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bittydragon · 3 years

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The Ant King

Note: Huge thanks to Bittydragon for inspiring me to write this. I’ll be honest, this is the first fic I've ever actually written, as well as the only piece of creative fiction I've written in like two years so… fingers crossed it goes well hahaha.

TW: tight spaces, darkness, uh,,, bugs i guess. Near death experience

There are things you have to know about ants when you get an ant farm. Basic fundamentals. What to feed them, how to keep them alive, what type of ants you have, etcetera. Even if your intentions were… torturous. After all, you need to know what makes something tick in order to make it stop.

One of the more common facts about ants is that every colony has a queen. She orders her ants to keep her alive so she can make more ants. Simple biology, the continuation of a species. Every nest has a queen, or it dies.

Apparently, this colony didn’t get the memo.

These thoughts buzzed in grumpy circles around Wilbur's’ head as he followed his ant companion, Tommy, deeper into the ant-farm. They had been wandering these tunnels for what felt like days now, in the center of the farm so there were no glass barriers to show the outside world. They were deep too. Almost at the bottom of the compound. Wilbur was not one to show fear, but even he was beginning to get claustrophobic.

Tommy, who up until now had been jabbering like a toddler the whole trip through the ant-farm had also gone uncharacteristically silent. The whole trip Wilbur had wanted nothing more than a few seconds of quiet from him, but now he missed the carefree noise.

They were on their way to see the ant King. A type of ant that, as far as Wilbur knew, didn’t exist. So either they were on a wild goose chase, or Will was way out of his depth.

The further they went, the more he was convinced it was the latter.

“Tommy do you-” Wilbur paused, his echoing voice in the tunnel almost felt like a taboo. An affront to the maddening silence that stalked them. He lowered his voice.

“Do you think… Will I ever get back to normal? Will the ant king change me back?” He hated that little quiver in his voice. He hated the uncertainty. The waiting.

Tommy continued to march forward silently, pondering the question.

“I dunno big man, I think you’ve changed heaps since you got here.” He turned his head to flash Wilbur a grin “Then you’ll be out there and all nice n shit. It’ll be poggers.”

The tunnel was dark, but not dark enough to hide the flash of uncertainty in Tommy’s eyes.

Wilbur's heart sank. “Thanks mate.” He mumbled, and they trekked on, once more in silence.

By the time they saw light, it felt like they had been walking for days. Wilbur was almost glad he was about to meet possibly one of the most powerful ants in this colony. They rounded one last bend, and they were there.

Before them stood a huge double door set in the wall. Two vines with some kind of glowing fruit framed the door, shedding light on the small space. In front of the door, leaning on a spear made from a twig was another ant with a pair of large white rimmed goggles.

“Well… This is it I guess.” Wilbur muttered. He cleared his throat “Hey, um. I-i’m here to have an audience with the King? If that's alright.”

The guard ant didn’t respond, continuing to stare at them with no discernible expression.

“H-hello?” Wilbur glanced at Tommy, who shrugged.

“Excuse me? Anyone home?” Wilbur snapped his fingers in front of the ant's face.

He seemed to startle slightly, before slumping down a bit and letting out a loud snore.

“What the fuck” Tommy said.

Before anyone could do much of anything, one of the massive double doors creaked open and a voice came through.

“George, I swear if you fell asleep again, I'm going to rip off your antenna and use them as- oh.”

Another ant entered the room, this one also carried a twig-spear and had a strip of white cloth tied around his forehead. As soon as his gaze landed on Wilbur, his expression soured.

If looks could kill… Wilbur thought nervously

“It’s you” The new ant spat “Took your sweet time getting here Soot. Earthquake slow you down? Didja get a taste of your own medicine from your big pals out there?”

Wilbur pursed his lips, and the ant snorted. “Yeah. Thought so.” He walked forward and gave George a hard shove, sending the other ant sprawling with a startled yelp.

“Sapnap what the hell?!” He snapped, before spotting Wilbur and Tommy. “Oh hey. That guy is here.”

“Yeah he’s here, idiot.” Sapnap smacked George over the head with his spear “And we would have known a lot sooner if you hadn't fallen asleep on duty again!”

“OW! Sapnap stop! Get off me!”

Wilbur cleared his throat, drawing their attention “Sorry to interrupt, but me and my friend have been walking for a long, long time, so could we please have an audience with the King?”

Subpoena glared “Yeah. He’s waiting for you. Against my advice, he wants to see you.”

Oh. That… didn’t sound great.

Wilbur tried not to think about the implications of that statement as he approached the double doors. Tommy moved to follow, but was stopped by the guards.

“Hey!” He groused “Let me through dickheads!”

“I'm afraid the King only wants an audience with the great and powerful Wilbur Soot” Sapnap said with a smirk.

“But I want to go too! Let me in! You stupid ugly bitch ill fight you! You may have a fancy stick but just wait until I pull out my knife-gun!”

“Tommy its fine.” Wilbur interrupted “I’ll be fine mate, promise. Just wait here. I wont leave without saying goodbye.”

The last thing he saw was Tommy’s antenna drooping sadly, before the doors swung closed behind him.

If Wilbur thought the tunnel was dark before, that was nothing compared to the room he was in now. The darkness was so thick, so absolute, that it made no difference if his eyes were open or closed.

“Hello?” Wilbur called “Uh… your majesty? I was told that you wanted to see me.”

His voice echoed slightly in the huge space, but there was no reply.

Wait. What was that? Something rasped ever so slowly across the opposite wall. Something big. As it moved, the moss where it had been standing glowed a dull green.

Bio-luminescence Wilbur reasoned. Trying to distract himself from the fear creeping up his spine. Touch activated, it seems.

He swallowed dryly “L-look, just tell me what you want. I’m not here to cause trouble”

The thing moved again, its raspy scuttle reverberated through the chamber.

“Wilbur Soot, not here to cause any trouble” A thoughtful voice hummed from the dark “Now that’s a first.”

The bio-luminescent moss was lighting up more of the room. If he squinted, Wilbur could make out a... leg. Probably.

Wilbur inches slowly to the side, the moss lighting up his own path. “Okay, I get it, I've done morally questionable things in the past, but I've learned a lot from my time here. I’m sorry.”

“For now” The voice replied. The thing was moving on the other side, matching him step for step. “What's to say you aren't faking remorse to get out of here? And maybe you really are sorry. How can I be sure you wont change your mind the second you're back to normal? It's too much of a risk.”

Wilbur continued to back away nervously “Your majesty-”

“Please, call me Dream. Everyone else does.”

“Right… Dream. I can say with 100% certainty that won't happen. I've seen people die in front of me. That’s enough to change anyone's stance on something.”

“And yet I'm still not convinced.” It was moving faster now, scuttling across the floor, walls and even across the ceiling. Wilbur's head spun with the motion. “And since we’re talking in hypotheticals, riddle me this: Whoever said I was going to let you out anyway? What if I just like to play with my food?”

Dream stopped suddenly, rearing over Wilbur, and with all of the lit up moss, he got his first proper look.

This ant was huge. Twice- no, at least three times the size of Wilbur himself. He looked a bit like a centaur, with a human torso connected to a pure white and thorax and abdomen.He also wore a strange white mask with a blank eyed smiley face drawn on.

Two huge claw arms- similar to those of a praying mantis- extended from Dreams waist and slammed into the dirt either side of Wilbur, startling him enough that he fell onto his ass. The king leaned forward with that lifeless grin, and Will closed his eyes, preparing for the end.

“But…” Dream said thoughtfully “A proper experiment should account and test for all variables, shouldn't it?”

“Y-yeah generally” Wilbur stuttered

“Oh good.” Dream hoisted him roughly to his feet. “I’m glad I asked you. After all, you know all about experiments, don’t you?”

Wilbur chose not to answer, glowering at Dream as the eyes on his mask briefly glowed a dull green.

A moment later, Sapnap and George marched in, dragging a cussing and struggling Tommy behind them.

“YOU STUPID MOTHEFUCKERS!!! Let me go or ill get married in rage!! Fuck you and-! Oh. wow that is a big fella.” Tommy stopped and stared in awe at Dream

“Sapnap, give Wilbur your spear.” Dream ordered.

A flicker of doubt crossed Sapnaps face but he obediently shoved the spear into Wilbur's hands.

“I’ll make you a deal, Wilbur Soot.” Dream purred, circling him. “I will let you go to your old life. You can do whatever you like; kill us, torment us, throw us away… it doesn't matter. All you have to do is kill one ant.” He gestured to Tommy.

“What?” Wilbur whispered.

“WHAT?!” Tommy roared “fuck you! I'm not your dumb-ass pawn, I'm going to kill you! Rrrrrrrrrrr!” he writhed, attempting to bite George who did a surprisingly good job of holding him still.

“Go on.” Dream cooed “It's just one insignificant ant standing between you and freedom. You've killed hundreds. What's one more?”

Spear in hand, Wilbur took a hesitant step forward.

Tommy's gaze snapped up “Wilby?” He asked, his struggling pausing for a moment.

Their eyes met, fear clashing with sorrow. Tommy seemed to see something in Wilbur's expression and hung his head in defeat. As if he had expected Wilbur to betray him.

Oh hell no. Fuck that. Wilbur angrily tossed the spear aside.

“No. I won't.”

“What?” Dream spat

Wilbur rounded on him “No! I won't kill him! Keep me here, kill me, hunt me for sport, whatever! Just leave him out of this! Tommy has been nothing but nice to me since I met him, even though it don't deserve it!” He rubbed his arm. “God knows I don't deserve it.”

“Hmm…” Dream hummed “Are you sure, even if it costs you your life?” One of Dream's massive claw arms grazed his side, a subtle threat.

Wilbur looked over at Tommy, who had a look of hope on his face.

“Yeah.” Will smiled, “I'm sure.”

I probably could have written more, but i wont. I hope you like this fic bitty! Thanks for reading :)

Edit: Fortune, this is amazing! Like, I hadn't really thought about this encounter in a lot of detail, but I honestly like this a lot! And Dream being a big boy since he's the king ant. Just yes. Thank you so much for this.

#submission #fan work #tiny!tommy #tiny!wilbur #tiny!dream #tiny!sapnap #tiny!george #giant!dream?#maybe?#mcyt gt #thank you again!#betmyfortune

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morizoras-cave · 4 years

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Alley (Request)

James Mcavoy x gn!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Request Description: hello! alternatively, could you please write a James McAvoy x teen!costar!reader where after an interview, the reader leaves backstage to an alley to receive a call. before she can enter the building, she is stopped by a an older man who are being super creepy and whatnot. James, wondering where the reader is, goes to the alley and seeing what is happening, becomes really mad and protective over the reader. thank you!

Warnings: pedophilia, sexual assault, attempted r*pe, creepy dude, creepy remarks, language, violence

(A/N): this is a very heavy and sad fic. if you have experienced something in the realm of r*pe, i highly encourage you to reach out and talk about it

“Stop laughing, you idiot!” James wheezed, the two of you clucking with laughter. Whoever had put the two of you together for the press tour had made an embarrassingly large mistake. You were pretty sure you hadn’t answered a single question.

“I-I can’t!” you were crying now, falling back in your seat and clutching your stomach. Even the people behind the cameras couldn’t hold back their smiles and light chuckles.

“Alright, lunch break!” Your publicist called rather bitterly. She was horribly overworked, trying desperately to get you and James to get a hold of yourselves.

You and James stilled your laughs, finally, for fuck’s sake.

“Ready for lunch?” he asked. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You took it out and sighed, seeing your sister’s name displayed on screen.

“In a moment,” you responded and James nodded, disappearing into the break room. Meanwhile you clicked to pick up your phone.

“Y/n!” your sister hissed.

“Yeah?” you asked, bemused.

“You’ll never guess what- Wait, are you alone right now?”

You looked around. There were at least 8 people still in the room. “No,” you mumbled.

“Find somewhere empty!”

“Why?”

“Because this is embarrassing, and I cannot have some randos listening in!” Your sister urged and you pinched the bridge of your nose, considering just hanging up and dealing with repercussions. Finally you gathered enough will to go ‘okay, fine’, and then you left the interview room.

You entered a hallway, that, sadly, contained more people. You poked your head in through several doors, but none were empty.

“Are you alone yet?”

“No!”

You finally gave up on the building itself and exited, pleased to see a dark and shadowy, but empty alley. You sighed in relief.

“Alright, I’m alone.”

“Great, alright, so-”

Your sister told her story with much enthusiasm, and you had to admit it was both pretty funny and embarrassing for your sister. It was worth it to have entered the alley, you decided, when she was finished.

“Alright, I’ll see you later, Y/n. Have fun!”

“Thanks, bye!”

You hung up. Your stomach growled and you groaned, realizing the extent of your hunger. Taking a few steps forward to leave the alley, you suddenly bumped into someone. You looked up in shock.

An old man, maybe 50 or so, was standing there, smiling at you knowingly. Just as you were about to apologize, he spoke: “You’re a pretty little one, aren’t you?”

You were stunned. “Uh-”

“What do you say you and I have some fun?” his voice was low and wet and raspy. He licked his lips. You gulped and shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak confidently.

You ducked your head, trying to simply walk past him and avoid an uncomfortable situation. The man reached out and grabbed your arm, swinging you back to face him, angrily. You yelped.

“You don’t get to just walk away, now, baby,” you were so scared, you were shaking, your eyes were rimming with tears, and your heart was pounding. Alarms were blaring in your head. You were revolted by him and his hand on your arm.

“I said, let’s have some fun,” he spat and reached his hand up to touch your cheek. He chuckled dryly when a tear escaped your eye. You shook your head, whispering a ‘no’.

The man pushed you up against the brick wall. A switch flipped inside you, and you did the only thing you could think of: Scream.

Meanwhile, James was starting to wonder where you were. He was sitting alone at lunch, chewing sadly on his salad.

He decided to find you, knowing you were always the most excited about lunch (or any meal for that matter), and that it was highly unlikely you would let a phone call keep you away from your precious calories.

“Y/N?” he called, walking through the interviewing room and into the hallway. “Y/n?”

“Oh, Y/n L/n? They went outside,” a man with a clipboard said, pointing to a heavy, grey door. James nodded a thank you, pushing through the door.

He came out, sun shining on his face, and birds chirping sweetly, just in time to hear your ear-piercing scream.

Admittedly, it was a very scary sound. James’ first thought was not that it was you, just a poor woman in a bad situation (and of course he would help). You and James had a mostly silly and funny friendship. There were very few moments of sincerity and seriousness between you, so the thought that it could be you, your petrified scream, was impossible. Because you were you. Y/n.

But it was you. James was frozen for a moment. You were pressed between the old man and the brick wall, thrashing and crying, but the man was much stronger than you. He brought a wrinkly, disgusting hand over your mouth and whispered breathlessly: “Shut up, you stupid whore.”

James didn’t think, like he so rarely did when upset, rather strolled up to the man and, mutely, sucker-punched the creep right in the mug.

The old man stumbled back, grasping his face and groaning. James was seeing red. His entire body was tensed, and then he took two quick steps, and the hit him again. The old man’s body jerked and he fell to the ground.

James lifted his fist to hit him again, when he felt a hand on his arm. Your hand. He turned to look at you, eyes softening when he saw your red, wetted eyes, and your features twisted into anguish.

No words were spoken between the two of you, you just simultaneously fell into a hug. You wanted to stay there, but you were shaking. You couldn’t feel safe when the man was on the ground right next to you, curled up like a shrimp.

You pulled back, glancing at the man. “C-Can we go?”

James nodded. He turned back to man once more, elegantly kicked him in the dick (another scream sounded, this time the man’s response to having his balls crushed), and the grabbed your hand and marched out of there.

You sniffled and, though entirely and irreversibly distraught, giggled at the action. James pulled open the grey door and pushed you both inside. The man with the clipboard was still there, clipboarding.

“Hey, call security, there’s a fucking rapist out there, he needs to be arrested,” James said and the clipboard man was not ready for this, eyes widening, looking at James, then you, then his clipboard and then the door. Then he nodded, like he was given a great and burdening task.

James pushed you further along, past all the questioning eyes (you were rather disheveled), and into the break room. His salad sat lonesomely on the dining table.

When you two were alone in the break room, he turned towards you and hugged you again, You hugged him back and allowed yourself fall apart. You cried and shook.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, N/n,” he whispered. It was only then he felt the severity of the situation dawn on him. “It’ll be alright. He’ll be arrested. You’re safe. Nothing like that will ever happen to you again.”

You nodded into his chest, sobbing. “T-Thank you, James.”

“It’s nothing. It’s nothing at all. I would do that a million times if it meant keeping you safe.”

You nodded again.

He held you for a few minutes. You felt safe there, but something inside you still felt so wrong.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” you whispered when you stopped crying. James looked at you like you were crazy.

“Y/n? Are you kidding me? That man just- He just- You have every right to cry. Every right to ‘be like this’, whatever that means. If you weren’t crying, I’d be more concerned!” He looked in your eyes as he spoke, hands gently on your shoulders.

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, how about I bring you back to the hotel, so you can relax a bit,” James suggested gently. You nodded shyly, but then:

“Don’t I need to speak to the police?”

“You’ll speak to them, when you’re ready to. They can come find you at the hotel, alright?”

“Alright.”

James drove you back to the hotel and stayed with you while you dozed off. The police came during your slumber, and James asked them, quietly, if they could come back later, and that you really needed rest. They reluctantly agreed to wait outside.

It turned out the man was a serial rapist, finding young teens out alone at night and having his way with them. He’d apparently slipped through the law’s cracks by moving from state to state.

You could care less who he was and what he did. It was impossible to tell how you’d deal with it and how you’d move forward, you were just happy James had been there that day, and happy he stayed with you as you moved forward.

You knew that the road to being happy and healthy would be much tougher without him there. Luckily, James cared for you endlessly, and he’d search every alley in the world to make sure you were okay. :)

___________________________

Tag List:

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#james mcavoy x reader #james mcavoy x teen!reader #bill denbrough x reader #charles xavier x reader #x men x reader #x men cast x reader #it cast x reader #marvel cast x reader #mcu cast x reader #avengers cast x reader #avengers cast x teen!reader #split x reader

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

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Non-binary lich x reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This has been up on Patreon for a week now on early release. New stories for Tumblr go up on Wednesdays at the moment and are available there for a whole week before they hit Tumblr, so if you want to have access to the next one (it just went up), make sure you’re on the $5 tier. I’d love to have you as the newest member of the Patreon supporters!

Anyway, contents: It's 7688 words long, features a non-binary, skeletal lich, is set in a fantasy setting, and I don't think it comes with any warnings. Looking forward to your reaction!!

“So, you’re the new librarian…”

The softly rasping voice behind you startled the life out of you, and you dropped the three-volume stack onto the thick, oak table with an undignified squawk. The boom rang out through the castle library and one or two scholars shot glares at you over the top of their research. Turning, you found yourself face to face with a moving skeleton and your eyes widened even further.

Wearing a long, unadorned, shapeless, black robe with the hood pulled right up over the bare ivory of the skull, the figure had a glowing green light in their eye sockets and one of their teeth had been replaced at some point by a silver prosthetic. More than that, you couldn’t say, but it was apparent that their entire body was just a humanoid skeleton beneath the billowing robes.

And then the penny dropped. “Oh!” you gasped, straightening a little. “You’re… You’re Avery… the court mage…” How many liches could one royal castle have after all?

They dipped their head in a curt bow. “Indeed.”

“I’m sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting…”

Another little bow. “It’s quite alright. I realise that meeting a someone like me for the first time can be somewhat… unnerving.”

You opened your mouth to counter them, but realised it was actually true, and just nodded. “How can I help you anyway?” you asked instead.

They seemed to appreciate the segue into safer waters, and told you the name of the tome they were looking for. “It’s essentially a compendium of plants and fungi that grow only on the fringes of Silver Perch Lake in Aragantia,” they added. “A somewhat… specialised catalogue, I’m aware.”

With a nod, you headed to the vast catalogue system and in almost no time at all, especially given how new you were to the post, you and the court mage were walking silently through the shelves of the royal library in search of the book’s location. Avery made no attempt to talk to you, and you assumed they preferred it that way. After all, you supposed, what could a humble librarian have to say to a necromancer and a mage as powerful as them anyway? In your relatively limited experience of mages, they tended to look down on anyone not powerful or supposedly intelligent enough to wield magic.

As you proceeded further and further into the dark stacks, the light dwindled to almost nothing, and in that moment you cursed the innate flammability of paper and parchment, longing for a lamp of sorts.

Slowing, and trying not to fumble, you squinted and ran your fingertips along the shelves to keep a straight course. During your interview for the position, you’d been told about the glowing crystals that the team of three librarians had access to, but apparently you were still too junior to warrant their secrets yet. It had not been expected, it seemed, that someone as important as Avery would require your assistance. Re-shelving returns in the main library was all you’d done so far in your short tenure after all.

“Here,” the lich said from behind you, the word spoken aloud making you jump all over again, and a moment later, a flickering ball of blue light wafted past you to float a pace or two in front of you. It moved when you did, bobbing slowly.

“Handy,” you grinned back at them over your shoulder. “Thanks.”

In the eerie pulsing light, the dark sockets of their skull and the smooth bone looked almost frightening, but you reminded yourself that this was not an old haunted castle from a horror story, and was in fact the hub of a great trading network whose machinations were aided by the work of the court mage, who also just happened to be a lich and, by extension, a necromancer.

With no expression at all to offer you comfort or reassurance, Avery just lowered their gaze and waited for you to move on again.

The book was right where it should have been - thank all the library gods - and once their skeletal hands had taken it reverently from you, little bones clicking softly as they shifted, Avery turned and left you in the stacks with a short ‘thank you’, the light light for company, and a thousand questions buzzing around your head.

Naturally, the first place you went after that was the section on liches and phylacteries, and there you lost yourself for well over an hour.

After that, the court mage found their way back to the library almost every time you were on duty. To your surprise, they were actually quite chatty, answering your tentative questions about their research with long and interesting answers, leafing through the book they’d just taken out to show you a diagram or ritual, constellation, or phase of the moon, and relaying its relevance to their work at the time without reserve.

“I’d always thought mages were secretive about their work,” you ventured one afternoon as sunlight flooded into the open study room at the back of the library where Avery had set up camp for the afternoon.

At your words, they looked up, an oddly tense and intrigued set to their head and you got the impression that, had they had the body to go with the bones, they might have been smiling curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“Well,” you began, feeling a little warm under the collar. Their close scrutiny made you shuffle and turn a little away from them to lessen it. “At the university, your lot always kept to themselves, you know? And no one else was allowed in their section of the library without a mage escort and a note of recommendation from about fifteen different tutors… I got it eventually, of course —”

“— of course,” they interrupted with a wry smile in their voice.

Their tone may have been light and joking, but it carried the weight of enormous respect too, and you choked for a moment before babbling on again. “I’m not suggesting that anyone should just go in and help themselves to dangerous magical texts, don’t get me wrong… It was just… frustrating to be treated like that, that’s all.”

You turned to find them still regarding you with that birdlike curiosity and for a moment you forgot that they were little more than an immense reserve of magic holding together a stack of humanoid bones and wearing a dark robe. It might have been comical to see them that way, but honestly, in that moment, their blazing intelligence and slightly off-the-wall humour endeared you towards them even more. It wouldn’t have been a secret to suggest you had the beginnings of an almighty crush forming. If you didn’t beat it back soon, it would become unwieldy and unmanageable, and it wouldn’t end well for either of you. A member of the castle staff you might have been, but the court mage was one of the most powerful figures in the entire kingdom, and not meant for the likes of you.

And anyway, who was to say that there was anything about you to interest them anyway? The whole point of becoming a lich was to strip away all earthly connections save for the absolute fundamentals - the skeleton - and become an entity largely made of magic, the better to channel it. There were, you had to admit, one or two cases of liches binding themselves to living lovers, and accounts detailing the fierceness and loyalty of those rare unions had left you breathless as you’d scoured the volumes on liches all those weeks ago, but you couldn’t assume that Avery would be such a person after all.

If they had given a reply, you didn’t hear it behind the buzzing, rushing disappointment in your ears at that thought. Closing yourself off a little, you excused yourself politely and returned to your duties in the library beyond, leaving them alone in the study room. After all, Avery still had to figure out a way to harness the power of the sea itself in order to reduce the risk to life of those currently engaged in preparations to dredge and deepen the large trading harbour along the coast. Such complex calculations were hardly in the realm of a librarian.

About a week later, as you sat in the servant’s parlour one afternoon, where most of the castle staff gathered during their time off, a bookish young satyr, with curly, ash blond hair and contrastingly dark brown skin and horns, the stoop of a scholar, and a pair of round, gold-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose, approached and asked for you by name in a warm, stutter-laced tenor.

“Yeah, that’s me…” you said, turning from your conversation with one of the naga guards. “What’s up?”

“Y-Y-You’re the llll… the lllll…” the words just died on his tongue or stuck there like treacle, refusing to leave one syllable and move onto the next, but he took a breath and on the exhale said, “Librarian…?”

“I am,” you said. “If you need something from the stacks though, I think Timothy is on duty today.”

He nodded. “I… I know. Avery… sss-sssent me to… to llll… to lllllook for you. They’d llllike you to… to… to…” At the repetition, his cheeks flushed a bit, but you waited him out and he rallied. “To attend them in their t-t-t-tower to c-c-consult on something.”

“Oh. Really? What… now?” you asked and the satyr nodded. He had a flighty, twitchy energy to him, but his features were kind and open and you decided immediately that you liked him. You turned back to the naga with whom you’d been sharing tea and easy conversation, and shrugged. “Guess I’ve been summoned. See you later.”

She nodded and hissed, “Good luck…” at you and you followed the young scholar out of the parlour. His large hooves clopped conspicuously on the stone of the passageways and he set quite the pace for you to keep up with.

“Are you… like… Avery’s… assistant or something? I’m sorry, I don’t know the technical names…”

He nodded. “Name’s D-Devon,” he said as he ducked left through a doorway and held it open for you to follow. “Apprentice m-mmage and runec-c-caster.”

“Sweet,” you said, impressed. “I studied some very basic runes for another project a long time ago, but I’m not really magical in any way, so… I didn’t pursue it. Is it as complicated as I remember?”

He smiled sweetly and shrugged. “Varies…”

You smirked and said, “That sounds like you’re being modest and generous, but I’ll let it slide. What does Avery need from me anyway?”

With a soft chuckle, Devon pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and shrugged, beginning to climb a tight, spiral staircase. “Nnnot sure. They’ve been di-di-distracted all morning.”

“Guess I’ll just have to find out. I’ve never been up to the mage’s tower.”

The staircase went on and on forever and you actually had to stop for breath twice, rather embarrassingly. Devon was fitter than his scholar’s physique suggested, but he didn’t comment. You supposed doing this every day would build up anyone’s cardiovascular system in no time. “The view had better be worth it,” you grunted as you started up the last stretch of spiral staircase, and Devon nodded.

“Oh, it is.”

“Thank all the gods,” you hissed.

The door to Avery’s study was open, letting light flood in from the room beyond. For some reason, you’d imagined it would be dark and intimidating, and possibly full of bats and spiderwebs and creepy cursed objects in display cabinets, but theirs was a chamber full of bright light and warm colours. Taking half a moment to catch your breath again, you paused on the threshold while Devon headed on inside with evident and easy familiarity to inform Avery that he’d found you.

“Ah wonderful,” came that papery voice from inside. As you heard it, you wondered how a skeleton - with no vocal cords - could produce sound, deciding to chalk it up to magic and move on. “Thank you, Devon. Would you mind running over the plans for the layline ritual one more time while we have a quick chat?”

“Nnnnot at all,” Devon smiled, and disappeared into another room out of sight.

The delicate tread of footsteps on the bare floorboards announced Avery’s approach, and you stepped inside, not wanting to be seen to be lurking nervously. “Hi,” you breathed, still a tiny bit winded, as they moved into view around the huge trestle table that occupied the centre of the room. It was littered with books and pieces of velum, scrolls, and ancient clay tablets, all stacked at frankly alarming and precarious angles.

“Hello,” Avery said with a real warmth in their voice. You could hear the smile, even if they had no lips to form the gesture. “I apologise for making you come all the way up here. I realise it’s a long way from your usual quarters and duties.”

It was true - the library was in an entirely different wing of the rambling old citadel, and your sleeping quarters were again on the far side of that from the tower.

You shrugged. “It’s nice to see a new bit of the castle, I suppose.”

They tilted their head, the movement almost birdlike. “You haven’t seen all of it?” they asked.

You shook your head. “Only the bits I need to. Besides, I’ve only been here a couple of months now.” And in that time, you’d seen Avery almost every day at your library desk. “What did you need me for?” you asked with no small degree of incredulity in your voice.

With a little chuckle that honestly sounded a little nervous, Avery turned to a small writing desk that was tucked up against the stone wall beside a window with a spectacular view. They picked up a scroll and undid the ribbon that held it together, and you found your eyes fascinated by the tiny finger bones of their hands. You wondered what they’d feel like against your skin and flushed hot again, unable to look Avery in the face.

“This is a copy of an inscription that was found in a tomb just north west of here, and while I am familiar with the writing system used, I cannot crack the meaning of it. I’m sure it’s right there, but… I wondered, since you mentioned you’d studied the Early Peoples, if you might take a look at it for me?”

You blinked. “You can’t read it?”

“I can read it,” they said, “But I don’t understand the words. I know the symbols upon which the language is based, but not the language itself.”

“I thought there was nothing you didn’t know,” you murmured fondly as you stepped over and took the parchment from their extraordinarily delicate looking hand. The urge to touch grew once more almost overwhelming.

A soft snort of laughter almost in your ear sent shivers down your whole right side, the skin prickling into goosebumps. “Please,” they scoffed good-naturedly. “Besides, if I knew everything already, I wouldn’t need to make such frequent trips to the library, would I?”

“And here I thought you were coming all the way down there just to visit me,” you quipped self-effacingly, turning your attention to the inscription and missing they way they went completely still before shaking their head ever so slightly.

It took longer than your pride might have liked for you to figure it all out, and you sent Avery scuttling about their office for three different dictionaries and half a dozen grammar tables before you were happy that you’d got it right. Devon had long ago excused himself for the evening, but you’d barely even noticed him leaving, though the murmur of their soft conversation had drifted around you for quite some time while you teased out a bit of odd grammar.

When you looked up at last, you found Avery standing alone by the window, bathed in the rosy light of sunset. The rich, warm rays made the black of their robes seem dull and almost drab - humble beyond what you’d have expected of a court mage with the coffers of the castle at their fingertips - and the angle of the light blazing into their face almost eclipsed the green, misty glow in their eye sockets. For just a moment, they almost looked like nothing more than an ordinary skeleton in an anatomy lab. When they felt your gaze on them, however, they turned - every bone animated and shifting fluidly, bone scraping with a soft, familiar whisper over bone.

They cocked their head again and you smiled. “All done, I think,” you said, standing from where you’d been hunched over the small, cluttered writing desk, and cracking the tension out of your neck with a grunt.

“Thank you,” they murmured. “I am indebted to you yet again, it would seem.”

You shrugged. “What’s it for anyway?” you asked. “I mean… I don’t really see how knowing that the sun will hit the back of the tomb on the winter solstice is of much use to anyone…”

They gave another little movement of their head that seemed like a pout to you, though you had only the bare skull to go from. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure. The tomb contained artefacts that thrummed with energy, so it would indicate that the Early Peoples had access to - and some degree of control over - magic too. Perhaps that date was of significance to them too. I will have to return to the site on the solstice to find out. Then we’ll know if it was of any ‘use’ as you say, or if it’s just interesting.”

“I see,” you said and your stomach chose that moment to growl at you like a spoiled house cat.

“Would… Would you like to stay here for some supper? I can have food brought up here to my chambers if you’ve missed out…” they said awkwardly, turning away from the window and back towards the central trestle table. As they moved the line of gilded sunlight slid from their delicate brow bones and plunged their skull into shadow again behind the hood. You’d never seen them without it raised. “It’s… later than I realised…”

“I’d have thought you could just magic some food up for me,” you grinned, honestly hoping it would disguise the fluttering nerves you felt at the thought of sharing a meal up here. Plus, their tone had gone inexplicably sad somehow.

They looked down at the table and said, “I could do that, of course, but transmuted food tastes awful, or… so I’ve been told. I don’t eat any more for… obvious reasons.”

“Do you miss it?” you blurted.

They stilled and trailed a bony fingertip across the wood. “Yes and no. I miss the pleasure that eating my favourite things brought me.”

“You still remember the taste…?”

Fixing you with a steady, if sidelong, look, they said, “I’m not that old, you know?”

“I…” you said and then stopped when they started laughing. “What?”

“I have to admit that I find it immensely entertaining any time someone assumes I’m a thousand years old. I’m not. I’m only thirty.”

“Thirty?” you gawped. “That’s… That’s so young to —” again, you cut yourself off before you said something truly insensitive, but Avery didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m used to it. And it is indeed young to have your physical form completely stripped bare in exchange for unfathomable magical power. It’s not a choice made lightly, and it’s not a choice that everyone would be prepared to make. It’s rare these days for someone to undergo it willingly.”

Horrified, you blinked at them. “Willingly? You mean it’s inflicted on people?”

They shrugged. “Rarely. It’s hard to control a person’s soul like that, but with the right runes on the phylactery, it can be done. Mercifully, that wasn’t the case with me though, and if you’re caught, the punishment is severe.”

“So… how does someone so young get the position of court mage?”

With another rasping laugh like dry autumn leaves, Avery said, “As opposed to someone so old and experienced, you mean?”

You shrugged, still kind of mute with surprise at the new revelation, and they laughed again. “Sorry.”

“I went to university with the princess. We became friends, and she saw what I could do. I was still an elf then though.”

“You’re… You’re an elf?”

“I’m a lich,” they corrected, “But yes, I was an elf when I was officially alive. Did my short stature and particularly fine wrist bones not give it away?” they joked self-deprecatingly, proffering their pale wrist towards you to examine.

When you actually reached out and touched them, however, a spark like static jumped between you and you both gasped.

“Excuse me,” they gasped, withdrawing their hand immediately. “I… That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“What was it?” you asked, rubbing your fingertips and thumb together where the skin tingled. It hadn’t hurt, and it left your entire body tingling all over beneath the skin, and heat was rapidly pooling between your legs.

“My magic,” they said. “It’s usually not as forward and ill-mannered as that. I apologise if it startled you.”

“Forward? Ill-mannered?” you asked, amused and intrigued. “You say that like magic has a personality…”

“It does,” the lich sighed, the bones of their ribs creaking softly.

While, academically speaking, you knew what any elven skeleton looked like, you still ached to know the exact shape of Avery beneath the black robes that draped shapelessly over them; the exact way their bones fitted together; the exact colour; any breaks they’d sustained, leaving the evidence in their skeleton… “Alright, but why… ‘forward’?”

“And here I thought I was being terribly obvious,” they muttered.

“Obvious?”

A tilt of their head in your direction served perfectly as a rueful glance, the ardour behind it striking you in the chest with an alarmingly painful pang, and exactly as it occurred to you that you’d learned to read Avery pretty well by now, you also realised precisely what they’d been insinuating. “Oh…” you said, imbuing the sound with significance.

“Oh indeed,” they said bitterly. “Never mind. I quite understand that the attentions of a lich are not… not what everyone would aspire to after all… I apologise if… if I made you uncomfortable. I will not persist.”

“Wait, slow down,” you said, stepping forward suddenly and trying to catch their gaze with your eyes. It was hard to tell where they were really looking, given that all you had to go on was the rough direction of their head and the soft glow in their otherwise empty eye sockets, but when you got the impression that they were looking directly at you, you spoke up. “I’m sorry,” you began.

“Don’t be sorry,” they hissed, trying to turn away.

“No, wait, that’s not… that’s not what I meant!” Finding you had no choice, you reached out and latched onto their wrist. The bones beneath the long fabric of the sleeves felt so achingly fragile that you almost recoiled for fear of hurting them, but you made your fingers loosen just a fraction and stayed put. You needn’t have worried anyway; Avery was tethered and still at your touch in a heartbeat. “I mean, I am sorry, but I’m sorry for being dense, not that you… you know…”

“That I’ve been so poorly attempting to flirt with you for the last month?” they finished dryly.

“Now that I know, why don’t we start over…?” you said, releasing them and smiling hopefully.

Adopting a truly sarcastic pose and tone, they held out their skeletal hand and said nastily, “I’m Avery, I’m a lich, and I’m apparently an appallingly poor flirt.” The ugliness in their voice was not directed at you, however. Avery had turned it back on themselves and it galled you to hear someone so brilliant sound so defeated.

Unflinchingly, you took their hand and stared fiercely back at the lich who had become your friend in these first months at the castle, and perhaps something more. “I didn’t mean to start over that far back, but I’ll play your game.” You added your own name and profession, that you were human, and finished by saying, “And I’m very much open to being flirted with by you, however poorly you think you do it.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Avery said, their thumb playing back and forth over your skin before promptly changing the subject. “You never did answer me about dinner though. Would you like to stay here and eat? Or would my not partaking make you uncomfortable?”

Sensing that they needed a moment’s diversion, you allowed them to skirt around the issue of being interested in you, and shook your head. “Dinner here with you sounds lovely. Plus the view is spectacular.”

“I knew it. You want me for my advantageous chambers,” they moaned, still deflecting defensively.

“I meant that there’s something to keep you occupied while you wait for me to finish, that’s all,” you huffed in response to their teasing. “But if the view bores you by now, I’m sure you could always read to me from some dusty old volume you’ve nicked from the library and neglected to return…”

“You wound me!” they said, placing both hands over their heart, or at least, where their heart would have been if they weren’t just a skeleton anymore. “Is there anything you don’t eat? Would you like wine?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m good with most things, as far as I know, and…” you bit your lip and then reluctantly admitted that actually a glass of wine might be really nice. Your salary was not so meagre that you couldn’t afford a drink or two in the local taverns, but you suspected a wine from the castle cellars might be a little more special.

Instead of ringing for a servant, Avery picked up a quill and a small piece of paper, and dictated their message aloud after a quick flick of their wrist had brought the quill to life. It skimmed across the page like a breeze-blown willow branch trailing through a pond, and as you watched, you wondered if that was what Avery’s handwriting looked like, or whether the script was a result of magic, or the quill itself. Either way, it was beautiful, and you suddenly thought of the rather romantic notion of having love letters penned to you in that hand…

Their voice turned more confident as they dictated the note to the quill. “I am entertaining a guest in my tower tonight. Please have a fine supper for one brought up to the mage’s tower at your earliest convenience, with a bottle of Aktissian red too, if you please.”

“Avery!” you gasped, recognising the quality of the wine purely from it’s location.

They shrugged and finished off the note with another brief gesture, and you watched as it disappeared with a little pop. “I like to dictate my messages in case the person on the other end cannot read. Not all of the castle staff have been blessed with our educations, after all. In such a case, it will read itself aloud.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” you commented.

They shrugged. “It saves me sending Devon, or going myself and terrifying the wits out of the kitchen staff, or ringing for someone to trudge all the way up here, only to have to go back and return later…” It seemed odd to you now that Avery could be frightening to anyone, but you recalled your own unease at your first encounter, and merely smiled at them again.

Wherever the note had gone, it must have reached the right ears, because twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at Avery’s door and a castle servant entered with a large tray.

“Thank you so much,” Avery said as the half-orc set the meal down on the table.

“Anything else you need, mage?”

“No, that’s all, thank you.”

You chimed in with your own thanks and the servant left.

Avery waved a hand at the table where they’d cleared a space amid the chaos of stationary and books, and you sat yourself down. They lifted the lid of the silver cloche and revealed a beautiful supper that looked fit for the princess’ high table. Eyeing Avery, you caught a little glint in their glowing eye sockets, and you assumed that they were pleased too.

In fact, Avery did not read to you while you ate, but they did watch you rather intently. “You’re going to make me all self-conscious,” you muttered. “This is delicious though.”

“Would you rather I not watch you?”

“No,” you said honestly. “I’m just not used to such… intense attention…”

“You’re gorgeous,” they murmured awkwardly, voice rich and husky, as though their magic was crackling uncontrollably beneath the surface.

After a pause, during which you encouraged your heart to beat normally, and the poor organ took absolutely no heed of your pleas whatsoever, you said, “So are you…”

If Avery could have rolled their eyes, you were sure they would have. Instead, they just pressed their hands to the table and leaned back in their chair. “I’m just a pile of bones and magic now… I’m honestly surprised you permitted me the indulgence of courting you.”

“It’s not an indulgence, Avery. Well, maybe it is, but it’s an indulgence for me. Each visit you’ve paid to the library has left me in quite a state, I’ll have you know.”

The lich went still at that and then very slowly tilted their head to one side. “Oh?” they asked, voice dipping lower with obvious intrigue. “Care to explain that?”

With a half smile, you set down your cutlery on your empty plate and pushed back a little way from the table to make yourself more comfortable. Crossing your legs, you said archly, “Any time you come close to me, you leave me tingling all over. I don’t know if it’s your magic, or you, or what, but… When you were leaning over my shoulder back there —” you nodded over at the writing desk, memories of their right hand pressed to the wood as they peered over your shoulder at your progress, the heady scent of incense and ozone swirling around their robes, the particular timbre of their voice as they hummed in thoughtful understanding at your translation…

“Yes?” they prompted, voice cracking.

Heat coiled between your legs and in your lower body, slowly filling you with a warm, glowing sensation that shot up your spine and made your head spin. “I could hardly think,” you whispered. “It’s a miracle I finished the translation.”

The light in their eyes guttered and flickered before returning with a new, brighter intensity. Where before it had been a pale, pastel green, it now burned with a searingly hot blue.

“Avery?”

The lich sat there and stared at you before twitching their head and shoulders a little. “Forgive me. We… We probably shouldn’t move that quickly…”

You raised your eyebrows. “How quickly?”

“Quickly,” they said. “You deserve to be courted properly.”

“And what if I’m as impatient as you are?” you asked, heart pounding. Gods, you wanted whatever they had to give you and you wanted it now. You ached, inside and out. “It wouldn’t stop you from still ‘courting’ me if you wanted…”

Avery stood and then stalled. “I…” They growled softly in frustration and started again. “I am… I haven’t… not since…”

“Avery… I know what you are. I know what you must look like under that robe, and I still want you,” you said fiercely.

“Gods,” they hissed, turning to face you, eyes blazing blue.

“Your eyes?” you asked. “They’ve changed colour. Is that your magic?”

They nodded. “What… What would you like from me?”

“Touch me,” you said honestly.

“I can conjure… uh… a variety of physical… um… shapes…” they faltered awkwardly and your brain supplied the rest, but they raised one hand and you found that where the bones had been before, they now supported a ghostly hand. They turned it over to show you their palm and then flipped it over again. You could still see the bones through the spectral hand that moved like translucent, living glass.

You shook your head, “Come here,” you said, and they did.

You stood up and ignored their new spectral hand in favour of running one fingertip around the orbital bones of their skull. Avery shuddered, joints rattling audibly beneath the robes as it shivered down their whole skeleton.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked. “Could you create… a tongue for me?”

With a mute nod, looking stunned, Avery opened their jaw and you saw a glowing, green tongue inside, translucent and glistening.

Pressing your lips to their teeth felt odd at first, especially when the cool of that single silver tooth caught your lips, but when the tongue immediately lapped at your lips, begging entry, you forgot the strangeness of it. You came alive again beneath that kiss as Avery’s hands found their way to your waist and then up to the back of your head where they let their bony fingers snake through your hair before gripping you tightly and tugging until you pulled back with a gasp. Panting and dizzy you let Avery nip at your exposed neck, tongue occasionally laving at your skin, shockingly cool and leaving it tingling.

One of Avery’s hands palmed your groin questioningly and your knees nearly went out from beneath you. “Yes,” you gasped. “Oh gods, please… I want… touch me… please…”

Your chest heaved and you let them steer you back into your chair behind you. When you landed, they tenderly began to undo your waistband, and you lifted your hips to slide a little way free of your clothes. Avery’s eyes blazed as they stared at you, your arousal evident with your clothes around your ankles. “May I use this…?” they asked, opening their mouth to reveal that long, thick, prehensile tongue.

“Gods yes,” you blurted, lifting your hips weakly again. “Please… Avery… I need you…”

The lich knelt before you and hesitantly placed their skeletal hands on your thighs. Looking down at them, nestled between your legs, you felt like you could come just from that sight alone.

“I’m not going to last long,” you warned them, practically shivering with arousal. “Gods… Avery, you’re…” Whatever Avery was to you in that moment, you never got the chance to tell them.

The instant their tongue touched you, lapping teasingly at you to start with, magic and sensation roared through you, ripping along your nerves and wiping your mind blank of all but intense pleasure. The slickness of their conjured tongue, supple and almost like a tentacle as it pleasured you, and the coolness of the mouth behind, set against the firm, unyielding pressure of their bare bones digging into the muscle of your thighs hard enough that it would bruise, drove you to the quivering edge in minutes.

Your hands scrabbled helplessly at the arms of the chair, your hips bucked unbidden up into the sensations Avery was offering you, fire danced along your nerves, and your blood sang in your ears. “Avery!” you screamed in warning, and then, with one final flick and press of their tongue against your most sensitive spot, you shattered.

With your mind blank, vision dark, Avery tore your release from you and prolonged it, either with their magic or just by their presence, until you whimpered and slumped in the chair, limp and spent and ironically boneless.

Finally, after lingering just a little longer, Avery sat back on their heels and stared up at you, one hand still on your quivering thigh. “Beautiful,” they rasped. “Gods above and below, but you come so beautifully.”

“I’ve never… come like that,” you croaked, throat raw. Had you come so hard you’d made yourself hoarse?

Avery summoned a goblet of water from the table to their hand and stood. “Here,” they said.

You drank, and as you set the goblet shakily back on the table, you glanced at them and saw a glistening droplet slide down their exposed ankle bone and drip onto the floor. Seeing where your gaze had gone, they chuckled. “Am I expected to remain unaffected by what you just gave me?” they said archly as you did your own clothes up again, just enough not to be completely exposed any more.

“How…? What…?” You began, but then shook your head and leaned forwards. Tentatively, you reached out a hand for the front of their cross-over robes and unbuttoned them at the waist. Drawing the fabric slowly aside, you felt them tense, but you kept going and they permitted it.

As the final fitting came loose, the robes hung open like a coat and revealed their skeleton beneath. To your surprise, they were not merely an empty ribcage and spine, hollow pelvis and slender leg bones. Constantly swirling inside them like a mixture of phosphorescence and ink, was a kind of magical core. Like an entity all of its own, it pulsed and coiled, writhing with tendrils of light and darkness that played along their ribs and teased up their spine like ivy. “Gods, Avery, you’re stunning,” you murmured and looked up to find their face tilted downwards, regarding you carefully.

Your eyes roved down their body to their pelvis, where the phosphorescent light seemed to have coalesced, spiralling around their hip bone like swirling liquid in a glass and… dripping tangibly down their leg.

“Can I… touch it?” you asked and they nodded. There was a long drip of it running down their femur almost to the knee, so you brought your fingertip up and trailed it cautiously through the strange, glowing wetness. “Is it magic?” you asked as your finger went numb and then began to tingle rather enticingly. Gods, what would that feel like against your body… even… inside you? Now there was an unexpected thought.

“It’s… akin to… oh gods,” they hissed suddenly, their hand flying to your shoulder as you traced a circle through it on the very edge of their curving hipbone.

“Mmm?” you asked, not relenting but not moving anywhere else.

Struggling to form words, Avery tried again. “Akin to when a ghost becomes corporeal.”

“Your magic is coalescing like ectoplasm?”

“In a way, oh… oh… ohhhh,” they moaned, staggering as you moved further up the wide scoop of their hip bone towards their spine and back again. “I can’t… I can’t keep upright… if you do that again… I’ll fall… I…”

“You want to move somewhere else?” you asked and they nodded.

Turning and leading you unsteadily without a word towards a closed door that led off from the study, Avery showed you to their bedroom and then hesitated, as though unsure as to quite what you wanted with them now that you had then naked.

“Bed?” you asked and they nodded, encouraged.

The fact that they seemed to be waiting for you to balk and run stung, but it made you more determined than ever to show them pleasure. Especially since they’d apparently not been with anyone since becoming a lich.

“Tell me what you like best,” you said.

“Your touch,” they blurted immediately.

“Alright,” you said with a tiny laugh. That was a start. “Lie back then.”

They lay down on the dark green blankets of the neatly made bed, their robes pooling behind them like ink, and stared up at you as you followed and sank down beside them.

Watching that swirling magical core for a moment, you reached out and traced their wrist first, working up to their shoulder, and then to that ever-present smile on their bare skull. The light in their eyes now burned a softer blue, occasionally flaring to the intense cobalt you’d seen before when you skimmed a particularly sensitive spot, and their jaw worked as if they were panting and gasping but couldn’t summon the magic to make the sounds.

The storm of essence in their ribcage swirled and crackled, tiny forks of lightning dancing through the clouds where their heart would have been, and you watched their spine flex and arch. The bones of their hands clenched the sheets into balls and as you moved lower and lower down their enchanted body, you watched the phosphorescent light begin to condense again as it hit their bones, running down in thick, slow rivulets to pool in the fabric of their robes, leaving only glittering, darker patches behind.

“Where’s most intense?” you asked, assuming you knew already. The point where the two halves of their pelvis met at the centre proved to be extremely sensitive, and as you ran your finger around it, they lurched wildly, the magic in their chest flaring and sparking again. “There?”

“Yes,” they gasped.

The magic began to grow, solidify, and as you circled the cool bone of their lower pelvis, a long, thick tentacle of magic coiled out of it and wrapped around your hand. It was real and tangible, corporeal, and slick as sin. “Avery,” you moaned as it clenched tightly around your wrist like an octopus’ limb.

“Want you,” they said. In the next moment, the tentacle released you and coiled back on itself, creating a soft passage inside them. Taking advantage of this, you slid two fingers into the channel and crooked them against the solid wall of pulsing magic.

Avery yelled with pleasure, spine arching again like a bow at full draw, magic expanding out through their ribs like a storm cloud, unable to be contained. Pressing hard against their walls, you rubbed intense and tiny circles while the magic flared and reached for your hand in return.

Flowing back and forth like waves of the ocean, Avery’s pleasure enveloped you and you felt it in your own mind as suddenly and as keenly as if it were your own. Their magic was reaching out for you and you allowed the connection without hesitation.

“I’m so close,” Avery whimpered, body taut and thrumming.

“I can feel it,” you whispered.

At that, Avery chanted, “I’m… Oh gods, there, like that… I’m… I’m going to… I can’t hold back any more… I…”

“Come for me, Avery,” you begged, and they broke.

Tendrils of black shadow shot out from their body like vines, filling the corner of the room and staying there like webs, while the core of their magic pulsed and throbbed, blazing with blue light. Liquid magic rolled over your hand as they came and came, body undulating and heaving, jaw open wide in a rictus of pleasure. The sight of it was almost enough to make you come too, but instead you simply stared at the magic you’d brought out and the pleasure you’d wrought in them.

Eventually, the black tendrils evaporated into a fine mist and vanished altogether, and the cloud of roiling magic settled down again and retreated back within Avery’s ribcage. The phosphorescent magic lingered on your skin, however, and as you moved to lie down beside them, you slid your hand down the waistband of your clothes and touched yourself with it still on your skin.

Avery was barely able to turn their head to watch as you brought yourself to another blinding orgasm, but their fingertips brushed against your free wrist just as you neared your second peak and you tumbled over the edge with a grunt and their name on your lips.

In the aftermath, you both lay there for a long time before either of you moved. Swallowing, you turned to look at them and found that the light in their eyes had gone back to green again, though this time it was dark and almost imperceptible. “Avery? You alright?” you asked.

They hummed softly in response. “Tired,” they admitted. “That… That was a lot of magic. I didn’t expect…” they huffed a laugh.

“Did I hurt you?” you asked, horrified.

“No,” they smiled, gripping your fingers in theirs for a moment before they lost the strength and went limp. “Quite the contrary. But I’m spent, in more ways than one.”

“Sorry…?” you ventured and they laughed. “Can I stay?” you added.

“Of course,” they replied. “I’m right in the middle of the bed, aren’t I? Do you have enough room?”

“I could use a little more, but if I lie on my side, I can manage alright.”

“I can’t even lift a finger at the moment,” they admitted. “I’m sorry. If you need me to move, you’ll have to lift me yourself.”

The vulnerability they were offering you struck you deeply. “Alright,” you said. “You sure you don’t mind?”

The tiniest shake of their head was all they could muster.

Sliding your arm beneath their neck and your other behind their knees, you tentatively raised them and nearly gasped at how light they were.

As if sensing your surprise, Avery managed a dry chuckle. “Elf, remember? Bones of a bird…”

You set them back down on the further pillow and nestled in beside them. “Can I put my head on your shoulder?” you asked.

“It won’t be comfortable. Bring a cushion over…” they whispered, nodding at the other side of the room where a modest chaise longue, upholstered in what looked like silk, sat against the wall, adorned with a couple of dainty pillows. The sight made you smile for some reason, and you took the opportunity to clean up a little at a washstand in the corner of the room. When you returned with a cushion, you found that the light was completely extinguished from their skull.

The magic still swirled away inside their chest, and as you laid the pillow down on their shoulder and watched their core shifting lazily - contentedly - you found yourself following them into a blank and blissful sleep.

___

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#lich #exophilia #lich x reader #non binary monster #gender neutral reader #reader x monster #monster x reader

682 notes · View notes

jawabear · 3 years

Note

Hello! I have a writing request 🥺 for Javi (Narcos). Can Y/n be a forensic psychiatrist, so Javi's coworker, but like from a different branch in the DEA. And can they be sort of friends, but you know, with the soft fuzzy feelings of something more than friendship. Oh, and if it isn't too much, could you include prompt 110? I'd like some fluff, maybe with some angst in the beginning. I read "Flowers' and I really liked it, so maybe that kind of vibe. Thank you already and happy holidays! 🥺

One Visit (Javier Peña X Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: I apologise for taking so long in writing this Anon. It was a challenge but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I managed to write something close to what you requested or at least something you can enjoy. I got a little carried away so it’s a bit longer that I originally intended. I took it that the prompt you meant was from my prompt list but I apologise if not. Thank you for requesting! It was an interesting request and I’m glad you like my other story Flowers. That’s one of my favourites. Italics represent thoughts and flashback (I hope you’re able to figure out which is which). I hope you enjoy it. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Fem!Reader, drinking, smoking, Javi struggling with his feelings, Steve being annoying, talks of death

Summary: One visit. That’s all it took for him to remember his feelings for her.

“All I’m saying, Javi, is that it wouldn’t hurt to just try dating” Steve reiterate for his friend as they walked through the halls of the DEA office on their way outside.

This was all Steve had been going on about for the past two week. Javi getting a girlfriend. It wasn’t really that Javier was against getting a girlfriend. He just didn’t think he deserved one. Nor did he think he was boyfriend material. But he really didn’t know why Steve was all of a sudden hell bent on finding him a girl.

“Is there really no in you like?”

“I really have no idea what your obsession is with finding me a date, but can you stop?” Javi sighed.

Finally they made it outside and Javi was thankful to get some fresh air after being stuck inside all day which was really the only reason they had come outside in the first place. But as they were there, they both decided to light up a cigarette.

A little while into their smoke, a car pulled up outside the DEA building drawing both agents’ attention. From out of the back of the sleek black car came a girl. She pulled a bag from the car and swung it over her shoulder. She said something to the driver and gave him a smile before closing the car door and turning towards the building.

“Holy shit” Javi whispered as he threw his cigarette to the floor and stubbed it out with his foot.

Steve noticed the way Javi’s eyes never left her as she walked over to him. She smiled and waved to him and he gave an acknowledge nod and a quick and nervous smile. “Hey Javi!” She said happily as she stopped a little distance away from the two agents.

“(Y/N)” he said, not sound as happy as she did, he sounded a little nervous or flustered. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Apparently you’re new boss wants to meet me. I don’t know why she wants to meet me when I’m not the one in charge of the department but according to my boss I’m the “best in the business” or something like that” she said using air quotes.

“As humble as ever I see” he commented making her laugh slightly. Steve stood there awkwardly as the two stared at each other. He could see what was happening even if they couldn’t.

He cleared his throat catching both Javi’s and (Y/N)’s attention. “Hi, I’m Steve Murphy. Javier’s partner” Steve introduced him self knowing that Javi wouldn’t. He held out his hand and she took it with a smile and shook it.

“(Y/N) (L/N)” She said “I’m a forensic psychiatrist for the DEA”

“Well, that a whole load of words I don’t understand” Steve joked making (Y/N) laugh cutely. Javi loved her laugh but not when it was directed at someone other than him.

“Well, I’ve got to go” she said as she removed her hand from Steve’s “it was lovely meeting you Steve. And it’s always a pleasure Javi. I’m sure I’ll see you both around but I really should get going”

“Y-Yeah, bye (Y/N)” Javi smiled softly to her as she walked past them and into the building.

Javi glance at Steve who was smirking at him “what the hell are you looking at me like that for?” He asked angrily.

“No reason” Steve said throwing his smoke to the floor and patting Javier’s shoulder. “No reason at all” he said before walking back inside. Javier let out a heavy sigh and rubbed over his face.

“Of all the fucking people” he mumbled as he looked up. He wasn’t really talking to anyone, unless there was a god up there who was listening and who hated him. He shook his head and followed his partner back inside.

The two agents sat back at their desks, Javi was reading through some files while Steve sat there. Watching and calculating. It was blindingly obvious what was happening and Steve simply found it funny that Javier was either an idiot or ignoring it.

“So it’s (Y/N) then?” Steve said finally after watching his friend for about ten minuets. He was trying his hardest but failing to contain his smirk.

“What?” Javi was trying to ignore him by distracting himself with papers but the mention of (Y/N)’s name always made him listen.

“It’s (Y/N)” Steve said again “it’s her who you like”

“Are you really still on this?” Javier sighed as he lit up a cigarette.

“Well, I’m just saying that she is a very beautiful girl and you two seemed to get on pretty well. Maybe you should ask her out” Steve suggested.

“I’m not a kid, Murphy. And besides, she wouldn’t go out with me anyway” he mumbled the last part but Steve caught it loud and clear.

“Is she single?” He asked.

Javier was losing his patience a little with his partner “as far as I’m aware. Yes, she is single” he answered. Javi could already guess the next words that would come out of his partner’s mouth and he didn’t want to hear it. “I’m not discussing this with you anymore” he said sternly “stop fucking about and actually do something” Steve just made a noise before standing and leaving, probably to go get a coffee.

Javi sighed again and held his head in his hands. He was getting stressed out because Steve was right. Of course he was right. Javi did like (Y/N). He had since the moment they met. But what’s not to like? She smart, funny, caring and so beautiful. It was a wonder to him that she hadn’t got a boyfriend yet. Any guy would be lucky to have her. He just wanted to be that guy.

What the hell is wrong with me? He though angrily as he ran his hands through his hair. Pull yourself together Javier. It’s not going to happen.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was sat in Messina’s office listening to her ramble on about how things work now she’s in charge and whatnot. But (Y/N) wasn’t really listening to what she was saying. She was too distracted in her own thoughts.

Anyone who worked for the DEA knew about Javier Peña’s reputation. Everyone knew he was the asshole. Everyone knew his way of getting information. And for someone with the right mind, that would be enough to put them off him. But not (Y/N). Oh no.

Perhaps it was just her analytical nature that came with her job role that drew her to the dashing DEA agent. She saw a man who was clearly struggling. A man who was hiding himself from something or someone. Probably himself. She saw someone who by all accounts had dropped most their morals for the sake of a job. But she knew that beyond all that, beneath that cold exterior, was a kind and gentle man who simply wanted to be loved. She knew this because she had seen it.

It was a few months after they had first met. She was still pretty new to Columbia and she hadn’t really made many friends outside the people she worked with closely. Javier was the only other familiar face she knew. They both found themselves at the same bar at the same time, unintentionally of course.

(Y/N) didn’t know whether to approach him but he looked a little run down and she though she could maybe help with whatever was troubling him. She drew in a deep breath and walked over to him taking the empty stool beside him.

“(Y/N)?” He said a little confused to see her in a place such at this. She didn’t at all strike him as a drinker. She was a good girl who always played by the rules and never drank. So he though.

And he was right. She just ordered a glass of water.

“You don’t mind if I sit with you, Javier?” She asked shyly.

“No, of course not” he flashed her a brief smile before downing the rest of his drink, which she guessed to be a whiskey, before he held up his glass gesturing for a refill. “What brings you here?” He asked her as he swirled his freshly poured drink in his glass.

“I um...well I don’t really get out much. Or I didn’t at least when I lived in the states. Believe it or not I’m not a very “out going” person. So I thought that maybe I would try and be different down here, you know, new life and all” she laughed meekly as she circled the rim of her glass “a-and I just needed to clear my head from today...”

“Tough day?” Javi asked, his voice held a caring tone that made her feel warm inside, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was still more interested in his drink.

“The people down here are a lot more...intense than back in the states. I’m not really used to what I’m being given...”

“Well, you must be good at what you do. Other wise they wouldn’t have spent all that money flying you out here to work” he said “don’t worry though (Y/N),” the sweet caring tone of his voice had gone and changed into one of sarcasm “you’ll get used to it and you’ll become the same as everyone else who works in this shithole” he held up his drink and studied it for a brief moment before taking a massive swig “drinking away all your problems...” he mumbled to himself.

“I-Is that what you do?” (Y/N) asked quietly, not wanting to over step any boundaries. After all, they still didn’t really know each other. “You just drink away your problems”

“Yep” he spoke lowly but a hint of humour to his singular word.

“That’s-That’s not a great habit to get into Javier” she said “that’s pretty dangerous”

“Are you trying to get all psychologist on me?” He laughed.

“Psychiatrist” she correct “and no. Not really. But...maybe instead of just drinking, you could talk to someone about what’s going on with you. It might be better, and cheaper”

“(Y/N),” he said flatly as he put his drink on the bar and turned to face her “I haven’t spoken to anyone about my problems since my mother died when I was ten. If anyone cared about my problems, then I wouldn’t have any. But because no one does, I’m stuck with them”

“I care” she said quietly “and not just because it’s kind of my job to care about people but because...out of everyone I’ve met so far in my time being here, you’ve been the nicest to me. And I want to return the favour. So...if you wanted to talk, I’m here to listen even if you don’t want me to help you”

Javier frowned at her words. It wasn’t like a frustrated or fed up frown. It was more of a...sad frown. He swallowed his drink in one go, which was clearly a mistake on his part judging by the sharp hiss he let out from the burn of the drink. He rubbed his forehead as he set his now empty glass down but made no move to ask for another one.

“What do you want to know?” He asked.

The rest of the night they talked and they talked. Somehow, she managed to get him to open up to her. Not completely. She could tell that there were things he was not willing to share with her, at least not yet. But she saw a side of him that no one ever had. A warmer side. A more...vulnerable side.

Javi told her about his close relationship to his mother and how heart broken he was when she died. That was something he had never told anyone. He never spoke of his family, and certainly not his mother. But it seemed after that, he just kept going. He said how much he missed her and how much he needed her.

She didn’t tell him this because she didn’t quite know how to word it without making things seem worse. But in her head she came to the conclusion that his behaviour towards women was most likely a result of not having that female connection in his life. He didn’t have a loving mother or woman in his life like most people might, and the way he described their bond, clearly it had taken a serious toll on his life. But she wasn’t exactly surprised. The death of anyone in someone’s life can cause problems and pain. Especially a family member.

“Does that all sound doable to you?” Messina’s voice cut through her thoughts bringing her back to reality.

“O-Oh...y-yes. Yes” (Y/N) stuttered as she shifted in her seat to look a little more professional. “No actually. My apologies but I...”

“Wasn’t listening?” Messina said with a slight smile “I appreciate your honesty. It’s more then what I get here. All I was saying was that things are going to be run a bit differently from your end. Your work will stay the same but the work load may be different. Less. These people are dangerous and by the way these missions and raids have been going, it’s far more likely that the offenders you are meant to treat end up six feet under”

“Right...” (Y/N) said quietly with a nod.

“And also, if your up for it, I would like you to come down every so often and maybe check up on some of our own agents here”

“That’s not really what my job is” (Y/N) laughed nervously. She didn’t like telling people no but she wasn’t exactly cut out for the role of councillor to DEA agents.

“I know” Messina nodded “but your boss said you were the one must cut out to do it. It wouldn’t be something that you change from your current position to. Just, every so often coming down here and just talking to the agents. I think you can agree that with things happening in the world right now, everyone could use someone to talk too”

(Y/N) nodded but was still a little on the fence about the whole idea. Technically, it wasn’t too big an ask. She was technically qualified to do it, and it was technically what she was already doing. But what she was doing now was a little more advanced and intense then talking to agents about what they have seen in the field.

But she supposed it wasn’t too different to what she had done with Javi.

“But saying that, they probably wouldn’t even except the help. They prefer to bottle up their emotions and take it out on something or someone else” (Y/N) had a strong suspicion that she was referring to Javi, unless that was just something that all DEA agents did. “Especially agent Peña” There it was.

“Agent Peña” (Y/N) repeated quietly.

“He’s one of our agents focusing on the Escobar case, along with his partner-“

“Steve Murphy. Yes. I met him this morning. Me and Javier already know each other”

“Right” Messina said “well, you go careful with him” (Y/N) didn’t really know what she meant by that but she didn’t have time to question it before Messina stood and held her hand out to (Y/N) “I appreciate you coming out here”

(Y/N) stood too and shook her hand “thank you for having me. It was a pleasure”

“The pleasure was all mine. Let me show you out” just then the phone rang and (Y/N) waved off the offer.

“I know the way” she smiled soft before leaving the office and letting out a deep breath when the door had closed.

“Dude,” Steve said as he leaned over his desk to get Javi’s attention “heads up”

Javi turned and saw (Y/N). He wasn’t quite in control of his body as he ran over to her, offering to show her the way out of the base.

“So how was it?” He asked her.

“It was okay. I don’t really know what I was expecting. I wasn’t really told much about why I was coming here other than the fact she wanted to meet me”

“What did you talk about?”

“Not much. She just filled me in on who she was, her background and all that. And our role in helping the DEA. And...my role in the DEA”

“She didn’t fire you did she?” Javi said quickly.

“No!” She laughed “no, she didn’t fire me. I don’t think she has the power to fire me herself” Javi felt a little bit embarrassed after that “she sort of offered me a new job? I’m not really sure what she is planning though. She wants me to come here every so often to check on you DEA agents. You know, talk to you, make sure you’re okay”

“Well, I can’t imagine anyone else being the one for that role” they reach the outside of the base and came to a stop at the top of the steps. “So...where are you going now?”

“Technically it’s my day off so, home I guess”

“Right” he nodded “I’d give you a ride...but the boss said we’re not allowed off base”

“Following the rules? That’s not like you Javier” she chuckled. “It’s fine though. My ride should be here any second now anyway” as if on cue, the same sleek black car from earlier pulled into the gates “see”

“Y-Yeah” Javi said quietly.

“Well I um...I better go. But it was nice seeing you again Javi, even if it wasn’t for very long”

“Yeah. It was nice. Great. Great to see you again..”

“I’ll um..see you some when” she said as she began walked down the steps towards the car. He just waved as she got to the car and got in.

“Fuck” he swore under his breath watching as the car drove off “fuck”

Time seemed to drag on from that point until it was time to close up shop. The base was near empty aside from Javi, Steve and a few other officers who tended to always flitter around.

Steve let out a groan as he stretched his arms above his head “well,” he began “that’s me done” he dropped his arms and stood grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and his gun from his desk drawer. “You staying on?”

“Uh...yeah. I’m just gonna...finish up some stuff” Javi said taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ain’t got a hot date tonight then, huh?” Steve teased.

“No, I do not” Javi mumbled.

“That’s a real shame, man” Steve tutted as he adjusted his jacket.

“Why do you care so much about it anyway?” Javi asked.

“‘Cause you deserve someone Javi. You should’ve asked (Y/N) out. I’m sure she would’ve said yes” Javi didn’t respond, he just continued typing away at the typewriter. “Well, night Javi”

“Yeah” Javier grumbled as his partner left.

It was painfully quiet in the base. There were other officers still lingering about but none that Javi really knew. So really, he was alone.

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray on his desk and leant back in his chair, running his hands over his face and groaning to himself. He dropped his hands and cast his gaze to the phone sitting on his desk.

Her phone number was basically engraved in his heart. He knew it better then he did his own number. Steve’s words played over and over in his head. Maybe he should ask her out.

But the phone just sat there. Mocking him. Laughing at him for being such a cowards. For being too afraid to ask the girl he liked out on a date. Or at least for a drink so he could see her again.

Javi sat forwards and pulled himself closer to his desk. He grabbed the phone but before he could even dial a number he slammed it back down again.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” He said to himself. He was getting annoyed at himself now. But he was still annoyed at Steve for bringing it up so much recently. Just pick up the phone and call her.

So he did. It all happened so quickly but he suddenly found himself with the phone to his ear ringing. He just hoped she answered.

The phone rang and rang and he began to think she wouldn’t answer. He was about to put the phone down but then her voice came through the other line.

“Hello?” She said.

“(Y/N)? It’s Javi” he tried to calm his voice, hopefully the quality of the phone wasn’t clear enough for her to hear his nervous tone.

“Hey Javi. What’s up?” She asked sweetly making his heart pound and palms sweat.

“Oh...uh nothing. I just um...are you busy?” He asked.

“Uh..well I was just about to get ready for bed but-“

He didn’t let her finish before speaking again “you’re busy, don’t worry about it”

“No no!” She said quickly “I’m not. What’s wrong?”

He paused and swapped the phone to his other ear, his leg bouncing nervously as he worked up the courage to ask her out for a drink “would you...like to go get a drink...with me?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and prepared himself for the cold hard rejection. But that wasn’t what he got “I’d love to” she said filling him with relief. He let out an audible sigh of relief that he hoped she didn’t hear.

“Great. I’ll um...meet you at the bar in say..” he looked at his watch “twenty minutes?”

“Sure thing, Javi” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice that made him smile too. “I’ll see you then”

“Yeah. See you then” he hung up the phone and fell back against his chair. He sat there for a moment just trying to comprehend what had just happened before he stood up and grabbed his jacket. He didn’t bother to tidy his desk before he was out the door and in his car driving towards the bar where he would meet her.

The bar was pretty quiet when he got there, which was strange considering the time. But he wasn’t complaining. He took at seat at the bar and ordered his usual drink, a whiskey. He sat there sipping his drink as he waited, the amber liquid calming his nerves.

“Javi,” came a voice from beside him. He tuned and saw (Y/N) taking the seat next to him. “Sorry I’m late” she said before ordering a glass of water.

It took him back to that day.

“I was early” he told her.

“So why did you ask me out here?” She asked as she took a sip of her drink “not that it’s a problem!” She was quick to add worried she had offended him in some way.

“I Uh, it was nice to see you again today and I just...wanted to see you again” he said quietly. She smiled at him and let out a happy noise as she took another sip of her drink.

He looked at her for a moment. There was something different about her from earlier. She looked at him confused but laughed nervously at his gaze “what?” She asked.

“Are you wearing lipstick?” He asked noticing how her lips were a more bold shade of red than usual. In all the time he had known her, he hadn’t ever seen her wear any kind of make up. But she didn’t need it. She was beautiful the way she was. If anything the lipstick was just...wrong. But not it a bad way, he just wasn’t used to seeing it on her.

“O-Oh. You noticed that” she looked away from him staring into her glass. She pulled a piece of hair from behind her ear to cover the side of her face so he wouldn’t see her. She felt like a complete fool.

He shifted closer to her, the stool he was sat on scraped against the floor as he did. Javi reached out and tucked the hair back behind her ear “it looks nice” he said making her looked back at him, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink at the soft touch “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear make up before”

“That’s becuase I haven’t. But it was something my cousin bought me as a joke for my birthday last year. She said it would help with all the guys I would get with and kiss”

“Has it worked?”

“No” she laughed “so far I haven’t been with or kissed a single person whilst I’ve been down here”

“Well, you may still find some use for it” he said.

A slightly awkward silence fell over the two of them as the sipped at their drinks, Javi finished first but didn’t ask for a second one. He turned back to look at her watching as she rubbed the now empty glass with her thumb.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He asked her suddenly.

“A drive?” She asked “where to?”

Javi shrugged as he pulled out his wallet “I don’t know. Just a drive” he said pulling out some cash and throwing it on the bar before hopping off his stool.

“Okay?” She said hesitantly as she got off her own stool and followed him out of the bar to his car.

The drive to begin with was pretty quiet as she stared out the window trying to figure out where he was taking her. He did have a spot in mind but he didn’t want to spoil it for her.

“You’re not taking me somewhere to murder me, are you?” She joked “we seem to be getting away from the city a little bit” she noticed he was driving her to a more remote area rather than the open city. And it was slightly up a mountain too.

“No” he laughed “why would I ever want to murder you?”

She shrugged “I don’t know. Sometimes you don’t need a reason to murder someone”

“Well, I’m not bringing you somewhere to kill you (Y/N)”

“That’s what all murderers say!” She pointed out. He just laughed and pulled onto a patch of grass of the overlook he had brought them to. He brought the car to a stop and she examined the location “yep, definitely a murder spot”

“Jesus (Y/N)” he laughed.

“I don’t think he’s going to be much help” she said. “What is this place, Javi?”

“Come on” he said as he took off his seatbelt and got out the car. She followed suit and stood next to him as he leant against the front of his car.

“Oh my god” she gasped. She was in awe of the way the city looked from up there. The sky was completely clear of clouds as was full of beautiful silver stars. The lights from the houses were stars in their own right, but golden ones. She was pretty much lost for words at the sight.

“I know” Javi said “when you’re up here, looking down on this place, it’s hard to believe there’s a drug war going on”

“It’s a shame that a country as beautiful as this one won’t ever be known for...this” she said quietly “how did you find this place?”

“I don’t really know” he said “you get to a point where you just need to keep on going. And that’s what I did. I just kept driving and I ran out of fuel right here. But I’ve been coming back here ever since. It just...a nice place to be”

“It is very nice” she smiled to him. The conversation stopped for a moment as they both just enjoyed the sight. Enjoying how peacefully quite it was. And how fresh it was too.

“How many girls have you brought up here?” She asked his quietly.

“Out of everyone I’ve brought up here, you’re my favourite” he said “but that’s mainly down to the fact I’ve never brought anyone else up here other than myself”

“Well, I’m honoured to be the first” she said “thank you for bringing me up here Javi”

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to share it with someone...” he mumbled the last part but she still heard him.

(Y/N) just looked at him the same way he had looked at her earlier in the bar. She was trying to figure something out. He looked at her giving her the same nervous look she had, “what?” He said.

“Just something Messina said”

“Oh god, what did she say? That I’m a shit agent?”

“That I should be careful with you”

Javi didn’t speak right away, he shifted his stance and looked down “Yeah, I guess she had a point” he muttered “I’ve really made a name for myself. It’s no surprise that half the fucking DEA thinks I’m an asshole, the other half just have no idea who I am in general”

“I think she was wrong” (Y/N) said “I think they are all wrong about you Javier. You’re not an asshole Javi, at least not all the time. You’re just like every other person. And I think everyone is wrong to think so badly of you. Because you’re not a bad person”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to say that. You can tell me the truth. I get that it’s you’re job to make people feel good about themselves and shit like that but you don’t have to do that with me”

“I am telling you the truth” her voice was quiet and made him look at her, meeting her beautiful eyes with his “and my job isn’t just about making people feel good about themselves and shit like that, it’s about making people believe that they are good. It’s about helping people...and I...I want to help you”

“Why do you want to help me, (Y/N)?”

“Because I...” she stopped herself for a moment and looked at him, his eyes baring down on her as he awaited her answer.

“You what?” He pressed softly. He had turned his body to face her completely, standing incredibly close to her. “You what, (Y/N)?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he smashed his lips against hers. She felt her knees go weak at the sudden contact. She brought her hands up to grip his arms to hold her self steady as she returned the kiss. Javier slipped his arms around her waist pulling her towards him slightly. With his arms supporting her, she moved her hand up to thread her fingers through his soft hair.

“Because I love you” she whispered when he pulled back from her lips “and I believe you are worth helping, and I want you to see yourself as I see you”

“And how do you see me (Y/N)?” He asked in a low voice as he gently rubbed his nose against hers making her heart flutter as she stroked the back of his head with her thumbs.

“Someone who just wants to be loved” she admitted to him.

“Only if I’m loved by you” he whispered before kissing her again, deeper this time and not so hard. His arms wrapped more firmly around her, drawing her as close to him as possible without hurting her.

“Oh you are Javi” she whispered against his lips “you are”

2/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfic #narcos #fluff #angst #pedro pascal #fanfic

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

sparks and embers - chapter 3

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 3 - The Return

Words: 4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: medical descriptions and procedures, some sexual themes - mainly in the form of OC being thirsty AF

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

On the way back from the East village, filled with the Gossams, humans and other alien species who had similarly escaped to a simpler life, I couldn’t help but curse at myself for giving in so easily to the pleas of a good-looking stranger.

Aiding someone merely for their physical appearance? How horribly unprofessional.

The voice in the back of my mind was loud. And curiously judgemental.

It had been over a full day cycle since I’d departed the clinic, making Poe vow to remain within the confines of his bed until I had returned. I’d left him with enough food for two days of my travelling, hygiene supplies, a drip running slowly for some pain relief and range of tools for him to attempt getting BB-8 up and running, hoping he wouldn’t have any reason to struggle getting out of bed.

The thought of his still fragile femur bone breaking and splitting the artery I’d spent all my energy on mending was beyond frightening. I worried about him every minute I was awake, imagining any number of complications that would leave me a corpse to find when I arrived back.

Bleeding, clots, stroke, infection, sepsis.

It wasn’t easy to slip those thoughts from my mind in the lone starkness of the Raxus countryside. There wasn’t really anything to look at except grass and sky, nothing to distract me from the worst case scenarios.

I’d convinced some of my old patients to join my cause, promising them better medicine and equipment if I was only able to have a comm-tower to order everything I needed. It didn’t seem like lying. The comm-tower really was my only link to the rest of the galaxy, and I would have needed it fixed anyway. Only now, time seemed to be more of the essence.

After spending the night amongst the locals I had grown to be familiar with over the last few years, I’d begun the trek back with the knowledge at least one problem had been solved. Some promised spare parts, others were going to follow my path within the next day cycle to get my comm-link back online. I hadn’t divulged all the story, at least not the part about this repair job apparently being a determining factor in the fate of the galaxy.

I hadn’t pressed Poe about what that meant exactly. I was used to the Resistance and their soldiers having somewhat of a flair for the dramatic when it came to war, after healing many of their battle wounds in years past. I knew how fervently they believed in their cause - that they were the only thing standing between galaxy wide harmony and First Order dictatorship.

I understood their hope of peace in our lifetime, but I’d lost mine a long time ago. Good, bad, they were just two sides of a coin that would flip for eternity, desperately chasing power for their own reasons.

In truth, I didn’t particularly care. I just hoped to live my life somewhat free from the burden of picking a side.

Before unlocking the clinic door, my feet aching from hiking for 6 straight hours, I drew in a long breath with a silent prayer I wouldn’t be walking in to find a dead body. With a fluid motion I turned the handle and pushed the door open, my head popping in first around the entryway to where Poe’s hospital bed stood. He immediately heard the latch clicking and shot his head up to meet with my eyes.

“You’re back,” he smiled, as I noted how much colour had returned to his face during my absence.

He looked so much better.

For the first time, I found myself studying his face, my stare tracing from his strong angular jawline to his high cheekbones, the prominence of his nose, the whiskey colour of his large cheerful eyes, his tousled deep brown hair. Then I took in his wide grin, shapely pink lips curled upwards to show perfectly set white teeth.

Stars, he’s so handsome.

In the muddle of memories I’d conceived from the night of his crash I’d not recognised, at least not during the time I was struggling to keep him alive, how attractive he was. And now with his health a far better picture than the last time I’d seen him, it was all I could notice. My heart quivered through a beat as he beamed at me, soon realising his smile was more a reflection of the prospective good news I brought with my return, making it settle back into a normal rhythm.

“Hi,” I breathed, walking closer and setting my pack down at the foot of the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answered, “The smaller burns are almost gone, and my chest wound is closed, look!” He pulled up the grey hospital shirt I’d managed to change him into before I had to leave. This time when I saw the nakedness of his chest and abdomen I couldn’t help but stare at his softly defined muscles, all tensing during his movement. He was right, the hole below his rib now sealed, a newly-formed, pink scar in its place. The chest tube was still secured above it, now redundant.

“Gotta love bacta,” I hummed. “I can take that drain out now if you like.”

He looked at me incredulously. “You’ve just done a 30 hour round trip for me, not even sat down, and you want to dive head first into more treatment?”

“I... uh... I mean... I just wanted to help you feel better,” I stammered.

Poe shook his head, smirking. “It’s okay, I appreciate it. Really, I do. But I’m alright, the tube can wait. How about you rest for a second and tell me how the mission- I mean, trip, went?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Two days ago you were begging me to get going so I couldn’t waste any time, now you’re telling me I can take a load off?”

"Uh, yeah… Sorry about that,” he grimaced. “Having some time to think while you were gone... It made me realise everything you’d done and were doing for me - a stranger you had no reason to help." Poe took a long exhale before speaking again, his tone serious. "I was in a lot of pain, just woken up in a strange place. It’s still imperative to get a message back to the Resistance as soon as possible but... that’s not your burden to bear. I can't thank you enough for your help, but I'll try not to ask too much more of you.”

It seemed not only had his physical health improved, but logical thought and patience had returned.

I took my cue to sit on one of the opposite hospital beds, letting my feet dangle over the edge to kick my shoes off, feet pulsing with gratitude at their release. “There’s some villagers coming tomorrow,” I started. “They will hopefully have a new comm-tower up and running within the next couple of days. I told them about your droid too. There’s some spare parts in that bag.” I pointed my hand out to the satchel at Poe’s feet, glancing at the L shaped table beside his bed I’d set up. BB-8 was sitting on top of it, head and body still separated and now unbolted at separate points, wires haphazardly sticking out in different directions. Falling back into the mattress, I let out an exhausted sigh, relishing the feel of the squeaky mattress under my body.

“I really owe you. The Resistance owes you,” Poe praised after a few moments of silence, as I heard him begin to rummage through the satchel. I held back a frown, even when I knew he wouldn’t be able to catch sight of my face.

I didn’t do any of this for the Resistance.

It occurred to me then I wasn’t really sure why I’d done it at all. I had always been a sucker for those in poor predicaments, hence why I became a doctor in the first place. But the trek had nothing to do with treatment or medicine. It was purely at the behest of this pilot, who’s charming appearance in the dimmed orange light of the evening made my skin feel hot.

“So, how did a girl like you find herself in the middle of nowhere on the Outer Rim?” Poe questioned, fiddling with some of the parts.

I sat back up. “I’m not a girl. I’m 28. That’s a little too old to be called girl anymore.”

Poe chuckled, the sound of his laugh both warming and positively thrilling. “I apologise. How did a woman like you end up here?”

“I used to work on Coruscant, that’s where I started my medical training,” I explained, remembering the glittering planet I’d spent much of my young life on. “Then moved into the war relief efforts on medical frigates scattered throughout the galaxy. Treating wounded soldiers day in day out took its toll, having people constantly injured and almost dying for a war they didn’t start.” I glanced to Poe's expression, seeing a glow of understanding behind his eyes before I continued. “Plus, there were more than a few times I felt a little redundant. The medical droids they have kind of... made my treatment obsolete. I wanted to practice medicine in a place where adequate health care was rare or non-existent. I wanted to help those who were most desperate, who otherwise couldn’t afford it, those who would actually value the care of a live human doctor. So I picked a planet at random, and settled here."

The random part was an utter lie. No one had cared about Raxus since the Clone Wars, and the First Order wouldn’t make it their priority to conquer Outer Rim worlds for a while yet. It was a quiet, calm planet with countless refugees fleeing here to make peaceful new lives. They wouldn’t be concerned about old, rusty equipment, lower quality bacta or no medical droids. They would simply be happy at having a doctor within a day’s trek.

And no one would think of looking here for a Force user.

Poe studied me in quiet thought for a moment, taking in what I’d divulged. “Well, they're damn lucky, with how nicely you patched me up. You’d run circles around some of the doctors and medical droids at the Resistance base.” He grinned at me again, earnestly, another attempt to thank me for my work. I felt the pit of my stomach tense, and it wouldn’t retreat, the thought of his smile lingering in my mind even after he’d gone back to his tinkering.

It had to be because I’d been in isolation for so long, why I was reacting so strongly to the innocent smiles and compliments of a man I barely knew. I definitely wasn’t used to conversing with men so close in age to my own. Most of the local humans were older, married with children, and I rarely made conversation around any other topic than their illnesses.

“What... uh... Why were you flying over Raxus?” I asked awkwardly.

His eyebrows creased together as he looked back at me. “Raxus wasn’t my destination, but I... can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Oh…”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he urged. “It’s just, you know, highly confidential.” He seemed apologetic, like he owed me more of an explanation.

I nodded, agreeing the less I knew about the Resistance and their missions the better. “Well, you’ll be able to get back to it in a couple of days,” I insisted, breaking the awkward silence that had lingered. “Some time and a little bit more bacta and you’ll be like new again.”

“Actually, speaking of that,” he started, an uneasy expression now settling in his features. “I was wondering when you were thinking of letting me get out of this bed.”

“Depends on the reason Poe. I’d recommend starting your formal rehab tomorrow at the absolute earliest, otherwise we can get you up and walking if you need to do something… uh… specific.” There was no hiding the waver in my voice.

He laughed, louder than he had before, the sound making it difficult for me not to blush. “Aren’t you a doctor? Why are you embarrassed for me to use the bathroom?”

“Hey!” I frowned. “I was trying to save you from being embarrassed.”

He shook his head, still chuckling. “I’m alright on that front for now. I was actually hoping to use your refresher. It’s been a few days…”

“Oh of course!” I’d cleaned him up as much as I could before I’d left, getting rid of his obliterated flight suit and helping change into the bland hospital outfit I reserved for overnighters, but even to myself the idea of a shower was enticing.

A thought flashed into my mind of steaming water hitting Poe’s sun darkened skin, trickling down his toned body as he lathered himself in soap suds.

Woah.

Okay.

That was new.

It had been such a long time since I’d felt the fire of blood rushing to the lower portion of my abdomen, insides clenching at the heat so suddenly ignited.

Poe was looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. I internally shook away the incriminating thoughts before they could be conveyed on my face. “How about I get that chest tube out first? Then I can help you to the ‘fresher?”

He breathed out in relief. “That would be fantastic.”

I stepped lightly off the hospital bed, walking shoe-less over to my medical trolley to drag it back to Poe’s side. And immediately, without me asking, he sat up and began a haphazard attempt to pull off his shirt, left arm bandaged and stiff, right arm enveloped in the cast I’d made and evidently still painful to move.

In a wordless reply, I helped him pull the fabric over his head, confronted with the image of a half-naked, strikingly handsome man in front of me.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognised any of his raw allure when he’d been almost stripped completely bare by my own hands on the night of his crash. It seemed bizarre I wouldn’t have noted the strong, broadness of his shoulders, his armoured chest littered deliciously with dark hair, carved abdominal muscles tensed in waiting.

I swallowed hard, hoping Poe wouldn’t register my shaking hands as I prepared the tube removal kit. Snipping the sutures around the plastic, unsteady gloved fingers pulled out the tube as smoothly as I could manage, Poe flinching slightly at the sensation. He continued to look away as I injected some bacta gel into the wound, sealing it closed with a few new sutures and placing a waterproof dressing over the site.

“All done,” I settled. “Like nothing happened at all.”

Poe looked back to me and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was obvious he remained troubled by the memories of his crash, and understandably so. I’d seen the same look in many other military personnel, the attempt to put on a brave face when images of fire, blood and terror pierced their thoughts. I desperately wanted to take his mind to a brighter place. “So, ready to try walking?”

“Absolutely! Lead the way doc.”

Ugh. Eventually I would have to correct him on that.

I stepped back from the side of the bed, arms stretched in readiness for when he inevitably stumbled. “Please take it slowly. Your muscles aren’t going to be pleased with what you’re doing after over two days of bed rest.”

“Sure thing,” Poe scoffed.

Typical male.

Initially he seemed to take my direction, moving his legs slowly from under the blanket, pain now registering on his features. He swivelled himself sluggishly to let his legs fall over the side of the mattress, breathing slightly heavier to push through the discomfort.

He was leaning more on his left side, right arm hovering over his thigh. Tentatively, he slipped his left foot onto the floor and shifted his weight onto it, pushing his hand into the mattress to help himself up.

Soon he was standing in front of me for the first time since we’d met, and even amongst all the burns, bruises, dressings and bandages, he looked impossibly strong, toned muscles wrapping his form.

He noticed the timid smile form on my lips.

“Hey don’t start laughing at me. I don’t think I could handle my ego being bruised along with the rest of me.”

“Oh... I wasn’t-,” I stumbled, quietly relieved he’d misread the reason behind my smirk.

He held his hand up in protest, grinning. “I was kidding. You’re welcome to laugh at the adult sized toddler learning to walk again.”

It was difficult not to snicker at his words. “Come on,” I encouraged. “Just think of how nice that hot water will feel.”

He sighed in agreement and moved, taking a hesitant step onto the previously fractured leg. I swiftly froze with anxiety, even when the logical side of my brain told me both the break and the artery would have stabilised exponentially by now. But the emotional side, the part that remembered the rush of blood that had exploded from the wound site, nagged incessantly at me, insisting that this was a very bad idea.

My eyes were glued to Poe’s figure as he shifted his weight deliberately, muscles tensing at the trigger of pain he was likely feeling, before he made a delicate hop to move back onto his left leg.

Even that one haggard step appeared to take a lot out of him, but he seemed determined, eyebrows already wrinkled in concentration. He continued the process a few times over, my arms still poised in waiting for the foreseeable stumble as I walked backwards. I couldn’t help but hold my breath as he limped, following me out of the clinic room into the hallway that lead to my office, the ‘fresher, and my living quarters all the way at the end.

His steps became faster, more confident, when all of a sudden, his balance wavered.

Reacting quickly, I stepped forward to catch him, arms circling under his own and around his torso, hands now gripping the muscles on his back as he crashed into me. I would have stayed there for a moment, my fingertips registering the warmth radiating off his skin, until I became fully aware where his face had fallen into.

I felt Poe’s heated exhale through the cotton of my white shirt after his face had collided into my chest, directly between my breasts. The twinge in my lower abdomen occurred again, breath hitching in my throat.

He scrambled to push himself back into a standing position, my arms releasing from around him, his hands clamping around my biceps as he fought to reclaim his steadiness again.

“I am so sorry!” he blurted, his face dangerously close to mine, only a small touch of redness visible under his caramel skinned cheeks. I knew my blushing would be much more pronounced.

“It’s okay,” I breathed. “I was waiting for that to happen.”

His eyes widened.

“Not that!” I yelped. “I meant you falling! I was waiting for you to fall!”

Poe’s face illuminated into a beaming grin. “Sure you did.”

I frowned in protest, but couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping. I shifted to face the same way as him, an arm curling around his torso, angling my body under his own. “How about I help you the rest of the way?”

His hand gripped onto my shoulder, the hardened squeeze making the tensing inside me ripple even faster.

Focus Alex.

Poe let me support him as he limped down the hallway, and I desperately tried to distance myself from the thoughts that swirled in my mind at being connected so closely.

Eventually we made it into the ‘fresher, a white and grey tiled room with the large, frameless shower enclosure taking up most of the space, the only privacy a plastic curtain that could be pulled across the entire spans of the room. I’d designed it with the idea there would be enough space to assist overnighter patient’s in washing themselves, since I didn’t have a nurse to do it for me. Yet, it still gave me the ability to provide some discretion by stepping out past the other side of the curtain, ready to swoop in if I was needed.

And that’s what I’d planned for Poe, knowing he was hardly the type of patient that was going to let me do anything for him if he could help it. Guiding him to the backless shower chair, I released him to his own devices and quickly pulled the curtain across. It was more for my own concealment at this point, needing to take a moment to settle myself down, the memory of his hold still lingering on my skin.

“I’ll be right here if you need any help okay? Everything you need will be on the shelf under the shower start button.”

“Thanks Alex,” he answered, his voice huffing out as I could hear he’d already started to shimmy down his pants.

Stop imagining it Alex. Stop thinking about him naked, a metre away, behind that thin curtain.

The sound of water rushing into the tile floor pulled me back into some impression of reality. I busied myself with organising my own hygienic supplies in the mirrored cupboard, desperately trying to think of anything other than the man hidden from my view, steam swirling around his figure, water dribbling down his bare skin. From behind the screen I heard a pleasant moan leave him, obviously enjoying the hot water battering into his aching muscles for the first time in days.

And with that sound I felt a twinge between my legs, heat swelling and rippling outwards through my body.

Stars, that was... hot.

It felt so unprofessional, to be tantalized by the thought of a man, a patient, in the middle of such a basic act of human hygiene. But I couldn’t deny he was more attractive than any patient I’d ever had in my life, and the thought of ripping open the curtain so I could join him was suddenly the most tempting thing in the galaxy.

I locked my hands onto the basin that stood in front of me, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sound of Poe lathering soap between his hands, then sliding over an unseen portion of his body.

It was then I started to pace, hoping the repetitive movement would stop me ruminating over the indecent notions my mind was conjuring. Minutes ticked by too slowly as I waited for him to finish his routine, begging for the irresistible pull of craving to be released from me.

“Hey Alex?” Poe suddenly called.

“What's wrong?” I squeaked, cursing at myself for sounding so startled.

“I actually need some help.”

Oh maker, why do you do this to me?

I swallowed hard. “Y-yeah. Sure. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he began, voice sounding a little forced. “It’s just... with my left arm still bandaged, and my right arm still in the cast, I can’t wash my hair. I know it’s a little strange, but could you help me out?”

My heart ricocheted inside my rib cage, frolicking at the thought of seeing him soaked in water, fingers raking through his dampened hair.

Come on Alex, try to keep at least one shred of professionalism.

“Sure,” I agreed, a more competent tone saturating my voice as I withheld my internal fluttering. “Make yourself… uh… decent, and I’ll open the curtain.”

I heard Poe’s movement as he reached for one of the towels hanging on the rail nearby and wrapped it around his lower body. The flowing water soon came to a stop, the sudden silence making me feel uneasy.

“Ready.”

I placed myself in front of the curtain between us, his stature only barely visible through the clouded screen. My jaw was locked as I took a deep breath through my nose, meditating in thought, frantically clawing at a sense of calm.

Then I reached towards the plastic, clenched my hand around it, and pulled.

Next Chapter

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#poe dameron #poe dameron x original female character #kylo ren #kylo ren x original female character #star wars #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction

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worlds-smallestviolin · 3 years

Text

Petty Revenge pt1

Note: I started playing Mozart's route, and boy, does he know how to push my buttons (I know I'll probably fall for him eventually, though). MC being her sweet and innocent self, is all like "I'll get him to like me", while I just wish I could punch him. So it got me thinking: what if instead of forgiving ball of sunshine, our MC was someone who was not above messing with the boys to get some payback. Also, let me know in comments if you’d like a part 2.

Mozart:

Traveling through time to 19th century, only to find herself trapped in a mansion full of prominent historical figures, who also happen to be vampires, MC was not exactly having a good time.

Well, seeing as there was no going home for a whole month, she offered her help around the mansion, which is how she came to be responsible for delivering a breakfast next morning to one Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, AKA His Royal Rudeness.He used every opportunity to remind her how annoyed he was that she was even here, which is something she had no control over.

After exhausting all her energy on trying to talk to him only to get showered with insults, she finally gives up. If he wants to hate her, she will give him a good reason for that.

The hardest part was finding the right moment to carry out her plan. He rarely left the mansion and spent most of his time in the music room. Finally, after being asked by le Comte, he leaves one night to perform at the ball. She picks up tools that she managed to “borrow” without Sebastian noticing, and with a smile on her face heads to the music room.

Next morning, after setting down his cup of coffee and music sheets, Mozart sat down in front of his piano, only for the bench to let out a laud creak. He froze up, then moved slightly, as if to make sure that really happened. And sure enough, there was that sound again.

Not wanting to deal with it at the moment, he tried playing while sitting stiff as a board, making sure to only move his hands, but even that was followed by that annoying noise, so he marched out of room, frustration written all over his face.

He got Leonardo to fix it for him, only for the bench to start creaking again a few days later. He found himself in a never-ending cycle, fix the problem, only to have it reappear, sometimes even later the same day. One day, he stormed out of music room, red faced and eyebrows scrunched up with anger, and went to the town to buy a new one, hoping to finally put the matter to rest. It didn’t work.

Maybe it’s telling you that you’re fat attitude should go on a diet. MC stood at the door, gazing at Mozart leaning defeated over piano. He turns, seeing her smirk, realization finally dawns on him. But as she walks away, he simply stands there, mouth open, having to many things to say, but being too exhausted to voice them.

Theo:

She didn’t think that he ever used her name, sometimes she doubted that he even knew it. No, to him she was Hondje, a dog. And when he wasn’t busy calling her one, he was busy comparing her or treating her as one. That he claimed to like dogs did little to make her feel okay with it.

No amount of polite asking did anything to change this. Fine. There were other ways to get the message across. It was Sebastian who gave her a perfect idea, letting her know an interesting little detail about Theo. Honestly, the amount of information that guy had on the residents was frightening.

It was a long day for Theo. After spending it running across town, selling paintings, trying to butter up stuck up nobles, and then getting into a fight with those assholes from L’ Academie, he was really looking forward to seeing his bed.

After he checked up on Vincent, who was still painting despite the late hour, he headed to his room, only to run into MC in hallway. Hondje, you’re still up? He expected her to pout, as she always does when he calls her that, but instead she greets him with a smile. Just finished my chores. I was on my way to my room. And as she passed by him, her smile growing even bigger, she adds Good Night, Theo. Something in the tone of her voice told him she was up to something, but he was too tired to deal with it tonight.

Finally arriving at his door, he opens them, light from the hallway spilling into his room, and he freezes. It’s a miracle how he managed not to let out a scream, or how he was even able to lift his hand and pinch his cheek to insure that what he was seeing was real.

His room was filled with cats. Not a cat, which was terrifying enough. Cats. Ten, he thinks, though it’s difficult to count them due to them jumping all over the place.

Somehow managing to close the door, he practically runs back to Vincent’s room. He grabs him by the sleeve, like a little boy, and stuttering explains to his brother what’s wrong. Vincent enlisted Arthur to help, and between the two of them, they soon got all the cats out into the garden.

After he cautiously walked into his room, Theo found a note on his bed.

Just letting you know, I’m more of a cat person.

Arthur:

To put it simply, Arthur was a walking, talking, breathing sexual harassment. MC could deal with his flirting; him trying to bite her, however, was another matter entirely. He gave her some kind of apology, saying how he did it because he wanted to warn her about vampires, because words are apparently overrated.

He continued to flirt, seemingly unaware of what personal space means, and well, it was quite exhausting. She wanted to punch him so many times, but she knew that would do little to solve the problem, it might even encourage him.

Watching his interaction with Dazai, who seems to be the only person capable of getting under his skin, gave her an idea, something very simple.

Arthur was heading to the library, intent on doing some research for the book he was working on; only to find it occupied by one very pretty skirt. She had her head in the book and didn’t appear to have noticed him walk in.

Smirk on his face, he slowly approached her, already picturing her little gasp of surprise that was sure to be followed by a glare, as he set next to her and threw his arm around her shoulder. But her reaction wasn’t what he expected, in fact there was no reaction, she simply turned her head and looked at him.

He was taken aback for a second, but than flirt mode was back on. He went on and on, teasing her and complimenting her, yet she didn’t blush or said anything. She just kept looking at him, eyes narrowed in concentration, as if she forgot something, and was trying hard to remember it. Noticing this, he too fell silent, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Suddenly, her eyes went wide, she snapped her fingers, smile appearing on her face. It’s Sherlock, right? I’m sorry, I’m not very good with names.

From then on every time he talked to her, she referred to him as Sherlock or that guy who wrote Sherlock. To make matters worse, Dazai joined in on the game.

Sebastian:

He is a perfectionist and very strict, understandable considering his occupation. She didn’t mind that; after all she volunteered to help around the mansion, which quickly proved to be a not so easy task. She understood that she needed to learn the ropes as quickly as possible, otherwise she’d just make things more difficult for Sebastian, so his constructive criticism didn’t bother her too much.

What did bother her, however, was his passive-aggressiveness. He would always make some snide remark, delivering it in a way that left her unable to reply lest she end up being the rude one. Add to that his habit of flicking her forehead, as if she was a little child, and well... He had it coming.

So one night, after diner she was volunteered into cleaning up the kitchen by herself, after being flicked again, because a single spoon wasn’t polished to Sebastian’s standards.

The next morning, Sebastian walked into the kitchen, part of him expecting to find something out of the ordinary, after all we are talking about MC. The kitchen was spotless and nothing appeared to be unusual, at least not at first glance. Feeling relieved, he went on to start preparing breakfast and make coffee for the residents.

He opened the first cupboard to take out coffee cups, and stared at it in shock. Gone were the cups, as well as all glasses that were supposed to be there as well. Instead he was greeted by plates that should be in a different cabinet. And not only were they misplaced, they were stacked completely out of order, piled in one disorganized mess, rim soup bowl on top of a salad plate, on top of a dinner plate, on top of a bread and butter plate, and so on.

He proceeded to the other cupboards and drawers, his horror growing with each one opened. He found saucers in the drawer where utensils were supposed to be, cups and glasses where plates used to be kept, spoons, forks and knives all mixed together, frying pans, cooking pots, spices, all piled in one giant nightmare.

It is a miracle how he managed not to have a heart attack. He started pacing, hands running through his hair in frustration, desperate to figure out how to begin putting kitchen back in order. It was at this point that MC walked in with a cheery Good morning!, soon to be followed by the rest of the residents.

What happened here?, asked le Comte. Looks like Sebas loves cleaning so much, he does it in his sleep, only not as successfully as when awake, MC said, and before he could deny it, the boys were already cracking jokes about it, while he was left desperate to try and maintain his cool.

Later she was left alone to clean up her mess, which was fine, she wasn’t trying to make Sebastian’s job more difficult, she simply wanted to get a reaction out of him. She paused for a moment to rub a red mark on her forehead. He flicked her so hard, she was sure her brain did a flip. Worth it, she grinned, Wait until he finds out I changed the order of keys on his key chain.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp akihiko

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cotncandyboifics · 3 years

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The Bidding of the Prince Twins: Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 2 ~

Pairings: (vague/qpr) Loceit, eventual Analoceit

Word count: 2,977

Story summary: Virgil finds himself being held hostage in an unknown location. His two suspected captors seem to care for him more than any strangers should, especially strangers who kidnapped him. But were they really the ones who kidnapped him? That aside, Virgil also can't shake the feeling that there's something familiar about them. He just can't pin-point what it is. As time passes, the layers of lies the three of them are caught in are gradually peeled away, one by one.

General CW: U!Roman, U!Remus, food, kidnapping, implied Stockholm Syndrome, moderate to severe amnesia, swearing, sexual innuendos, graphic descriptions of gore/violence/scarring, minor character d-aths, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, non-graphic descriptions of needles (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food mentioned, minor amnesia, kidnapping hostage, swearing, non-graphic description of anxiety attack, non-graphic description of a needle (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author Notes: <none>

...

Virgil winced, squinting sharply as a blinding white light was trained on his face. A giant light getting forced into someone's face would be jarring under any circumstances, but it was especially so considering he had previously been engulfed in an almost equally jarring darkness. He'd also just awoken from an unexpected stint of disorienting unconsciousness.

He felt a presence behind the light, and the edges of hair tufts caught bits of light from behind the cone of death that was focused on him. The figure was clearly tall, and though Virgil was seated, he could easily tell that if he weren't, this person would probably be a head taller than him at the very least. He tried to twist his wrists in the several zip-ties that had them bound together behind his back, as well as to a rod running up the center of the back of his chair. He clenched his jaw, looking down as the light sent a shock-wave of pain through his eyes.

"Virgil Black." A stern monotone voice came from where he'd seen the shiny bits of hair before. It's familiarity wasn't striking, but it had a relatively calming effect on Virgil's nerves, so his mind didn't feel the need to follow that train of thought.

"That's me, man," He tried, voice coming out slightly hoarse. "Mind explaining why the fuck you've got me tied up in this interrogation basement? Last I checked I'm not involved in any CIA bullshit," He sneered. Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone pushing a chair out and standing sounded somewhere to his right, behind the first figure. Someone else was there too. A step or two sounded as the second entity vaguely came toward Virgil. Great, two assholes to shake off.

"Very funny." A deeper voice came, much snarkier than the first. Virgil felt his spine tingle. This voice was oddly familiar as well, but he was still too out of sorts to try and figure out why.

"I apologize for the unsavory conditions, but it is imperative that our identities be kept classified for the time being. All we need is a minute amount of information, and we will be on our way." The first voice again. A very small clacking sound of plastic came from near the figure's face.

"Imperative to what?" Virgil hissed between clenched teeth, looking back up at the mysterious person. This time, he was able to pick out another feature; the light also caught what appeared to be the rim and lens of a pair of square prescription glasses. That explained the plastic clacking, he guessed. Virgil doubted they could be any other sort of glasses; it's possible that this person was a constantly-wearing-sunglasses type, but based on his brief time interacting with them, Virgil didn't really buy that. As well, some part of his intuition told him they were most certainly prescription, the same part that had noted the familiarity of both voices.

"That will also have to remain classified for now. But enough." The voice grew firm. Virgil tried to keep himself from swallowing audibly. "What are the most recent events that you remember, Virgil?"

He tried to think. "Well it's awful hard to recall anything with that giant light in my face, so can I have a minute to think? On top of that my memory is shit anyway because of my anxiety. Is that cool with you, thing 1 and thing 2?" A scoff came from Thing 2, seemingly off in the corner. Virgil hoped the half-hearted remark would keep them entertained as he tried twisting his ankles. They were tightly and securely duct taped to the legs of his chair, which was slowly cutting off his circulation. He felt his toes starting to grow cold and tingly. That meant he'd only been secured like this for a short amount of time, a couple minutes at most.

"By all means. Take your time." Still the first figure's voice, dripping with sincerity. Virgil detected what seemed to be a hint of remorse in their voice, as if they genuinely felt sorry, or at least uncomfortable with what they were doing. Virgil wondered why the second person was so evasive. He figured he'd try to provoke them into speaking again soon.

But for now, he had to think. What was the last thing he remembered? Before a throbbing headache, before the pitch black, before the sound of heavy rusty doors whining open and closed, and two sets of footsteps approaching him. He hadn't really registered them at the time; he'd been too disoriented, he guessed from some sort of anesthetic.

He tried to think back further. He pulled basic facts from his mind, hoping to jog his memory. He lived in New York, in a one-bedroom apartment with his roommate and best friend Patton. They'd fit two twin beds in their little bedroom. They were both Seniors at NYU. That started things off, at least. He spent a lingering moment recalling the cat they both took care of together. Her name was Natalie, and she was pitch black, each and every hair on her body a rich raven shade.

He knew Patton had planned to have a little get-together with some Psych major friends he had, and encouraged Virgil to bring some of his Techie buddies. They'd gone shopping for snacks last night.

He figured he'd start with that.

"Well, I remember Tuesday night for sure. Me and my roommate went grocery shopping. Getting snacks for a little get-together we were having. Not my idea, of course. I'm not a huge fan of parties, or-"

"We asked for your most recent memories, not your life story," drawled the second voice. Virgil smirked behind his bangs. "Will you get on with it already? Unless Tuesday night is really your most recent memory."

"As much as your- contributions - are appreciated, J, I am conducting this interrogation, and I'd prefer if you'd keep your snide comments to yourself for at least the first session," The first voice came again, hushed and sounding strained. Virgil clung to what little information he got from the comment. The second voice belonged to someone who could be identified as "J" apparently, and this was the first... session? Virgil had to set his mental notes aside for the time being though, since he had evidently not yet produced an adequate response. "My apologies, Virgil. My colleague is... rather, anxious, to... move things along. You may continue."

"No sweat. Sounds like J just needs a bit of a chill pill." Virgil smirked in the general direction he'd heard J's voice coming from. He was met with an almost disturbing silence. As expected. "Anyway. I remember shopping, and heading home, and... eventually sleeping. Ah, I guess I woke up a little late Wednesday morning, because I was rushing around and shit. My roommate looked kinda worried about it, but that's just how he is." Virgil paused for a moment. He wondered if these two mysterious figures knew about Patton and NYU and where he lived and everything, and considering he knew nothing about them or what they wanted from him, he wouldn't have been surprised. Regardless, he figured it would be best to keep things as anonymous as possible for the time being. "...Hmm. Then I think I rushed onto the bus. I think I caught it just before it was leaving. I got to, where I was going, and did what I was meaning to do, and then... I guess I headed home? I remember the thing I had to do, and finishing it, but... after that things get kinda foggy. I dunno." He paused again. A beat of silence. "Then again, I'll probably remember more in a few minutes. Especially if I'm not being literally slowly blinded." He finished, looking up at the figure behind the light with as large eyes as he could manage. The figure cleared their throat.

"Thank you Virgil. As well, there is no need for anonymity. We are fully aware of your roommate Patton, and the Economics lecture you nearly missed on Wednesday. However, your attempt at omission was... if nothing else, entertaining." Virgil scoffed under his breath. Even if his anxiety had predicted this just moments before, he was getting really freaked out now. It's never the same at all, imagining worst case scenarios and actually living them. The initial shock of this whole situation was wearing off, giving way to panic.

"At this time, in return all I can offer you is this. You are aware of the second man in your presence, I'm sure. For now you will know him as J, as you clearly caught on to rather quickly."

"He loves the witty ones," J's voice came this time directly from Virgil's left, and much closer than before. It took all of Virgil's self control not to flinch away. "So you'll entertain him well. He's L, by the way."

L cleared his throat. "Yes, thank you J. I shall be addressed as L. You will likely only see both of us at once. Perhaps on rare occasions we will each come in alone, but J and I are partnered, so that would likely do little more than impair our... performance."

"Partnered? Performance? What am I, a high school science project?" Virgil snickered bitterly. "My wrists are starting to hurt pretty fucking bad. This is pretty sketchy, L. I didn't fucking do anything wrong. Why am I here?" Virgil tried not to let the shrill breathiness overtake his voice too much, but the anxiety rising in his chest was far from merciful. He tried to calm himself internally, but that wasn't exactly working out.

"I can understand your frustrations," L replied, and the glint of his glasses shifted, the small plastic clacking sound coming again with it. Virgil realized it was just L adjusting his glasses, likely out of habit. "But, for your safety, I cannot give you a direct answer to any of those questions yet. Ah, except; no, you are not a high school science project." Virgil could practically taste the smirk on L's face. He wanted to spit at him. He wanted to tear himself out of the fucking zip ties and duct tape. He felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"Listen, I get that you two are having a jolly good time fucking me up, but I'm," Virgil struggled, each word becoming harder to force out of his trembling mouth, "I'm kinda freaking out here." He hated the way his voice cracked then.

Virgil could see the glint of L's glasses shifting again, the tall man turning to look at his sarcastic counterpart. A short nod, and with a small clicking sound, the light was shut off.

Somehow, the room seemed darker than it had before. The change was so disorienting that Virgil couldn't pinpoint just where the sounds of shuffling of feet around him were coming from or going. No screeching metal door sounds came though, so he knew J and L had to be in the room with him still. His breathing was becoming very labored, and it overwhelmed him as the only sound he could hear. God, how he hated anxiety attacks.

"Virgil." J's voice came from directly in front of him - J was likely crouched to be on Virgil's level - and it was uncharacteristically silky smooth. He flinched that time, but was able to keep himself from hissing. He was only sure it was J's because of its specific inflections; there was no way this could be L, and there was certainly no fourth person in the room (he hoped). "I understand you are very disoriented right now, but the last thing we want to do is cause you an anxiety attack. My sincerest apologies for triggering the beginning of one. That aside, I need you to focus on your breathing. Nothing but your breaths and the sound of my voice."

His voice felt like butter melting, gliding across a hot pan and leaving a silky trail. Or maybe like warm honey running down flushed skin. Virgil was captivated, and thank fuck, because if it weren't for Fuck Face #2 over here, he doubted he would have been able to get out of this one so easily. So he focused, focused hard on the labored breaths he was huffing.

"Now, I need you to try to slow down. Just a little bit. Slow down for me. Feel the air filling and retreating in your lungs. Let it stay a little longer. Then, let it leave in a gentle skip instead of a frantic sprint." God, if Virgil wasn't Fucking Freaking Out right now, he'd probably be trying to flirt with Mr. Butter-tongue, considering the shivers going up his spine weren't only thanks to his panic disorder.

Gradually, he managed to slow down. It wasn't a straight path, but eventually he got there. J continued cooing sweet nothings to him as he came down before any sort of climax. He thanked the darkness for hiding his horridly hot face from his captors. He heard a slight creasing of fabric.

"All better?" J's smile was practically visible with the way he almost sweetly sneered those words. His voice came from higher up, so Virgil knew he must've stood once again. He just scoffed in a half-assed cover up.

"Sure, Fuck Face Number two." He tried rocking himself side to side in his chair, but it seemed to be attached to the floor. He groaned.

J tsked a few times. "Is that any way to talk to someone who just kept you from what would surely have been a horridly exhausting anxiety attack? Honestly. You ought to be more grateful, Virgil." Virgil was beginning to passionately hate the way J talked; so sassy and drawly, as if he thought he was some serious hot stuff. Virgil wanted to smack him something awful.

He heard soft receding footsteps, feeling J's presence recoil.

"So how does this work? Is someone gonna have to whip out my dick for me when I have to pee?" Virgil prodded at the void around him.

"Very funny, Virgil. No, you will soon be... enlightened, regarding your temporary living situation, so to speak." L's voice came again, finally, from slightly to the right. It was a lot less variant in tone than J's, and Virgil greatly appreciated the constancy.

He couldn't respond soon enough; he felt something pierce his skin on his left outer thigh. Warm breath teasing at skin behind his left ear was the last thing he remembered. "Go to sleep, V. We'll see you again very soon."

"Night night, J," He whispered, before the lights really went out.

...

Logan sighed, shrugging off his navy pinstriped suit jacket as he shut the door behind him. He held it by the collar in one hand, turning to survey the disheveled mess that the observation room had become over such a short period of time.

Piles and piles of paper were stacked high on the wall-to-wall desk, and stacked higher on the floor. The interrogation light - just an industrial Flashlight with a cone of metal wrapped around it's end to amplify it - had been discarded lazily in one corner. Janus was seated at said desk, slouched over himself on a fold-out metal chair, resting his chin on his palm as he looked out through the false mirror at a peacefully sleeping Virgil.

His hat was resting on a corner of the back of his chair, along with his gold-encrusted swallowtail coat. He looked a bit of a mess. His hair was fraying and splaying everywhere. His eyes looked tired, even if Logan could only see his one blind eye from this angle. The jagged scars that crept up his neck and covered the side of his face seemed paler than usual.

"Are you okay, Janus?" Logan inquired as neutrally as he could manage, sitting beside his friend.

Janus merely side-eyed Logan, in his all-knowing way. "I think you and I both know the answer to that question."

"Look, I know this method is-- well, disconcerting," Logan's words rushed out of his mouth as if they were being chased, "but we do not have another choice right now. We will get this over with soon... we will find a way to get through this." Logan cleared his throat and fidgeted with his tie. Janus considered rolling his eyes and responding snidely, but he knew Logan wasn't taking kindly to these new... circumstances either.

"We will." He settled on an attempt to be reassuring. Janus had always been good at that, or at least he'd been told so. He only wished it worked on himself too, especially now. Logan offered a small smile.

A long silence overtook them. They both simply sat side by side and observed their unconscious hostage. He was sprawled rather inelegantly across a deep grey satin bed, one arm wrapped in a death grip around a plush pillow. His leg stuck out haphazardly over the edge of the bed, and his hair was in worse shape than Janus' - which was saying something, since Janus' hair was notoriously wavy and curly and constantly out of sorts, while Virgil's was just straight. His mouth was slacked open, but he didn't snore. His eyebags were somehow visible under his black eyeshadow.

Logan broke the silence first. This normally would have dismayed Janus, but again, these were... unusual circumstances. "Well, he seems figuratively out cold for the time being. Shall we seek out some sustenance?" Logan shrugged his suit jacket back on. Janus didn't move a muscle.

"I'm not hungry right now. You go ahead, I'll make sure he doesn't wake up and start tearing out his hair or something." Janus' somber tone stole his voice's usual sarcasm. Logan rested a hand on his shoulder with a great softness.

"I'll grab you a little something. Try not to stress yourself out too much." With that, Logan set a water bottle on the desk beside Janus' elbow and left in near silence.

Janus heard a faint receding clicking as Logan walked away down the hall.

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coffee--writes · 4 years

Text

ᴏʙʟɪᴠɪᴀᴛᴇ- ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

•cover by @pcseidcnsvoid•

•beta reader: @yourssuccubus•

Series Masterlist

➛ Remus Lupin x Reader Series

➛ Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind AU

What if there was a way to forget someone who hurt you? Erase all memory of them from your mind, never to trouble you again. Would you take it? Y/N L/N and Remus Lupin’s relationship had always been an odd one that slowly escalated downhill ending in a catastrophic mess. So the two decide to erase each other from their minds, relieving themselves of the emotional damage done. But what if you decide that you don’t want to erase Remus… in the middle of being obliviated.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Language

Your eyes flutter open.

Bright lights singed your eyes. When your vision refocused you immediately recognized the pale blue walls of the Shackers building. The room you were in was familiar to you. A desk cluttered with papers and a bookshelf filled with textbooks. The examination office. The reason for being in the room confused you. What was happening? You were positive the process wasn’t done, so what was going on? You turned around and a shocked gasp left your lips.

You were staring at yourself.

There you sat in the same chair you had sat in earlier. The medi-wizard stood beside you, her wand pointed at your head. A small item sat in front of you, your favorite mug from Remus. The medi-wizard’s wand lit up a light pink and your eyes widened. “What’s going on?” the you in the chair asked.

“We’re recording your reaction to Mr. Lupin’s objects. It helps us track where he is in your mind.” the medi-wizard replies kindly.

Your mind rushed with confusion. Why were you watching yourself? The medi-wizard had already shown you the object. What you were watching had already happened to you a mere few hours ago. A voice echoed around you. It was ringing in your ears. The words were barely audible but by the sweet tone you could tell it was the lady who had come to your apartment to perform the procedure.

Slowly the voice seemed to fade. Scared, you followed it, pushing the door of the office open. The minute you did so you found yourself walking straight into Remus’s flat. It’s walls lined with books. The typewriter still sat in the corner. No clutter was to be seen and the flat kept its usual clean aura to it.

You spotted Remus on an armchair, a book inches from his nose. His lips were a thin line and his expression somewhat miserable. A mug sat next to his seat, filled to the rim with lavender tea. A maroon sweater cloaked his figure and his face was pale and littered with a few scars. That’s when you realized what you had stumbled upon.

This was the last time you had seen Remus.

The ghost you. No, you would say memory you, walked into the living room. The tension between you and Remus was thick. Remus didn’t even look up from his book when you entered, one of his books in your hand and a tune being hummed from your lips. Memory you took a seat by the window, the stars shining dimly through the curtains.

“Stop humming.” Remus snapped, his eyes yet to leave the pages of the book.

“Why?” you scoff, “I left my Walkman at my flat.”

“You can go one goddamn day without music.” Remus replied harshly, flipping the page of his book with a scrape.

You open his book, folding it in half, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Remus huffed a frustrated sigh, “You’re being annoying. I mean look at you! Humming that stupid song by the Rolling Stones for the fifth time today. Folding my book in half! You’re going to curl the pages.”

You let out another scoff, “Oh for fuck’s sake, Remus. It’s a book and it’s meant to be read and I could read it how I like.” you pull a pen from the drawer that was beside you. “Well shit. Now you’re writing in them. Come on, Y/N!”

You groan in anger, “I’m sorry, honey. I just have a whole project to do for work. Don’t mind me keeping some notes in your precious book.”

Remus closes his book, running his hand through his hair. “There’s literally a pad of paper in front of you. Use that instead for Merlin’s sake!”

You watch you and Remus bickering. As you relived the argument, a pain stabbed at your heart. However, instead of the sadness that usually resurfaced when you thought of Remus, a bitter anger replaced it. His words were cruel and vividly unlike him. He shouldn’t have yelled and you sure as hell shouldn’t have let him.

“What is it Remus? Why the hell is everything I’m doing bothering you? Full moon coming up?”

You cringe at your own words. It was a low blow for you, using Remus’s lycanthropy against him. Self-hatred at your words bubbled in your mind. Remus’s face contorted into a bitter scowl. “You know what, yeah. A full moon is coming up. And guess who forgot to brew me Wolfsbane?”

You freeze, “How many times do I have to apologize? It was one time! That doesn’t give you an excuse to be an asshole.”

Remus’s eyes burned with a rage filled passion, “At least I have an excuse. What’s your excuse for acting like a bitch?”

His words that day had rung in your head for the days following that argument. You watch as the memory of you freezes. Remus’s face drops as the realization of his words hit him. However, it was already too late. You had already apparated out of the flat. The memory of you was gone and all that was left was Remus. His face dropped in awe at his own actions. Tears stinging in his eyes. Rage still boiled in your blood. Impulsively, you yelled out, “Fuck you, Remus. Fuck you.”

You jumped when Remus responded, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Y/N.” he stuttered, sobs filling his lungs, “I’m sorry. We can work this out.”

Confused as to how he could hear you, you fight back, “No. I’m having you erased. Just like you did to me. Fuck you!”

There was no response to your words. Remus grabbed a couple of belongings from his chair, tears still brimming in his eyes as he swung open the door, slamming it behind him. You follow instinctively, heading to open the door. But right as you open it, Remus was gone.

You entered your flat this time. Remus and you sat hovered over a table. Both of you staring at a large poster; letters from the newspaper cut out to spell “Lycanthropy”. You remembered that moment vividly. It was Remus’s first major project; a presentation on lycanthropy for the children at Hogwarts. A notable cause, you had told him. Educating kids on werewolves was an important matter to both of you. The poster was only the beginning.

Your flat was a mess. Newspaper pieces and shreds scattered on the floor. Ink stained papers thrown across the table and floor. Book upon book on lycanthropy stacked three feet high. You watched the memory sadly, neither of you spoke. This was when it had gotten bad. The arguments became more frequent, the sleep less cozy, and the love slowly disappearing from view.

You watched as Remus tapped the poster with his wand, the letters dancing about the poster. You chuckled softly, a small smile on both your lips. Looking at yourself ached you. Each little smile you observed, watching as your relationship crumbled into tiny pieces. It was simply unbearable; that in order to truly forget about Remus you had to relive all the pain.

You just wanted the pain to end.

The memory seemed to slowly fade. Your ability to discern what was going on fading. The last thing you saw was you tap your wand on the page and a flood of light hitting the poster.

>>><<<

Your vision narrowed back in. The sun hitting your eyes, making the little details of the new memory clear. You stood on a sidewalk, the streets slightly crowded with people. You spun around, looking for where Remus would be. Where the memory was going to take place.

“Rem! Rem! Guess what!”

Your voice is loud and clear. You turn around, the memory beginning. There were you and Remus, hand in hand, walking down the street. A smile on both your faces as you walked. You trailed the two lovers in the memory, the conversation ringing through your ears.

“What is it, Y/N/N?” he asks, a slight chuckle leaving his lips.

The smile on your face grew big as you spoke to him, “My boss has offered me a promotion! I could be making so much more money then I am right now. The job would be everything I’ve worked hard for and dreamed of. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Wow!” Remus smiled, “Congratulations, Y/N/N. That’s awesome.”

You watched yourself nod, remembering the happiness that had filled your heart when you had found out about the opportunity. The pride and triumph that exploded in your mind. The thought that each day’s hard work had gotten you to that moment. The moment where you could finally get what you dreamed of. But then sadness and bitterness bit away at the once joyous feeling; remembering what happened after that moment.

You had never taken the job.

“Yeah. I mean I’d have to spend six months in Ireland but-”

Remus stopped mid-stride. His eyes widening, “Wait… Ireland? Y/N that’s really far. And for six months?”

You had stopped, turning to him with a confused look in your eyes but a smile still lingering on your lips, “Well, yeah. I mean you could always come with me. It would be nice to get out of London, leave England. It’s also for my job. I have to go if I want the promotion.”

Remus bit his lip, huffing before looking you in the eye, “Y/N/N, I don’t want to leave London.”

You scoffed, a scowl forming on your face, “Well, it’s not really your decision. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I just figured you’d be happy for me. That maybe you’d come.”

Remus’s face grew red, anger clouding his eyes, “Not come? Y/N, you’d be in Ireland. What do you want me to do? Send you some owl post and act like we’re in a relationship?”

You raised your voice, “What the fuck? Look, all I asked is if you would come with me. This is my job for fucks sake! You’re not even considering it and that makes you downright selfish, Remus. You’re acting like a selfish bastard!”

“It’s you who’s being selfish. You expect me to just drop everything and leave with you to another country?”

“If you loved me, you would!”

You clenched your eyes shut, pressing your hands to your ears. You couldn’t bear to listen to the shouts anymore. The pain was too much. You just wanted it to be over. The shouting, the constant screaming. You pleaded for it to end.

And then the voices faded.

And then there was silence.

>>><<<

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

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Written In The Stars CV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m so lost idk in which day of the week I’m living and the posting schedule for this thing is a mess in wattpad and Ao3 h e l p -Danny

Words: 5,117

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘I Wanna Get Better’ -By Bleachers

Chapter Three: The Order of the Phoenix.

"Hold it!" Ron stopped them before they could continue their walk towards the kitchen. "They're still in the hall, we might be able to hear something —"

The gloomy hallway below was packed with witches and wizards, including all of Harry's guard. They were whispering excitedly together. In the very centre of the group, Harry saw the dark, greasy-haired head and prominent nose of his least favourite teacher at Hogwarts, Professor Snape. Harry leaned farther over the bannisters. He was very interested in what Snape was doing for the Order of the Phoenix...

A thin piece of flesh-coloured string descended in front of Harry's eyes. Looking up he saw Fred and George on the landing above, cautiously lowering the Extendable Ear toward the dark knot of people below. A moment later, however, they began to move toward the front door and out of sight.

"Dammit," Harry heard Fred whisper, as he hoisted the Extendable Ear back up again.

They heard the front door open and then close.

"Snape never eats here... Thank God. C'mon."

"And don't forget to keep your voice down in the hall, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"We're eating down in the kitchen," Mrs Weasley told them in a hushed voice. "Harry, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall, it's through this door here —"

CRASH.

"Tonks!"

"I'm sorry! It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over —"

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers —"

"Ah yes, that's the evening bell to announce dinner," Mel said with an ironic smile.

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut up!" Sirius grabbed the curtain and attempted to hide the portrait unsuccessfully.

"Yoooou!" The woman shouted. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"

"I said — shut — UP!"

Lupin grabbed the other end and both men closed it tightly.

"Hello, Harry," Sirius said, more calmly this time. "I see you've met my mother."

"Your— ?"

"My dear old mum, yeah. We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."

"But what's a portrait of your mother doing here?"

"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house," said Sirius, looking at Mel briefly. "But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters — about the only useful thing I've been able to do."

It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of the room, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr Weasley and his eldest son, Bill, were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.

Mrs Weasley cleared her throat. Her husband, a thin, balding, redhaired man, who wore horn-rimmed glasses, looked around and jumped to his feet.

"Harry! Good to see you!"

"Journey all right, Harry?" Bill called, picking up some parchments before Mel could see what was written in them. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?"

"He tried," said Tonks dropping a candle onto the last parchment. "Oh no — sorry —"

"Here, dear," said Mrs Weasley, fixing it quickly. "This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings..."

"Evanesco!" Bill exclaimed, and the papers vanished.

"Sit down, Harry. You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

"Some'n say m' name? I 'gree with Sirius..." Mundungus mumbled in his sleep.

Mel and Ginny laughed, waking him up.

"The meeting's over, Dung... Harry's arrived."

"Eh? Blimey, so 'e 'as. Yeah... you all right, 'arry?"

"Yeah."

Mundungus fumbled nervously in his pockets, still staring at Harry, and pulled out a grimy black pipe. He stuck it in his mouth, ignited the end of it with his wand, and took a deep pull on it. Great billowing clouds of greenish smoke obscured him in seconds.

"Owe you a 'pology," grunted a voice from the middle of the smelly cloud.

"For the last time, Mundungus," called Mrs Weasley, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah," said Mundungus. "Right. Sorry, Molly."

"Harry!"

Emily rushed over to the boy, smothering him with kisses and trying to brush his hair. Harry blushed furiously and tried to escape from her grip, but she kept him in place.

"You look so skinny! Don't worry, you'll be looking charming as a prince in no time," Emily tugged at his shirt. "We need to fix these– " When Harry stood up again, she gasped. "Merlin, you've grown!"

Harry was looking eye to eye at her for the first time in fifteen years. Least to say Emily didn't take it well.

"My little boy!" She teared up. "Not so little now... even taller than Mel! Oh, you look so much like James!"

"Mothers..." Mel rolled her eyes, but the woman ignored her.

"Never seen her like that before," Sirius whispered to her. "She used to be so tough... now look at her, crying over a kid's height!"

Mel grinned, catching the way Sirius was beaming at her mother.

"Mum, let him breathe," Mel stepped in, pulling her away gently. "I think you need a moment, sit down..."

"If you want dinner before midnight I'll need a hand," Mrs Weasley told them. "No, you can stay where you are, Harry dear, you've had a long journey —"

"What can I do, Molly?" said Tonks.

"Er — no, it's all right, Tonks, you have a rest too, you've done enough today —"

"No, no, I want to help!"

"I'll help, my mum's having a crisis," Mel teased.

As she started to set the plates on the table, she heard the adults continue their talk.

"Had a good summer so far?"

"No, it's been lousy," Harry retorted.

"Don't know what you're complaining about, myself."

"What?"

"Personally, I'd have welcomed a dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you've had it bad, at least you've been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights... I've been stuck inside for a month."

"Didn't know my company was such a torment," Mel replied without looking up.

"How come?" Harry asked.

"Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There's not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix... or so Dumbledore feels– I didn't mean I'm not having fun with you, little Em," He added out loud. "I just... yeah, I know I could be doing more..."

"At least you've known what's been going on."

"Oh yeah! Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time... asking me how the cleaning's going —"

"Snape's a twat," Mel said as she settled a plate in front of Sirius, "you shouldn't take it personally, it's like hearing a seven-year-old showing off."

"What cleaning?" Harry asked them.

"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation– No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in ages —"

"Sirius? This solid silver, mate?" Mundungus said, examining a small goblet.

"Ye... Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"That'd come off, though," muttered Mundungus.

"Keep your filthy paws away from it, Dung," Emily kicked him under the table.

"Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!"

Harry, Sirius, and Mundungus looked around and, a split second later, dived away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air toward them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface, the flagon of butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere, and the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius's right hand had been seconds before.

Mel managed to retreat barely on time and hissed when the knife touched her skin briefly.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE! THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" said Fred, running into the room and grabbing the knife. "Sorry Sirius, mate — didn't mean to —" He stared at Mel, who was holding the patch of skin where the knife cut.

Emily and Sirius were laughing, not noticing she'd gotten hurt. Mundungus was on the floor. Harry, however, was touching his hand in the exact same place her cut was.

"I'm sorry, Lady!" Fred left the knife on the table and examined her hand. "Blimey– let me see..."

"What happened?" Emily stood up.

"I'm okay," She quickly pushed the boy and her mother out of the way to wash her injury. "Just a scratch..."

"Boys, your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now that you're—"

"— none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble! Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Percy —"

"Let's eat!" said Bill abruptly.

"It looks wonderful, Molly," said Lupin.

"Let me see, Mel!" Fred insisted.

The girl noticed Harry was staring and turned away hastily.

"I'm fine. Don't worry."

"Tough girl like her mother!" Exclaimed Sirius happily.

"I've been meaning to tell you, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing-room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out."

"Whatever you like," said Sirius.

"The curtains in there are full of doxies too, I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," said Sirius sarcastically. Emily slapped his arm mumbling 'Behave!'

Mel was chatting with Mundungus, the twins, and Ron. Dung wasn't exactly of her liking, but the boys made him tolerable enough.

"...and then, if you'll believe it, 'e says to me, 'e says, ' 'ere, Dung, where didja get all them toads from? 'Cos some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!' And I says, 'Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?' And if you'll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'is own toads back orf me for twice what 'e paid in the first place —"

"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mundungus," said Mrs Weasley over Ron's cackles.

"Beg pardon, Molly, but, you know, Will nicked 'em orf Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing nothing wrong —"

"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons."

Fred and George buried their faces behind their goblets, Mel sent an innocent smile to her mother. She didn't know why, but she was feeling keener to do mischief than years prior. Maybe that was the result of spending so much time around the twins.

"How come you're not all over Harry?" George asked her quietly. "You're sitting with us after so long without hearing from him..."

"Don't nag about that," She rolled her eyes. "Fred already asked me. Stop it or you'll wake up to a dead rat on your pillow."

"I'll stop asking if you promise that I'll wake up to you on my pillow," Fred winked at her, which caused her to blush.

"Don't even think about it," She replied, making a face.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," said Mrs Weasley.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius took a deep breath. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

Mel snorted, she felt the sudden change in the room, but she didn't care about being the only one who found it funny.

"You think he didn't? He went mad upstairs!" She exclaimed.

"I did!" said Harry, then threw a grumpy look her way. "Not the part about going mad, but I asked Ron and Hermione, they said we're not allowed in the Order, so —"

"And they're quite right. You're too young." Said Mrs Weasley.

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions? Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen —"

"Sirius..." Emily started.

"Hang on!" interrupted George.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" said Fred.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" said George.

"'You're too young, you're not in the Order,'" Fred imitated his mother's voice. "Harry's not even of age!"

Mel looked around the table with disinterest, of course Harry was going to have all the answers he wanted. What was worse, she'd started to realize how much she'd felt his absence. And she hated that, she hadn't understood exactly how badly she was missing her best friend until he was standing in front of her.

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing. That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand —"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry! You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?"

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know!"

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly, but as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back he has more right than most to —"

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix! He's only fifteen and —"

"— and he's dealt with as much as most in the Order, and more than some —"

"No one's denying what he's done! But he's still —"

"He's not a child!"

"He's not an adult either! He's not James, Sirius!"

Mel saw the way her mother's face paled at the remark, that had to be a sensitive subject.

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."

"I'm not sure you are! Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" Harry pouted.

For the first time in weeks, Mel felt something else besides resentment towards the boy. Harry needed Sirius, he wanted to be as important as his father. She couldn't blame Sirius for seeing James in Harry, not when sometimes she would catch herself thinking of her own father when looking at Sirius.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?"

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and —"

"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!"

"Arthur! Arthur, back me up!"

"Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in to a certain extent now that he is staying at headquarters —"

"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes! Emily!"

The woman gave a start, but she spoke with confidence.

"Harry is as smart as they make 'em. He's brave and he knows this is not a game. I've seen this kid grow and I like to think I've brought him up a little, I can give you my word that knowing won't put him in danger..."

"Personally," said Lupin, leaning further on his place. "I think it better that Harry gets the facts — not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture — from us, rather than a garbled version from... others. Emily's got a point, she's been with him for the longest time, if there's someone on this table that gets to decide apart from Harry, that's her."

"Well," said Mrs Weasley, positively fuming. "I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Harry's best interests at heart —"

"He's not your son," Sirius mumbled under his breath.

"He's as good as!" Mrs Weasley yelled. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me! He's got Emily!"

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley. "The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it? And not too sound rude, Emily dear, but you had no control over Harry's life when he was a baby and you still have none. You have your hands full with Mel."

Sirius tried to stand up but Emily pulled him back down.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," said Lupin, sounding a bit annoyed. "Sirius, calm down. I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this, he's old enough to decide for himself."

"I think we've talked enough about him as if he weren't present," Emily nodded.

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry said immediately.

"Very well," said Mrs Weasley. "You six — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

"We're of age!" Fred and George.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron exclaimed.

"Mum, I want to!" Ginny demanded.

Mel and Emily shared a look, the woman knew there was no point attempting to send her daughter away. Mel knew she didn't have to ask.

"NO! I absolutely forbid —"

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George... They are of age —"

"They're still at school —"

"But they're legally adults now," Arthur said tiredly.

"Mel can stay," Emily replied, then she added coldly. "I don't need to have control over anything my daughter does to know that she'll treat the information with discretion."

"I — oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron —"

"Mel and Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron hesitated, looking at Harry with doubt. "Won't — won't you?"

" 'Course I will," Harry said casually. Mel nodded.

"Fine!" Mrs Weasley put the plates away angrily. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

After a few minutes of putting everything away, Lupin asked him:

"Okay, Harry... what do you want to know?"

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything —"

"That's because there haven't been any suspicious deaths yet," said Sirius, "not as far as we know, anyway... And we know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do anyway," said Lupin.

"How come he's stopped killing people?"

"Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself at the moment. It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," Lupin smiled a bit.

"How?"

"You weren't supposed to survive! Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore, and you made sure Dumbledore knew at once," Lupin looked at her. "With your help."

Fred and George looked at her without understanding. She hadn't mentioned to any of her friends the lifeline connection, how could she, without giving away the reason for her fight with Harry?

"How has that helped?" Harry asked.

"Are you kidding?" said Bill, answering Harry's question. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!"

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned," said Sirius.

"He doesn't know how, but he definitely knows you helped, Mel," Emily's face was grim. "Apparently, there are tons of rumours about you already, some are as far fetched as to say that you're the next Merlin, others just say you were at the right place at the right time– Either way, he knows there's more than one Dumbledore after him, and he thinks you're the easiest target to defeat."

Mel felt the urge to run and hide under her bed, but she remained still, her eyes fixed on her mum. She thought, kind of bitterly, that Harry's attempts to keep her safe were of no use, and taking away the only thing that was making them happy was a huge mistake. But she wasn't going to admit that out loud, she would pretend everything was fine on her side for as long as she could.

"So what's the Order been doing?" said Harry, after a moment of awful silence.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," said Sirius.

"How d'you know what his plans are?"

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," said Lupin, "and Dumbledores shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate... as we've witnessed more than once."

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again, in the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one group he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," said Lupin.

"How?"

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," said Bill. "It's proving tricky, though."

"Some others have also reached to a different area," Emily smiled at her. "Erick and Eliot have been writing to me, they're doing what they can with the pureblood families they know aren't as keen to see Voldemort's comeback. So far they haven't got lots of people, and of course, Erick tries to talk to the young groups, but they aren't that willing to believe him."

"Why?"

"Because of the Ministry's attitude," said Tonks. "You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Harry. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened."

"But why? Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore —"

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," said Mr Weasley giving her a pointed look. "The Dumbledores."

"Fudge is frightened, you see," said Tonks.

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" said Harry incredulously. "And Mel?"

"Frightened of what they're up to," said Mr Weasley. "You see, Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."

"But Dumbledore doesn't want —"

"Of course he doesn't– He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."

"Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice," Lupin added. "But it seems that he's become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that? How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that I'd make it all up?"

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," said Sirius. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him. He also somehow found out that Mel was having extra lessons with Dumbledore, though I guess that wasn't a secret. He thinks he's preparing her to be his secret weapon so they can take over."

"You see the problem," said Lupin. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumormongering, so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you? You're letting people know he's back?"

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass murderer and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand-Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" said Sirius bitterly.

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," said Lupin. "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

Emily reached for Lupin's hand and gave a gentle squeeze to it.

"I'm all right, I guess..." She sighed. "But my husband was a Dumbledore, they think I'm just trying to keep his name clean."

"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off, and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though. Tonks here, for one — she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset too. He's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you's putting the news out that Voldemort's back —"

"Who said none of us was putting the news out? Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?"

"What d'you mean?"

"They're trying to discredit him," said Lupin. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that's the Wizard High Court — and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards," said Bill fondly.

"It's no laughing matter. If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore's out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters, it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?"

"Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry. He tricks, jinxes, and blackmails them. He's well-practised at operating in secrecy. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in, he's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on them at the moment."

Voldemort was after her, and Fudge was after her as well? She certainly wasn't afraid of the latter, but it worried her, she didn't like being watched at all times; if her uncle ended locked up in Azkaban, she and Harry would be the next.

Harry was known to be stubborn and unable to shut his mouth whenever he was strongly against something. She couldn't have that, she needed him to follow orders as much as her because if he were to break the rules, people would immediately assume she was doing the same, if she wanted to remain safe for the rest of the year, Mel needed to change that.

"What's he after apart from followers?"

"Stuff he can only get by stealth... Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon? Something worse than the Avada Kedavra — ?"

"That's enough. I want you in bed, now. All of you," Mrs Weasley demanded.

"You can't boss us —"

"Watch me! You've given Harry plenty of information, Sirius. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway."

"Why not? I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight —"

"No," said Lupin and Mel.

Harry stared at her, but Lupin spoke, catching his attention.

"The Order is comprised only of overage wizards– Wizards who have left school. There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you... I think Molly's right, Sirius– Mily... We've said enough."

"Time's up, kids," Emily stood up. "That's all you'll hear from us."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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fanficflaneuse · 4 years

Text

One Day - Part 6

A/n (and disclaimer): Dear magical tumblr friends, I’m really moved by the great reception this series has had. It is my baby, my first series and also my way of navigating through these trying times. I hold it dear to my heart and knowing you guys like it just makes me ten times happier. Thanks for all the love and support.

Having said that, please don’t hate me for this chapter. It’s peak drama. It can’t get much worse than this (in this series, at least). It broke my heart a little, tbh, but it is important. There’s angst. Both Draco and Ernie behave like arseholes. A little bit of swearing...I’m crossing my fingers for you to like this.

I have also have some news. Remember when I said on the last A/N that chapter 5 was the middle of the series? I lied a tiny bit. I had planned for 10 parts. Now we have 12 lol So this is the actual half of the series.

Dear anon who sent me that angsty / fluffy request, if you’re reading this, last night I came up with a very detailed story line which I’m really excited about. I’ll write that as soon as I finish all of this.

This part includes a quote of Wuthering Heights by Emily Brönte. Also, one or two quotes come from the actual movie.

Anyway, enjoy!

Draco x reader (she/her pronouns) Word count: 2184 Summary: One day AU. Post-war. Since The Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and y/n meet one day a year.

Masterlist

3 May, 2003

(Y/N) sat in the farthest corner of an intimate muggle restaurant. She looked at her wristwatch for what had to be the twentieth time. Draco was two hours late. By now, (Y/N) figured she shouldn’t be surprised. What disconcerted her the most was the fact that she had waited for him. She was about to ask for the check and apparate back home when he waltzed into the restaurant. The man who (Y/N) saw approaching to her was not the sweet and very troubled friend she cuddled with, but rather the asshole that used to bully her and her friends back in school. He walked with his chest puffed, a cocky smile on his lips and an arrogant expression on his face. He was not her Dray, but rather Malfoy.

It took her no time to figure out he had been drinking. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, trying to disguise the hurt and disappointment she felt. He regarded her seriously for a minute. Draco hadn’t seen (Y/N) since that incident at the manor. They tried really hard to keep in touch. Draco’s life at the moment, though, didn’t allow for a lot of profound communication, mainly because he wasn’t honest, not even with himself. He’d drink every single day and party every other night. He’d wake up with strangers, squander his fortune in casinos and pick up stupid fights. Without fail, their owls would travel back and forth every week, but the letters sometimes mounted to absolutely nothing.

Seeing her in front of him, Draco found (Y/N) as beautiful as ever. He realized he was still in love with her, despite his efforts to drown his feelings for her – along with everything else. Perhaps, as contradictory as it sounds, the frustration he felt while having (Y/N) (Y/L/N) in front of him, made him behave like his old self. She was a symbol of everything he wanted and couldn’t have, of every bad thing he thought about himself, of how undeserving and inadequate he was. Much like when he was in school, all of that turned him into an absolute prick.

Draco asked for a whiskey. As he did so, he checked the waitress out. (Y/N) scoffed.

“What?” he defended, as the redhaired waitress walked away, “she’s pretty for a muggle.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. He had changed so much in three years after the war…and now he made comments that took her back to her first few years at Hogwarts. (Y/N) wondered why had she accepted his invitation for dinner in the first place. What was she expecting, really? Her friend – if you could call him that at this point – was not there anymore. He was replaced with the insufferable git Draco Malfoy was meant to be all along.

“So,” he said, trying to diffuse the tension, “what’s new with you?”

(Y/N) didn’t feel much like speaking to him right now. She looked away. Draco was hurt by this, but he pressed on. He needed her confirmation that he was a tosser. He needed her to tell him that he was worthless, that she didn’t love him or believed in him. He needed that reminder because he wanted to kiss her so badly, but he knew he wasn’t good enough for her. He wasn’t good enough for her love or her forgiveness or faith. He wasn’t good enough for redemption. He was a villain. He had been, anyway. And people believed it. So, he had to play his part.

“Are you still with MacMillan?” he asked, trying to act nonchalant, as if the news of her relationship hadn’t affected him deeply.

As (Y/N) nodded, Draco’s whole body was filled with jealousy. He knew he couldn’t be with her. He knew she was better off with someone like Ernie MacMillan than himself.

And yet.

(The combination of those two words seemed to haunt him whenever (Y/N) was the topic).

“Even you can do better than that,” he spat.

He was being so nasty that his self-hatred was reaching dangerous levels. People believed this façade to be his true colours, even more than when he actually tried to reveal himself as he truly was. Why, then, wasn’t (Y/N) leaving? Why was she still sitting in front of him? Why would she look at him with those wounded eyes, with that broken heart, and yet keep giving him chances?

The waitress came back with their drinks. The brief interruption allowed (Y/N) to take a deep breath. She still didn’t know what she was doing there. Even if it was her love for him that glued her to the table, at this point he had already exceeded what was acceptable and even healthy. She was on the verge of tears.

“Why are you behaving like your idiotic Hogwarts self?” she asked.

“Speaking about Hogwarts, how’s the teaching?” he countered, completely ignoring her question.

(Y/N) sighed and for some reason decided tell him. Maybe that would shift the atmosphere a little. She told him that her approach to DADA tried to resemble professor Lupin’s: theory and practice in every single class. (Y/N) talked so passionately about her job and her students that it was hard for Draco not to hang onto her every word. For a second there, (Y/N) saw the ghost of a genuine smile playing on his lips. In that fleeting moment, she felt satisfied.

This feeling, of course, came crashing down with his scornful remark: “that’s good enough, I guess”.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked through gritted teeth. She wished he had just shrugged it off again, but he had an answer ready and he shot to kill.

“Well, (Y/N), you know what they say,” he said, not even meeting her eyes. His finger was playing with the rim of his empty glass.

“No, Draco, enlighten me. What do they say?” she asked, bracing herself for a scathing remark.

“Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach,” he answered offhandedly.

(Y/N) felt the anger scorching her insides. She glared at him, a fire in her eyes Draco hadn’t seen in the longest time. In that moment, all of her sadness fuelled her irritation as she stood up. The seat fell behind her.

“And she who can’t will hex you,” she stammered before stomping out of the restaurant.

Draco had finally pushed away the only person that believed in him. He thought he was going to feel a bit better, given that had sacrificed himself for her safety. She deserved better. Then why was he feeling so empty and stupid? Leaving more money than he had to on the table, he rushed after his best friend. Draco followed her to an alley where she was about to apparate. He grabbed her by her hand and noticed she was crying.

“What do you want, Draco? What else do you want?” her voice was hoarse and desperate.

“I – I’m sorry,” he murmured.

(Y/N) had to conjure all of her self control to answer to him. “I don’t know what’s the reason for you to put up this horrible façade, Draco. I can read right through you and I trust this…this git I had the misfortune of spending my evening with is not the real you. But I can’t do much about it. Do you want to live your life as the entitled prick you were back in school? So be it.”

“(Y/N)…”

“I love you, Draco. I really do. I just don’t like you anymore.”

(Y/N) didn’t even spare him a second glance before apparating. Once alone, Draco broke down completely. This was not what it was supposed to be like.

...

(Y/N) wiped away the tears in her eyes as she opened the door to her flat. The lights were on, every single one of them. She specifically recalled turning everything off before leaving, so she clutched her wand and walked cautiously around her duplex. Much to her relief, all she found was Ernie sitting crossed-legged in the middle of her bed. She relaxed at first, but then she realized that was also a very strange sight. (Y/N) noticed that he was clutching a notebook in his hands and was eyeing it furiously.

“What are you doing?” Ernie’s eyes shot up. She realized that the notebook he was reading was her diary and her heart almost stopped.

“What is this?” he shouted, tossing her diary at her.

(Y/N) flinched. She knew exactly what he had read and guilt started to eat her up.

“(Y/N),” he roared.

She didn’t meet his eyes, fresh tears welling on her own. Ernie picked the notebook from the ground and started reading out loud.

“I love Draco. I love him with every beat of my broken heart?!” he pressed all of his anger into very single word, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

(Y/N) didn’t want to listen to her own foolish words. “Stop! Stop, Ernie!”

“I believe Draco feels undeserving of a good life,” he carried on anyway, “I, (Y/N), know he is undeserving of a good life.”

“Ernie, please,” she said, her voice barely audible at this point. She tried to take the book from him, but he just ran out of the room, reading and mocking her in the process.

“I hope those self-destructive behaviours don’t consume him,” he continued, “I, on the other hand, sincerely hope they do.”

When (Y/N) could finally retrieve her diary, they were engulfed by a rancorous silence. They stared at each other for the longest time, not moving an inch. She was inconsolable. His heartbreak pushed him to behave like Draco less than an hour before him.

“I am also a pureblood, (Y/N).”

“What?” the comment seemed very out of place.

“My last name is on the list of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” he said, adopting a haughtiness she had never seen in him, “My family can be traced back to nine generations of wizards and witches.”

“Ernie, what does that have to do with anything?”

“For the past three hours or so I’ve been racking my brain, trying to think what in the world could you possibly see in Malfoy. The only logical solution I see is that you’re more biased towards blood purity than what you actually admit. Now, I can’t blame you, but –“ (Y/N)’s hand collided spectacularly with Ernie’s cheek.

Had it been a different situation, she would even feel proud about the print of her palm on his face. But rage was seeping from his every pore and (Y/N) felt humiliated. Before he could retort, she barked:

“How dare you!”

“I’ve given you everything. I tried to make this work, (Y/N). I really fancy you, love you even. But not even once have you said those three words to me and yet that…that death eater trash gets all the praise and love and poems and multiple entries on your diary? Bloody hell!”

(Y/N) didn’t know why, but the first thing that occurred to her was to defend Draco Malfoy from Ernie: “he’s not death eater trash.” In that moment, she seriously wanted to slap herself.

Ernie looked at her as though she was insane. “Is that seriously all you got from what I just said?” he said in disbelief.

Before she could even answer he just shook his head. “You know what? Just forget about us, (Y/L/N),” he said before storming off.

(Y/N) sat down in the middle of her room. She felt like a bad person, a very stupid bad person. She had let Draco stomp all over her feelings and broke Ernie’s heart in the process. Why were feelings and relationships so hard and confusing?

All of a sudden, she felt a pair of arms engulf her in a hug. She smelled Ernie’s cologne and sobbed loudly into his chest.

“I am very sorry,” she said.

“Listen to me, (Y/N). I hope we can be friends in the future. I’m much too hurt right now…and I’d be lying if I told you I don’t resent you,” he said wiping away the tears from her eyes and forcing her to look at him. He was also crying.

“But you’re precious and I’d be honoured to have you in my life in whatever capacity,” he finished.

“I feel terrible, Ernie,” she sniffled, “but it would be an honour and a pleasure to have you as my friend…eventually.” They shared a hug and cried a little more.

When they both calmed down, things were strangely nice and light between them. Ernie praised her writing and encouraged her to publish even more.

“I know you adore your job as a teacher, love, but this,” he said pointing at the catastrophic diary, “is really your thing and the world needs more of your writing.”

(Y/N) couldn’t believe her luck. The fact that he was still here, regardless of what had just happened between them, made her heart swell. She was mesmerized by his Hufflepuff traits, his loyalty and friendliness showing up even when he was hurting.

Before he left, he kissed her forehead and told her a few words that would haunt her dreams:

“Be careful, princess. Malfoy really doesn’t deserve you.”

Tags: @fandomscombine @okaydraco @naomi02hook @iliketoast23 @winnsmills @oldfashionedlovergirlsblog @happycomb

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worldwidebt7 · 4 years

Text

Hell(L)ing || 03

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 4,456

§ — Rating: M

§ — Warnings: None yet~

§ — A/N: Reader and Namjoon get formally introduced to Taehyung! Though he doesn’t really make the best first impression…. But he still cute af! Thank you so much for all your feedback so far guys! I hope you’re enjoying the story!

Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

Before you knew it, you were preparing a light lunch for when Namjoon arrived for your book meeting on Monday, the previous nights’ events pushed aside, but not forgotten. When you had woken up Sunday morning, Yoongi was still soundly sleeping on your couch, face pressed into the back cushions and hands wedged between his knees. You had smiled fondly at the scene, nostalgia flashing images of his past sleeping habits like a slideshow in your mind. Somehow, you were perfectly content with being his friend— now at least, the first two years after the breakup had been filled with sad one-sided longing to be embraced by him.

You only lingered in the living room for a few moments before passing through to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee immediately, knowing that the man on the couch would be in need of it when he finally woke. It wasn’t long after the brewing process started that the half-asleep zombie staggered into the kitchen in search of the dark liquid. You laughed when he walked directly into the kitchen island before sliding into one of the bar chairs at the counter. He never brought up the incident, nor did he comment on your disheveled appearance, ever the gentleman. You fed him a simple breakfast of cereal, and allowed him to drink more than half your pot of coffee before he slinked home, looking only a little more alive than he had when he first emerged.

The rest of the day had been just as unproductive as the last and you were significantly more relaxed than you thought you’d be, though you had gone to bed with all of the lights on in your house once more. Now you were making bibimbap and bulgogi for Namjoon’s arrival Monday morning as you struggled to keep the eerie feeling of being watched from creeping under your skin.

Cooking for Namjoon had quickly been established as tradition for your meetings. The first time you did it, it was due to the fact that the two of you were meeting at your house at dinner time and Namjoon had confessed to not having eaten. Instead of ordering takeout, you quickly whipped something up for the two of you and discussed the manuscript of your book over tteokbokki. He complimented your cooking to the point that you had unknowingly agreed to cook for him each time he visited, not that you particularly minded preparing food, you just weren’t sure how it had gotten to that point. It was nice, though, to share a meal with someone; especially someone as intelligent and handsome as your editor.

The rice for the bibimbap was just about done when you felt the familiar tingle of another person’s presence enter your perimeter, and judging by the inquisitive yet poetic nature of the emotions connected to this individual, you could only assume that it was Namjoon. Soon, a knock came at your front door and you called out, letting him know that the door was unlocked and that he may enter.

“Y/N?” He called, closing the door behind him. You leaned over the kitchen island, hands wet from washing lettuce, and beckoned him into the kitchen. You saw his form appear, clad in a tan trench-style coat, white button-down, black slacks, and think-rimmed glasses. He had a laptop bad slung over his shoulder, obviously containing his electronic device as well as several other packets of paper if you had to guess by the size.

“I’m just finishing up preparing lunch,” You hummed, happy that your company has finally arrived and you were no longer alone with your thoughts. The tall man placed his bag on the quarts surface and shuffled out of his coat— one that he clearly did not need as it was still early September and still clinging to the warmth of summer. He draped it over the back of one of the pub stools at the island and propped himself on his forearms against the counter, peering at the food being fixed.

“Smells good,” He mused, a pleased warmth spreading through your body and letting you know that he was happy with the cuisine he saw. You were suddenly then hit by the sharp pang of hunger he sent your way. Normally, you’d think nothing of it considering hunger is one of the most common things you experience from other people. However, this time it instantly brought you back to the faint, yet no less potent reading you received from the creature outside your house two evenings ago— its hunger crawled under your skin like an army of insects marching in every direction, the detached curiosity only making it more violent.

The ceramic cup you had pulled from the cabinet to offer Namjoon a drink with slipped from your hand, shaken by the memory, and it shatters on the floor, startling both you and your editor. You stare at the once beautiful cup before turning to Namjoon, who’s eyes were large and alarmed, with an embarrassed grin. You could feel the concern and fright spiking from the man in front of you, but most notably there was confusion.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You stepped back from the pile of shards on your floor with a small smile— Namjoon was a genuine person; caring, intelligent, lyrical, and even if you weren’t empathic, you feel as though you’d have no problem understanding him and his emotions. He made everything apparent in his words and actions.

“I’m okay,” You replied, slipping out of the kitchen quickly and retrieving your broom and dust pan before scurrying back to the mess you’d created. “Wet hands.” You gave a light laugh, trying to explain away your upset.

Your editor didn’t know about your empathic abilities, and you really didn’t feel the need to tell him. In a sense, it was nice having someone that didn’t have expectations of having their emotions perceived by an outside source, which, if you thought about it, was rather invasive and you could understand how it might make people uncomfortable. While you considered Namjoon a friend, he was also your editor, so it was less about you trusting him, and more about keeping your relationship on a more professional spectrum.

As you began sweeping, the kind man straightened completely and attempted to round the island.

“Do you want some help?” His inquire has you shaking your head and pleasantly grinning at him.

“No, it’s fine, I got it. Sorry about this,” you swept the fragments into a small pile and collected it in the dustpan before making your way over to the trash bin on the other side of the peninsula separating your kitchen from your dining space. Namjoon gave a snort laced in amusement.

“Why are you sorry? It was your cup….” When you returned to your original spot you noticed his left eyebrow quirked, clearly entertained by your needless apologies. You rolled your eyes playfully and began fussing with the food once more.

“Just go sit down,” you said turning your back to him when you heard the tell-tale ‘click’ of your rice cooker alerting you to the completing of the rice for the bibimbap. Thankfully, you had already placed two large bowls out in preparation and simply began filling the bowls about a third of the way with the steaming rice.

Behind you, you heard Namjoon treading away from the kitchen and towards your small kitchen table set up in front of the large windows that made up the entirety of the back wall facing the lake on the first floor of your house. You only had four chairs for the table in total, however you rarely ever had the need of all four and opted to keep two, as you usually only had one visitor at a time. He unpacked his bag into a neat pile and set it to the side, obviously intent on eating before getting to the heart of the meeting.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You asked, successfully removing two glasses from your cabinet without incident this time. You filled yours with iced barley tea, a favorite of yours in the heat of the summer.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” He answered as he plopped himself into a chair at the table. You felt the anticipation buzzing in the air and stifled a laugh— the man really wanted his food. So, you poured his drink and delivered both glasses to the table before returning to the kitchen to bring the remaining items out for your lunch.

Once both of you were sat, the food presented appetizingly, the two of you settled into comfortable conversation. Lunch with Namjoon was always pleasant because Namjoon was pleasant— you could talk about anything, and any topic could easily slip into something philosophical. You enjoyed this; the intellectual talk kept your mind sharp and fulfilled, and you always felt the most satisfied after a long talk.

You had considered Namjoon a potential partner at one point, and when the two of you had first met, it was immediately apparent that he too had been attracted to you. But breaching the line between professional and personal relationship was not something that you particularly wanted to risk. Plus, you still had the lingering pain of your experience with Yoongi to keep you in check. And so, not wanting to experience another person falling out of love with you again, you kept any feelings to yourself until both yours and Namjoon’s sentiments faded into a fond friendship not unlike the one you had with Yoongi now.

Once the two of you had your fill, you placed the dirtied dishes in the sink to wash later and returned to the kitchen table where Namjoon was booting up his computer and sifting through a folder of papers. You almost huffed in disappointment— time to get down to business. You excuse yourself for a moment to grab your journal from your office.

You only needed to be in your office for a moment— just long enough to seize your journal and turn back to return to Namjoon in your kitchen. Your desk was facing the window overlooking the water; you liked looking out at the diamonds of sunlight dace across the ripples as you let your imagination carry you away too far off land. Whilst retrieving your notes you gazed out the window absentmindedly only to find something out of place. Or rather, something that didn’t belong.

There, standing at the edge of the water, was a man of rather average height and a mop of black hair on his head. You were frozen momentarily, something about the scene reminding you of your chilling visitor from the other night. Taking a deep breath to stabilize your racing thoughts enough to think rationally, your mind pulled a small piece of information out of your haze.

Seokjin’s roommate. The one he said would probably be wandering around. The one you saw on their property before. It must be him; it has to be him— the shaggy dark hair, though you only saw it from afar last time, was surely enough to tell you it was this mystery roommate.

You released a few more uneven breaths, holding your journal tightly by your side, and you took him in now that you had a better view. He was still outside your radius, so you couldn’t get a read on him, and his back was facing you as he stared out over the water, but you could tell he had a well-built form beneath his loose-fitted clothing. His stature though… was he smaller than your nightmare? Or was the presence of the specter looming outside your house that night so overwhelming that you had imagined him much larger than he truly was?

The man tilted his head slightly and you caught just the slightest view of his jawbone. You jumped slightly for reasons unbeknownst to you. It almost felt like he knew you were watching him silently from within your home. However, your startled brain soon posed the question: why on earth was he in your yard?

“Y/N” You heard Namjoon call, though he sounded close; was he calling from the bottom of the stairs? Backtracking, your eyes lingered on him for as long as your retreating form would allow before quickly darting down the stairs to find that your editor was, in face, awaiting you at the bottom. He wasn’t looking at you, though. He was staring out towards the back of your house and when you joined him on the ground floor you focused your attention in the same direction. “There’s someone in your yard…” You nodded at his statement, a still bit bewildered yourself.

“Yup…” You said, glancing at the tall man beside you before turning back to gaze out your window. “I think he’s my new neighbor,” you mused, more to yourself than your companion. You cleared your throat then, gaining his attention as you peered up at him. “Should, uh… should we go say hi?” Your brows furrowed, trying to express the uncertainty buzzing about. You could feel the same spike within Namjoon, however there was a bit of humor laced within it.

“We? He’s your neighbor,” he teased, causing you to send him a disgruntled, yet good-natured scowl. He chuckled at that, rolling his eyes as he nudged you with his elbow. “Like I would let you go out there with some weird dude.” Sighing, he began towards the back door, “Come on. We’ll say hi, send him home, and then finally get the meeting started.” You trailed after him, placing your journal on the kitchen table as Namjoon opened the door and stepped out. You followed suit, closing the door as to not let the cool air out of your house. The moment the door clicks shut, the mystery boy at the edge of the late spins to look at you, his gaze guarded at first. As you approached, what you felt made your blood run cold.

There was virtually nothing.

There were blips of emotions like caution and fear, even aggression. But there was nothing substantial to latch onto and this was both exciting and terrifying. How was it possible that he was evading your senses? How could he be keeping his feelings from flooding into you? Was he aware of your abilities? Or was he naturally repressive?

Not human.

You visibly tensed and stopped your approach, causing Namjoon to halt as well and turn to you in confusion, though you hardly noticed the taller man as you take in the daunting stranger. Now that you were within closer proximity, you were able to see his face— and he was stunning. You drank in his round eyes, sharp jawline, perfectly full lips, and flawless golden skin, each feature just as impeccable as the last. He was quite possibly the loveliest person you’d ever seen, and yet there was something unsettling about his beauty, the ethereal air radiating off of him almost too dreamlike.

Not human.

Your heart rate sped up, the same disturbing feeling from the other night creeping into your bones and setting your nerve endings alight. The dark-haired stranger locked eyes with you, and suddenly the small blips of intense emotions shifted— they were still on high alert, still nervous, but there was suddenly a softness to them, almost as if he were being cautious for you, rather than being cautious of you. At this, you couldn’t help the slight furrow of your brow as you regained your slow stride towards the boy, only stopping when you reached Namjoon’s side.

The unfamiliar man flicked his gaze between the two of you guardedly, looking as if he were to take off into the woods again any moment. You made no indication that you were going to initiate conversation, which Namjoon noticed and fortunately took the obligation from you at a low clearing of his throat.

“Uh, hello?” His deep voice and small step forward caught the other male’s attention and his eyes sharpened, locking onto your editor’s form. You felt a shiver at the aggressive spike in the air, both from Namjoon, and from the blips of emotion you could pick up from the stranger. Clearly Namjoon had picked up on the hostility directed towards him as well, and luckily for everyone, he was a smart man with a level head. However, he wasn’t immune to emotional outbursts, and the unwarranted behavior from this weird boy was clearly ticking him off.

“I-I’m Y/N!” you interjected quickly, trying to dispel the tenseness in the air to avoid a brawl. At your voice, the beautiful visitor snapped his eyes to you, still very much heavily guarded, and you sucked in a shallow breath through your nose. His gaze a piercing, almost as if he could see every muscle twitch, every pulse of your heart from where he stood— almost predatory.

You tried to control your heart beat, but with no success. Penetrating eyes, no stable emotional readings, predatory stare, defensive like a cornered animal…

Not human.

His eyes flicked between you and Namjoon, his body tense and when you glanced at his feet you saw that he was poised to dart off at any moment. What worried you is that you didn’t know if he meant to run at you, or away from you. You attempted talking to him again, hoping to calm him, but not before taking a step back away from him and sliding a bit closer to Namjoon.

“You’re Seokjin’s roommate, right? It’s nice to meet you…” You kept your voice as steady and pleasant as you could. He continued to scrutinize you, and you continued to try and hone in on what his intentions were, still only catching the small blips of hostility and distress at first until you saw his shoulders relax fractionally and you caught the smallest spark of the gentle caution you had earlier.

“Who’s Seokjin?” You heard Namjoon whisper to you, causing another aggressive spike in the air. This time, your head throbbed as well; an oncoming migraine more than likely caused by how hard you were trying to focus on your mysterious neighbor. You winced slightly, looking at Namjoon and withdrawing your abilities as much as you could.

“He’s—”

“KIM TAEHYUNG!” Speak of the Devil, and so shall he appear. All three of you snapped your head in the direction of the voice that you vaguely recognized as your new neighbor. You saw him before you sensed him, and usually feelings began faint and grew stronger as they neared you. However, when he entered the radius in which your abilities were effective, you were blind-sided by the power of his emotions. Anger, fear— panic, panic, panic. Always with the panic with this man; was he always going to be this intense? At least now his face matched his emotions. Breath knocked from your lungs, you nearly doubled over by the force and you immediately became overwhelmed, only finding little relief in your editor’s voice giving you something different to focus on.

“Seokjin?” He asked you, to which you nodded. The scattered throbbing in your head became a cutting pain, one that had you shying away from the sunlight and gritting your teeth. You felt a wave of concern come from Namjoon at your sudden change in behavior and your sent him a tight smile in return to reassure him.

“Yeah, he just moved into the house up the lake…” Namjoon nodded, taking in this information, and you both turned to readdress the other men before you. Seokjin had made his way to his roommate’s side quickly, clearly out of breath from his fast pace, and you expected the black-haired boy to be looking at the purple-haired man. Except, he wasn’t; his gaze bore into your own as you made eye-contact and you froze, unable to look away. His eyes were onyx, so dark that you couldn’t see his pupils, and completely bottomless, as if they were a gate to the deepest part of the universe.

“What are you doing here?!” Seokjin’s voice ripped through your hypnosis as you regained some of your composure, taking in the situation before you. Your neighbor was furious; his anger like hot coals burning behind your eyelids. His hand was wrapped around the boy’s forearm as if to ensure he wouldn’t be escaping his wrath. “When I said you could go outside, I specifically told you not to wander out of our yard, Taehyung! Why did you leave?!” Despite the fuming man’s temper, Taehyung, so you assume, gave very little as a reaction. He blinked at Seokjin and then pouted lightly like a scolded child. He glanced back in your direction before looking at his feet.

“I like it here better…” The baritone of his voice caught you off guard— the softness of his masculine face led you to believe his voice would be just as soft, but you realized that deep dulcet voice was a beautiful contrast to his looks. Strangely, you felt yourself eager to hear him speak again, as if his voice held some sort of magic over you. Instead, you heard Seokjin scoff.

“And that seemed like a good enough reason to disobey me? You know you can’t just be walking around—”

“Excuse me?” You nearly jumped at Namjoon’s interruption, as you had been too consumed by the unearthly boy with the deep voice. When you looked at Namjoon, you saw the exasperated irritation and confusion you felt lying beneath Seokjin’s anger written clearly on his face. You almost wanted to laugh, except you were just as confused as he was. What was going on here? This entire situation was absurd; a strange boy wanders into your yard, doesn’t speak to you, and then your furious new neighbor comes barreling in to scold the boy who is his roommate? So much for your peaceful sanctuary in the middle of the woods.

“Oh my God,” Seokjin finally seems to realize that you and Namjoon were in attendance, and the panic again overrides his anger to the point that you want to twist your face at it as if it were sour candy. Though, once more, you were pleased to find the panic present on his face. “I’m sorry! Did Taehyung disturb you?” Said boy’s pout deepened as he snuck glances at you, which you vigorously ignored due to the strange spell he had seemed to cast on you earlier.

“Actually—” You cut off Namjoon before his temper got the best of him. He was noticeably, and rightfully, annoyed at the moment. He had come here for lunch and a meeting, not to get wrapped up in some nonsensical drama that he probably had no time for. Still, you’d like to stay on good terms with your neighbors if at all possible, so you chirped up in an attempt to mellow-out the pressure hanging in the air.

“N-no! It’s fine, we just weren’t sure who he was…” You trailed off with an awkward laugh, hoping that Seokjin’s emotions would ease up and allow you the opportunity to breath. It seemed to work fractionally as you felt a small wave of relief. There was no hope for Namjoon’s irritation on the other hand— he would likely be in this mood for the rest of the day.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry about that,” the purple-haired man let out a tense laugh. “He’s not supposed to be out too much… he’s quite ill, so he’s often in bed.” Ah, there it is again. “I guess he got a bit restless and wanted to wander.” Again, more truths, half-truths, and lies and you were unable to decipher which was what. Still, that little voice inside your head was telling you to leave it be, Seokjin’s a good person. How frustrating.

“Oh, um, well my house isn’t too far from yours…He’s welcome to stop by from time-to-time if he’s able…” Perhaps then you could better understand why you couldn’t get full readings off of him. At your suggestion, you saw the boy in question look up at you, suddenly, with a child-like hope shining on his face. He was almost… cute. His hope was crushed, however, when Seokjin attempted to refuse your offer.

“No, I wouldn’t want to impose,” He looked at Taehyung, who looked back at him with the pout he had been sporting earlier. A melancholy leaked into the air slowly, something along the lines of remorse. At what you couldn’t place, but it was an unexpected emotion from the man who seemed to have no shame.

“It’d be no problem… It’d be nice to have company every once-in-a-while,” You assured him that having the sickly boy over wouldn’t be an issue, but it seemed to do very little to persuade him. Still, he seemed weak to Taehyung’s pouting face as you felt his resolve melt a bit.

“Well… we’ll see…” He said, looking back at you. Taehyung looked back at you as well, pout gone and entire demeanor brighter, sharp blips of excitement popping in the air like fireworks. He was cute. Namjoon, who had been standing grumpily at your side as you attempted to sooth the parties involved in this incident, had become quite impatient, and while you felt bad, you also knew that a smile was spreading onto your lips at his expense.

“Well, just know that it’s okay with me!” You placed your hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, getting the full brunt of his frustration though it was no less amusing to you. “We should head back in and finish our meeting,” You felt a string of emotions rolling off your tall friend that could all be condensed into the word ‘finally.’ Seokjin nodded, sliding behind Taehyung to grasp his other arm before he turned the both of them and began pushing the boy along back towards their house.

“I need to get him back home anyway,” He smiled— charming, lovely, and not completely sincere— and Taehyung sent you what you assumed was his signature pout. “Sorry for taking your time!” You wanted to laugh at their antics, but instead sent a friendly wave.

“It was nice to meet you, Taehyung!” You called after them, and you swore you saw his shoulders tense a bit. Once they were down the lake’s shoreline and out of view, Namjoon turned to you with an unamused face. You could only shrug, not knowing what exactly he wanted to hear from you, and he heaved a loud sigh and rolled his eyes.

“I still have a little time left. Let’s go talk about that book, shall we?” He said gruffly, making his way back to your house.

Ah. Right… about that…

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like-rain-or-confetti · 4 years

Text

After school (Draco malfoy x reader)

You ran your finger along the rim of your glass, your mind clouded by the imperfections and stresses of your life. Hogwarts was many years ago. Your friends were Aurors and you didn't hear from them much. Then again, any distance wouldn't be the same. You lived together for most of the years growing up. You were still settling into your own new job and whilst you felt that should have been the point where life couldn't get any better. You hoped that just maybe it would get better. You didn't particularly want the position not to mention the very poor wage. You were barely getting by. You had enough to feed yourself, have a roof over your head and a drink or two on the weekends and that was about it. You kept in mind your mother's words about how it could be worse and that things will pick up. It should have been reassuring but it wasn't, you were miserable.

You glanced around you before doing a double take to your right. A few stools down was a familiar face. You couldn't believe it. It was Draco Malfoy. His hair had grown out, some of it pieced back, away from his face. A light stubble on his face, wearing dress trousers and shoes along with a scarf and coat that looked slightly too big for him. Everything about his body language said he didn't want to be noticed- a polar opposite to the Draco Malfoy you knew in school. He must have felt your stare as he looked in your direction before looking startled. He recognised you. You knew he did. It was ridiculously apparent in his eyes. Almost as though he had seen a ghost. "Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?" You knew it was him but what else could you have said? "(L/N)..." He mumbled slightly, shifting in his seat. "It is you. I haven't seen you since..." You trailed off. You hadn't seen him since the battle of Hogwarts. Draco nodded before taking another drink.

To your surprise Draco spoke up, continuing the conversation. "How have you been?" You didn't expect that, you didn't expect he cared yet he actually asked even when he didn't have to. You shifted uncomfortably. "I, uhh, okay, I suppose? Could be better but I was never one to settle for the boring job." Draco cracked a smile. "Boring?" "What about you? I'm sure your life is more interesting than mine." He seemed to debate the statement before turning his gaze back to you. "I'm not working. I don't, uh, have a need to." "Lucky." You grumbled playfully. He smiled in amusement. "I have a son." You straightened. "Really?" "He's in his third year at Hogwarts. I have a picture of him if you’re curious." He reached into the inside of his coat. "Oh you know me well." You said in defeat, moving to sit beside Draco.

You were always curious at Hogwarts, you couldn't help yourself. You were always the one who was the guaranteed snoop, the one who would peek at test results before they're even issued. You couldn't contain yourself.

Draco pulled out a small picture of a boy with the same Malfoy blonde hair that you were certain every Malfoy had. "This is Scorpius." You gasped being met with the characteristic Malfoy blonde hair. "There's no stopping the blonde is there?" Draco smiled slightly as you chuckled to yourself. "He looks like a mini-version of you. He looks a lot like you did in third year. Never thought I'd say this about a Malfoy but he's adorable!" "I don't think he'd appreciate that so I won't tell him." Draco chuckled. "How is he getting on?" You asked. He nodded. "He's doing well, I often hear of his friends. He's very close with Albus Potter." You raised an eyebrow. "Now there's a duo I never expected." Draco cracked a smile. "Yeah, well, my wife and I didn't raise him with the same traditional Malfoy values." "You didn't? That's... surprising." "I don't believe in that stuff anymore. Not since the war. Neither did my wife so we raised him that whether muggle, pureblood or somewhere in between, everyone deserves respect. There is no superiors." Draco said as he took a sip of his drink. "The Draco I knew could never." You said in surprise. "A lot changed after school. The values my parents had become pointless and I realised that I never even believed them, I was just following my parents. I just wanted their approval. It only brought me misery so my wife and I didn't follow it." You blinked, processing the supposed changed man in front of you. "So he doesn't think...?" Draco shook his head. "No and I don't want that for him." "That's...that's amazing. Seriously. I'm also flattered considering I'm muggle born." You smirked. Draco looked back at you. "I should apologize for how I treated you back then. It was wrong. I was wrong." You never thought you'd ever receive an apology. "It's...it's okay. It was a long time ago." "It doesn't make it right though. I went of out my way to make you feel insignificant but you're not. You never were and I'm sorry." Draco glanced at you. "Seriously, don't worry about it. Clearly you've done a lot to turn things around. It's great to hear. Sometimes, I wondered whatever happened to you after the war." You were quiet before speaking up. "So you're married?" "I...I was. Astoria died in childbirth having Scorpius." Your stomach dropped. "Oh, I'm sorry... I didn’t-" "You didn't know, it's okay. I still say we raised him because we spoke about that stuff before he was born. It's nice to think she was involved." "You did a wonderful job, Draco." Draco cracked a smile but you continued before he could thank you. "No seriously, I don't know Scorpius but I can tell just by his picture. You've done a brilliant job and I'll give you credit for that even if you won't. Being a parent is tough, doing it on your own is even more difficult. I have no doubt Astoria is proud of the both of you." Draco met your gaze. "Thank you. Really. That's a very nice thing to say and I appreciate it. Thank you." There was a moment of silence. "What about you? Any kids? Married?" You chuckled and shook your head. "I can barely take care of myself right now, never mind a kid." Draco smiled in amusement. "They're exhausting. There's your warning." "Thanks." You laughed. "Also I'm not married, I've kind of distanced myself from everyone." You took a swing of your drink. "It's pretty lonely when all your friends are married to one another and are busy raising kids. Although it's not too bad. I'm sure someone is out there and I'll miss the days I can just go to the bar for a drink." Draco chuckled. "My life really is just working in a job i’m not happy with and just spending time alone." You lightly shrugged. "I told you, you're life would be more interesting." "What's stopping you getting a different job?" Draco asked. You chewed your lip. "Honestly? Me. I don't know if I'd be good enough." "You would be. I don't think I've known you to be bad at anything...other than trying not to snoop." Draco smirked. You couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, so you're not wrong there." "Seriously though, why not now? You don't have any kids or any of those kinds of responsibilities. Why not just go for it instead of wondering if you could have?" He pressed. You shrugged lightly. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just waiting for something to happen?" You cracked a smile. "Your guess would be as good as mine."

There was a moment of silence as Draco took a drink. "You're really different, you know." You mumbled. "I'll take that as a good thing, (L/N). I've worked very hard on it." Draco responded. "Just call me (Y/N)." You spared a glance to him.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #reader #one shot #oneshot

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gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

Y'all I am in need of some Loki fluff. Like, pure and unadulterated fluff and cuddles and just Loki and im s t a r v e d.

mama whipped this out way too quickly for you but um i thought this would be the cutest lil scene so here, a gift just for you

okay i adulterated it a lil and it got kinda smutty but it’s mostly fluff….sorry

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Someone forgot to close the blinds before falling asleep last night.

Well…kind of understandable. Maybe you’ll let it slide considering this is the first time you’ve ever woken up to find that “someone” lying naked right next to you, hogging the sheets to keep himself somewhat decent.

Shoving your head under the pillow isn’t doing the trick and sunlight is still pouring into the room, so you groggily sit up with a yawn—oh, ouch.

Are those muscles supposed to be sore?

It’s a good sore, you think, swinging your legs off the bed and curling your toes into the carpet under the bed as you search for some clothes. Behind you, Loki is still snoring softly, an arm already laid across your side of the bed awaiting your return.

Your side of the bed…woah.

In the frenzy of passion and whatever the hell else had taken you last night, your shirt ended up in the far corner of the room, so you reach for the nearest piece of discarded clothing: oh, perfect. Loki’s shirt.

You can’t help but bite your lip with a grin and spare a glance back at the god behind you. Should you wear it? To do so seems so… childish? Stereotypical? Cliché? But the shirt, a simple button up with the sleeves still rolled up to the elbows from Loki’s completely unnecessary but completely successful attempt at seducing you, just seems like the perfect thing to cover your bare body.

Maybe he’ll like waking up to the sight.

You track down some new underwear and slip the shirt over that without a second thought, bare feet padding across the room to close to blinds. Each step sends a new jolt of pleasant aches through your legs, not enough to hurt, but just enough to serve as a perfect reminder of the lines you and Loki had crossed the night before.

Though the sunlight is illuminating the room in an incredible golden warmth, you’re not quite ready for that at this too early hour, and Loki seems to be squinting in his sleep, so you close the blinds—just for a little while longer. You peek out the window while you’re there; it’s absolutely beautiful outside. Spring is on its way now that the rains have paused and the blankets of snow have melted away, leaving behind a stunning expanse of vivid green grass, the morning dew on each blade sparkling in the glaring sun—

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a more heavenly sight.”

You whirl around with a start at the gravelly sound of Loki’s voice, and sure enough, he’s woken up, propping himself up on his elbows as he stares at you with an easy half smile on his face.

“I—uh, sorry,” you whisper though there’s no reason to stay quiet. “I thought you were still—sorry, um, g’morning, Loki.”

Why do you feel so exposed? He’s staring at you and apparently doesn’t plan on stopping, and you don’t really know what to do anymore. You feel suddenly stupid for wearing his shirt; yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have done that after all, so you quickly shrug the shirt from your shoulders.

“No, no, no,” Loki sits up more fully, reaching out a hand to you. “Keep that on. Please.”

He’s sitting up against the headboard now and well, now you are staring. He still is completely unclothed, his stomach bare and too tempting, and he has the thin sheet covering his groin just barely—he moves to stand up and you gulp, for some reason not ready to see him completely exposed again.

You’re pretty sure you just need to sit down before that happens again.

“My shirt suits you, darling,” he grins and stands up, the sheet dropping away. You instinctively shoot your gaze to the ceiling and hold up a hand to block yourself from seeing anything. Stepping closer to you, Loki laughs deep in his throat and takes your outstretched hand, bringing it to his lips. “What do you think you’re doing? Aren’t we past that now?”

“S-sorry,” you mumble and force your gaze back to his face, trying not to melt under his adoring smile and how he runs his thumb along your hand. Words don’t seem to be working properly for you right now, unlike Loki’s strange ability to have himself completely composed and eloquent even having just woken up from such an extensive night.

It’s…kind of intimidating, if you’re being honest.

“So I’m nailing this whole ‘morning after’ thing, aren’t I?” You groan sarcastically and pull your hand from his grip, trudging back to the bed to flop down on it and pull a pillow over your face. “What do you even say to someone after…after that? ‘Thanks?’ ‘You were great?’"

Loki is just a little too perfect. You’ve known that the entire time you’ve been together, ever since you first kissed him. You’ve always known that you are, for lack of a better word, unworthy of his affection. So then why on earth had he just let you, some awkward little Midgardian, bed him? And why is he pretending to have enjoyed it?

You can hear him chuckling softly and feel the bed dip beside you as he resumes his place at your side, locking an arm tightly around your waist. Light floods your eyes once again when he pulls the pillow off you, pressing his lips to your cheek. “Thanks,” he whispers and you can feel him grinning. “You were great.”

“Shut up, Loki.” You keep your face squished into the mattress.

“What has my lover so troubled?” He trails his lips down the side of your neck, slipping his shirt from your shoulder to attend to the skin there, too. “You’ve bedded a god, darling. I don’t mean to sound self-righteous…” he pauses and moves back to kiss the spot on your neck he had discovered last night, the one that had made you practically melt in his arms, “…but you should feel exceptionally proud of yourself.”

“I should be proud of myself for getting in your pants?”

Loki laughs and runs his tongue over the gentle bite he just left on the curve of your neck. “That’s one way of putting it.”

You mull it over for a moment, your stomach twisting into knots at the careful attention Loki’s paying to your neck, then finally turn your head to look at him. “So you weren’t just faking it all night?”

His jaw drops with a shocked little laugh and he puts a hand to the side of your face, running his thumb along your cheek. “I would have thought this spoke for itself,” he gestures downwards with a grin and you bury your face in the mattress again.

“Come on, I’m being serious!”

“As am I!” He barrels into you then, pushing you onto your back and hovering over you in one fluid motion—you keep your eyes squeezed shut though, still not able to look him in the eye. “Why in all the nine realms would I have had to fake anything under your devilish touch?”

You open your eyes to glare at him and give him a good poke in the stomach. “God of lies.”

“And yet you never fail to bring out the truth in me.”

“Okay, Shakespeare, take it easy.”

Loki just grins and leans down to place a soft kiss on your pouting lips, and within seconds you can’t stop the blissful sigh that escapes your throat.

“What is it going to take for me to convince you?” He murmurs when he pulls away, adoring eyes searching your face, then he dips back down to steal another kiss. “I’m prepared to spend the entire day in bed until you believe me.”

Your arms wind themselves around his neck before you have a chance to stop them, holding him closer and keeping him against you, and you feel his lips curling into a proud smirk on your own. You kiss him until he darts his tongue out to try and begin round two, then plant your hands on his shoulders and shove him off of you. “A tempting offer, but I’m hungry. How about breakfast and we never talk about this again?”

He’s still scowling about being ripped from your lips, but his eyes darken when you mention breakfast and he starts actually crawling towards you, eyes narrowed and stalking you. “Breakfast, yes…”

You gulp.

“Consider me starved.” His fingers wrap around your ankle and he lifts your leg to rest over his shoulder, starting to plant heated kisses down the inside of your leg as you scramble breathlessly back against the headboard.

“L-Loki, I’m…I’m serious—”

“Shh. Just lay back and let me distract you for a moment.”

And does he ever. This time it’s all about you, and you can tell he’s trying to prove himself to you, convince you of his feelings, a sentiment you do greatly appreciate through the haze of pleasure he’s trapped you under.

“Have I convinced you yet?” He asks when you finally rip the pillow off your face that you had grabbed and bit down on when he pushed you over the edge, desperately trying to muffle your cries—but also partially to hide your face from the god between your knees.

“I’m—fuck—I’m still hungry for actual food,” you pant and throw the pillow at him, which he only swats out of the air with a laugh before it can hit his infuriatingly perfect face.

“Oh, fine.” He climbs off the bed and tugs on a pair of black boxers, walking to your side of the bed and holding out a hand to help you up. “To be continued.”

Thank god he gave you his hand, cause your still trembling legs nearly give out when you stand up and you fall against his side as your head spins. “Shit,” you groan and he laughs, steadying you with a hand on your waist. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Then I will ensure you die happy,” he promises with a chuckle and takes your hand, leading you down the hallway into the kitchen as you hurry to keep up.

Moments later you’re leaning against the kitchen counter staring at Loki over the rim of a bowl of cereal, his shirt on your body fluttering open in the gentle breeze coming from the window Loki had opened.

He is positively glowing, leaning on the sink across the tiny kitchen from you, blowing gently on the steaming cup of tea in his hands. You’ve never seen him looking so alive, so youthful and content as he does now, just drinking his tea in his underwear with a little bit of sleep left in his eyes, his lips a touch redder and plumper than usual—thanks to your relentless kisses, you proudly remind yourself.

And his hair…you smile into your bowl so he doesn’t see you almost laugh. For what you think is the first time since you’ve been together, it’s not perfect and silky and flowing majestically in the wind like some hair commercial. It’s still fucking gorgeous, of course, but right now it’s tousled, tangled, and curly, curlier than you’ve ever seen it.

It’s easily the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

There’s this one curl of hair that’s looped in on itself and is resting over his left temple, sticking out from his head and making you just want to run your hands through his hair again, smooth that little curl out—

“You’re staring, darling.”

You can’t help but give a sheepish laugh at being caught and point at his head. “Sex hair.”

He glances upwards as if trying to see it and laughs, running a hand through his hair—aw, there goes the little out of place curl. “I can only imagine how much of a mess I look right now.”

“Nuh uh, you’ve never looked better,” you assure him, finishing your cereal and walking over to put the empty bowl in the sink. Once you’re within his reach, Loki grabs you with an arm around your waist and pulls you into a one-armed hug against his chest, immediately attacking your neck with a million little kisses.

“Perhaps a shower, then?” He purrs as you double over laughing at the mercy of his lips, trying halfheartedly to squirm out of his grip. “Only to clean ourselves, of course. Just to wash my ‘sex hair,’ we won’t do anything else.”

“That’s believable,” you huff and push yourself out of his arms, turning around to stare at him a little longer. He’s much too smugly sipping his tea, waiting for you to do something, so you do, without really thinking: you reach up and take his face in both hands, lightly squishing his cheeks together into an adorable little pucker—his brow furrows in confusion as he stares down at you.

“You’re the cutest thing alive,” you giggle and jump up on tiptoe to land a quick peck on his pursed lips.

“No—I…what?”

Aw, he’s turning red. “I am not cute. Of all the adjectives you could have picked, you went with cute—ohh, oh.”

You just dragged your hands down his torso, letting your fingertips follow the bumps and ridges of his muscles to play with the waistband of his shorts, and his voice falters as he melts under your touch. “You were saying?”

He narrows his eyes at you, breathing a little heavier. “I was saying we need to go shower, right now.”

Biting back a grin, you glance down at your hands and notice a little mark on his right hipbone near your hand, just in that little dip of the v of muscles pointing down. A tiny bruise, it looks like, reddish purple and standing out boldly against the smooth planes of his skin—put there by you.

You poke the hickey without thinking, looking up at Loki with a bewildered laugh. “I did that.”

He raises an eyebrow and nods, taking your hand in his. “Yes, you did…you sound surprised.”

“I am surprised,” you tell him honestly, letting him lead you towards the bathroom. “I’m surprised we did that.”

“It was bound to happen, don’t you think?”

“Mmhm. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m surprised, but definitely not complaining.”

Loki shuts the door behind you and you find your back against it, one of his arms on either side of your head. Trapped beneath him, you grin up at him and reach around to slap his ass just to mess with him. “Not complaining at all.”

He laughs and runs a hand up your thigh, kissing you hard and pressing your back into the door. “I’d like to keep surprising you, if you’ll allow me,” he murmurs against your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and starting to walk you backwards towards the little shower—wait a minute. Your little apartment’s shower barely fits you.

“Loki, wait, wait, wait, I’ve only ever heard horror stories about shower sex.” You lightly push him away and gesture at the shower. “Um, logistically speaking…this might not be the best idea?”

He hums in acknowledgement but surges back forward to meet your lips, a hand coming up to grip your jaw and kiss you harder. “Mm, I’m willing to risk it. I know we can make it work.”

You sigh and shrug Loki’s button up off your shoulders, dropping it to the floor and stepping over it as Loki’s eyes light up. “Fine.” You hold out your hand to him. “But if I slip and hit my head and die, I’m gonna kill you.”

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hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007@himitoshi@drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1@yzssie @skullvieplu@forthesnakeofdragons@skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica@storiesfrommirkwood@agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424@paradisaicsam@fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites@tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong@holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas@the-republic-and-face-of-texas@doralupin01@whitewitchdown@atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs@vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettrosella @rocks-are-pretty-odd@confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter@arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose

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spideyrights · 5 years

Text

Partners (Series) - David Loki x Reader

I. PLEASED TO MEET YOU

series masterlist

Knees pressed to your chest, one hand steadied over the computer mouse in front of you, the other gripping your coffee cup loosely, tracing its circular rim. This wasn't how you wanted to spend your Thanksgiving but having only just moved to this town and determined to make a good impression in your new workplace here you were, albeit alone with the exception of one or two now packing up to head home. You reviewed your press release for the new case about the missing girls that had come in. Safe to say this press release was nothing short of perfect considering you'd spent something like 20 hours on it after it was the only thing your partner, Detective Loki, had left for you to do. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Loki didn’t want you around. You thought the other detectives were exaggerating when they wished you luck having heard you were going to be David’s partner, you were slightly more doubtful when the Captain wished you the same and now, having completed your first week at the precinct, you knew exactly what they meant. Loki had looked at you blankly when you introduced yourself, only murmuring “Detective Loki” - no first name, you had to take it into your own hands to find that out by searching his file - and returning to his work. He didn’t take you out on any of his field work, insisting that you had to do this press release, and being new and eager to make friends you thought it best to not cause any trouble and so you complied. After three days of working on one press release, however, you were beginning to grow bored. You pushed those thoughts aside. There’s nothing to complain about, I’ve got my dream job, you thought, and Loki will warm up to me eventually. It was nothing personal, of course, but he was blatantly a lone wolf type.

“(Y/N), I thought you left to go check out the RV that was spotted?” the captain notes with a touch of concern as he leaves his office, coat on and briefcase in hand, clearly ready to head home to his family. “What?” you exclaimed, patting around your desk for your phone in frantic gestures. Finally, finding it under a heaping mess of papers, your face fell seeing the text alerting you of the RV as well as several followed by Loki asking where you were. Shaking your head at your own mistake, you rushed out of the cubicle, grabbing your phone and keys in a bumbling mess.

You arrived in record time with the advantage of your police lights. You realised that in your hurry you had forgotten your coat but without hesitating you bounded out of the car, rushing out into the pouring rain towards the scene. By the time you got there you could see the suspect cuffed and being escorted into the back of a cop car, not to mention you were already soaked, shirt and all.

“Nice you showed up.” Oh no. “Sir, listen, I-I am so sorry, I just-”

“I don’t need to hear it (Y/L/N), if we’re going to be partners that actually means showing up on our cases. I can’t work with someone who doesn’t work with me, okay? Now let’s head back, we need to question this fucker. Make it there in time for that at least. And for the love of God, bring a goddamn coat next time.” he gestured down at your shirt at that final remark, refusing to let his eyes flick down however which you soon realised was because your white shirt was growing increasingly transparent. You crossed your arms over your torso, trying to ignore your heating cheeks.

“Y-yes, Detective Loki...” you mumbled as he walked away, trailing off knowing he clearly heard none of it. You huffed, looking down at your feet in embarrassment. You were normally better than this but of course you’d embarrass yourself in front of your already apprehensive partner. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t upset about it.

“Here.” A cop beside you offered, holding his coat out. “Oh no I couldn’t possibly take that.”

“It seems like your night is going rough enough, it’s alright.”

You smiled brightly, accepting the squad coat and finding warmth in its embrace immediately leading you to send another grateful glance his way. “I can’t thank you enough. I’ll have this washed and returned to you tomorrow, I promise.” you spoke sincerely, only making him feel even more sympathetic to the encounter he had just witnessed.

“He’s not always like that you know?”

“Hmm?” “Loki. He’s just trying to get this case closed, he hates ones like this.” You only nod in response. You don’t exactly want to vent about how Loki had been just as abrasive even before this case had come in. There was no point in speaking about your partner like that, asshole or not he was your partner and you didn’t like spreading negativity amongst colleagues. “Of course.”

You trailed Loki’s car back to the station and though in entirely different vehicles you almost felt like an uncomfortable tension existed somewhere in the space between you two. Having arrived, you stepped out of your car, surprised to find Loki leaning on his, waiting for you. As you walked closed, he joined you in your stride back into the station, instructing you as he did so. “I’ll start with questioning, you always start with the basics, use the photos, ask about the RV being parked outside the house, make him nervous if need be. Join me in the questioning room when you’re done.”

You stopped in your tracks but he continued on ahead of you. “Done with what?” He turned, facing you mid-stride, slowly walking backwards. “Changing your shirt.” he said as though stating the obvious before turning on his heel again, leaving you to bury your face in your hands in the desolate corridor.

As told, you changed your shirt and entered the viewing room, seeing Loki questioning the suspect who you now knew as Alex Jones, in the corner of the room. Watching the footage you could hear Loki subtly attempting to coax the information out of Jones but he seemed positively unresponsive, his head turned away and eyes everywhere but Loki’s. You noted how Alex’s behaviour was almost childish, he spoke in very only few words, he was easily frightened, his attention could never remain on one thing for more than a few seconds and he seemed not to understand some of the questions Loki was proposing. It was unlike a suspect you had seen before and you had your suspicions as to whether Alex was even truly capable of kidnapping these two girls. After a few more minutes of unsuccessful questioning, Loki slammed the picture down on the desk, clearly trying to unnerve Alex before he left the interrogation room, entering the viewing room you were in. “Hey.” He sounded exhausted.

“Hey, you get anything?” you spoke softly, almost comfortingly, knowing the answer would be one he wouldn’t be content with. He simply shook his head with a long exhale. You sat a few beats in silence, simply watching Alex’s nervous gestures on the screen whilst Loki watched the same through the one-sided glass. “You want a go?”

Your head shot up to his, meeting his gaze. “Really?”

“If you think you can?”

“Of course I can.” you retorted somewhat excitedly, trying to control your smile, knowing the deeper subject matter at hand here. Loki’s lips quirked up in a response of amusement, only ever so slightly making it almost unobservable, certainly not noticed by you as you headed for the door connecting the two rooms. Loki took his place in your seat, knowing he’d want to see this. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” he half scoffed, his eyes rolling.

Stepping into the room, you saw Alex’s eyes flit briefly to yours, hearing the click of the door as you close it behind you.

“Hi Alex, I’m Detective (Y/L/N),” you spoke softly with a somewhat genuine sense of compassion, much more genuine, Alex noted, than Detective Loki. “Do you want to sit down?” You gestured to the table and he seemed relieved to finally have the chance to sit down. The boy hadn’t moved an inch since Loki left the room and his legs were beginning to shake from exhaustion. He approached the table, sitting across from you as you gathered the documents Loki had removed neatly back in their case file.

“I think I might need you to help me solve a puzzle, Alex. Can you do that? Can you help me?” He nods to confirm he can. “These two girls,” you pull the photo from the file, pointing at each one as you say “are Joy and Anna. Have you ever seen these two girls, Alex?”

He stares at the picture depicting the two girls a moment longer than you'd expected he might, almost as though genuinely thinking. “Let me show you another picture or two.” You pulled another two pictures from the fill, now with a slight rush of adrenaline at the thought of having some success, one of each girl depicting their faces in more detail than the former picture. “Have you seen them before?”

He pauses, almost frozen, before breaking the silence was a mumbled decline. You sigh, bringing all the photos back towards you, packing them away. “Alex...” He looks at you for the first time this interview. “I’m really struggling with this puzzle. I just want to complete it, I know you do too so anything you can-”

“I-It’s not a puzzle, it’s a m-maze.” he spoke in murmurs that you couldn’t quite make out, nor did it seem to make any sense to you. “What does that mean, Alex? Could you repeat that for me, sweetheart, please?” you spoke, the tinge of desperation apparent in your voice and your leaned forward posture.

“Your RV was parked outside the house, Alex? Can you tell me why?” you questioned, choosing to change topic of conversation. “I went on a drive.” You recalled this was the same answer he had given Detective Loki.

“Do you like drives Alex? I like drives.” He nods, conceding that he enjoyed drives. “What do you do on your drives?”

“I-I just drive around.” he stumbles nervously. “Did you see Joy and Anna on your drive? Did you visit them?” His eyes are blown wide now, clearly understanding the direction you were taking this conversation. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Alex, I just want to know if you saw those two little girls. They’re very important to our puzzle.”

“I just want my aunt. I can’t solve it, I can’t...solve it, your puzzle.” Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you watched Alex mumble the words to himself over and over again. You pushed the chair back, standing with the case file in hand, returning to the side of the wall Loki was on. He looked at you with furrowed brows and almost a hint of anger. “Come on, you were way too nice to him. You could have kept going, you let him off too easy and calling him sweetheart-”

“Detective we’re clearly not going to get anything out of him now, he’s tired and I have my suspicions as to why he’s acting so strangely. There was no point me going in on him if he doesn’t even understand half our questions.” you protested softly, wary not to make it seem like you were arguing with your partner. Loki looked at you observantly, his eyes darting between your own as you stood beside his seated form. “Yeah, fine,” he spoke sharply. “Just...go home and get some rest or something. I get the feeling this case won’t let up.” He blinked in that way you realised quickly he does, a slight tick, almost as though he was glitching.

“Well...you too.”

“Hmm?” “Go home and sleep...or something. You won’t be able to work well if you’re tired.” you spoke, unsure of whether the comment even passed as appropriate in the dynamic of the strange relationship the two of you shared.

His response was a humourless chuckle, almost mocking. “Yeah, thanks, I’ll be fine.”

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal one shot #detective loki #detective loki x reader #detective loki fic #david loki #david loki x reader #david loki fic #partner series

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motleymoose · 4 years

Text

Lukewarm Endearments at Best

Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Gender Neutral!Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester (mention) Words: 2800+ Warnings: Flangst

It had been a long time coming.

Dad had always been a traveler. When he was home, he was a novelty to me, a stranger who was familiar yet so dang mysterious that it surprised me every single time my name came to his lips. Like, even as a little kid I didn’t think he’d know me from Adam unless I was right next to Mama.. And it wasn’t like I really knew him, either. How can you know someone who’s been on the road, away from you, for most of your life? Heck, when Mama passed, I didn’t even see him for at least 18 months.

Of course, he sauntered back into my life as if nothing had happened in that intervening year and a half, like I hadn’t been forced to become a responsible adult right on the cusp of 17, shirking high school, colleges and relationships in order to keep myself from drowning in debt and despair. I was angry, and I said some things I’m not proud to repeat. And like the distant, abstract saint that my father has always been, he stood there, stoically taking the tongue lashing I had saved up for him. Through all of it, I could feel my own grief growing deeper. I had lost my mother, but I realized I never really had a father to begin with. John Winchester had been a wandering canvas that I could project my ideals of fatherhood onto, and I had always been too caught up in my own little world to recognize that he was just as human as me.

Apparently a little too human. As I let my anger burn low and my voice grow quiet, Dad looked straight into my red-rimmed eyes and said he was sorry for what he was about to say. I told him that I wasn’t going to apologize for anything that I just told him, and he shook his head sadly.

“Listen, Y/N/N,” he started, and I watched as his eyes became distant and misty. “I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of, and a huge part of it is how I’ve treated my family in the past.”

I snorted and began to speak, but he held up a hand to stop me. “Please, let me finish.”

“‘Kay,” I snapped.

He cleared his throat a little before continuing. “I’m not going to be around for much longer, and I want to know that, before I go, you are taken care of.”

“Oh, like you took care of me when Mama died? Thanks, but I‘m good.”

Dad flinched, his eyes darting guilty to his boots. “That couldn’t be help-”

My face grew hot. “‘Couldn’t be helped?’ Fucksake, Dad. You left us high and dry as soon as you heard the diagnosis!” I couldn’t be around him anymore, didn’t even want to be on the same planet I was so done with him. I forcefully concentrated on jamming my feet into my running shoes, fighting back the tears pressing behind my eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m going for a run, see yourself out.”

I slammed the door shut behind me, and that was the last time I ever saw my father.

-----

It wasn’t until last month that I’d read Dad had died. He’d been gone for over a decade. The obituary mentioned two surviving sons, but I was so caught up in probing the ancient scar of anger that my brain barely registered the fact. I found the old anger was weak from disuse, my coffee was cold, and I didn’t feel one damn thing either way about him. It was like reading the obits of a stranger. I felt no guilt, no anger, no grief, and I was able to quickly brush it off and carry on.

It didn’t hit me until a day later, in the middle of a crossword puzzle, that I had brothers.

After rereading Dad’s obituary, I decided to find these so-called brothers of mine. I guess I was lonely, and maybe some of the old anger was beginning to rekindle. I had a family of friends, those whom I could lean on when things got shitty, and I loved every one of them. But there was a kernel of curiosity planted in my brain, the urge to know who my brothers were and if they were anything at all like Dad… or me.

It wasn’t exactly simple to find my brothers but it wasn’t that difficult either; just like with me and Mama, Dad had set up his other family in a nice little neighborhood of a smaller city. White picket fence and everything. It didn’t last long, apparently. The house burned down with the wife still inside. But at least the kids got out alright and his precious car was saved. It was a deadend after that, no honor roll or sports write-ups mentioning a Sam or Dean Winchester could be found in any of my searches. Which was weird.

Weirder still was the FBI wanted list.

It wasn’t completely by accident that I stumbled upon Sam and Dean pouting lasciviously at the camera. Two photos, posted side by side in an archive buried under another archive stuck in a clunky footer menu. These files were hidden so deep in the government website that it took several days and one very long night to dig through all of the archived information. It was as if someone didn’t want anyone to find them. But there they were. No one could mistake the striking resemblance between me and the Winchester brothers. Same sharp nose, same alluring eyes, same crooked smile that must’ve broken at least a thousand hearts collectively. Obviously, I had better hair and fashion sense than either one of them, but that was all thanks to my mom.

Anyway, after the criminal reports came the death certificates. And after the death certificates and official police statements, I was at a loss for what to do. I knew in my gut that they were still out there, alive and raising Hell, but I couldn’t explain it nor find any evidence to disprove the official reports.

But after months and months of bum-diddly squat, a desperate hour of carnal need led me to something so fucking obvious, I wouldn’t have believed it if it has strolled up and bit me in the ass.

Dean Winchester was on Tinder.

Shrieking in surprise and triumph, I swiped right so fast that my finger would have left Grease Lightning in the dust. Yes, it was delightfully improper that I was pretending to not be related to him, but there wasn’t another option that came to mind to officially make his and Sam’s acquaintance. And I really wanted to compare notes on our father. And maybe punch one of them in the face. But I was beginning to get ahead of myself before I even got a response, my anxiety ratcheting my inner dialogue up to eleven.

<i>Aw hell,</i> I realized, this is a questionable and highly unorthodox way to meet your brothers in person. What if he swipes left? What if it’s not actually Dean but a catfish? It took a moment to scrub my mind of an actual catfish typing on a keyboard, but then I was back on track to berating myself. How could you think this plan was anything but sloppy at best? It’s almost inconceivable that-

bing!

The doubt dissipated as soon as I peeked at my phone.

Dean had swiped right!

Wait, Dean had swiped right. Which meant he was probably coming into this meeting with wildly different expectations than me. Dread trickled down my spine and into my already roiling stomach.

Thanks a lot, brain, I thought darkly, willfully ignoring the warnings flashing through my head. “No use in worrying about things that probably wouldn’t happen,” I growled. It was a quote that I often fell back on, but it never gave me any solace, probably because it was said by someone who had never had anxiety.

I shook the tension out of my hands before replying to his winky-kiss emoji. I bluntly suggested that we meet up at a tiny coffee shop not far from the main shopping district of a nearby town. If worse came to worst, at least I’d have a bunch of people at hand to witness my abduction.

***********************

A few hours and a double shot of whisky later, I was standing in line at the meeting place. I’d just given the barista my order when I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

“Y/N?” Dean asked quietly, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. He’d sidled up beside me while I had been making small talk with the barista, taking me slightly by surprise.

“You must be Dean, then!” I said, a little too brightly. Rein it in, Y/L/N, I chided myself. Readjusting my features, I gave him a pleasantly bland smile and gestured for him to order. After he was finished, he paid for both our drinks and took the lead to a table in a shadowy corner of the coffee shop. Plunking himself down in the booth, he gave a casual stretch and motioned for me to join him.

I pasted on another innocuous smile and took the seat opposite him. He shrugged off the slight and leaned forward, arms resting on the table. His entire body language was so overly nonchalant I was afraid he was going to fall asleep. “So tell me about yourself, Y/N,” his voice was soft and warm, his eyes twinkling suggestively.

Yep, big nope and a nuh-uh, that’s gotta stop. “Well, I’m a librarian by trade, I’m a cat person who also happens to be a Sagittarius, and,” I caught my breath, my brain hunting for something a little less blunt than ‘you’re my brother.’ “You're my brother.” The words fell out of my fucking mouth before I even had a chance to soften the blow. It took me months to find these guys, and my big mouth goes and forgets all forms of subtlety. The anger and frustration at Dad had built up so much inside me that I was having a hard time controlling my feelings, and now I could add embarrassment to the pile. And I never not have control over my feelings. Sometimes.

Dean sat back, stunned. He started to speak, fumbled over several words, and then shut his mouth. I waited patiently while his brain processed the information. It took a few minutes for him to break the silence. “I gotta make a phone call.” Dean stood up from the booth, shaking his head in disbelief, and stepped away from the table as he tapped something into his phone.

“No worries, I’ll be here when you get back.” I waved to him, all innocence and sweetness. He glanced back at me with furrowed brows and stomped off, whispering aggressively into his phone.

“That went better than expected,” I muttered to myself as I happily accepted our coffees from a rather bemused waiter.

***********************

Half an hour later, Dean returned. He didn’t look at all surprised that I had drank his coffee for him, only a little hurt. I would have pointed out that I’d saved him the trouble of finding it lukewarm and bitter, but the tension in the air was so thick around him that I thought better of it. Behind him, I caught a glimpse of Sam, the younger brother, ducking through the door and giving the baristas a friendly wave.

“Ooh, are we having a family reunion?” I sniped, feeling annoyed that I hadn’t even had a conversation with Dean yet and he was already calling in for backup. “You’ll have to excuse me for my earlier remarks, but I don’t like to beat around the bush.”

He quirked an eyebrow at Sam and frowned. The taller one rolled his eyes and took the chair beside me. Dean slid back into the booth. I was surrounded, but that didn’t matter. What mattered most was confirmation. And I wasn’t going to get that by just staring at them. I opened my mouth to speak, but Sam beat me to it.

“This is… quite the claim, Y/N,” he started, kindly. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to process having another sibling. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that it isn’t possible-”

Dean butted in, gruffly. “What my brother is getting at is that this isn’t exactly our first rodeo.”

Sam looked at him in worn exasperation, but shook off the comment. “Like I was saying, it isn’t impossible that you could be a long lost sibling, but… do you have any proof?”

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the few pictures I had of Dad and me, plus photos of him and Mama I had shot when they weren’t paying attention. A knot was forming in my throat, but I forced it back down with a sip of ice water.

Sam and Dean each took a few of the photos, riffling through them like they weren’t my only link to a man that I barely knew. Dean stopped at one and nudged Sam. It was the one of me and my mom standing in front of Dad’s black muscle car, big grins pasted on our faces and dripping snow cones melting in our hands. I was 13 and still enamored with the idea of having a traveling father, too self-centered and self-conscious to think about the reason why he wasn’t around like all the other dads. The bittersweet memories of disappointment and otherness began to creep into my brain, sewing the chaos of sadness in their wake.

Taking a gulp of the ice water, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand to cover the frown pulling at the corners of my mouth. “That’s at the county fair. It was one of the longest times I’d remember ever being around him,” I said with a not-so-subtle tinge of bitterness in my voice. “He wasn’t exactly the type to come to the all-school play, or even stick around for more than a weekend.”

The brothers exchanged a look again. I was starting to get annoyed with that look; it was a secret language between siblings that I had never gotten the chance to experience because my father had kept us secret from one another. He had known that we all existed, had even <i>lived</i> with his two families at different times, apparently. I had never thought of Dad as selfish before, but the more I thought about it, the more I could see that he was just as much of a bastard as I had believed since reaching adulthood. The angry part of me was beginning to confuse the more rational side of my brain, and I needed to get the answers I sought before my inner voices started a war inside my head.

While I sat there fighting with my inner, angrier self, Sam and Dean had been in quiet conversation, heads bent close over the picture. Dean flipped it over to the other side, and frowned at my mom’s scrawled writing on the back. “This says it was taken in the summer of ‘94, which means you’re…” he stopped, forehead scrunched as he concentrated on his fingers.

“I’m about to turn 39, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out,” I replied, my knees bouncing from the stress and anxiety ravaging my nervous system.

Dean’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “That can’t be right. Sammy? Right?” I could tell he was floored by the math. If I was 38, that meant I was born between their birthdays. And if that was the case, Dad had a lot more to answer for than just being crappy at his parental role.

Sorting through the photos again, Sam didn’t respond right away. He was lining them up in chronological order, studiously checking every detail.

“Sam!” Dean said sharply, nudging his brother’s elbow.

“Huh? Oh, right.” Sam’s eyes refocused on my face, but I could tell he wasn’t really seeing me. The evidence of my existence was plain on my features, and they would have to be fools to not see my resemblance to our father.

After a while, I began to get fidgety again. “Listen, guys,” I said as I stood up and gathered my things. “It’s been a real pleasure, but it’s getting late. Besides,” pausing, I looked both of them square in the eyes, “I’m sure you two have a lot to discuss.”

Turning, I threaded my way to the exit and made it just outside the door when Dean caught up to me.

“Y/N, wait.” He tapped my shoulder again, and I pivoted to meet his gaze. “If what you say is true, and you are in fact family. Well,” he glanced back at Sam who was coming out behind him. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

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