK:

date of birth: n/a date of death: approx. sometime during earth’s autumn of 1021 a.d. crime record: clean

Background/Biography:

the carnage rained down above him, an image he couldn’t quite make out with his youthful eyes. why was mother crying? why was father packing their things?

“there’s still room on the ship.” came as a hushed whisper, the elve’s siblings gathered in the living area as the sky ignited into flames. one of their many moons was breaking into pieces, and half of the planet was shrouded in a darkness no one could describe.

“why has she forsaken us?” was a phrase that was being screamed into the the streets as he was dragged along, knees dripping with their colored blood as his mother kept him in tow. they would make it, she kept screaming to them amongst the chaos, but as she spoke their hands parted ways, a severely burnt stranger running into the child out of panic and fear. she couldn’t come back to save him by the time she noticed.

the child only waved goodbye, glittering tears coming down his cheeks as he realized his fate, the only solace on his heart was his families safety.

it was mostly blackness after that, it seemed like an eternity and merely a few minutes all at the same time. the grass was soft and itchy as he awoke, sun beating down on his skin, a warmth that didn’t feel familiar. nothing, seemed familiar. the mountains were greyer, the snow atop them was whiter and the trees surrounded him on both sides, nothing but forest and foliage around him.

was this heaven? but everything seemed so real…too real almost. but he digressed, he had to. the child spent years in this wilderness, eating and learning among the wild until a family who spoke a language he’d never heard came across him. life amongst humans in the village was a show, and he was the main star, all eyes on the elf at all times. his grey skin and blue streaked hair, long pointed ears and mismatched eyes, the latter two granting him his name, the only name he’d come to know, ‘blue’.

it was simply by looks did they choose a jurisdiction for him, unable to speak any languages of earth aside the slight italian he owned, it was when the south korean government came in that things fell from the wild bliss he was born into.

they’d put him into systems, inked his fingers and changed his clothes. they forced a language onto him and put him from home to home, his picture blown up on every television screen every billboard. “do you know this child?”

“do you know me?”

“are you my family?” unbeknownst to them all including blue, that they were gone generations ago.

he grew up in this system, a cycle of foster homes and temporary placements, every few years a new photo of him is taken, plastered along the television stations and agdoeg signs. but he moved past it, he was getting older, and people were starting  not to care, including the officers who basically raised him.

even when the guy he’d sworn loved him hurt him in a way he couldn’t imagine. even when he’d had to hurt him back, they never came knocking, no one ever came looking for the evil bastard, even  as blue cleaned the assholes home of every stain he could find. he’d carry that burden  on, something new to take on since the horror of losing it all a life time ago, no longer existed in his mind,

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

the elf shifted in his sheet, brows furrowed in confusion. “nothing, i mean something but nothing. i don’t know where he is if that’s what you’re asking?”

the officers shook their heads, sliding the file onto the table.

“we know what happened to you, and we know he’s been missing for days, and we think you know more than what you’re telling us.”  he tossed his bangs to the side, slipping back in the plastic chair.

“look, i don’t know what you’re insinuating, but if you’re trying to say that i had something to do with that asshole up and leaving you’re wrong.”

“don’t make us get a warrant, blue is it? or whatever color it is. one day you get what you call ‘r*ped’, the system didn’t care so you took care of it are we right? we can’t help you if you don’t help us.”

the elf’s eye twitched in anger. how dare they, what did they actually know? a bit of research on the infamous john doe and suddenly they knew everything about him. he rolled his eyes to hide his emotions, though his ducts burned with tears.

“if you need anything else from me, you better have a fucking warrant for my arrest.” he had to hurry back to his place, there was a lot to clean  up.

#vccivilian #vcaccepted #krp #krpg #new krp #oc krp #rp #rpg #new rpg #the boyz #tbz fluff #choi chanhee fc

[hopeisour4letteredword]

look through your textbook (cause i’m history) ch1

Content warnings: implied/referenced domestic violence

Summary: After dropping out, Yuri’s life is a haze of working and trying not to lose his damn mind. Then he meets Estelle.

Read it here or check the notes for the link to AO3.

It’s late—too late, the community center isn’t supposed to be open at this hour—and there’s a crying young woman with blood on her face holding Yuri’s hand in both of her own.

Yuri really wishes he could say it’s the first and last time this will happen to him. Unfortunately, it’s neither.

“P-please,” the woman stammers. Tears streak down her cheeks, right through the abrasion that mars her cheekbone. Ouch. That must sting. “Please, I just—I can c-clean myself up, I just need a—a first aid kit and, and a place to spend the night—“

“This is a community center, not a shelter,” Yuri says, as gently as he can to soften the blow. Her lower lip trembles. “Hey, none of that. I can help with getting you cleaned up, and when you calm down a little bit we can think together about where to put you up for the night. Alright?”

“Th-thank you so much—“

Yuri waves his free hand dismissively. He fishes through his pockets for his keys so he can unlock the front door.

“Ladies first,” he says, using his captive hand to guide her inside. She sniffles valiantly, releasing his hand and inching inside the dark building. Yuri steps in after her, locking the door behind himself, and flicks on the lights. She flinches away from the sudden glare. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s n-not your fault.”

“The first aid kit is in the staff room. If you want, you can wait right here—”

“I’m sorry, I d-don’t want to be alone, s-sorry—“

“Hey, you’re fine, that’s cool. Come on, then.”

They troop through the main community room. Yuri kicks in chairs that didn’t get pushed all the way back to their tables at the end of the day. That’s what Hanks gets for letting Ted help close up for the night. At least the kiddie zone got picked up so they won’t slip on any errant toy trains. The young woman flinches with every creaky floorboard and groaning pipe. Poor lady. This isn’t exactly a new building. There’s a lot of those noises.

Yuri unlocks the staff room, and this time has the presence of mind to warn her, “Lights going on.”

“Thank you....”

“So what I need you to do for me is to sit down and try to keep your hair back while I patch you up. Sound good?”

“You don’t—don’t have to—“

“Yeah, but I’m gonna, so quit trying to tell me what to do. Hair back.”

She obediently sinks into one of the shitty folding chairs Hanks keeps in the staff room. Shaking fingers hold her pink hair away from her face. Yuri sits down on an adjacent chair and tries to touch the abrasion as little as possible while he moves away some stray strands that she missed. She trembles, but doesn’t make a peep.

“Okay, what I’ve got here is hydrogen peroxide—“ He shows her the bottle. “And I’m just gonna pour some onto these cotton pads and wipe your scrapes down with it. It’ll sting like a motherfucker, but then it’ll be over with.”

“O-okay.”

“Chin up. You got this.” He holds her face steady while he makes the first pass. She still jerks back so hard that he almost gets her in the eye with the soaked cotton pad. “Whoa there.”

“I’m s-so sorry—!”

“Shit happens. Ready for the next try?”

“Ye-yes....”

Her jaw clenches under his fingers. She whimpers a little when the pad touches her cheek, but doesn’t move. What a trooper.

“There you go. One more pass, okay? We don’t want shit stuck in there when it heals up.”

She nods, firmly, and barely winces with the last pass. Yuri tosses the bloody cotton into the trash and reaches back into the first aid kit.

“Any other scrapes?”

“My—my knuckles.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see ‘em.” Yuri swipes them down with one pass. They’re not nearly as bad as her face. “You know Neosporin?”

“N-no.”

“Really? Damn. Well, it’s just antibiotic goop. Shouldn’t hurt as much as the last stuff.” She watches as he spreads some onto a gauze pad.  “I’m gonna tape this to your face. Little weird having tape on your face, but in my personal experience, better than having an open bloody wound.”

“Y-yuck.”

“That’s the spirit.” He carefully tapes the gauze in place. Luckily, the scrape isn’t too big. Plenty of room to put the tape down without catching her eyelashes or the hair framing her face. He pops open a box of finger bandages and goops up a few to patch over the worst of her knuckles. “All set. We have some pain meds here, too. Want any? I got ibuprofen, naproxen, Tylenol...”

“Can I... ibuprofen.”

“All yours.” Yuri slides her the bottle and rises from his chair to search the cabinets. Where’s the goddamn cups? Oh, hell, that’s right. Hanks moved all of the cups to the kitchen. There’s only mugs in the staff room now. He grabs a “#1 GRANDPA” mug. “Lemme get you some water for that.”

He passes it off to her. She slips a pill into her mouth and drinks it down. Both hands lock around the mug when she lowers it, and she stares down into the leftover water, trembling.

“You cold?”

“H-huh? Oh. Um. A little.”

Yuri opens and closes a few more cabinet doors before he finds Hanks’s old high school letterman jacket neatly folded and stashed. Evidently the blankets they used to keep in here have been relocated, too. “We’ve got this. Might smell a little like mothballs, though.”

“That’s—that’s fine.”

Yuri drapes the jacket over her shoulders. She hunkers down under it without putting her arms through the sleeves.

“Do you want, like. Tea? We got tea, I think. In the kitchen. Not sure what kinds. I’m not really a tea person. I’m a heathen, I drink black coffee because chugging bitter sludge makes me feel like a badass.” She makes a hiccupping noise that’s something like a laugh. “There we go. Feeling a little better?”

“Yes. Thank you—so much. Really.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you there.” He scratches at his chin. “I’m gonna need you to get a head start on thinking about where to spend the night. I have to remember why I came here in the first place.”

“Oh, no, I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” What did he come here for? He tips his head back, staring at the ceiling. He was home for the evening... bartending ended early tonight... he had already walked Repede... oh, shit. That’s right. “I’m going into the kitchen anyway, so seriously, do you want tea?”

“N-no, thank you.”

“Okay, your call.”

She still scrambles to her feet and follows him, so close that he keeps waiting for her to step on his heels. He’s not gonna be the jackass that tells her off, though.

“I just want to preface this by saying I’m an amateur chef, not a serial killer, and you can hold onto the knife until we go our separate ways if me having it freaks you out,” Yuri tells her, as he turns on the kitchen light. She gives him a horrified look, mouthing knife? He goes to the sink. The meat cleaver is exactly where he thought it would be. He can always trust Hanks and Ted to leave his good knives someplace where they rust and get covered in gross shit. He grabs a scrubber sponge and wipes it down, one side then the other, before drying it and bundling it into a dish cloth.

He offers the bundle to the young lady. She shakes her head, quickly. The mug is still tightly clasped in both hands.

“Why is y-your knife here?”

“I lent it to them,” Yuri says. “To the staff here, I mean. Well, I’m also staff, sometimes, but that’s not the point. They had a few whole chickens to prepare today, and someone made off with their old cleaver a couple weeks ago.”

“That was. Nice of you.”

“Sure, I guess.” Yuri tucks the knife bundle under one arm and leans back against the counter, considering her. Her hair is pulled back with an ornate clasp, aside from the bangs that drape over her abraded cheek. Under Hanks’s jacket, she’s wearing a fancy dress, something sleek and silky and blue that pools around her feet. It is, predictably, covered in dirt, dead leaves and grass stains up to knee-height. Her face is wan, with big, sad green eyes. A bruise is starting to mottle her cheek around the scrape. The very image of an abused socialite. “Can I get your name?”

“I’m...I’m Estellise.”

Yuri whistles. “That’s a mouthful.”

“I g-guess so.”

“How do you feel about ‘Estelle’?”

“Es...Estelle?” She perks up a bit. The moue of her lips twitches up just a little. “That’s nice. I like that.”

“Alright, sweet. So, Estelle. I’m Yuri. Do you want to tell me how you ended up here at one in the morning with your face all banged up?”

Estelle looks back down into the mug. “...Do I have to?”

“Nah.”

“Wha—I don’t?”

“Nope. It’s not really my business. I mean, I can make some pretty educated guesses, but you don’t technically need to tell me anything.”

“O-oh.”

“I can just straight-up ask what I really need to. You want me to take you to a domestic abuse women’s shelter?”

“I—“ The mug shakes in her hands. “I d-don’t count.”

“You don’t count?”

“It’s n-not like that. I c-couldn’t—I couldn’t take that space from someone who really n-needed it.”

Yuri sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Uh... I guess you would know your situation better than I would. How about... no offense, but I have no idea how old you are. Are you a very fancy teenager? Should I be thinking more along the lines of children’s shelters?”

“No. I’m eighteen.”

“God, you are a fancy teenager.”

She laughs a little, but it’s hysterical. “Y-yes.”

“I guess... shit. I’m just stuck on women’s shelters. You really don’t want to go? You sure? I can find a lady to drive you if you aren’t comfortable with—“

“N-no! It’s not you. Y-you’re fine.”

“Do you want...did you come here to find Hanks? I can call Hanks.”

“Who’s H-Hanks?”

“Oookay, that answers that question... Not gonna lie, I’m kind of confused about what you want.”

Estelle makes a miserable noise. “I am too.”

Yuri takes a hard look at her. The scrape on her face isn’t so bad she’s bleeding through the gauze right away, and her hands aren’t fucked up too badly. Definitely not a hospital situation. Poor girl probably doesn’t have the money on her to deal with the hospital right now, anyway. The way she’s acting, he’s pretty damn sure there’s some kind of abuse at play, but she doesn’t want to go to the women’s shelter. She’s too old for programs targeted at children. So what exactly is Yuri supposed to do with her?

...Fuck it. He’s tired, she’s tired, he’s overdue for his next scruffy stray. “Look, if you’re comfortable with it, you can come to my place for the night. I’ve got a one-bedroom, not a studio, so you can take the bedroom and lock me out if that makes you feel safer. I can sleep on the couch.”

“I c-couldn’t—!”

“Sure you could. I’ve slept on the couch for stupider reasons.”

“But—“

“If you’re scared, we can call somebody you trust and tell them where you are, so you’ve got witnesses if I decide to murder you.”

“I don’t think you’re going to murder me,” she says, scrunching up her nose at him and then wincing when it pulls at her cheek. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Okay, but I don’t care,” Yuri says. “So I don’t think it really counts as imposing. I’m going to text Hanks—he’s the director of the community center, by the way—that I have a very sad young lady staying at my apartment tonight, so that the next time you ask a total stranger for shelter, you think of that and remember to have some degree of self-preservation.”

“Y-you don’t have to—“

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, minor detail—are you allergic to dogs?”

As it turns out, Estelle is not allergic to dogs, but it’s possible that dogs are allergic to her.

“He’s like that sometimes,” Yuri says, absentmindedly, while Repede staunchly ignores Estelle’s attempts to make friends with him.

“He isn’t friendly?”

When Yuri glances over his shoulder, she’s staring back at him with sad, disappointed eyes. She kneels beside Repede on the floor, bundled into spare clothes Yuri dug out of the community center’s storage for her. Wearing second-hand clothes, making undignified kissy noises at his dog, she looks much younger than she did at the community center. The pouty face she’s making at Repede probably isn’t doing her any favors in the maturity department either.

“He’s not so hot about strangers. Seriously, don’t take it personally.” He gives the chicken soup one last stir. Cooking at 2AM isn’t his favorite, but it is, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence nonetheless. “Alright, there’s soup if you want any.”

She accepts a bowl, but waits until Yuri has his own. She watches and copies him as he lifts it to face-level, carefully blowing across the surface, and drinks some of the broth. He almost snorts some back up laughing when her eyes go wide, and she visibly tries to swish the hot broth around her mouth to cool it.

“You have to blow like you mean it.”

“I don’t want to spill!”

“Just don’t burn yourself.”

Yuri has a table, because he isn’t a complete disaster. He and Estelle stand around next to the stove anyway, slurping soup directly out of the bowls. When the broth-to-solids ratio declines enough, they break out the spoons.

“You’re a really good cook,” Estelle says, sounding wistful. “I wish I could make stuff like this.”

“Keep in touch with me when you get your feet back under you and maybe I can teach you someday.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Thank you!”

Once they’ve drained their bowls, Yuri does a lick-and-spit clean-up job on the kitchen while Estelle does a circuit of his living room, snooping through his stuff. He hears her pause over the rush of the tap and doesn’t think anything of it until she ventures to say, “Is... is this Flynn? Flynn Scifo?”

“Probably,” Yuri says. He cranks the faucet off and turns to see what she’s looking at. It’s the picture Coach Niren took of the two of them at their first fencing tournament. Yuri’s still got the last chub of baby fat rounding out his cheeks, and he’s laughing with delight over some stupid shit Flynn had said. Flynn grins back at him, gangly and awkward with adolescence. He has his arm thrown aroun d Yuri’s shoulders. He looks like a damn puppy; he still needs to grow into his limbs. Yuri would die before he told anybody, but it’s one of his favorite pictures. Flynn was grouchy as shit in high school. Every smile Yuri could wrangle out of him was a privilege. “Yeah, that’s Flynn. You know him?”

“Yes... He’s, um, a student of my guardian’s.”

“Your guardian works at the university, then?”

Estelle fidgets a bit, wringing her hands. “Yes....”

Yuri mentally stores her nervous response for later discussion. He can give her a break at ass o’ clock in the morning. “You and Flynn get on well?”

“Yes! He’s very well-read. We talk about books together.”

“Ah, nerd club. Of course. Sounds just like him.”

“Are you...” Estelle glances over at him. “You know, I didn’t think of it until I saw this picture, but I think he’s mentioned you. Yuri? You’re his best friend, aren’t you?”

Yuri doesn’t answer her for a moment because he’s too startled by the fact that Flynn is, apparently, still calling Yuri his best friend even though they haven’t seen each other in a year and almost got in a fistfight last time they ran into each other. Not that Yuri doesn’t also still consider Flynn his best friend, but, like. Standards, Flynn. Have some. “Huh. Yeah.”

A shy smile spreads over her face. “You’re just like he described you.”

“Oh, geez. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior from here out.”

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with your behavior.”

Yuri stares at her again. “...I think we’re having two different conversations. How does Flynn describe me? Because I assumed he told you I was a pain in the ass.”

“What? No! He said you’ve got a big heart and you always try to help others.”

This is too much for Yuri to deal with at 2AM in front of a stranger. Or friend of a friend, apparently. Dammit. It’s always Flynn.

“Well, um. He did also say you were trouble.”

Oh, thank God, stable ground. “That sounds more like it. Come on, I’ll lend you some pajamas. We should both get to sleep. In the morning—like the real morning, not the fake morning right now—we can go back to the community center and talk to Hanks about your options.”

A week later, Estelle is still in his apartment. Yuri thinks she’s starting to grow on him. Not like a fungus, because Estelle is one of the only people he’s ever met that he would wholeheartedly describe as lovely. Terribly naive, mind-bogglingly sheltered, but lovely. So maybe like some kind of nice moss or something? He’s lost the trail of this metaphor.

He has bartending in the evening, these days, but when he’s at the community center in the mornings he tries to give her his attention. She seems overwhelmed by all the things she needs to find solutions for: housing, income, banking, emergency medical care... At least a few of those, he can help with. Hanks is a bigger asset. He’s got a lifetime of experience with helping uprooted young adults. Yuri is happy to put Estelle up for as long as it takes them to sort her shit out.

Still, he does sort of wonder if he’s gotten ahead of himself when Hanks texts him asking to talk to him and Estelle in private at his house. Hanks is usually fine with having personal conversations at the community center. Whatever he has to say must be serious.

“Should we have brought him something?” Estelle asks, a little nervously. She’s wearing clothes loaned from one of Yuri’s coworkers with Hanks’s jacket thrown over them. The ol d man refused to take it back from her when they met, and she’s barely taken it off since. She throws herself into hand-me-downs with an eagerness Yuri wouldn’t have expected, given her clothes the night they met.

“What? No. Why would we bring him something?”

“Well, you’re supposed to give your host a gift when you visit someone, aren’t you? Like a bottle of wine?”

“I know you grew up in the fancy rich high society life or some shit, but this is the Lower Quarter, princess. We don’t have the money for that kind of etiquette here. The only ‘wine’ Hanks is getting is the kind that comes out of my mouth.”

Estelle laughs quietly as Yuri knocks on the door and then shoves it open without waiting for a response.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Hanks calls, gruffly. Yuri shepherds Estelle in the right direction. Hanks has his back to them as he puts the finishing touches on a couple bowls of salad.

“Wow, breaking out the fresh vegetables for us and everything.”

“Someone has to make sure you kids get vitamins,” Hanks says, without looking up. He offers one of the bowls to Estelle. She peers into it curiously. “Spinach, bacon, cucumbers, and cherry tomatoes. I’ve got salad dressing in the fridge if you want some.”

“Yes, please,” Estelle says. Hanks waves her toward the small kitchen table while he goes to the fridge.

“Both of you have a seat. Estelle, what kind of dressing do you want?”

“Um. I’ll have whatever Yuri’s having.”

“Don’t let Yuri be your role model for everything,” Hanks warns her, even as he passes her the Italian dressing. “He’s a troublemaker.”

“I think he’s nice,” Estelle mumbles.

“You poor, misguided soul,” Yuri says. He takes the bottle from her when she’s done. “Hanks, you needed something from us?”

Hanks eases himself down into a chair across from them, groaning the whole way. The stubborn old man is going to hurt himself one of these days if he doesn’t give in and get a cane. “I did. Well, there’s not really a good way to get into this. Here. Take a look.”

He takes a piece of paper out of his breast pocket and unfolds it, dropping it on the table in front of them. It’s a flyer, the kind small local businesses will have on community boards or that gets slapped up on light posts on the street. It reads:

MISSING PERSON: ESTELLISE SIDOS HEURASSEIN

LAST SEEN AT ZAPHIAS UNIVERSITY, NEAR MEDICAL SCHOOL

18 YEARS OLD; 5’5” TALL; PINK HAIR AND GREEN EYES

CONTACT ZPD [(XXX) XXX-XXXX] OR DEAN ALEXEI DINOIA [ [email protected] ] WITH INFORMATION. REWARD IF FOUND.

In the middle of the page is a poor-quality, grainy picture of Estelle. It’s water-stained, with the colors distorted so that her face is barely recognizable. Yuri’s not convinced he would recognize her if he didn’t already know who it was. The flyer must have been outside. Along the bottom are tear-off tabs with the police number and the Dean’s email on them. Yuri recognizes the domain; it’s the official university mail service, so it must be the Dean’s professional email. It seems like an odd choice for a missing person ad. Looks like a few tabs have been taken.

Yuri glances sideways at Estelle. She stares down at the flyer, pale and scared like Yuri hasn’t seen her since their first encounter. They just stopped gooping up the scrape, so it’s scabbing over now , and the bruising has turned a sickly green as it heals.

“I...” She swallows, hard, putting her fork down. “I don’t...”

“Listen,” Hanks says, with a sigh. “I’m not about to turn you in. I don’t think Yuri will, either.”

“Fuck, no.”

“But I can’t promise nobody in the Lower Quarter will. Folks here are hurting for cash. Someone who sees you at the community center might take them up on it, even if they aren’t proud of it, so they can put food on the table.”

“...Yes. I understand.”

Hanks scratches at his beard. “I guess all I’m askin’ is that you think about stopping by the police station yourself. I don’t want Yuri to get charged with kidnapping.”

That makes Estelle jerk her head up, eyes wide. “Yuri could get in trouble?”

“Sure. He’s been on the wrong side of the law before—“

“The tweedles deserved to get pushed into the canal, you know that—“

“I do, son, but the police still weren’t none too happy about it. They aren’t much fond of him, and now he’s got a missing person stashed in his apartment. Ain’t a hard case to make.”

“But he’s not making me stay there!”

Hanks shrugs. “They could argue coercion if they get a bee in their bonnet. That’s why I’m suggesting you stop by the police station yourself, to let them know that you left under your own will and you aren’t missing. It doesn’t mean you have to go back to your old life. The community’s happy to help you figure something else out, like we have been.”

Estelle wrings her hands under the table. She looks down at the flyer again.

“I don’t want to go back,” she says, voice small.

“I’m telling you, you don’t have to.”

“If I talk to the police, they’ll make me go back.”

“You’re eighteen,” Yuri says. “You can go wherever the hell you want. They can’t make you go back if you don’t want to.”

“Will you come with me? To the police station?”

“Probably not a good idea,” Hanks says. “Remember, we want to show them that you’re staying in the Lower Quarter under your own free will.”

“I can still drive you there and wait nearby, though,” Yuri says. “I’ll hang out in a parking lot or something. Just scream real loud and I’ll come grab you.”

“Don’t scream unless you have no other choice, the police don’t like that.”

“Who cares what the police like? If they try to mess with you, break their eardrums.”

“Yuri, for God’s sake, don’t get the poor girl in trouble.”

Estelle giggles a little, high and anxious. The smile slides back off her face quickly, though. “I can... can I still stay with you? After I talk to the police?”

“Sure.”

“Really? I promise I’ll—I’ll stop by the bank, and get a new account set up. Then I can try to find a job and pay you b—“

“Estelle, chill. There’s no rush.”

“But—!”

“We’ll get it sorted out. Might take a bit, but we’ll get you there. You don’t need to freak out.”

“I just—“ Estelle sniffles a bit. Oh, God, no. No crying. Please no more crying. Yuri is terrible at comforting people. “You’ve been so kind, both of you, and I haven’t even told you anything and you’re still helping me, and I feel so bad, and—“

Yuri fidgets with a lock of his own hair. “I mean. This isn’t exactly a huge mystery. You’ve got big bruises on your face and you don’t want to go back somewhere. I might not have a fancy education, but I can put two and two together.”

“I... I guess that’s...”

“We don’t really need more information than that. Anyway, you’re a friend of Flynn’s. He would kick my ass if he found out I didn’t look out for you.”

“But you offered to let me stay with you before you knew—“

Hanks reaches across the table to pat her shoulder. “Don’t bother, miss. Let Yuri believe the rest of us think he’s a tough guy. We all know he’s really a big softie.”

Yuri splutters indignantly. “Hey!”

“He climbs trees to get children’s cats down for them,” Hanks stage-whispers to Estelle. She giggles, more genuinely this time. Yuri would be pleased if it weren’t at his goddamn expense.

“One time! Was I just supposed to leave Ted’s cat stranded?! He had a broken leg!”

“One time? Son, you’ve done that twice in the last year.”

“Tell Ted to get a better cat! I swear, next time I’m leaving the damn thing up there.”

“Yesterday,” Estelle tells Hanks, solemnly, wiping a tear away from the corner of her eye, “He held two babies for a busy mom. At once.”

Hanks chortles. Yuri groans, aggrieved. “I changed my mind, you can’t stay with me. You’re a menace.”

“No, no. You’re right, we can’t risk Flynn’s wrath. The young lady is here to stay.”

Estelle catches Yuri’s eye again and gives him that small, shy smile again. Yuri shakes his head, fond despite himself. He returns a wry smile. Of course she’s staying. He never should have expected anything different. On some level, he thinks he didn’t.

“Alright, princess. I guess I’m stuck with you.”

“I’m in your care!”

#fluri #yuri lowell #Estellise Sidos Heurassein #tales of vesperia #Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In #flynn isnt here but yuri Pines #long post

[torestoreamends]

Mine to Make: Chapter 5

Albus and Scorpius go on a date – this time it’s planned. But the boys soon discover that even the most idyllic of evenings can turn dangerous in an instant...

Beta’d by @abradystrix.

N.B. This fic is complete on AO3, so binge read away if you want! Here on tumblr I’ll be posting a chapter every day until it’s done.

Read it on AO3

*

V Demented

The owl arrives at 9.24am exactly. Scorpius knows because he’s been checking his watch every other second since he woke up at dawn, wondering why the results are so late. The owl swoops in through the open back window to the kitchen, and Scorpius flails so hard in panic that he knocks the milk jug over and soaks the table cloth.

“Sorry,” he squeaks, diving to right it before all the milk drains out. “Sorry sorry sorry.”

“It’s alright,” his dad says in a very patient voice. “No use crying over spilt milk. You deal with the results, I’ll deal with this.”

Scorpius gives him a shaky, nervous smile. “Right. Okay. I-I’ll do that.”

The owl has landed on the back of one of the kitchen chairs to avoid getting her feet wet, and she ruffles her feathers importantly and sticks her leg out as Scorpius looks at her. He swallows hard. His stomach feels like it’s full of Doxys, buzzing all over the place and making him feel very queasy. His hands are shaking. The last thing in the world he wants to do is take the envelope.

“What happens if I never open them?” Scorpius asks. “I’d rather not know.”

His dad glances round and smiles. “Then all that hard work will have been for nothing and you won’t get a job,” his dad says, vanishing the milk with a wave of his wand.

“Harsh, Dad.”

“But true.”

Scorpius stares at the owl and tries to tell himself that it’s just another letter, even though he knows it’s not true. His whole future is in that envelope. If he does badly now then he has nothing. He needs these results, and he needs them to be good. These results are going to prove to the world that he’s too good to be disregarded. This is how he earns his second chance.

“What if I’ve failed everything?” He whispers.

His dad tucks his wand away and comes over to him. He puts a hand on his shoulder and stands just behind him, looking at the owl. “Whatever it says in there, I’ll be proud of you,” he says. “And remember that they don’t define your life, Scorpius. There are plenty of people who don’t have any NEWTs and they’re doing alright.”

“Like Harry Potter,” Scorpius mutters.

“I was thinking of myself,” his dad says, squeezing his shoulder.

The owl has started pecking at the strap tying the envelope to her leg, trying to undo it with her beak. Apparently she’s getting bored. But Scorpius still isn’t ready. Whatever his dad says, this feels like everything. Make or break. Life or death.

“Alright,” he says sharply, shaking himself. “I can do this.”

His dad plants a kiss on top of his head and gives him a gentle nudge forwards. “Yes you can.”

Scorpius lets the momentum carry him to the owl, and he unties the letter with trembling fingers, trying not to think too much about what he’s doing. When he detaches it, the owl shakes her feathers, gives a hoot that sounds like ‘finally’ and soars off out of the window, leaving Scorpius alone with just his dad and his fate.

He holds the envelope in his hands for a moment, trying to judge from the weight of it how he’s done, even though he knows all the envelopes weigh the same. They all contain the same information. A single piece of paper with tiny letters written in black ink that will change his life forever.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Here we go.”

He slits the seal on the back with a swipe of his finger and turns the envelope over so he can pull the parchment out. The envelope falls to the ground, and his dad picks it up then walks away across the room. He’s giving Scorpius space and privacy, but Scorpius wishes he wouldn’t go so far. He’s not sure his legs will hold him right now. He needs his dad’s support for this.

His hands tremble as he unfolds the parchment. His dad has stopped on the other side of the kitchen and is watching him intently. Scorpius’s mouth has gone dry, and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. The whole world fades away as he stares down at the page and reads.

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy has achieved:

Charms – E

Defence Against the Dark Arts – A

Herbology – E

Potions – A

Transfiguration – O

Tears well up in Scorpius’s eyes until he can’t see the letters anymore. He tries to blink them back because he knows his dad is watching, but it’s impossible. The bottom has just fallen out of his world. His dreams have just disappeared in front of his eyes as surely as Albus had disappeared over a year ago now. Es would have been okay, he could have coped with Es, but an A is as bad as a fail. This is the end of everything.

The paper slips out of his hand, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to look at it anymore. He can’t hold the tears back so he buries his face in his hands and runs.

He can’t see where he’s going, he can’t even really breathe, he’s sobbing harder than he ever has before. At the bottom of the steps up from the kitchen he trips. His foot slips and he goes sprawling headlong. He thumps his knee on the edge of the step as he falls, and it hurts so much – everything hurts so much – that he just lies there and cries into the carpet. Never in his life has he felt more hopeless.

“Scorpius?”

He hears his dad’s voice, sharp with worry, and he curls up as small as he can, hoping to hide or at least show that he doesn’t want to be seen right now.

“Scorpius...” His dad’s arms close around him, and he finds himself gathered in against his dad’s body, as if he’s still a child. He doesn’t protest, instead he curls up in his dad’s arms and buries his face in the stiff wool of his dad’s robes and cries even harder.

“I know,” his dad murmurs, stroking his hair. “I know.”

“I-I-I... I did t-terribly,” Scorpius chokes out between shuddering breaths. “I-I’m useless. I’m... I’ve got n-nothing.”

“No,” his dad says, and even though his voice is soft it demands Scorpius’s attention. “No, you’re remarkable. The fact that you even took the exams, after everything you’ve been through... I am immeasurably proud of you, and your mother would have been too. Grades are just letters, Scorpius. They don’t matter. Not in the end. I promise you.”

Scorpius shakes his head. “I-I don’t know what I’m- What I’m going to do.”

His dad kisses him on the forehead and rubs his back. “You’re going to take a breath. You’re going to have some water. You’re definitely not going to panic. And when you’ve done all that, we’ll think about what happens next.”

Scorpius rests his head on his dad’s shoulder and wipes his eyes on his sleeve. “I... I just w-wanted the Es. That’s it. I-I thought I could... I should have done better.”

“You’re allowed to be upset,” his dad murmurs. “It’s okay. But I promise it’ll be alright. We’ll make it alright. We’re Malfoys. We can do anything.”

Scorpius nods and wipes his eyes again, but the tears keep coming, and he doesn’t really believe it. That piece of parchment has just brought about the end of his world.

 “Did I already tell you that she invited me to dinner?” Albus asks, grinning up the sky. “Because she did. And I’m definitely going to go, because I miss Dad’s food so much. Delphi, you have no idea how good my dad’s cooking is.” He closes his eyes and rubs his hand across his stomach, reminiscing about steak and kidney pie, and lasagne, and the best Sunday roasts in the world. “Mmm... it’ll be nice to see Lily too. And James.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” Delphi says, and Albus doesn’t miss the lack of enthusiasm in her voice.

He lifts his head to look at her. “Sorry. Am I being boring? I didn’t mean to. I’m just excited...”

“Not so much boring,” Delphi says, shredding the petals off a daisy she’s picked. “More perplexing.”

Albus leans on his elbows and peers at her past the glare of the sunshine. “Why perplexing?”

She shrugs and tosses away the mutilated daisy stalk. “I just don’t understand you sometimes. I don’t understand what you’re looking for.” She draws her wand and inspects it in the bright sunlight, then she starts polishing it on the grey hem of her dress. “You ran away from your family because you were miserable with them and didn’t fit in, but now you say you’ve missed them terribly and you can’t wait to see them again. Surely if you didn’t fit in then, it won’t be any better now, will it? I don’t get why you’re so excited about this. Do you want to be unhappy?”

Albus picks a handful of grass and lets the blades trickle out of his hand and blow away on the breeze. “Of course I don’t want to be unhappy.” He draws his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them, staring out at the countryside around them. They’re at the top of Albus’s favourite training gorge right now, and the view of the jagged rocks below and rolling hills around, all illuminated by the most gorgeous summer sunshine, is stunning. It’s one of those places that‘s a world apart. Everything melts away out here. It’s the perfect place to think and feel. Emotion feels pure in a landscape as stark as this one, whether it’s joy or desolation. Today it’s joy – or at least it was until Delphi started being realistic.

“Maybe I won’t fit in,” he says, giving a little shrug and hugging his knees. “Maybe everything will be exactly the way it was when I left. But a lot has changed in seven years. I know I’ve changed. At least, I think I have...” He glances at her for confirmation.

She rolls her wand between her fingers, inspecting every inch of it, then she tucks it away and looks at him. “Of course you’ve changed, Sev. You’ve grown up. You’re stronger now. I thought you were strong enough that you didn’t need your family to validate you.” She shifts across the grass towards him and brushes her fingers down his arm. “It doesn’t matter what they think of you. You don’t need them. If you go back it’s a recipe for heartbreak, and I don’t want to see your heart broken. If you go back and still don’t fit in I know it’ll hurt you. You need to rise above that stuff. Stop caring. They’re in your past.”

Albus shakes his head and looks down, watching her fingers as they brush along the curve of his wrist and up towards the curl of the tattoo that winds round his elbow. “It’s not about validation anymore,” he murmurs. “I just want to see them. They’re my family, you know?”

“Not really,” Delphi says. “Maybe it’s different when you haven’t got one. You’re my family, Sev. And I thought I was yours.”

Albus groans and uncurls himself, catching hold of her hand. “You are. Of course you are. But that doesn’t mean I don’t desperately miss my little sister. She was fifteen when I last saw her, and now she’s a Junior Curse-Breaker. I want to catch up with her. I want a normal meal with all of them. I want my dad’s Yorkshire puddings.”

“If you’re looking for Sunday dinner, I can get you a better one than your dad can make,” Delphi says, extracting her hand from his grip. “I can find Yorkshire puddings that would blow your mind.”

“No,” Albus says. “There isn’t one as good in the world as my dad’s.”

“Is that a challenge?” Delphi asks, a bright glint in her eyes.

Albus smiles and runs a hand through his hair. It’s started to get a bit longer again already. Sometimes it feels like it refuses to stay short. “It’s not. But if you want to find me amazing Yorkshire puddings then I won’t complain. Honestly, though, Delphi... as hard as it is to believe after everything... I really have missed them.” He shakes his head and picks a bright yellow dandelion, brushing his fingers over the puff of the petals. “I want to feel like part of a family again, even if it’s hard.”

Delphi flicks her ponytail back over her shoulder and swats a bumblebee away from her. “Have you ever thought that love is just a little bit masochistic? You’ll happily throw yourself at all these people who’ve proven they’re bad for you, all in the name of family and love.” She says the last three words in this dramatic, mocking way, pressing a hand over her heart, and Albus can’t help but laugh.

“You’ve known me for almost half my life, Delphi. How are you surprised that I’m interested in doing something masochistic?”

Delphi looks at him for a moment, then she smiles and reaches out to shove at his arm. “You’re an idiot.”

Albus grins. “I know. A masochistIc idiot with a death wish. It’s the only way I survive being around you.”

She shoves him again, and he shoves her back then throws the dandelion at her before hopping to his feet.

“Okay, I need to get another run in before I go.”

Delphi twists round to face him, looking up at him, her legs crossed neatly in front of her. “Go where?”

Albus smirks at her. “I happen to have a hot date with one Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. I need to go and put on something that’s not-“ He picks at the damaged shoulder of his t-shirt, “burned, or charred, or full of holes.”

Delphi snorts. “Good luck with that.” She picks herself up off the ground. “How do you have another date with him already? You only saw him two days ago. Aren’t you bored of him yet?”

Albus presses both hands to his heart. “I’m in love, Delphi. Love doesn’t get bored.”

She rolls her eyes and draws her wand, twirling it between her fingers. “Well, I think it’s overkill. I don’t think he’s doing you any good. You’ve gone all weird and nostalgic. Is this why you’re so obsessed with seeing your family again?” She asks. “Did Scorpius put you up to it?”

Albus shrugs and picks his broom up. “We talked about it a bit. I don’t think I’d have done it if he hadn’t been around... but he didn’t ‘put me up to it’ exactly.”

“Hmm,” Delphi says sceptically.

“You can judge me,” Albus says, pointing a finger at her, “and you can judge him, but you’re not stopping us. Maybe if my flying was getting worse you might have an argument, but you can hardly call him a distraction when I won every race in the last meet. He might even make me better.”

“For now,” she says, and there’s an unexpected darkness to her voice, a coldness to her expression, and there’s something about the way she’s eyeing her wand that sends shivers down his spine. But then he blinks and she’s smiling at him and her wand is held loosely at his side. His imagination must be playing tricks on him, or maybe it was a weird shadow cast by the sun. He shakes himself and smiles back at her.

“Go on,” she says, reaching across and punching him very gently on the shoulder.

“Ow,” he says indignantly, pulling away and rubbing his arm. “That hurt.”

“Sshh, I barely touched you.” She pokes him in the back. “I thought you had a date? Get flying, or I might have to keep you here running drills all night.”

Albus doesn’t need telling twice. He salutes her, mounts his broom, and kicks off from the ground for another exhilarating, thrilling run down the gorge, that keeps him just on the exciting edge between life and death.

 “I am in the right place then,” Scorpius says, getting to his feet as Albus approaches. He’s been perching on the wall that runs along by the canal for the last half an hour. The whole time there’s been no sign of Albus or any possible dinner venue. It’s just been him, a family of geese, and a solitary canal boat.

Albus beams at him and nods, his disconcertingly brown eyes sparkling in the orange glow of the streetlight overhead. “Yes, this is it. You look...” He spreads his hands and gestures to Scorpius, taking in the full height of him. Scorpius hopes that’s a good thing, and that the smart, very slim fitting trousers he’s wearing that took him half an hour to ease himself into are paying off.

“Yes,” Albus says with a nod. “Yes, you look- Yes.”

Scorpius grins. Rendering Albus speechless isn’t the outcome he was imagining, but he’s quite happy about it.

“You also look yes,” he says, shooting Albus a teasing smile. “Very very yes.”

Albus goes a little bit pink in the cheeks, and Scorpius can’t help but wonder whether Albus knows that he always looks incredible, just particularly so tonight. He’s wearing what looks to be a smart, tailored dragon-hide jacket, that at first glimpse looked black, but now Scorpius has seen it in the light it might be green or even silver. He’s paired it with what Scorpius thinks of as quite normal Albus-y jeans, which isn’t even remotely a bad decision. His hair is as hopelessly messy as always, possibly even more so because it’s too short for him to try and tame, and running round the edge of his left ear is a long, silver snake, that gazes at Scorpius with glittering emerald eyes and flicks its tongue out at him.

“Your snake isn’t dangerous, is he?” Scorpius asks.

Albus laughs and strokes his fingers along the length of the silver body. “No. Just decorative. I think he’s meant to let you know if there’s danger nearby or something, but he’s always been a bit useless, haven’t you, Hector?”

The snake hisses and coils his tail into a spiral against Albus’s earlobe.

Scorpius swallows. “You called your snake... Hector?”

Albus glances at him, and Scorpius still isn’t used to the brown of his eyes. It’s so deep and impenetrable. It doesn’t have the same sharpness to it. He can’t read Albus the way he could when his eyes were green. Or maybe that’s just the passage of years.

“Was it alright to call him that? Sometimes...” He trails off, shaking his head.

“Sometimes?” Scorpius prompts.

“Sometimes,” Albus says slowly, not meeting his eyes, “I needed things to remind me of you. When I missed you. So I could pretend you were still there, and that I hadn’t, you know, that I hadn’t fucked everything up.”

Scorpius surveys him for a moment, then he looks down at his hands. “I got a new owl after my N.E.W.T.s... I called him Albus. I mean, technically I called him Al, and my dad always thought I’d called him ‘Owl’ – he still teases me about how lacking in creativity I was – but...” He glances up at Albus, who’s watching him intently. “I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t let you call your snake Hector. Don’t you think?”

Albus stares at him for several long seconds. “You named your owl after me,” he says finally.

Scorpius shrugs. “In tribute. When I thought I would never see you again. In hindsight it seems a bit weird... but at the time... I needed it.”

Albus nods and twists his fingers together, looking distinctly uncomfortable now. It’s so easy to forget that they’ve been apart for seven years, but moments like this are the starkest possible reminder. There’s an awkwardness in remembering that their lives have gone on so long without each other, and Scorpius doesn’t quite know how to combat it yet.

“So,” he says, trying to cut through the weird tension between them. “Where is this restaurant you’re taking me to? Because it seems like we’re in the middle of nowhere right now, and restaurants don’t tend to be in the middle of nowhere... do they?”

Albus brightens instantly. “This one does. Come on.” He holds his hand out to Scorpius, and Scorpius takes great pleasure in weaving his fingers with Albus’s and allowing himself to be guided along the towpath.

There’s an iron arc of a bridge up ahead, and they cross it and start walking back down the towpath in the opposite direction. Scorpius doesn’t entirely trust that Albus knows where he’s going, but they haven’t walked nearly far enough yet for him to worry too much. Also, Albus looks purposeful rather than lost, so that’s comforting at least.

“We’re going in here,” Albus says as they reach the abandoned canal boat Scorpius had noticed earlier. It’s derelict, the windows all dusty, spiders webs clinging to every inch of it, and it looks a bit leaky too; there’s a murky puddle of water where someone should be able to stand and steer. The whole sight doesn’t inspire much confidence.

“Are you sure?” Scorpius asks. “Like, really one hundred percent positive? Because it looks a bit... damp. Which tends to be a problem for a boat.”

Albus grins and squeezes his hand. “Can you manage to trust me?”

“Well yes, but...” He gestures to himself. “I really like these trousers, Albus. If we end up in the canal and they get ruined I’m blaming you.”

Albus nods solemnly. “I understand.” He steps right to the edge of the towpath and lifts his hand to help Scorpius across. “After you, sir.”

“Thank you,” Scorpius says. “I think.” He flashes Albus a slightly nervous smile, then steps across the gap onto the boat.

It rocks as he climbs aboard, but he barely notices, because the second his feet touch the deck, the space transforms around him. The cobwebs and scummy puddles melt away to be replaced by white roses and sparkling magical lights. He’s not standing on the narrow deck of a canal boat, but a far more spacious platform with a set of double doors that lead into a grand room that, from what he can see through the windows, reminds him of the ballroom at home. It’s not quite big enough to be palatial, it’s still relatively intimate in scale, but Scorpius can see a lot of gold leaf, white table cloths, crystal champagne flutes, and glittering candelabras.

Albus steps aboard next to him, a smug little smile on his face. He looks exceptionally pleased with himself, and he nudges Scorpius on the arm. “You doubted me.”

“For a second,” Scorpius says. “But this is...” He looks around at the beautiful deck they’re standing on and shakes his head. “How did you even find this place?”

“Someone recommended it to me,” Albus says. “I’ve been here alone a couple of times, but I’ve been waiting for the right person to share it with.” The smile he gives Scorpius then is soft and a little bit shy, and Scorpius can’t help but draw him in closer, brushing a hand over his shoulder and down to his heart. For an instant they look at each other, then Scorpius leans in and kisses him.

It’s just as warm and heartstopping as their kisses from two days ago. Scorpius doesn’t have much to compare them to, but he imagines that Albus must be a very good kisser. And then there’s the fact that he’s Albus. He could be the worst kisser in the world, and Scorpius would still want to be kissing him. No one else in the world tastes or smells or feels like this. No one else in the world is so small and solid and fiery. Albus is entirely unique, and he’s everything that Scorpius has ever wanted or needed.

When they draw apart, Scorpius keeps his hand resting on Albus’s chest, and Albus keeps his on Scorpius’s shoulder, and for a moment they simply look at each other. Then Albus’s cheeks go pink, and a tiny contented smile spreads across his face as he ducks his head and twists away.

“If you keep looking at me like that we’re never going to make it inside for dinner,” he says. “And I really do want you to taste this food. Plus I’m starving. I’ve been training all day.”

“Where have you been training?” Scorpius asks, simply out of curiosity because he knows Albus hasn’t been at the training ground. His surveillance spells would have picked him up.

“That would be telling,” Albus says. He squeezes Scorpius’s hand. “If I drink enough champagne you might tease it out of me.” He kisses the back of Scorpius’s hand and leads the way into the restaurant.

 “What’s your favourite hot drink?” Albus asks, taking another sip of his champagne.

“Earl Grey tea,” Scorpius says without a second of hesitation. “But with sugar, and milk. None of that lemon nonsense.”

“I thought you were going to say hot chocolate,” Albus says, setting his champagne glass down and reaching across to steal one of Scorpius’s left over chips.

“It depends on the hot chocolate,” Scorpius says with a shrug. “Some of it’s a bit sweet.”

Albus drops his chip. “Did you, Scorpius Malfoy, just say that some hot chocolate is a bit sweet?”

Scorpius smiles. “I think I did.”

Albus shakes his head. “Wow... Okay. Well now you’ve blown my mind. I think it’s your turn to ask a question.”

Scorpius leans back in his seat and surveys Albus across their empty plates. “Where’s your favourite place to visit on holiday?”

Albus steals another chip and wipes it through the remainder of the jus on his plate. “It wasn’t exactly a holiday, but I really enjoyed visiting the Alps.” He pops the chip in his mouth and wipes his fingers on his napkin. “I like mountains, and hills. You get an amazing view. Flying in the Alps was... I’ll never do anything like it again.” He sits forward in his seat and rests his elbows on the table. “We stayed in this town that was in France, but it was just a mile to Italy, and there were the most amazing markets on both sides. The food was to die for. I would go back there again in a heartbeat.”

Scorpius smiles. “Did you learn any French while you were there?”

“Oui,” Albus says, eyes glinting with mischief in the candlelight. “J’ai appris un petit peu de français.”

Scorpius’s brain scrambles. There’s something about Albus speaking French, of all languages, that makes him feel all fuzzy and addled. His accent is far from perfect, and Scorpius doubts his vocabulary extends far beyond what he’s just said, but none of that matters, because it’s Albus speaking French.

“Was it that bad?” Albus asks, some of the gleam disappearing from his eyes as he looks at Scorpius, who becomes aware that he still hasn’t outwardly reacted.

Scorpius swallows. “Non. C’etait parfait.” Just like you.

Albus nods. “Okay. Well... that’s pretty much all I know how to say, so even if it was rubbish you don’t need to suffer anymore. And I think it’s my turn to ask a question.” He brushes his fingers over a crease in the table cloth and frowns. “If you could do any job other than the one you’re doing, what would you do?”

“I would work for the Department of Mysteries,” Scorpius says, and once again he doesn’t have to give it even a second of thought. It’s been his dream for as long as he can remember, even if it’s a broken dream these days. He’s had to discard it and refocus, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still there. Even an impossible dream still gleams painfully bright, just out of reach, tantalising and heartbreaking.

“That’s what you’ve always wanted to do,” Albus says. “Why didn’t you?”

Scorpius has no idea how to answer that. The answer itself is easy, but saying it? To Albus? He can’t do that.

“My life went in a different direction,” he says, with a very small smile that doesn’t come easily. “That’s all.”

“What changed?” Albus asks, now running his finger round the rim of his champagne glass and making it sing.

Scorpius picks his own glass up and drains it in one, from half full to empty in a second. He’s going to regret that in a minute. “You left,” he says simply, then he gets to his feet so he doesn’t have to see the reaction to that. “I think I need some air. It’s hot in here.”

“There’s a deck upstairs,” Albus says, and Scorpius can tell by how quiet his voice is that he’s already processing those two words. “It’s nice up there.”

Scorpius nods. “Right. I’ll be upstairs then.” And with that he turns and runs.

It’s cool on the upper deck of the boat. There’s a gentle breeze blowing, making the still water ripple. The reflection of the big, yellow rising moon goes all ruffled, and the willow trees by the towpath sway and rustle. Overhead the sky is beginning to turn the deep blue of night, with just a couple of wispy silver clouds breaking up the endless expanse of sky and stars. There’s nothing like a night sky to remind him of how small and insignificant he is in the universe.

He goes over to the edge of the deck and braces himself against the slim, golden balustrade. A couple of fairies that were perched there flitter away, one of them alighting briefly on his shoulder and leaving a light sprinkling of silver dust behind.

He gazes right down into the water and takes several deep breaths. No matter how far away from that last year and a half of school he gets, it still aches to think about. All those impossible days, all those wasted opportunities. He still regrets not coping better. He should have found a way. He should have let it all go. Losing someone shouldn’t have impacted his future the way it did. People disappear but life goes on, that’s how it is. He’d known that at the time but it hadn’t helped. His life shouldn’t have ended or even changed course because Albus went away, but it did, and now that Albus has come waltzing back into his life as if nothing happened it stings even more.

He blinks and an angry tear plops down into the canal below. Sniffing, he brushes the back of his hand across his eyes and draws in a deep lungful of the sweet, fresh evening air. The last thing he wants to do now is ruin this date with his inability to cope with the past. That would be stupid.

The fact that Albus left is immaterial now because he’s back. He’s back, he’s here, and he wants Scorpius. And Scorpius wants him. His heart may be bruised and broken, but that’s not entirely Albus’s fault. There were a lot of things that made life the way it is now, and Albus leaving may have been the catalyst for almost all of them, but that doesn’t make it all directly Albus’s fault. It’s so much more complicated than that, and if there’s one thing that Scorpius is fascinated by, it’s the complexity of the world he inhabits.

Albus was hurting too, that’s the truth of it. Albus couldn’t stay still. Albus had reached a point where he had nothing tying him down. But Scorpius had his dad and his studies. He’s the only family his dad has left; he loves his dad with every fibre of his being, just as much as he loves Albus, if not more. And he always loved school simply because he enjoyed unlocking the secrets of the universe. Those two things kept Scorpius grounded. And if he hadn’t had them, there’s no doubt in his mind that he would have gone with Albus in a heartbeat.

Albus has a freedom that Scorpius can never and will never match. It’s frustrating but it’s a fact of life. Scorpius doesn’t resent Albus for leaving, he just wishes he’d done a better job of carving his life out the way he wanted once he’d made his choice to stay. Albus has everything he wants in his life, leaving has worked so well for him, but Scorpius has nothing, or very little at least, and having Albus here throws that contrast between them into sharp relief. The fact that he can’t even manage to pretend that life is good only makes his failure more humiliating.

He skims his hand along the cool metal of the balustrade and bows his head, getting lost in the rocking of the boat, the shifting breeze, and the rustle of the willows. It’s so peaceful. He wants to feel like part of that peace.

He’s just drawn in another long breath when he hears the deck behind him creak. He doesn’t jump, he’s calm enough not to react that strongly, but he does slowly lift his head and look round to see Albus standing there – of course it’s Albus – looking more than a little bit terrified.

“Scorpius,” he murmurs.

“Albus,” Scorpius says, and he knows his voice sounds all choked. He turns his back on Albus to try and hide the fact that he’s been up here crying. That’s the last thing Albus needs to see.

“I-I didn’t... realise,” Albus whispers, only just louder than the sound of the willows. “I thought... You seem so...” He waves a hand then shakes his head and digs his hands into his pockets. “But you’ve been unhappy and it’s my fault. You don’t have what you want. You’re not doing what you want. It’s because of me, it’s because I-“ The deck creaks as he takes several more steps forward. “I’m sorry, Scorpius.”

Scorpius shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s not. But that doesn’t-“ He hiccups and wipes his eyes on his sleeve. “That doesn’t mean it was easy when you ran away.”

Scorpius falls silent, expecting Albus to have plenty to say to that. He expects Albus to defend himself, to try and explain why he ran. Albus is so good at fighting back, even when it’s not a fight. But today there’s none of that. He stands in perfect stillness and quiet until Scorpius works out what he wants to say next.

“I didn’t really do well,” Scorpius says, glancing over his shoulder towards Albus. “You were a big part of why I loved school so much, and when you were gone it got difficult. Very difficult. I-“ He shakes his head and digs the tips of his fingers into the tight pockets of his trousers. “I’d take notes for you sometimes. I thought if you ever came back you’d need to be able to catch up. And as it got closer to the exams I realised it was impossible, that you’d never come back now because you couldn’t possibly catch up. That was like losing you all over again.”

He turns and looks at Albus. “I started to realise that all the things I’d still been half hoping for would never happen. We’d never finish the final exams together. We’d never sit by the lake and drink Butterbeer and celebrate our last few months of freedom. You’d never sit next to me at the final feast. I’d never get to offer you Pepper Imps on the last train back to King’s Cross.” His eyes have gone all watery again and his voice all shaky so he pauses, but Albus still doesn’t say anything. He’s gone unusually pale. It looks like he’s just been hit by the Hogwarts Express.

Scorpius sniffs and traces his fingers over the soft petals of the roses that are wound round the balustrade next to him. “I didn’t do spectacularly in my exams. I still got an O in Transfiguration-“

“Of course you did,” Albus murmurs, giving him a small, shaky smile.

“But I spent most of the Potions exam crying – you would have loved that exam; all I could think was how well you’d have done if you’d stayed long enough to try it.”

“Do you think?” Albus asks.

“Yes,” Scorpius says. “Yes I do. Like I said before, you were never bad, you just lacked confidence. If you believe you can do something in magic then normally you can. Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Albus echoes.

“My results came,” Scorpius continues, twisting his fingers together for a moment before dropping his hands to his side. “They were abysmal, at least for me. My dreams went up in flames. I didn’t even have you to talk to about it all. And your dad was the only person willing to give me a job. He took pity on me, so here I still am. The most junior official in the least prestigious bit of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, doing the jobs no one else wants. Like, for example, trying to shut down an illegal broom racing league.”

“Wait.” Albus frowns at him. “I don’t think I understand... Don’t you have a really good job? You get to arrest people, and- You have power.”

Scorpius snorts. “Hardly. This is the first solo case I’ve done, and only because no one else has time for it.”

“But... You’re you. You’re amazing. Why would you have a rubbish job?”

Scorpius smiles. “You sound like my dad. But honestly, Albus. Better a shit job than no job at all. I’m grateful for it. And now I just have to prove I can do it by shutting down your league once and for all.” He gives Albus a bright smile.

“You don’t have to look so happy about it,” Albus counters, but he’s smiling too.

“I’m actually quite excited about ruining your life,” Scorpius says cheerfully. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” Albus says, looking down at his hands. “I did a really good job of fucking everything up for you. It’s the least I deserve.”

Scorpius sighs. “I was definitely joking, Albus. I don’t blame you for leaving. It was the right thing for you, and it helped you, didn’t it?”

Albus hesitates, then he walks across to Scorpius and takes hold of his hand. “You know, I didn’t much like my life without you in it. It was alright while I was away, but now I’m back I’d rather be here.”

Scorpius strokes his thumb over the back of Albus’s hand and nods. “I’d rather you were here too.”

Albus looks down at their hands for a moment, then up at Scorpius’s face. “You’re all tearstained and snotty.”

Scorpius smiles and ducks his head, wiping his cheeks on the now sodden sleeve of his shirt. “I’d better sort that out or you won’t want to kiss me again.”

Albus draws his wand. “Here.” He waves it and nothing happens. “Okay maybe I shouldn’t try and be chivalrous.” He takes a very deep breath and tries again. Still nothing.

“Confidence,” Scorpius says, nudging him gently on the arm. “If you believe it’ll happen it’ll happen. You can do it.”

Albus nods and tightens his grip on his wand. He looks Scorpius in the eye and waves his wand once again. This time a white handkerchief comes floating out of the end, and Albus catches it and grins. “I conjured something!”

Scorpius beams at him. “I told you you could do it.”

Albus doesn’t bother to hand Scorpius the handkerchief and let him mop himself up, he just stretches up and tiptoes and plants a solid kiss on his lips. Scorpius gives a soft gasp of surprise and flails his hands around for a second, thrown by the suddenness and confidence of the kiss, before catching hold of Albus’s shoulders to steady him. When they pull apart Scorpius’s cheeks feel considerably warmer, and he’s a little light headed. He keeps hold of Albus’s arm and smiles at him.

“I thought you didn’t want to kiss me when I was covered in snot?”

“You are a bit soggy,” Albus admits. “But I’ll let you off.” He hands over the handkerchief and tucks his wand away. “I haven’t conjured anything in years. That felt really good.”

Scorpius blows his nose. “You’re hot when you’re doing complicated magic. I mean, you’re hot all the time, but particularly when you’re doing the magic.”

“Well now I know that I’ll do it all the time.” Albus runs a hand down Scorpius’s arm and weaves their fingers together. He moves round and leans against the balustrade, and Scorpius watches him gaze down at the water, golden candlelight flickering on his face.

“I like it up here,” he murmurs.

Scorpius nods. “It’s peaceful. And the company is remarkably fine, which always helps.”

Albus leans an inch or so closer to him, and Scorpius drops his hand and winds an arm round his waist instead.

“You know,” he says quietly, “as difficult as it was without you, and as much as I’d rather have had life turn out the way I hoped it would... If this is how things had to happen then I’m glad they happened exactly like this.”

“Mmm?” Albus asks, glancing up at him.

Scorpius nods. “If I wasn’t in my rubbish Ministry job then I might never have found you again.”

“I suppose not.” Albus leans back against his chest. “It’s funny how the world works sometimes.”

“It is...”

Albus’s shoulders rise and fall, and Scorpius feels the swell of his body as he breathes. Silence stretches between them, broken only by the crying of a moorhen in the distance and the sweep of the wind through the willows.

Finally Albus glances up at Scorpius. “I’ve been thinking about retaking my O.W.L.s and maybe even trying a couple of N.E.W.T.s. Sometimes I study a bit when I’m not busy. Maybe... maybe we could do it together. Maybe we could help each other. Then you can get a job you love and I can have a hope of getting any job.” He smiles. “Illegal broom racing can’t last forever. Especially since you’re going to do a magnificent job of shutting us down.”

“If you help me out with Potions, I’ll be eternally grateful,” Scorpius says.

Albus holds his hand out. “Deal, then?”

Scorpius shakes it and squeezes it tight. “Deal.” They look at each other for a heartbeat, then Scorpius pulls Albus in and kisses him again.

 They stay out on top of the deck for a while after that, until the sun is fully set and a light patter of warm summer rain begins to fall. At that point they return to the restaurant and take shelter, sharing a pair of desserts. Albus spends the whole time mocking Scorpius for ordering a rich, sickly sweet chocolate fondant.

“I thought you couldn’t handle sweet stuff anymore, Scorpius? Am I going to have to help you finish this? I don’t want you throwing up on our date.”

They each finish another glass of champagne and watch as the rain dapples the surface of the water outside the window. Scorpius feels like his limbs are full of sunshine. He feels buoyant and buzzy. It’s a good feeling, especially since he’s sharing it with Albus, whose eyes are gleaming and who is laughing a lot, hair all messy and cheeks all pink. This is how life should be. This feels wonderful.

It’s late when they finally leave the restaurant. Albus insists on paying because “for one thing, this is the least I owe you, and for another, now I’m a successful athlete I earn enough money to keep you in the manner to which you’re accustomed”. Scorpius tries to argue but doesn’t get very far. There’s no one more stubborn than Albus Severus Potter.

They get outside to discover that it’s raining harder than ever. Their plan to let it blow over has severely backfired, and it’s getting cold now too. There’s a bite to the evening air, and the rain has gone icy.

Albus draws his wand and sets about trying to cast an Umbrella Charm, which Scorpius talks him through even though they’re both getting soaked and it would be quicker to cast it himself. Finally the shimmer silver outline of an umbrella unfolds above them, and Albus holds it up high, looking quite pleased with himself.

“I’ve never done one of those before either.”

Scorpius kisses him on the cheek. “You’re having a very good evening. You’re also very short,” he says, ducking under the Charm.

Albus elbows him in the ribs. “Well you’re very tall. I can’t help your problems.” He acquiesces though and lifts the umbrella a little higher as they set off down the towpath, heading in the direction of Albus’s house.

Scorpius knows he should probably be going home, his dad will worry about him, but he doesn’t want to say goodbye just yet, so he’s more than happy to go with Albus for now. Despite the tiny blip in the middle, this evening has been idyllic; it’s one of those nights that Scorpius never wants to end. Sometimes in the midst of an evening he’ll become aware that it’s one he wants to remember forever, and he feels that now as he looks across at Albus holding the umbrella up and watching the rain rippling on the still canal.

“Albus?” He says softly.

Albus glances at him, face shadowed by the overhanging trees. Now the moon has gone in and the clouds have covered the sky, it’s gone very dark. “Yes, Scorpius?”

“I... I love you,” Scorpius says, then he flashes Albus a tiny smile. “I hope that’s okay.”

Albus’s eyes go wide, then his face relaxes into a beautiful, sparkling smile. “Well,” he says, “I hope it is too, because I feel the same.”

They kiss again, under the trees on the dark towpath, with the rain pouring down on them. Albus abandons the umbrella as he wraps his arms round Scorpius to pull him closer, and they both quickly get soaking wet, clothes and hair clinging to them. Earlier it wouldn’t have been a problem, it was so warm, but now it’s getting cold, really cold, and by the time they pull apart Albus is shivering.

“Come home with me,” he says, offering Scorpius a hand. “It’s freezing out here. I don’t know when it got so cold. Your fingers are like ice.”

“Poor circulation,” Scorpius says, squeezing his hand. “But I probably shouldn’t, as much as I really want to. Dad will be worrying. He might even be waiting up for me.”

“You could Firecall him from mine,” Albus offers.

Scorpius snorts. “That would go down really well. ‘Oh, hi Dad, I’m calling you from Albus’s house to let you know I’m staying the night here’. I think he might freak out just a little bit over that one. I may be an adult but he still gets funny sometimes.”

“He’s your dad,” Albus says. “Isn’t it his job to worry about you?”

“If it is then he’s the most consummate professional.”

They swing their hands between them as they keep walking, but they don’t get far before Scorpius is shivering almost too hard to move. Aside from being soaked, he’s wearing a short sleeved shirt on a night that’s now as cold as any night in winter. He needs a jumper at least, if not a thick coat. It really shouldn’t be this cold. Or, come to think of it, this dark, and there’s a fog rolling in along the canal, thick and grey, bringing an even deeper chill.

“This weather is really weird,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to Albus.

“It is a bit,” Albus says lightly. He doesn’t seem too concerned though, brushing the toes of his shoes through the puddles and flicking the water along the path. He looks like he’s ready to start dancing, and that sort of vibrant happiness would normally be infectious, but now Scorpius feels a prickling on the back of his neck, an uneasiness in his belly, and the urge to draw his wand and light it is growing by the second.

There’s a street lamp up ahead but it’s flickering, and Scorpius is reminded her again of how terribly dark it is. Now the sun has set and the moon has hidden itself there’s nothing illuminating the path ahead, and that dodgy street lamp is doing nothing either. It’s a bit creepy, the shapes of the trees becoming claws, the pools of shadow hiding places for nothing good.

Scorpius draws his wand and lights it. Beside him Albus groans and turns towards him, burying his face in Scorpius’s shoulder.

“Too bright.”

“I know,” Scorpius whispers, suddenly conscious of how loud they’re being. “I know, I’m sorry, but it’s really dark.”

“It’s night time,” Albus complains, not keeping his voice down at all. “Of course it’s dark. We were fine without a light before, and we’re nearly at the bridge.”

“Sshh,” Scorpius murmurs, squeezing his shoulder. “I know, but-“ He breaks off as he spots something.

There’s an icicle in Albus’s hair. Where the water was dripping off a slightly longer strand of hair by his neck, it’s frozen solid. There are ice crystals through the rest of his hair too, and in Scorpius’s wandlight it looks as though it’s been encrusted with diamond. But this isn’t beautiful, this is terrifying. Hair shouldn’t freeze, not here in the UK, not even in winter, and this is the height of summer. It’s dark, it’s freezing cold, there’s a fog drifting in. There’s only one thing that can be causing this, and that’s-

He hears a long, shallow, rattling breath behind him and pure terror seizes every fibre of his being.

“Albus,” he says, shaking Albus’s arm. “Run. Right now.”

Either Albus has worked out what’s happening too, or he recognises the urgency in Scorpius’s voice, because he turns around and starts to run. But he only gets a couple of steps before there’s a second horrible, sickly rasp of a breath from the towpath in front of him, and he skitters back towards Scorpius as the large, black, sinister shape of a Dementor looms out of the darkness and blocks their escape.

“Oh shit,” Albus squeaks. “Scorpius, that’s a-“

“Yes,” Scorpius breathes. “And I can’t fight it. Albus, help.”

The world is closing in around him. When he turns to the left he sees another Dementor hovering there, inching closer, one scaly hand already sliding out from beneath its robe. The fog isn’t just on the canal now, it’s inside his brain. He can distantly hear people saying his name, mocking and cruel. He can practically feel the jostle of a crowd around him, people shoving him from all sides, and even though it’s a busy street he knows the pushing is deliberate. He can tell.

“You should be in Azkaban,” someone calls. “They should lock you up and throw away the key.”

“It’s him,” someone else says, pointing a finger in Scorpius’s face. “It’s Voldemort’s son. You shouldn’t be out in public.”

“Get off the streets. Don’t come back here. You don’t belong.”

“Disgusting.”

“Evil.”

“Murderer.”

He feels again the thick, wet globule of spit hit him in the face and start trickling down his cheek. It shocks him, the suddenness of it, and that foul hot, slick feeling.

Then he feels something much softer, the brush of an ice cold hand against his.

“Scorpius... Scorpius what do we do? I’ve never cast a- I can’t. I haven’t even- Please, you need to do something.”

The sound of Albus’s voice penetrates through the fog in Scorpius’s head, and he manages to find his way out of the past and back to reality.

Albus is pressed close against his side. He’s shaking, and he’s staring from side to side at the two Dementors. His breathing is shallow and panicked. Normally in a crisis Albus is the one who keeps his head and works out what to do, but apparently not today.

“I-I’ve never cast a Patronus either,” Scorpius whispers. “I don’t know if I can...”

“What?” Albus gasps, head whipping round to stare at Scorpius. “You’ve never- How have you never?”

Scorpius shrugs and twists his wand round in his hand. “Defence Against the Dark Arts was never exactly my strong point, Albus... and I never managed to find the right memory. I could never...” He gestures to the two Dementors with his wand and tries not to let himself collapse into sheer panic. Already he’s thinking of all the things he’s never had chance to say to his dad, but he can’t think about that now. He can’t. He has to be stronger than this.

“Well If you can’t do it, then what hope do I have?” Albus asks.

“I don’t know,” Scorpius says, a wave of despair overcoming him. They’re going to die here on this towpath. There’s no way out.

The owl flutters down onto the chair in front of him, and he stares again at the envelope that holds his fate. Then he’s running headlong from the future. His feet slip on the steps and he sprawls, banging his knee. His dad is there telling him that everything will be okay, but it won’t. How can it be?”

“Confidence.” Albus’s voice snaps through the foggy darkness, clear as day, and Scorpius blinks and looks at him. “If you believe you can do it, you can do it, right? I believe you can do this. A-and I suppose I can have a go.”

He draws his wand and directs it at the nearest Dementor. “Expecto Patronum.” A feeble, silvery wisp floats out of the end and evaporates in an instant as the Dementor stretches out one scaly, emaciated hand to brush it aside.

“Expecto Patronum,” Albus says again, this time louder and with more certainty. “Expecto- E-Expecto Patronum.” It doesn’t work. He may as well be conjuring handkerchiefs at the Dementors for all the good it’s doing.

Scorpius feels so clammy and cold. Life isn’t really worth living, is it? It would be easier to give up. His life has been awful since Albus left. This would be a welcome escape.

The Dementor nearest him is reaching up its hand towards its hood. It’s locked onto him with malevolent intent, and Scorpius knows what’s going to happen next. He just wishes Albus wasn’t here with him to suffer the same fate, he wishes he could say goodbye to his dad, and he wishes the Dementor would move faster and end this without prolonging the suffering.

“Albus,” he rasps, knees sagging under the weight of the cold and encroaching darkness. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Albus grabs hold of his shirt to keep him upright, arms round him, supporting him. “No,” he says. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have abandoned you. I should have stayed or I should have told you where I was going, or... I should have trusted you.”

“‘S alright,” Scorpius says, words slurring and vision darkening. “All over now. And you’re here... If I- If I had to choose a companion to be at the edge of eternal darkness with, I’d choose you.”

“And I’d choose you,” Albus says without hesitation, running a hand down Scorpius’s chest and flattening it against his heart. “I love you. I do. I really do. Scorpius.” He clenches his fist in the fabric of Scorpius’s shirt and tugs on it. “We can’t give up. I don’t want to give up. Please.” He doesn’t let go of Scorpius as he twists round and directs his wand over Scorpius’s shoulder towards the Dementor that’s slowly lowering its hood.

“Expecto Patronum. Expecto Patronum. Expecto Patronum!”

There’s a warmth to the spell. Even though Albus isn’t doing nearly enough to fight off a pair of hungry Dementors, he is shooting enough silvery mist at them to make the air feel less cold.

The spell washes over Scorpius and he inhales sharply, some of the fog clearing from his brain. He realises – truly realises – that Albus, the real, live, actual Albus, is standing right next to him, clinging to him and trying to save them. Albus who’s an adult, who’s grown up, who looks so beautiful and says he loves Scorpius. Albus who is back, hopefully for good.

A tiny spark of hope rekindles in Scorpius’s heart and he fumbles for his wand with frozen fingers. Maybe he doesn’t want to give up on this life after all. Maybe, after everything, it’s starting to look up.

The pocket of his trousers is very tight, and now it’s damp it’s almost impossible to get into. It doesn’t help that he can’t feel his fingertips, and that the putrid, stinking breath of the Dementor is making him want to be violently sick.

“Albus,” he says. “I can’t get-“

Albus glances down and sees the problem. “Here,” he says, and he blows on his fingers for a second before reaching down and carefully teasing the wand from Scorpius’s pocket and handing it to him.

A warm glow trickles through Scorpius’s fingers as he closes them round the handle of his wand, and Albus’s fingertips brush against his hand for the briefest moment before he lets go. They look at each other, and even though Albus’s eyes are still brown, impenetrably dark at the moment, he’s still Albus, and he still gives Scorpius confidence and hope.

“You can do this,” Albus murmurs. “We can do this.”

Scorpius nods. “Yes we can.”

He transfers his wand to his left hand and holds tight to Albus with his right, as he turns to face the Dementors.

When they were first taught this spell back in seventh year, he was worse than useless. All he could think of when he searches for a happy memory was Albus, but Albus was gone and not coming back. Every good memory of the two of them together was suffused with the pain of loss, so even when Scorpius tried with all his might to cast the spell absolutely nothing happened.

But that’s not a problem anymore. Albus is right here beside him, holding his hand, facing down the Dementors with him. If Scorpius is ever going to succeed at this spell then it’s now.

“Expecto Patronum,” he says, and a thin wash of mist shoots out of the end of his wand and dissolves in the rainy air. “Expecto Patronum,” he repeats, this time with more force, and now the spell reaches further, all the way to the closest Dementor, who brushes it effortlessly aside.

Beside him, Albus is faltering. He doesn’t see it happen, but he feels Albus’s weight pulling on his hand and when he glances sideways, Albus is slumped on the ground, and the second Dementor’s awful, scaly hand is clamped round his wrist. It’s dragging him in, already pulling its hood back to consume him.

“Don’t you dare,” Scorpius shouts, voice ringing through the night as he’s flooded with a furious anger like none he’s felt before. He’s not losing Albus again. Not now, not ever. He refuses.

“Expecto Patronum,” he cries, and this time the silver mist hangs in the air for several seconds. The Dementor is forced to let go of Albus’s wrist, and it hisses as it withdraws its hand inside its cloak. But then the barrier flickers and fades, and Scorpius knows he needs to do better. This hell won’t end until he’s succeeded. For the first time in his life he has complete control of both his and Albus’s suffering. He can and will end it.

He adjusts his grip on his wand and points it right into the face of the Dementor hovering over Albus as he remembers the sunshine bright glow of joy he’d felt when Albus had kissed him outside the coffee shop just two days ago. “Expecto Patronum,” he yells. “Expecto Patronum. Expecto Patronum.”

A huge, silvery something erupts from the end of his wand and flies straight at the Dementor. Nothing could stand firm in the face of those enormous, flapping wings, and the radiant light coming from the Patronus. The Dementor turns and flees, leaving Albus slumped on the ground, and the Patronus wheels around in midair and soars over Scorpius’s head at the second Dementor. This one doesn’t hang around either, it turns and glides into the night, the Patronus flying in hot pursuit.

There’s a long moment in which Albus and Scorpius are alone on the towpath, in the darkness, which feels even more impenetrable without the silver light of the Patronus, the rain beating down on them and the night still shrouded in mist and utterly silent. Then, slowly, the fog begins to roll back, the icy rain turns into a light, warm summer shower, and the clouds part until moonlight shines down, dappling the ground with pools of pale light. The ice thaws, and warmth returns to the world, enough that Scorpius’s clothes start to gently steam. Crickets chirp in the grass and an owl hoots in the distance. Calm and normalcy are restored, and Scorpius exhales a shaky breath of relief.

“I-I did it. I actually- I did it.” He lets out a slightly hysterical little laugh and claps his shaking hands to his mouth. “Albus, can you-“ He breaks off as he realises that Albus is still lying on the towpath, very still and very pale, and ice freezes his heart again in an instant.

“Albus,” he says urgently, throwing himself onto the ground next to him. “Albus, can you hear me? Are you okay?” He reaches out and shakes Albus’s shoulder, wanting to see any sign of movement from him.

Albus gives a quiet groan and shakes his head an inch from side to side.

Scorpius swallows. “O-okay. Do you know where we are? Do you know who I am? What hurts?”

“It’s so cold,” Albus whispers. “I’ve never been so cold.”

“I know,” Scorpius says. “I know. Alright.” He looks around desperately, but the towpath is deserted. There’s no one to help. They’re near enough to Albus’s house though. They could Apparate, or even walk. Scorpius isn’t sure he trusts himself to Apparate right now. “I’m going to take you home,” he tells Albus. “I’m going to take you home and find you some chocolate, and we’ll warm you up. I promise. In the meantime...” He casts a Warming Charm over Albus, then conjures a cloak to wrap round his shoulders. “This should help. I hope this helps.” He loops an arm round Albus and rubs his back. “Can you stand?”

Albus leans against him, sitting up an inch, and he looks at Scorpius. “You’re wonderful,” he murmurs. “You saved us.”

Scorpius’s heart thaws as relief floods him. At least Albus knows who he is and what’s just happened. That’s good. Everything else they can cure.

He presses a kiss to Albus’s cheek and kneels up, supporting Albus to stand up. “Sshh, you can thank me later once you’re warm.”

“This is better,” Albus says, swaying and slumping against Scorpius’s side, hugging the cloak tight round his shoulders. “This is a lot better.”

“Good,” Scorpius says. He looks around, wondering where his Patronus has gone. He doesn’t know if he can cast it again, but he misses it. He misses its warmth, the way it shines like a beacon of hope in the darkness. He also has no idea how to get to Albus’s house from here, but he suspects that it might be able to help guide him. He hopes it will.

Right on cue, silvery light appears in the distance and comes soaring along the towpath. Scorpius had expected the Patronus to look smaller now the Dementors have gone but it doesn’t. It’s still enormous, and maybe that’s just how it is.

It lands on the path in front of him and looks at him, head on one side. Scorpius thinks it looks a bit like a seagull, and he really hopes his Patronus isn’t a seagull because that sounds so unimpressive. But whatever it is, seagull or not, he’s eternally grateful to it, especially when Albus reaches towards it and rubs his hands together, warming them.

“We need to go to Albus’s,” Scorpius says. “Do you know how to get there?”

The bird gives a soft, throaty cry and spreads its wings, lifting off the ground and beginning to fly down the towpath in the direction they were heading before the Dementors arrived. Scorpius holds tight to Albus’s waist and follows it, grateful to be heading for home.

#Harry Potter and the Cursed Child #Cursed Child #Cursed Child fic #Scorbus fic #Scorbus #Scorpius Malfoy #Albus Severus Potter #Delphini Diggory #HPCC fic #Keep The Secrets #My writing #Mine to Make #Mayhem to the nth degree

[loudsuitlover]

Best friend’s brother 2

Eddie kept eating popcorn with his mouth opened despite Bella’s pleas for him to stop. 

“I’m telling you half the team is gay.” 

He sat down, despite everyone still standing, celebrating even a minute after the goal was scored and you laughed as you gave him a look, one of those looks that say what would I do without you? Because it was true, what would you do without him at all? But you looked back at the field and felt the butterflies flapping their wings on your tummy when your eyes locked with Harry’s, who had been looking at you with his chin pressed on his chest as he rested, both hands on his waist, on the side of the field. 

It had only been a week since you had slept together and if he was being honest, as he kept trying to focus on the game and stop thinking that you were there, on the tier, watching, he hadn’t been able to get you out of his head. The way you had sounded and the way you had felt and the way he had felt when he had been inside you... 

He had come to terms with the fact that this was something different, different to any other fling he had ever had, and a week later he had already given up trying to make sense out of it or trying to find the reason why it felt so good. Maybe it was because it couldn’t be, because he couldn’t really have you and so he had to kiss you when you were on the kitchen getting a glass of water in your afternoons of study with Eddie and nobody could see and no one could hear you and it drove him crazy, that tongue of yours. Or maybe it was because you were a few years younger- three and a half years to be exact- not that he’s counting- and you seemed so innocent and pure and yet so curious and sexy to him you could drive him mad. Maybe, maybe it was even because you had that habit of biting dowm on your bottom lip when you were thinking or because the way you would sip on your cup of tea when you were watching the telly with Ed but whatever it was, it was different, that he knew; and he knew because he had pouted, like a child whose toy’s been broken, when he woke up on Saturday morning and you were not on the bed. 

And you, up there all the way up the tier next to his brother, tried not to blush because you had remembered when just last night you were having dinner at Eddie’s with Bells, Mel and Vi and Eddie had asked you to take forks and napkins for the Chinese take away you had ordered and to do it quick because you know cheap take away expires in ten minutes and Harry had shut the door of the living room and pressed you against the kitchen counter, pressing his fingers on your thighs as he hoisted you onto the counter and kissed you slowly, almost lying you down as he hovered over you. Just ditch dinner with them and come to my bed. He joked between kisses. Mmm Your skin... 

“Are you sleeing over tonight?” Eddie asked as you sat down next to him. 

“I would really appreciate it, yeah.” You smiled, so you didn’t have to take the bus back home and all that. 

“I would really appreciate it.” He mocked you and you chuckled. “Sure! How many times do I have to tell you? Mi casa es tu casa, bitch.” 

“Well thank you, dick.” 

You started celebrating when Harry scored the last goal and the entire team threw themselves on top of him, making him lie down on the grass with at least seven grown up men on top of him. Eddie was dancing and telling everyone he is my brother, we live together, we have the same mum and you were laughing as Violet recorded Bella and Mel as she dropped mean comments on how pathethic they were being and how ridiculous that little dance was. 

Eddie talked excitedly all the way from the uni soccer field to his house because Peter would surely be happy because they won and so he would surely talk to him a lot. You rolled your eyes but still found it funny and only when you were a couple feet away from Eddie’s place you started to worry about Harry’s behaviour tonight. He obviously couldn’t dance with you or kiss you the way you wanted him to and you started to fear that he would dance with or kiss someone else. Because they had won the game, they were going to receive lots of attention, even though you knew Harry got female attention every single time, but tonight that attention would be double and he would be drunk so it was highly likely that he would flirt with someone else. 

It’s not like you were a thing or anything. Far from it actually, you had only had sex once and made out heavily a bunch of others but you hadn’t talked about that, you had not said a word, not even the morning after the night at the attic because you had woken up early and had gone dowsntairs to start breakfast and he hadn’t said a thing after that. 

You thought that was the way it was going to be, that he would never say anything about that and he would ignore you now because that was everything he had wanted from the start anyway- to get into your pants and that’s all- and now that he had gotten it he probably had no interest in you whatsoever so you weren’t expecting the kiss he gave you when Eddie had gone to the stationery shop to get a green market on Monday afternoon and Harry had hovered over you, having a look at your notes on the table and you had felt his breath on your head and his scent had wrapped you in a breathless bubble. And then he had said you didn’t let me give you a good morning cuddle and you had turned your head to look him in the eyes and he had sealed your lips with his, smiling against your mouth until you started kissing back and then he had groaned- very lowly and gently- and he had pecked your mouth a few times after that, still smiling, until he had heard the door. I don’t know, Y/N, I have no idea about that. He had shrugged as he left Eddie’s room and Eddie gave you a confused look because why in the world would you ask his brother a question about your notes when it was obvious he wouldn’t know? And you had shrugged, praying he couldn’t see your lips were red and swollen from Harry’s lips on yours. 

And now Eddie was walking ahead of you and he seemed happy that his house was so ridiculously crowded and he squeezed your hand as he left so he could chat with Peter leaving you alone in the living room. Bella and Mel were dancing with two of the guys in the team and as you looked for Violet, you felt someone grabbing your hand and pulling you away. You looked up to see a tattooed arm guiding you down the corridor and you smiled, because he can always get that from you, and Harry closed the door of his room behind you. 

He was grinning excitedly as he cornered you until your back was resting on the door and he rested both his hands on the sides of your head, still grinning like a happy child. 

“We won, Y/N.” He smiled and you nodded. 

“I know.” You smiled. “I saw that.” 

He held your gaze for a few more seconds and without saying another word, he leaned in closer and closer, very slowly, until you locked lips. He smiled on the kiss, his hands still resting on the door behind you, as you cupped his face and enjoyed the way he was letting you be in control of that kiss for so long, so you kissed him slowly until he stopped smiling, because he had heard you take a deep breath and that had made his head spin. You teased his lips with your tongue, barely running it along his bottom lip only to pull back again, making him whimp against your mouth and bring his hands to your hips so he could demand for you to kiss him harder, for you to let him have a taste. It was your turn to smile on the kiss before he grabbed your flesh, on your hips, on your thighs and he parted your lips with his tongue and dived inside your mouth, looking for your own tongue, because he was craving the contact but he had barely got a single taste when you moved your tongue away and then brought it back to his so he could fight your wet muscle, so he was slightly mad because you liked it better when he thought he couldn’t have everything he wanted. 

“I just wanna kiss you until we have to get out there again.” He said as he walked towards his desk, his mouth still on yours, because he didn’t want you to think he just wanted to get some release to his euphoria. “Wanna kiss you before the party.” 

He had hoisted you on his desk and now you were sitting on the table as he stood between your legs, his hands roaming your tights covered legs from your thighs to your knees as you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer. 

“I want to have you all to myself before I have to share you.” He had moved down to kiss your neck and you had interlocked your ankles on the lower part of his back, pulling him closer. “That’s not a crime, is it? You look so good.” 

He tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled back so he could have better access to your neck. You moaned and shut your eyes and he felt his own eyes rolling back through closed eyelids. He had never heard something sexier in his entire life, the way you sounded, the way your throat hugged your whimper until it rolled out of your tongue in that sweet voice of yours. 

“Baby if you don’t stop moaning I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” He whispered as he pulled apart, moving up so his lips were brushing yours again. “Tell me something.” He smiled against your lips. 

“You look so handsome.” You whispered and he laughed sheepishly, slightly blushing. 

“Thank you.” 

He looked into your eyes as he tried to regain some composure, taking deep breaths and getting a glimpse from the corner of his eyes of the way your chest was delicately going up and down with every breath you took. He pressed gentle, almost chaste pecks on your lips before he smiled, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest in a hug. 

“Let’s see how long I can manage to stay away from you.” He smiled. 

He melted on the crowded living room, leaving you slightly dumbfounded on his bedroom door and you sighed and smiled like a fool once and twice so you could walk back to Eddie and pretend like nothing happened. Eddie was already drunk from the beers at the game and the shots of vodka he had surely had by then and you laughed as he pulled you to the dance floor so he could dance like Beyoncé. It was in those moments when you found it endearing that he would think some of these people didn’t know he was gay and you wanted to tell him to just let go and be free and whoever didn’t like it didn’t even deserve his time but you just looked into his eyes and danced like Beyoncé too because that was the way of telling him I’m here for you, forever and always. 

Two hours later, after drinking games and rounds of shots, you were back on the dance floor and now Eddie was on affectionate drunk mode and he was swaying his hips with yours and it was packed and the back of your neck was wet and the baby hairs were stuck to your skin and Eddie kept moving as your eyes fell on Harry’s. 

He was resting his elbow on the kitchen counter, his friends all around him, but his eyes were on you as you danced and he smirked and shrugged when you caught him staring making you smile at him. Even though he was rather far away, it felt as if his eyes could burn your skin and you felt them, roaming up and down your body, to your legs and your hips and your buttocks and for some reason that was turning you on, the way he was staring, licking his lips after he had a sip of his drink. He straigthened his back. 

Didn’t they tell you that I was a savage? 

He couldn’t take his eyes off you and the way you were swaying your hips and he couldn’t help but think about grabbing them and pushing you on his mattress so you could be his again and he could be inside you. 

Bet you never could imagine.

And then you brought your arms up so you could gather your hair and let your sweaty neck breathe and he could taste your skin on the tip of his tongue and he imagined it would be slightly salty now and for some reason that was turning him on. 

Never told you you could have it. 

The next thing you felt was his hand in yours as he rushed to his room again. He didn’t turn around to smile at you this time as he had done before, instead he closed the door of his room as Kodaline started playing and he locked it before turning to you. You bit on your bottom lip, feeling the anticipation eating your skin. He didn’t say anything and instead he cupped your cheek on his hand and brought his lips to yours, kissing you hungrily, sliding his tongue between your lips and keeping his hand on your skin so he could have control. 

You were already wet, you had been waiting for him to kiss you like this for a week now, and then it didn’t matter that the living room was full of people, it didn’t even matter that Eddie was there, dancing and drunk off his ass, because Harry’s tongue was sliding over yours and his hands couldn’t get enough of you. He pulled the back of your thighs up and you jumped and wrapped your legs around his hips as he kept devouring your mouth. He groaned against your lips, pulling you up and holding you higher so your chest was on his face and he could kiss the skin on your breasts. 

“Y/N.” He whispered, breathing in your scent and nipping on your skin.

“I want you.” You tangled your fingers on his hair, guiding him to your breast even though it was still covered with your shirt. 

He felt his dick twitch on his boxers and he pulled you even closer. He could feel the heat radiating from your body against his and he could almost smell you if he tried. The thought of you was driving him crazy and somehow, as if he knew he could easy fall for you, he knew he was getting into dangerous territory because he was afraid if he had a taste of you, even if it would be just once, or if he made love to you again, then he might get too attached and he knew it could never be, it could never happen- anything real between the two of you. 

But the thought of you- the thought of you was driving him mad. He wanted to scream just by picturing you with your legs wide opened on his desk, your sex pink and swollen, shiny and wet, ready for him to dip his tongue across your wetness and he could only imagine how good it would taste, how good it would feel to be so close to you, to run his tongue where no one else could, to be the only one. He knew he probably shouldn’t, he should just made out with you as he had done before, and then calm down and get the hell out of there. Probably he should stop looking at you at the party too, he should stop trying to bump into you so he could touch you, he should try to get you out of his head but he had wanted this all week, he had thought about you all week and he had thought of you showering, of you having breakfast on your underwear, of you stretching after a night sleep and he also thought about eating you out and having your moisture on his chin and he was now desperate to be inside you and you were so close and so warm and he knew you wanted him too.

“Harry, please.” You begged. 

“What do you want baby?” 

“You.” You moaned. “I want you.” 

“This is wrong, baby girl.” He whispered on your neck. 

He wanted you too. He wanted you more than he had wanted anything on his life but if he was going to do this, if he was going to mark you his, he at least needed to tell you it was wrong so you could make your decision and if you still wanted him then he would cave in, he would probably ruin you too but he would make you feel good enough for it to be worth it. 

“I don’t care.” You moaned. “Just want you, please.” 

“Even though it’s wrong?” He pushed his hips against yours and his jeans covered arousal hitted your panties once, making your eyes rolled back.

You were a moaning mess by then and couldn’t even form coherent words. Why would he make this so hard on you? And why would he smell so deliciously and look so good if he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted? You couldn’t even think straight and you knew, you knew half your blood was fleshing out your sex and you felt vulnerable and young, so much younger than you really were, and you wanted him to have you, rougher than he had last time because you could handle it, you could handle him and for some reason you wanted him to sting a little now, to burn between your legs so you could feel him for days after so you took off your shirt with a confidence you didn’t know you had and took in the way his expression changed. His lips were parted, small puffs of hot air coming out and heating the air before your nose, as his eyes took your body in. He thought he had never seen anything hotter in his entire life- the way your boobs were almost spilling out of that white lace bra and your skin seemed so soft and perfect and then for some reason he felt the stupid need to know if your panties matched. 

You tangled your fingers on his hair again and brought his mouth to yours, sliding your own tongue between his parted lips and making him moan. He caressed your sides and your belly making his way from your thighs to your chest until he reached your bra, cupping your breasts over the thin material and making you moan. He couldn’t think of anything other than curse words because fuck he had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted you so he exposed your breast, tucking the lace bra under it and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking it and making your sex clench as you gasped and your breathing became more and more useless as if it didn’t matter how much air you took because oxygen was still missing. 

You felt his hands unclasping your bra as he kissed down your neck and towards your other breast, and you shamelessly moaned because for some reason you felt so at ease with him and even though his tongue was making it harder for you to think, you started thinking that you had some sort of trust with him that you didn’t have with anyone else so you would let him touch you, see you fully naked or make you totally vulnerable because somehow you trusted him in a way you didn’t trust anyone else. Was that a betrayal? A betrayal to Eddie- for you trusted his brother in a way you didn’t trust him? 

“Can I taste you?” He whispered against your lips. “Please?” 

He had fully undressed you as you were considering that trust thing and the way he had said that almost made you faint. Could he taste you? You had only been taken care like that once, by a very sweet guy when you were nineteen, but you hadn’t liked it as much as you thought you would and yet for some reason, the only thought of having Harry’s tongue lapping against your sex was making your head spin. You kissed him hard, harder than you had ever kissed anyone and nodded against his lips making him smile. 

He couldn’t wait. He could not wait for the life of him and so he kissed his way down your skin towards your sex, that swollen, plump door and he fell to his knees and grabbed your thighs pulling you to the edge of the desk. He looked up at you from his position on the floor, stopping for a moment to realize what was about to happen, that he wasn’t dreaming anymore, that you were really that close and that naked and he chuckled because he was amazed, because he couldn’t wrap his head around it and watched you blush and look away. 

“You are the most fucking perfect thing I have ever seen.” 

He leaned in and pressed his lips against you, not caring to tease you at all, and he kissed your soaked lips once, twice, moaning at the way your moisture felt against his lips, at the way you smelled and he thought his dick had never been harder and bigger because he had never done something even remotely as hot as this was. You whined and squirmed under his tongue as it flicked over your clit before he sucked it in, sinking his fingers on your thighs until your skin went white around them. 

“Oh God, Harry.” 

Your moans were driving him crazy and urging him on because he had to hear you say that again, he had to hear his name in your voice like that again and he couldn’t have enough of you either because you tasted even better than he had expected and he thought that normally, normally he would say something, but he couldn’t find the words and anyway he was too consumed by the way you sounded and lost on the way you tasted so he only gripped your thigs tighter and pulled you closer to his lips, burying his mouth between your legs so he could have all of you. He was driving himself crazy by watching you as you pushed his head against you and gripped the edge of the desk with your other hand from the pleasure he was giving you and he wanted to give you more, to pleasure you so much you would never try to find pleasure on someone else, so he slid a finger inside of you as he kept giving you his tongue. 

“God.” 

You threw your head back, lifting your hips from the table and almost pulling him away so he placed his hand on your belly, pulling you down as he kept licking every drop of you as he pumped and curled his fingers in and out of you. He drifted his eyes back to your face when he noticed your legs trembling on the sides of his face because he wanted to watch it, he wanted to see your face as you came so he could always have that memory on the back of his mind and he almost spilled on his boxers when you scrunched your eyebrows, parting your lips so they formed the shape of the perfect oh you had gasped, and your chest and cheeks tinted a faint shade of pink. 

He rested on his knees, breathing heavily as he watched you come down from your high and he got scared of the way he felt when you looked back into his eyes, because you smiled lazily at him and he thought he would never see anything so beautiful in his life and in that moment he thought I would do anything to keep her face like that and that thought had scared him; but he had smiled back anyway. 

You hopped off his desk and wrapped your arms around his neck, sitting on his thighs and still smiling as you brought your face closer to his. 

“Thank you.” You smiled making him laugh. “I had never felt that way before.” 

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around the lower part of your back as he stretched his legs making sure you were still on top of him. He just shrugged blushing. 

“You just taste so good.” He smirked.

You gently ran your fingers through his hair and he shut his eyes, resting his head on his bed and drawing circles on the skin of your back. He wanted to tell you- that you tasted so much better than anyone he had ever had, that you smelled better too, that he was starting to feel butterlies on his belly every time you looked at him- but he simply stayed there with his eyes closed as if he was ready to go to sleep until you leaned down and pressed your lips against his, sweetly, much more calmly than you had kissed before, and you kissed him slowly and lingeringly as if you wanted to let him know you how much you trusted him, how much he meant to you. 

“Don’t kiss me like that.” He begged against your lips. “We have to go back to the party now.” He whispered. “And if you keep kissing me like this then I’d take you to bed.” He warned as he still kissed you anyway. 

You smiled against his lips and sucked in his bottom lip, kissing him deep and slow as you started to slowly rock your hips against his. He groaned against your mouth and attempted to lift you up so he could lie you down on the bed as he had promised but you shushed him, placing your hands on his shoulders and making him stop. 

“Let me make you feel good now.” You whispered, kissing along his jaw and making his eyes rolled back. “I wanna do it like this.” 

You palmed his through his jeans and boxers before unzipping his pants and pulling them down to his thighs so his member sprang free against his stomach. He hissed when you touched it and gripped your wrist. 

“It’s very sensitive.” He whined. 

You smiled and gave him a sweet, almost chaste kiss, and he moaned against your mouth because he had never been intimate like that with anyone and he had never let anyone take care of him like that. He had never felt more vulnerable either, as you moved on top of him and guided him inside you, sinking down on him and cutting his breath off as your warm tight walls pumped him in and out in slow circular movements imprinting a delicious rhythmn, intimate and slow. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He could cry. He could whimp and start crying as he gripped your hips with his fingers. “I’m not going to last.” 

Because he had missed this, he had been craving for you, craving to have you like this all week and now it was so much better than he had imagined and somehow you felt even better than last weekend and he couldn’t hold it in much longer. The raising and falling of your chest distracted him so he didn’t have to look into your eyes and faced it all but you lifted his chin with your fingertips so he was looking into your eyes as you grinned and then he couldn’t look away. 

“Holy shit.” He cursed. “You feel so good baby.” He shut his eyes as he came closer. “So fucking tight you are.” He thrusted inside you, searching for his relief and making your breath hitched on your throat. 

“Just let go, Harry.” You told him. “Cum for me baby. It’s okay.” 

He rested his forehead on yours as he grunted, shutting his eyes and frowning as he sputtered hot after hot streams of cum inside the condom. You kissed his frowned away and then his nose and then his lips before you smiled at him when he opened his eyes. You slightly frowned when you saw his expression because he seemed concerned, scared even so you kept looking into his green eyes for almost a minute until he leaned in and kissed your lips. 

“Do we really have to get out there now?” He pouted when he pulled apart. 

“Yeah.” You laughed. “I hope Eddie hasn’t realized I’m missing.” 

“Don’t talk about Eddie now.” He shook his head as you laughed and gathered your clothes putting them back on as he looked for his shirt on the floor. 

You were getting your shit together, trying to fix your hair when you caught him smirking at you on the mirror. 

“What?” You teased and he shrugged, still smirking. “How do I look?” You turned around and smiled at him and you would have sworn his eyes were shinning. 

“Freshly fucked, Y/N.” 

He laughed as you walked towards him to swat his chest playfully until he gripped your wrist, pulling you to him and kissing you again, even though you were smiling. 

“Stop kissing me, Styles.” You chuckled as you tried to pull apart, his mouth following yours. “We’ll never make it out of here if you don’t stop.” 

“You’re right.” He sighed, pushing you away gently. “Ladies first.” 

You walked outside the room as he slapped your ass and you heard him chuckled as you closed the door behind you. You spotted him back on the living room ten minutes later and you wondered whether it had taken him ten minutes to actually get out of his room. 

Eddie had never been drunker or probably he had but he was currently being the mean drunk he was when he had had one too many and you were helping him get his PJs on. Eliza, the nice cleaning lady that kept their house decent, had prepared Matty’s old room for you because Eddie knew you would never sleep in the smoker bear with ashtma’s room after a night of alcohol because then he sounded like a smoker bear with ashtma singing a Bruce Springsteen’s song and so you helped him get in bed, kissed his forehead and walked outside his room. You shut the door quietly as you already heard him snore and you rolled your eyes and chuckled. He could sleep like a log that one. 

You were already lying in Matty’s old bed when Harry popped in your room adorably. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a white cotton t-shirt. 

“Why are you sleeping here?” He whispered as he popped his head in from the door. You frowned. Did he not want you to be there? 

“Mmm... Eddie invited me to sleep over.” 

“I mean why are you not in my bed?” He smirked. “You know Eddie won’t woke up until at least midday.” 

“Do you want me to sleep with you?” You whispered and your voice sounded like it belonged to a little girl. 

“Yeah.” 

He didn’t need to say it twice. You silently got up from Matty’s bed and walked to Harry’s room, only to find him already lying on the bed, smiling. You were wearing one of Eddie’s old shirts and he lifted the blanket for you to slipped under it like he had done last weekend, only this time he didn’t have to talk and instead he pressed his lips against yours the moment your head rested on the pillow. He kissed you sweetly, smiling against your lips first, before you started making out lovingly, without the lust or hunger he had given you before. 

“Wait.” 

He whispered as he slipped out of the bed and went through one of his drawers. He was smiling when he got back in the bed, holding a t-shirt on his hand, as he tugged from the hem of yours so you would take it off. 

“I like it when you wear mine.” He explained. “Much better.” 

He smiled when you put it on and lied down on his back, pulling you to him and kissing you again, cupping your face with one hand and pressing the lower part of your back to his body with the other. His tongue dipped inside your mouth, caressing the cave and plunging inside teasing your wet muscle as his hand caressed the skin of your neck. He hummed against your lips. 

“You’re such a good kisser.” He smiled at your compliment against your mouth.

“Are you a little sore?” He whispered against your lips. 

“A little.” 

He chuckled against your mouth before plunging into another kiss as if he was intending to peck your mouth goodnight but always got himselg caught in another deep kiss because he couldn’t get enough, he just couldn’t get enough. 

“Tomorrow” he said between kisses “when you wake up” he licked your lips “don’t go before waking me up like last time yeah? I wanna kiss you good morning.” He smiled. 

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles smutt #harry styles blurb #harry styles story #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles love story #harry styles writing #harry styles original writing #harry styles requests #harry styles best friends brother #best friends brother #harry styles daily #harry styles fands #harry styles fandom #harry styles love #part 2

[sincognito]

Always A Bigger Fish

Universes: @itsladykit  ‘s supernatural Atypical AU. 

Pairing: Twist x Cash (not too heavy, just slightly implied?)

Warnings: Angry of fish

Overview: Twist convinces Cash to join him on a walk to a nearby river. It turns out that it isn’t quite as simple as Cash thought it would be. 

A/N: Been suffering a lot with my lung and sinus infection this past week and I really haven’t been able to work on anything too difficult. Sorry to everyone expecting stuff from me, I’ve just not been feeling up to it. 

Cash came to a halt, huffing in anger. There was dirt and grass stuck to his bare feet and the length of his tail that trailed along the ground and the sun felt abnormally hot as it beat down upon his uncomfortably dry bones. Twist knew fully well how much he hated the woods, especially with the insane child running about and causing havoc.

Twist, however, simply gave a soft chuckle as he continued to walk, not even sparing a moment to glance back in his direction, “We’re almos’ there, sweet’eart, I promise.” It had been a laborious task for him to finally convince Cash to join him, yet he had still refused to let slip where exactly it is they were trekking to and who, or what, they would find there.

With another agitated grumble, Cash followed after him, gritting his teeth in annoyance and cursing his own curiosity. As far as he knew Twist hadn’t told any of the other monsters in the house what they were doing which was odd enough in itself, but for Twist to confide in him of all people? It was an interesting enough situation for the siren to push past his hatred of the land and follow the smug lizard through the deeper parts of the forest.

It was another few minutes before Cash suddenly caught the familiar sound of running water nearby. His ears perked slightly in interest, wondering if by some unknown power there was a pool of salt water. While he didn’t particularly enjoy swimming around in water muddled with the roots of mangroves, the prospect of swimming in an open body of water was enough to make the skeleton speed up his pace.

While he lacked grace moving on land, he had found that over the past few months he had grown more comfortable with using his tail to assist with his balance and his legs had grown stronger, now easily able to hold his weight. It was when he clambered over a large fallen log that Cash finally caught sight of the water.

Twist had stopped at the water’s edge, looking out over the murky river silently. While it was undoubtedly a beautiful sight, Cash had the feeling that the water wasn’t what the dragon was searching for with his heavily searching eyes. Compared to the ocean, the water seemed oddly calm and Cash was positive that if there was anything of note in there he would have seen it.

He tentatively approached the water, walking in until he was up to his knees. While it was unfortunately a freshwater river, he couldn’t deny that the lapping of the water against his bones made his soul thrum with longing. He dug his toes into the cool, thick mud of the riverbed and allowed his tail to swish about in the water, cleaning off any lingering grass.

Cash was about to take another step deeper into the water when Twist suddenly spoke up, “Tha’s deep enough, precious,” his voice to the untrained ear sounded calm, but Cash couldn’t help noticing the way his words were strained slightly, “Ya don’t want t’ go any deeper th’n that, trust me.”

Twist slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket, beginning to walk towards a small wooden dock that reached out across the river for several meters. The wood was heavily weathered and creaked under the dragon’s footsteps, yet it seemed he barely noticed it, refusing to lift his eyes from the silent river.

It was then that Cash finally realised the lack of fauna surrounding the waterway. No birds perched in the nearby trees, no animal tracks led to the water, there were even no bugs dancing about the air. The only sound that dared break the silence was the occasional breeze that would trickle through the surrounding trees.

Without realising it, Cash had backed out of the water. Something was very wrong with the river, something that told him he needed to leave. It was a similar feeling to the one he got when he had wandered into the territory of another siren, it left him on edge and his body prepared to fend off any potential attackers.

“Ya comin’?” Twist asked, breaking Cash from his thoughts. The dragon had the same concerned expression that he hated, and with little more thought he followed him. There was no way he would let another fish frighten him off, especially if the dumb dragon thought it was safe enough to bring Cash along.

When Cash finally reached Twist’s side, the larger skeleton crouched down, using his hand to slash across the surface of the water, causing some small ripples. He stood up again, moving back from the edge of the dock to stand uncomfortably close to the siren.

Nothing happened for a long moment, and just as Cash was about to sign to Twist and question just how much sanity he had remaining, he noticed the water’s surface shift slightly. Any fish that had been in the area immediately darted away in all directions and within moments Cash realised the sheer size of the creature heading towards them.

Its back rose from the depths, breaching the water as it slowly swam, disappearing once more under the water with a brief splash of its massive whale-like tail. It reached them in a matter of seconds, and before Cash could grasp what was happening the large monster leapt from the river, crashing down onto the deck just before them.

Cash scampered back away from it, watching as even Twist took a step or two back as the gargantuan creature began to drag its vast body across the wood. Its claws were longer than any he had ever seen – easily over two feet long each – they all left deep gashes in the solid hardwood, carving it away as though it were soft as warm butter.

Sirens were large, dangerous aquatic monsters, but the fish monster before him made Cash feel as though he were an insignificant hatchling. Its giant jaws parted, crimson magic saliva dripping from its teeth as it let loose a deep growl, its eyes narrowing on the two tiny monsters before it. It was skeletonesque in appearance, its body made completely of bones with slightly transparent ecto-flesh covering its body and forming its fins.

The best word he could come up with to describe the creature was ‘mermaid’, but mermaids were not massive, ugly beasts that looked like they had been dragged right from the set of some human horror movie. Even more strange, were the rune-like markings that seemed to be carved into the monster’s very bones, each glowing a vibrant red.

Cash felt his magic tingling at his fingers, his mind screaming at him to attack the threat, but before he could lash out Twist stepped forward with a broad smile on his face. “Someone a little grumpy today, eh?” he asked, absolutely beaming, looking almost proud. In response the monster shrieked in some sort of outraged roar, reaching out to slash at Twist with its blade-like talons, only just missing the dragon’s skull.

“Now now, ‘s no reason t’ be rude,” Twist chastised the monster half-heatedly with a slightly raised eyesocket, “Don’t be s’ angry, handsome, I brought ya a friend.”

Cash froze when the giant river creature focused its gaze on the siren, its tongue snaking out to trail across its teeth, eyeing him almost hungrily. He had never felt so completely unintimidating and worse yet, the beast was apparently taking him to be its next meal. He silently cursed himself for his inability to move; now he knew what his prey felt.

Twist stepped back, looping an arm gently around Cash’s middle, not seeming to notice the way he bristled at the touch. Before he could question it, Twist was pushing him forward towards the monster. Finally broken from his stupefaction, Cash thrashed, shaking his head rapidly from side to side. “Don’t worry darlin’, I’d never put ya in danger,” Twist hummed unhelpfully with a smile still annoyingly on his face.

Cash shivered under the monster’s leer. He had accepted his fate, hoping that the monster would at least show him the mercy of a swift death. “Friend,” Twist repeated, a little more seriously the second time. He watched it lean forward, inhaling his scent deeply with a loud rumble before it suddenly lurched forward, its tongue swiping across Cash’s face in a single lick.

Twist burst out laughing at Cash’s indignant shriek, his face screwing up in utter disgust as the monster began to lick its teeth again, seemingly liking Cash’s slightly salty taste. It moved forward again, attempting to have another lick of his bones, but Cash refused to fall for the same trick twice, stepping back and just out of the monster’s reach.

While Cash wiped the sticky drool from his face, Twist moved back towards the fish monster, reaching into his small bag and producing a packet of fish. Compared with the creature’s size, the offering seemed to be miniscule, but the monster didn’t seem to mind, shimmying backwards across the now slightly angled dock and sliding back into the water.

Twist held out one of the slices of fish above the water before the beast surged from the depths again, leaping into the air and snapping its teeth closed around where Twist’s arm had been mere moments prior. Amazingly, the gigantic creature was able to disappear back under the water, circling the flimsy deck while it awaited the next treat.

Using some rather aggressive sign language, Cash demanded to know just what Twist was playing at. The dragon tilted his head slightly to the side, “Wha’cha mean, sweetheart?” he asked, appearing annoyingly confused by the question. Cash simply gestured at the creature, hoping that his questioning, slightly angry expression was enough of a hint.

Twist gave a shrug, tossing a slice of salmon out into the water, watching as it was quickly swallowed up, “’es jus’ a friend, tha’s all,” he stated, frowning slightly. He drew strangely quiet, watching the water silently, “It’s jus’, ‘e’s all alone out ‘ere,” he quietly mumbled, throwing another slice out, “He’s a long way from ‘ome, and he ain’t got nobody to look out for ‘im.”

“He’s not exactly a common monster,” the dragon chuckled, “Got caugh’ by some humans a couple decades ago, an’ I brought all the way out ‘ere. I didn’t know where ‘e was from at th’ time, but ‘e’s called a Muldjewangk, ‘s a sorta mermaid, jus’ without the pretty looks ‘n they like t’ curse their enemies t’ die slow n’ painful rather then killin’ ‘em straight up.”

Upon seeing Cash’s frowning expression Twist laughed again, “Don’t worry, they ain’t all bad. They keep little ones from swimmin’ in the water for starters an’ they’re important to the culture they were from,” He fell quiet again, seeming to realise he had stopped throwing food into the water when there was an impatient splash on the water’s surface, “’sides, I can’t jus’ leave a baby to fend for ‘imself.”

Cash jerked causing Twist to laugh once more at the question that was obviously racing across his mind. ‘That’s only a baby?’

#a dragon writes #writing #literature #atypical #muldjewangk #Australian mythical creatures

[whispersandwhiskerburn]

Wanted

Summary: Dean realizes he’s not showing the Reader the love she deserves and takes her on a romantic date to remind her that she is all he has ever wanted. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 2,155 Warnings: Um…bring a salty snack to combat the tooth-rottingly sweetness of this fic. It’s so sappy and fluffy I’m kinda sick to my stomach. And I blame my sister for making me watch a Nicholas Sparks movie today. Implied future smut at the end, but this is totally SFW. Author’s Note: This is an extremely late birthday present response to a challenge by Kayla at @one-shots-supernatural as well as one of the fic responses to my 2k celebration, requested by one of my absolute faves: @littlegreenplasticsoldier. My prompts were the song “Wanted” by Hunter Hayes (lyrics italicized throughout), camping, and the quotes bolded below. I hope you enjoy!

“You two go ahead—muscle your way to a booth or a table. I’ll get the drinks.”

Dean shot Y/N a look of confusion, ready to protest that he could get the drinks, but she leaned forward on her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek, distracting him.

“I know you two are the pretty ones, but the bartender’s a guy this time, so I’ll be more likely to catch his attention.”

She turned him by his shoulders and pushed him lightly towards the crowded seating area, Sam already parting the crowd in front of him.

It was late and the place was crowded, but it took someone who was really brave or really drunk to stand their ground when the Winchesters wanted something. It didn’t take long to secure a booth, but once they were seated and Dean was keeping an eye on the local crowd, his mind went back to what his girlfriend had said.

“Dude, what’s with you? This case was a win. And we’re actually low on the catastrophe front at the moment.”

Sometimes it sucked that his little brother knew him so well.

He frowned, “it’s Y/N.”

Sam followed Dean’s gaze to where she was casually shooting down wanna-be lovers while the bartender filled drink orders and she waited patiently.

“She’s fine. Hell, Dean, she could kick any of their asses in a heartbeat, you know that.”

Dean shook his head, “that’s not it. Something she said—that we’re the pretty ones—“

Sam laughed at that, interrupting Dean as he ran his fingers through his hair in an exaggerated way. “Well, clearly she mainly meant me, but what’s your point, gorgeous?”

Dean shoved his brother’s shoulder but couldn’t stop the smile on his face, which had been Sam’s intent.

“My point, ugly, is that if she really thinks that—about herself, I mean—then I’m doing a shitty job in the boyfriend department. And let’s face it, I don’t exactly have a lot of experience there, so the chances are pretty good that I’ll fuck it up. I don’t want to do that to her.”

Dean watched her laugh at a comment from another admirer as she finally got the drink order to the bartender, then continued in a lower voice.

“I mean, anyone can tell her she’s pretty. She get’s that all the time, I know she does. But her beauty’s deeper than the makeup, you know? I feel like she needs to know that….”

“Then why the hell are you telling me instead of her?” Sam was trying, and mostly failing, at holding back laughter, but he straightened up when Dean shot him a look.

“Look, we both know you got seriously lucky with Y/N, and that you need her like everything that’s green needs sunlight. But if you’re worried you’re not giving her the attention she deserves, take her someplace this weekend—she likes hiking and the outdoors, right?” Dean nodded. “Well, there you go. Take her to one of Bobby’s old hunting spots or something and the two of you have some alone time. I’ll hold things down at the bunker.”

Y/N was walking over now, gripping three beers and weaving through the mass of people. When she met Dean’s eyes and smiled at him, Dean couldn’t stop the happy smile crossing his face in return—and he didn’t want to either.

“That might be the smartest idea you’ve had in a year, Sammy.”

“Okay, Dean, what’s this about? Making Sam hitch a ride with Lee Chambers back to the bunker and driving all the way out here? I know we don’t have a case, but I figured you’d be heading for the nearest cheeseburger, not national forest.”

Dean smiled, glad to have actually been able to surprise his girlfriend for once. She was a quick one, there was no doubt there, and when Lee had been an hour away, Dean had called in a favor to get some camping supplies and a ride for Sam.

Dean put Baby in park and took down the chain that crossed the trail, ignoring the sign saying, “Not Open to Public” and pulled it out of the way, before climbing back behind the wheel and driving past the winding trail. It had been a long ride, and he was hoping to get to the clearing he’d visited once before as a kid before the sun set—it would be a great view.

Y/N was still clueless. Score one for the boyfriend.

Y/N was looking at him funny, “did you and Sam have a fight? What was it about?”

Dean chuckled, “This is between me and you. And we’ve waited long enough.”

“Yeah, cuz that’s not ominous-sounding or anything.”

Dean rolled his eyes, pulling through the last of the trees and into the edge of the clearing, then backing up till the trunk was facing the edge of the ridge. The clearing was the edge of the forest before a natural drop-off; the grass died out a few yards from the tree line leaving dirt and gravel, but the view from the edge was incredible—and the fall was deadly, hence the block for tourists.

Dean parked and turned off the Impala before turning to face the woman in the front seat. “C’mon, Y/N. A little faith here—I just wanted us to have some time alone, you know? Something special. You know I’d fall apart without you, hell, you’ve saved mine and Sammy’s life several times, but it’s more than that. We don’t just need you for your hunting skills—“

“Or the fact that I could kick both your asses and I’m a better researcher than the two of you put together.”

“Haha. It’s more than one and one makes two. It makes sense for you to be with us, for us to be together, but put aside the math and the logic of it; I want to make you feel…wanted.”

Dean reached over, grabbing Y/N hand to squeeze.

“This is about how you’re more than everything I need. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I don’t know how you do what you do, the way you can make me smile at the weirdest times, the way that everything that doesn’t make sense about me, makes sense when I’m with you.”

Dean faltered, unfamiliar with this mushy stuff… but Y/N’s eyes were melting, and the smile on her face…it was the same smile she gave him after a particularly slow, sweet love making session. So, he soldiered on.

“This trip is about the two of us,” Dean squeezed her hand in his, “and how I wanna hold your hand forever… and kiss your lips…” He leaned forward and caught a glimpse of her smile before she mirrored him and gave him a sweet kiss, all lips with just a hint of tongue.

He leaned back and smiled at the look in her eyes.

“C’mon, I wanna show you something.”

It was a little cooler than Dean had been expecting outside of the car, which made Dean smile—more incentive to wrap her up. The view was…breathtaking. There were quite a few clouds in the wide open sky in front of them, and they were all painted surreal shades of orange, purple, pink and gold as the horizon was dominated by the half globe of the setting sun.

“Oh…Dean. It’s incredible.”

Score two for the boyfriend.

Dean boosted himself on top of the trunk, then pulled Y/N up in between his legs, cradling her against his chest as she took in the full sight and he lost himself in the feel of her curves and the smell of her hair.

He truly was one lucky son of a bitch.

The moment needed no words—they sat there together, watching the sun set and holding each other, and Dean had the fleeting thought that surely this moment would be added to his heaven landscape—and he was glad that he might get the chance to relive this on a loop one day.

When the last of the colors began to fade away, Y/N shifted in his arms, turning to press another sweet kiss to his lips. Dean slipped his hand into her hair, angling her to deepen the contact, losing himself in the taste of her in the way he rarely gave himself time to do anymore.

Then he heard it—the splat of water on windshield.  He looked up just in time for the next raindrop to land on his cheek.

“Oh, come on.”

The light sprinkle was already speeding up to be a steady drizzle as Dean groaned, sliding both himself and Y/N off the car.

“What’s wrong, Dean?”

“This” Dean pointed up to the cloudy sky, the magnificent colors gone to reveal a light gray shade that was playing hell with his evening. “I had a whole thing planned—camp out under the stars, cozy campfire, some quiet time alone,” Dean arched his eyebrows and Y/N chuckled, “the works. Fucking rain.”

Then Y/N tilted her head back, letting the rain wash her face as she spread her arms out—as if she’d embrace the storm if she could.

“I love the rain, though. The way it sounds on metal,” Dean listened to the music of it on the car and could kinda see her point, “the way it drops the temperature and clears the air… and especially the smell.”

“The smell?”

Y/N smiled, her eyes still closed and facing the sky. “Yeah. Petrichor…it means the smell of dust after rain. I’ve always liked it….”

She cracked her eyes open then, laughing to find Dean staring at her incredulously.

“Seriously, Dean—what’s wrong with a little rain?”

She started spinning in the drizzle, the rain coming down hard enough that her hair was starting to get slicked back and her oversize loose shirt began to cling to her curves in a way that Dean definitely noticed.

Y/N was still spinning slowly, practically dancing in the rain, her eyes coming back to Dean’s again and again as he stared at her child-like abandon and the joy that radiated from her.

“At this moment? Not a damn thing.”

Dean moved forward and caught her in his arms, pulling her into his chest.

Y/N chuckled again and then Dean’s mouth was on hers, and her mouth was otherwise occupied.

When they finally surfaced for breath, Dean realized the shower had slackened—it was barely sprinkling now, and the clouds were dispersing to reveal the night sky.

“Look, Y/N.” He guided her chin up to see the stars. This deep into the national forest, the light pollution was minimal, and maybe it was the recent rain, but the air seemed extra clear tonight. Peeking out from behind the clouds, the stars were finally making themselves seen, twinkling and filling the night landscape.

“Oh, wow. Dean, it’s---it’s like a fairytale, or a dream.”

He smiled, turning her around so that her back was to his chest, her head leaned back on his shoulder as she continued to stargaze. He’d brought a tarp and some sleeping bags for that purpose, but he couldn’t bring himself to let her out of his arms right now. The moment was too perfect to spoil with distance.

“That’s all I ever wanted, Y/N. As good as you make me feel, I wanna make you feel better.” Dean leaned his head in and whispered in her ear as he pulled her even tighter into his chest, “better than your fairy tales, better than your best dreams.

“I’ll never let you forget it.”

“Forget what, Dean?”

Y/N turned enough to look up into Dean’s eyes, her own sparkling with something that looked suspiciously like tears in the starlight, but the smile on her face gave him the courage to continue.

“Just how much I need you—how much I want you in my life. Just how important you are to me….”

A part of Dean wanted to keep going, but this was getting way too mushy and open for him, so he did what he did best—acted instead of talked. He leaned in, showing her with his kiss just how much she meant to him, since he wasn’t comfortable saying it out loud to her, no matter how much she might deserve to hear it.

When the kiss was broken, it was Y/N who pulled back to look up at him. Her smile was knowing, understanding, and Dean smiled back, acknowledging his own embarrassment.

“It’s okay, Dean. This is incredible, and I love that you did it—but I know you love me without any grand gestures. And you know I love you.

“There are some things that could never possibly be forgotten.”

Then she pulled him down for another kiss, and Dean focused on the amazing woman in his arms and making her feel wanted in every possible way for the rest of the night.

Did you like this? Check out my MASTERLIST!  Feedback is life!

To my Forevers, the ones who keep me writing:

@2wonderinsighlents, @adaliamalfoy, @alcpegasus22, @andrastesflamingtitties, @angelofwinchester17, @alexastacio, @anokhi07, @ariethegreat98, @arryn-nyx, @autopistaaningunaparte, @avasmommy224, @babypieandwhiskey, @bennyyh, @benjerry707, @bringmesomepie56, @bucky-thorin-winchester, @but-deans-back-tho, @captainemwinchester, @carry-on-ms-believer, @casownsmyass, @cfordwrites, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @dancingalone21, @d-s-winchester, @deafgirlsarecooler, @deandoesthingstome, @deanfuckingwinchesterrr, @deanscherrypie, @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen, @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester, @deliciouslyshadowymilkshake, @demonangelimpala, @demondeansdomme, @end-lessnights, @faith-in-dean, @fandommaniacx, @feelmyroarrrr, @fiveleaf, @graceforme86, @i-is-for-inspiring, @ilostmyshoe-79, @impala-dreamer, @jalove-wecallhimdean, @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes, @jencharlan, @jensen-gal, @jotink78, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms, @katnharper, @kittenofdoomage, @kristaparadowski, @lipstickandwhiskey, @littlegreenplasticsoldier, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @love-kittykat21, @loreleilara, @lunarsaturn88, @luv4jensen, @lynnebla, @marilynnlew, @millaraysuyai, @mogaruke, @moonstonemystyk, @mrsbatesmotel53, @mrsjohnsmith, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mzpearlz, @nicolesyneah25, @nightmaredean, @notnatural-supernatural, @paintrider13-blog, @pinknerdpanda, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @rizlowwritessortof, @roxy-davenport, @salvachester, @seenashwrite, @septicxsoulxdarkxmind, @scorpiongirl1, @skathan-omaha, @spnrvt, @supernatural-jackles, @supernaturalyobsessed, @theafinnerup, @thedevilinthedetails, @thegreatficmaster, @vote-for-pedro, @waywardjoy, @wi-deangirl77, @wonderange, @withoutaplease, @xtina2191, @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou, and @yume-deaimashou

If you want to be removed from or added to my forever tag list, send me a message/ask! Only 18+ please!!

#kayla's birthday challenge #exactly two months late #I fail at writing #sorry #dean x reader #dean fluff #fluffy fic #sfw #angel's 2k celebration #request2write #short but super sweet #fluff #IT'S SO FLUFFY #I'm sorry #cavities incoming

[ombreecha]

Shelter

FF.NET Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Summary: She's alone, but she's not lonely—Thank you. Heavily inspired and based off Shelter.

What will become of her from now on?

After some time, she had stopped thinking of that. Or maybe she simply forgot.

There is a noise, and then there is the familiar walls of white—white, clean, and sterile. There is the repetitious beep that comes from the heart monitor, and then there is the mask that sits upon her face assisting her oxygen—exhale out, beep, now inhale.

Maybe she had forgot how to think at all.

The breath that falls from her is shallow as lids seek to raise from their slumber. There’s a blur of the lights over head, and the tickle of the pale coral strands that have tangled in her sleep. She’s breathing evenly with no assistance. There’s no noise to signal a heartbeat but the feeling of one within her throat. Her voice is soft speaking to only herself, “Nothing changes anymore.”

She could never find the right way to tell them. She could never find the right way to tell him.

She could never find the right way to tell them it was too late. She could never find the right way to tell him to give up.

Restful mind, and peaceful eyes. The sound is gone within this flower bed. There’s the softest of shifts as she rolls to her side clutching the tablet snug against her chest, and then a nuzzle to sink within the flowers that supports her head more. She tried, and she’s not awake in these motions and words. Her eyes are heavy, and she is lackadaisical within this virtual world—within her world.

A thought, and then a shuffle to sit forward. She’s clicking the tablet on, and hitting the icon.

No messages in 2539 days. But she’s not lonely.

The sigh exhale of her breath is soft, and it’s habitual. It’s expected. A yawn follows after as she gives way to a stretch to release the tension within her muscles, and then there’s the pleasing feel of the flowers underneath her head once more. She’s breathing in the scent. She’s basking within the lights that hang from the ceiling above her flowerbed.

She’s alone, but she’s not lonely—she’s up, and she’s moving, and she’s opening the tablet once more, and then she’s dragging the virtual pen across her digital canvas. Licking her bottom lip she ponders for only moments, and only seconds. Her mind is creative, and her fingers are moving. There’s desire for the sun to hang above her, and give her the warmth she thinks it would provide. She’s compromising her reality.

She wishes for the sun—she faintly remembers someone who resembled the sun. She remembers bright yellows, and startling blues. She’s creating, and she’s rebuilding the world around her. Large towers of earth, painted skies of blue, a sun of warm orange, and coaxing yellows. She’s watching and she’s waiting as it materializes here in her now. Fingers drag the pen over the delete button—she’s hesitating, and she’s halting in her practiced movements.

Running is all she can do as her toes dig into the grass she brings with childish strokes of her pen across the digital canvas. Her heartbeat is wild, and it’s heavy with excitement. There’s no plan for where it leads—she’s yet to decide. The flowers are growing and the trees are forming. She’s unhappy with one, and she’s dragging it from one spot to the next. Water is pouring from the cliffs, tall and high, down to the world below pulling tides of clarity.

Pale viridescent soak within the world only she could create. Fingers bring the pen from the tablet to rest at her side. Heels tip back. She’s falling upon the grass. The wind kisses her skin. The pale coral strands tickle her cheeks. Lips give way to the softest of smiles—it’s as if someone has come to lay beside her within this empty world devoid of all but her. They, her and this nonexistent being, are relishing in this feeling and this warmth. It momentary, but it’s happiness no less.

The air that trembles from her. The fingers that trail within the fabric of her yellow top. The lips that she presses tight. She’s holding it gripping the fabric within her grasp.

She’s alone, but she’s not lonely. It doesn’t bother her at all.

H o p e.

She wanted to hope. She was desperate for hope. She didn’t know how to hope anymore.

Her chest is tight and there’s a cry that threatens to fall. It’s her hand shielding her eyes that keeps it at bay, and the silence of just her that locks it away.

No messages in 2578 days.

Footsteps walk with confidence. There is no need for hesitation within this world of only her. She walks among the trees that hold no leaves. The muted world she has made lights the lanterns of red that hang from their branches glow with each step she takes. Her digital canvas shines within the world as her pen drags across it. There’s desire for the moon to hang above her, and light the way for her as she dreams it would. She is sterilizing her mentality.

She wishes for the moon—she faintly remembers someone who resembled the moon. She remembers pale white, and endless black. The ground is shifting. It’s raising in some places, but lowering in others. She’s redecorating the world. Large cliffs devoid of water, painted skies endless black, stars scattered among the painted sky, and the softest of clouds that allow the glow to pierce them. She’s watching and she’s waiting as it materializes here in her now. Fingers drag the pen over the delete button—she’s frozen, and her fingers shake in her practiced movements.

Sitting at the edge is all she can do as her legs swing in gentle motions. The wind blows with the smallest of chills at the stroke of her pen across the digital canvas. It’s cool in it’s caress upon her skin, and it’s comforting. Her heartbeat is slow, and it’s comforting within the quiet of night. Silence rings, but to her it sings.

Lids flutter shut as she inhales the night air. Fingers bring the tablet to rest upon her lap. Lids do not attempt to raise. The pale coral strands give the slightest sway with each movement. Lips give way to the softest of smiles—feet shuffle behind her within this empty world devoid of all but her. They, her and this nonexistent being, are relishing in this feeling and this solace. It momentary, but it’s happiness no less.

The closed lids shut tighter. The legs that swung in gentle motions leave their sway let her curl them to her chest. The lips that she presses tight. She’s pressing her forehead to her knees. The yellow is like the sun. The black is like the moon. The pale coral is like the earth in spring.

The earth would never touch the sun, nor would it touch the moon.

She’s alone, but she’s not lonely. It doesn’t bother her at all.

The glow of her screen illuminates beside her. Lids flutter open in startle sound that comes with it’s glow. She’s lifting her head to lower her pale viridescent on a canvas far to detailed and far to perfect in it’s design. There’s a shift, and then there’s a panic as the world she has created alone leaves her for white. Falling is all she can do. Falling is all she’s able to do.

She left behind the home that he made her.

Hatsumode. It’s where she sees a being of all her aesthetics walk in an outfit only for this occasion. They hold the hand of the back with fingers laced.  They smile at the yellow who has pressed his fingers to the small of her back in affection. There are giggles, grins, and smirks. They give their offerings, and they give their shakes upon the bells. They give their silent prayers for a good year to come.

The yellow is squeezing her free hand. The black is turning to her with the softest of smiles as she continues her descend below.

Her heart shakes loud within her ears forcing her fingers to dig within her shirt of yellow. There’s alarm, and there is panic. There is anguish as she sees this distant memory before her. The yellow is a blonde, and the black is him. There is a strangled cry as she becomes desperate to look anywhere but them.

She doesn’t have the power to look away within in her forever falling state.

The blonde is taking her to her favorite coffee shop, and he is taking her to dinner. The blonde is giving her gifts for her birthday, and he has lifted her from the ground spinning her as she gets accepted into her dream school. The blonde is dragging her from her dorm room with the largest of grins radiating in warmth, and he is picking her up from class with the smallest of smirks cool upon his lips. The blonde is forcing her to the movies but she loves it regardless, and he is giving her the most affectionate tap upon her forehead. The blonde is picking her up with no intent to tell her where he’s taking her, and he is asking to spend forever with her.

Her fingers reach out begging to hold onto these moments in time that filled her existence with joy once upon a time, “Naruto. Sasuke-kun.”

The blonde is concerned when she does not smile coming out of her doctors appointment, and he gives way to pinched brows when she dodges his questions about the same doctors appointment. The blonde is shaking her as she lays upon the floor of her home, and he is carrying her limp form into the hospital with fear decorating his face. The blonde has picked her up from the hospital no longer giving way to smiles radiating in warmth, and he’s there within his study trapped by papers scattered around the room with her name scribbled upon the top of them. The blonde rushes into the hospital room she has checked into, and he is researching at her bedside. The blonde is sobbing in silence as he holds her hand sitting beside her bed after a particularly painful chemo treatment, and he has taken her from the hospital into the darkest of warehouses.

The blonde is giving her the gentlest of kisses upon her cheek with shuddered breaths and sharp intakes. He is whispering promises to her as she sits plugged into the machine he has designed to keep her alive. She is crushed witnessing the tear that finally falls from his glassed over obsidian to drip from his chin.

She is crumbling within these memories. She is torn from her world completely and utterly with these moments on display before her. Pale coral stick to her face as the tears fall in painful gasps. She is screaming, and she is begging, and she is calling out for him. She sobs in pleas to let her give him—no, them—comfort. She wants to hold them. She wants to be the one taking care of them. She’s desperate to protect them from the pain her existence has caused them.

She hopes to give them shelter as they have done for her. She hopes to carry them along as they have done for her. She hopes to hold their hands as they have done for her.

Feet are touching the ground giving way to weakened knees with a strangled cry. She is no longer floating within the memories she had forgotten.

She’s alone, but she’s not lonely. They were giving her shelter.

There’s a noise, a beep of sorts, that chimes within the silence only interrupted by her cries. There is hope within her shaky fingers that reach for the momentarily forgotten tablet before her.  There is longing as she clicks the notification lighting the screen.

One new message.

H o p e. She would hope. She was filled with hope. She remembered how to hope.

Pale viridescent scan the message overwhelmed with that same longing heavy upon her heart. She knows they are there. She knows the earth has touched the sun. She knows the earth has touched the moon. She knows, with hurt decorating her face the earth, had touched them both. It had reached out and they had continued to take it’s hand in theirs. They had continued to love her. They had continued to do all they can to bring her back to them.

They had never forgotten her once. She had never been more loved.

“Even if these memories make me sad, I’ve got to go forward believing in the future. Even when I realize my loneliness, and am about to lose all hope, those memories will make me stronger.” her tears continue endlessly as she curls into herself with the tablet tucked within her arms.

“I’m not alone, because of you.”

Thank you.

#ssfanfic #ssfanfiction #sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku #ombree:fics #ombree:oneshot

[ogoc-imagines]

"You should speak Spanish more often." Jack Johnson//Imagine

{I KNOW THE SPANISH IN THIS IS KIND OF OFF BUT SOME WORDS I COULDNT REALLY FIND AN ALTERNATIVE FOR SO ITS SOUNDS KIND OF WEIRD IM SORRY! -Lilly}

I pulled into the driveway of the house I shared with my boyfriend and some of our friends. I was so tired all I wanted to do was crawl in bed with him and go to sleep, but no, not when you like with these Psycho idiots. To start off al this madness there were like five different cars parked in our yard which pissed me off, especially because Sammy’s car was in MY parking space so I had to park around the block. Which I excused quickly because the boys have people over all the time.

Then oh shit got real. I walked into the house to be hit with the smell of weed and blasting music. I didn’t hesitate for the aspen in my purse and I quickly swallowed them because of my pounding head ace. I knew I could get no peace and quiet down stairs which made me upset but I just decided I could swim in the pool. Since I’m from Florida (sorry if you aren’t from Florida I just figured you know beaches + swimming so you know… idk you can change it) I loved swimming and it would relax me. So I ran upstairs and changed trying not to invite the boys to talk to me. I went in to see my room a complete mess. I was pissed. I spent 4 hours cleaning the whole house yesterday and now not only was he living room messy but now my room too?! I let out a long sigh but just changed like I had wanted to do.

After I changed into my favorite bikini I tip toed down the stairs and opened the sliding door to the pool. There were a lot more people here then I thought there would be. It was literally a party, kind of. I walked over to Johnson who was talking to Lia (no hate I love her I just couldn’t think of anyone else.)

“Hey baby.” I smiled sitting next to him. Jack looked over at me and smiled but tuned back into what she was saying. I sat there for a while trying to get Jack’s attention but he’s either ignore me or brush it off and tell me to stop. I stood up from the chair I was sitting in and sat down in the grass putting my feet in the pool. I scrolled through my twitter feed when someone yelled in my ear giving my a light shove. I was so shocked by the whole thing my jumped a little which sent my phone flying into the water. “Oh shit, baby I’m sorry.” Johnson laughed behind me. I took in a deep breath before turning around and before I could even think I started yelling at him in Spanish due to stress from work, and him, and the house, and school, and my family I couldn’t take it anymore. “¡que demonios! Johnson usted idiota! Usted me hizo caer mi puto teléfono ahora está arruinado! Todo lo que quería hacer es volver a casa y abrazarte con ti, tuve el día más largo en el trabajo y chicos basura de la maldita casa y no me presta atención, y Sammy estaba estacionado en mi maldito espacio de estacionamiento! ¡MI ESPACIO DE ESTACIONAMIENTO! ¿Y ahora arruinas mi teléfono? Sólo déjame el infierno solo!” I yelled at him. He looked shocked and so did all his friends. “Umm I’m sorry?” Johnson said more of a question then a statement because he clearly has no idea what I just said but he could tell I was annoyed. Johnson didn’t know I spoke Spanish, and none of our friend did except Alayna (again you can change it that’s just my Latina friend’s name).

Jack tried to hug me and I quickly pushed him off me, “don’t you fucking dare.” I muttered walking passed him and towards the house. “Baby I’ll buy you a new phone!” He yelled after me and I put my hand up so he knew I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Oh she gave you the hand it’s over, you done fucked up.” Alyna said as I walked inside. I ran upstairs into our room dodging all the mess and jumped on the bed. I wrapped myself in the soft white blanket and sat there. I snapped on him for some stuff that really wasn’t his fault but I’m myself, I don’t say “sorry” unless I get an apology first.

Alyna walked in and looked me laying there, “what the hell y/n? What was that?” She laughed sitting next to me. I put my head in her lap and told her everything. “Well yeah I kind of caught that from your Spanish snap.” She laughed but stopped when she saw my expression. After we had talked for a while we heard footsteps, Johnson appeared in the door frame. I sat up off Alyna and she left, “I’ll let you guys be alone.” “What do you want?” I muttered standing up and walking over to my side of the closet to grab a shirt. I grabbed a long 2-pac shirt and stared at Johnson. “What’s wrong baby?” He asked wrapping his arms around me. “I just hand a long day, the house is a mess, you weren’t listening to me, I’m on my period, I have a head ace, my stomach hurts, I haven’t eaten at all today and it’s 9:00 at night! I’m just upset!” I rambled becoming more and more angry with every word. “Awe,” Johnson muttered wrapping his arms around me, “I’m sorry y/n/n (ur nickname).” “It’s okay it isn’t your fault baby.” I leaned into his touch and he kissed my temple. “You should speak Spanish more often,” he brought his hands to feel on my ass, “it was kind of sexy.” I laughed at his whiteness (don’t be triggered). “Maybe I will.” I said with my Spanish accent. Translation: what the hell! johnson you idiot! you made me drop my fucking phone now it’s ruined! All i wanted to do is come home and cuddle with you, i had the longest day at work and you guys trash the damn house and you don’t pay attention to me, and Sammy was parked in my fucking parking space! MY PARKING SPACE! And now you ruin my phone?! just leave me the hell alone!

#jack gilinksy imagine #jack gilinsky #jack jonhson imagine #jack johnson #jack and jack #nate maloley imagine #nate maloley #sammy wilk imagine #sammy wilk #ogoc #ogoc imagine #ogoc boys #ogoc squad #Omaha #omaha preferences #omaha squad #omaha squad imagine

[vicecityhq]

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: walking through fields of daisies, an acid tablet on your tongue, the glitter of the sun on the moving, blue, water . With a slight resemblance to CHOI CHANHEE of/the THE BOYZ.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

last name, first name: doe, john alias: blue realm of birth(if earth, nationality): cosmic age: n/a - officials labeled found child to look around 5 human years, legal age 22 date of birth: n/a gender: non-binary male preferred pronouns: he/they species: planetary elf sexual orientation: homosexual

VISUAL FILE:

skin color: grey with a glittering shift to it eye color: one grey/casted  over, the other blue crystal like. scars: one large birthmark like scar over hist stomach. piercings: up both ears, and one in his belly-button tattoos: a few tiny, delicate ones on various parts of his body hair color: natrually white, currently and constantly kept baby blye. abnormalities: his casted over eye, glittering tears horns/ wings/ etc: pointed ears transformed form: the lights on their feet and palms only glow when the sun sets, and their grey skin shifts like the diamonds their eyes used to resemble.

PERSONAL FILE:

religious belief:  n/a sins:  greed  /  gluttony  /  sloth  / LUST  /  pride  /  ENVY  /  wrath virtues: CHASTITY  /  CHARITY  /  diligence  /  humility /  KINDNESS /  patience /  justice known languages: italian and korean, average english secrets: after blue was assaulted by an ex, that ex…mysteriously went missing savvies:  fashion, painting, sculpting, drawing powers & abilities: space/star elf physiology ( these types of elves live in space and reside in communities where magic and technology are one. this means that the technology they use will either be crystalline, or organic constructs that are both in tune with nature and capable of destroying whole cities.), cosmic entity physiology, star mediation, illusion magic, celestial magic, night vision, lunar (dark) magic. traits: resilient & indulgent

BACKGROUND CHECK:

date of birth: n/a date of death: approx. sometime during earth’s autumn of 1021 a.d. crime record: clean

Background/Biography:

the carnage rained down above him, an image he couldn’t quite make out with his youthful eyes. why was mother crying? why was father packing their things?

“there’s still room on the ship.” came as a hushed whisper, the elve’s siblings gathered in the living area as the sky ignited into flames. one of their many moons was breaking into pieces, and half of the planet was shrouded in a darkness no one could describe.

“why has she forsaken us?” was a phrase that was being screamed into the the streets as he was dragged along, knees dripping with their colored blood as his mother kept him in tow. they would make it, she kept screaming to them amongst the chaos, but as she spoke their hands parted ways, a severely burnt stranger running into the child out of panic and fear. she couldn’t come back to save him by the time she noticed.

the child only waved goodbye, glittering tears coming down his cheeks as he realized his fate, the only solace on his heart was his families safety.

it was mostly blackness after that, it seemed like an eternity and merely a few minutes all at the same time. the grass was soft and itchy as he awoke, sun beating down on his skin, a warmth that didn’t feel familiar. nothing, seemed familiar. the mountains were greyer, the snow atop them was whiter and the trees surrounded him on both sides, nothing but forest and foliage around him.

was this heaven? but everything seemed so real…too real almost. but he digressed, he had to. the child spent years in this wilderness, eating and learning among the wild until a family who spoke a language he’d never heard came across him. life amongst humans in the village was a show, and he was the main star, all eyes on the elf at all times. his grey skin and blue streaked hair, long pointed ears and mismatched eyes, the latter two granting him his name, the only name he’d come to know, ‘blue’.

it was simply by looks did they choose a jurisdiction for him, unable to speak any languages of earth aside the slight italian he owned, it was when the south korean government came in that things fell from the wild bliss he was born into.

they’d put him into systems, inked his fingers and changed his clothes. they forced a language onto him and put him from home to home, his picture blown up on every television screen every billboard. “do you know this child?”

“do you know me?”

“are you my family?” unbeknownst to them all including blue, that they were gone generations ago.

he grew up in this system, a cycle of foster homes and temporary placements, every few years a new photo of him is taken, plastered along the television stations and agdoeg signs. but he moved past it, he was getting older, and people were starting  not to care, including the officers who basically raised him.

even when the guy he’d sworn loved him hurt him in a way he couldn’t imagine. even when he’d had to hurt him back, they never came knocking, no one ever came looking for the evil bastard, even  as blue cleaned the assholes home of every stain he could find. he’d carry that burden  on, something new to take on since the horror of losing it all a life time ago, no longer existed in his mind,

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

the elf shifted in his sheet, brows furrowed in confusion. “nothing, i mean something but nothing. i don’t know where he is if that’s what you’re asking?”

the officers shook their heads, sliding the file onto the table.

“we know what happened to you, and we know he’s been missing for days, and we think you know more than what you’re telling us.”  he tossed his bangs to the side, slipping back in the plastic chair.

“look, i don’t know what you’re insinuating, but if you’re trying to say that i had something to do with that asshole up and leaving you’re wrong.”

“don’t make us get a warrant, blue is it? or whatever color it is. one day you get what you call ‘r*ped’, the system didn’t care so you took care of it are we right? we can’t help you if you don’t help us.”

the elf’s eye twitched in anger. how dare they, what did they actually know? a bit of research on the infamous john doe and suddenly they knew everything about him. he rolled his eyes to hide his emotions, though his ducts burned with tears.

“if you need anything else from me, you better have a fucking warrant for my arrest.” he had to hurry back to his place, there was a lot to clean  up.

#vcaccepted #vccivilian #vclightspawn #rp #rpg #oc rp #oc rpg #gang rpg #gang rp #mafia rp #mafia rpg #supernatural rp #supernatural rpg #literate rp #literate rpg

[southviridarium]

1. Mun information Preferred Name: Buffy or Sqwid Age: 19 Pronouns: They/Them or She/Her Timezone: Usually Pst, Est during the summer Activity Level(Scale 1-10): 8 Password: Mic check is at 1:05 2. Muse Information Muse’s name: Christophe “The Mole” Delorne  Appearance age: 22 Actual Age: 22 Birthday: June 6th Height: 5'5" Sexuality: Gay Gender/Pronouns: Male He/Him 3. What type of creature is your muse?

Hunter 4. If a creature not mentioned on the list was chosen, tell us more about them in strong detail, strengths weaknesses, ect

N/A

5. Personality:

Christophe is a pessimist to put it bluntly. That pessimism can partially be blamed on his hatred fueled outlook on God, as he believes in a frankly, evil and vengeful God responsible for all the bad in the world. He doesn’t really have a lot of hope for anything good to happen, and usually expects the worst outcome when something can go wrong… and in his eyes… something will almost always goes wrong. Christophe has also developed a tough exterior because of this, with a jaded outlook on life, and he tends to be rather abrasive and vulgar towards others. However, he isn’t completely doom and gloom, and does occasionally like to make stupid little jokes.

As a hunter, Christophe isn’t very empathetic.  While he sticks to the code, nothing hurting children or other humans, he doesn’t have any mercy at all for the creatures that he hunts. As far as he is concerned, they’re all just another one of God’s evils put on the Earth to torment humans such as himself. He also tends to stick to himself, preferring going solo instead of involving himself with others, especially those he doesn’t know well. It takes a lot for him to rely on you. 

6. Appearance:

Christophe has messy, medium length brown hair which he cuts himself, leading to it’s almost never tidy appearance. He has brown eyes, and thick, similarly untidy eyebrows. He usually has stubble on his face, given that fact that he can’t always be bothered to actually shave. He also has prominent bags under his eyes and even some premature wrinkles from stress, but the last thing he cares about is how smooth his skin is. Said skin is also littered with many various scars. He also has a long, pointed nose and prominent ears. Christophe also always has a cigarette in his mouth to the point where it may as well be considered part of his appearance.

Much to his dismay, Christophe is rather short, but what he doesn’t have in height, he makes up for in his rather toned body. He usually dresses in dark earth tones, greens and browns, often wearing military styled button up shirts and cargo pants as well as his combat boots… great for stomping, and fingerless gloves. He is also rarely spotted without his favorite shovel strapped to his back.

7. Name at least 5 headcanons:

-Despite having access to an array of cool weaponry, he will always favor towards using his shovel, as ineffective as it might be at times compared to a gun or a crossbow, but he still keeps those handy as well just in case.

-Speaking of that shovel, digging is his specialty. If someplace needs infiltrating, leave it to Christophe to be able to dig a tunnel with ease. It’s how he got his nickname too, “The Mole.”

-He named his shovel that’s how much he loves “her.” It’s name is Etta.

-Christophe is fluent in French and although he hasn’t lived in France in years, his thick French accent hasn’t faded. Some say that he keeps it up on purpose and sprinkles French into his dialogue just because he can and rarely others can understand it. 

-He is quite fond of the wilderness and could survive on his own there easily if need be. He has no issues with eating things like bugs and following through with other methods of survival that the average person would normally be opposed to. 

8. Write two decent sized paragraphs that shows how you would portray your muse

“Ah sheet, my poor Etta,” Christophe mumbles to himself, the words muffled by the cigarette in his mouth. He looked down at the shovel he cradled carefully in his gloved hands. “Je vais vous tout nettoyer bientôt,” He whispers, almost too romantically, to the inanimate object within his grasp. Although, he wasn’t implying anything more suggestive than that, as the shovel did actually need to be cleaned as it was currently caked in a mess of blood and dirt. Not exactly the most appealing state for an object as beloved as his dear Etta. It was a hard days work, and despite  being grimy and gross himself, he always seemed to put cleaning up his materials first before letting himself have a nice shower. It might be because he never really gave a flying fuck about looking presentable, but it also just may be because he loved the feeling of dirt underneath his fingertips and a droplet of sweat on his brow.

Christophe crouches down against the side of his home, setting down the shovel in the grass as he reaches for his hose to get some water flowing. With that running, he pulls over a bucket, placing the hose inside and grabbing a fairly tainted sponge that he used again and again for tasks such as this from the bottom. He lets the water fill up a decent amount before shutting off the hose, and dunking in the sponge. Once said sponge was full, he starts scrubbing, pressing hard to remove all the grime from the metal surface. He hums to himself even while doing it, enjoying every second that the clear surface was slowly revealed again. “Tu es belle,” He chimes, pressing his lips to the clean metal blade of the shovel once he had scrubbed the surface spotless. Dumping out the dirty water, he gets up, slinging the shovel onto his back where it belonged. “Zere we go. My turn now, to ze shower." 

9. Any additional headcanons/weaknesses/ect you would like to add

Christophe is scared of heights as well as dogs. 

Accepted

#application #submission

[vicecityhq]

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: walking through fields of daisies, an acid tablet on your tongue, the glitter of the sun on the moving, blue, water . With a slight resemblance to CHOI CHANHEE of/the THE BOYZ/NEW BOYZ.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Doe, John ALIAS: Blue Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Cosmic Age: N/A - OFFICIALS LABELED FOUND CHILD TO LOOK AROUND 5 HUMAN YEARS, LEGAL AGE 22 Date of Birth: N/A Gender: Non-binary male Preferred Pronouns: he/they Species: Planetary Elf Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Grey with a glittering shift to it Eye color: One grey/casted  over, the other blue crystal like. Scars: One large birthmark like scar over hist stomach. Piercings: Up both ears, and one in his belly-button Tattoos: a few tiny, delicate ones on various parts of his body Hair color: Natrually white, currently and constantly kept baby blye. Abnormalities: His casted over eye, glittering tears Horns/ wings/ etc: Pointed ears Transformed form: the lights on their feet and palms only glow when the sun sets, and their grey skin shifts like the diamonds their eyes used to resemble.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF:  N/A SINS:  greed  /  gluttony  /  sloth  / lust  /  pride  /  envy  /  wrath VIRTUES: chastity  /  charity  /  diligence  /  humility /  kindness /  patience /  justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: Italian and Korean, average English SECRETS: After Blue was assaulted by an ex, that ex...mysteriously went missing SAVVIES:  Fashion, Painting, Sculpting, Drawing Powers & Abilities: Space/Star Elf Physiology ( These types of elves live in space and reside in communities where magic and technology are one. This means that the technology they use will either be crystalline, or organic constructs that are both in tune with nature and capable of destroying whole cities.), Cosmic Entity Physiology, Star Mediation, Illusion Magic, Celestial Magic, Night Vision, Lunar (dark) Magic. Traits: resilient & indulgent

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: N/A Date of Death: Approx. Sometime during Earth’s autumn of 1021 A.D. Crime Record: Clean

Background/Biography: tw // child death, apocalyptic themes, blood

The carnage rained down above him, an image he couldn’t quite make out with his youthful eyes. Why was mother crying? Why was father packing their things?

“There’s still room on the ship.” Came as a hushed whisper, the elve’s siblings gathered in the living area as the sky ignited into flames. One of their many moons was breaking into pieces, and half of the planet was shrouded in a darkness no one could describe.

“Why has she forsaken us?” Was a phrase that was being screamed into the the streets as he was dragged along, knees dripping with their colored blood as his mother kept him in tow. They would make it, she kept screaming to them amongst the chaos, but as she spoke their hands parted ways, a severely burnt stranger running into the child out of panic and fear. She couldn’t come back to save him by the time she noticed. 

The child only waved goodbye, glittering tears coming down his cheeks as he realized his fate, the only solace on his heart was his families safety.

It was mostly blackness after that, it seemed like an eternity and merely a few minutes all at the same time. The grass was soft and itchy as he awoke, sun beating down on his skin, a warmth that didn’t feel familiar. Nothing, seemed familiar. The mountains were greyer, the snow atop them was whiter and the trees surrounded him on both sides, nothing but forest and foliage around him. 

Was this Heaven? But everything seemed so real...too real almost. But he digressed, he had to. The child spent years in this wilderness, eating and learning among the wild until a family who spoke a language he’d never heard came across him. Life amongst humans in the village was a show, and he was the main star, all eyes on the elf at all times. His grey skin and blue streaked hair, long pointed ears and mismatched eyes, the latter two granting him his name, the only name he’d come to know, ‘Blue’.

It was simply by looks did they choose a jurisdiction for him, unable to speak any languages of Earth aside the slight Italian he owned, it was when the South Korean government came in that things fell from the wild bliss he was born into. 

They’d put him into systems, inked his fingers and changed his clothes. They forced a language onto him and put him from home to home, his picture blown up on every television screen every billboard. “Do you know this child?”

“Do you know me?”

“Are you my family?” Unbeknownst to them all including Blue, that they were gone generations ago.

He grew up in this system, a cycle of foster homes and temporary placements, every few years a new photo of him is taken, plastered along the television stations and Agdoeg signs. But he moved past it, he was getting older, and people were starting  not to care, including the officers who basically raised him.

Even when the guy he’d sworn loved him hurt him in a way he couldn’t imagine. Even when he’d had to hurt him back, they never came knocking, no one ever came looking for the evil bastard, even  as Blue cleaned the assholes home of every stain he could find. He’d carry that burden  on, something new to take on since the horror of losing it all a life time ago, no longer existed in his mind,

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

The elf shifted in his sheet, brows furrowed in confusion. “Nothing, I mean something but nothing. I don’t know where he is if that’s what you’re asking?” 

The officers shook their heads, sliding the file onto the table. 

“We know what happened to you, and we know he’s been missing for days, and we think you know more than what you’re telling us.”  He tossed his bangs to the side, slipping back in the plastic chair.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but if you’re trying to say that I had something to do with that asshole up and leaving you’re wrong.”

“Don’t make us get a warrant, Blue is it? Or whatever color it is. One day you get what you call ‘r*ped’, the system didn’t care so you took care of it are we right? We can’t help you if you don’t help us.”

The elf’s eye twitched in anger. How dare they, what did they actually know? A bit of research on the infamous John Doe and suddenly they knew everything about him. He rolled his eyes to hide his emotions, though his ducts burned with tears. 

“If you need anything else from me, you better have a fucking warrant for my arrest.” He had to hurry back to his place, there was a lot to clean  up.

#vcaccepted #vccivilian