#the yearning and pining yet the understanding of danger if they continue

[here-for-a-good-time-hopefully]

Remus is a blues/folk singer and I can imagine him singing ‘It Will Come Back’ by Hozier to Sirius

Both a warning and a call for him

#the yearning and pining yet the understanding of danger if they continue #like what else could hozier mean by ‘don’t you hear me howling outside your door’ #marauders #harry potter #marauders era #hp marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #singer remus lupin #my beloved #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #marauders headcanon #wolfstar #there is a shocking lack of wolfstar on my blog #my sincerest apologies #remus lupin headcanon #hozier #it will come back

[an-obsessed-writer]

Mind Over Matter - Part 2

Summary: Everyone knew the Baron Helmut Zemo, you’d have to be living under a rock to not recognize the name of the ridiculously wealthy royal attending your university. He was the school’s top bachelor, a sophisticated and confident man who obviously was wealthy. That was enough to make any woman at the university swoon, but he was always known to never keep a girl for long. What happens when (Y/N) finds herself meeting him at one of his parties?

A/N: i’ve started watching so many movies with Daniel Bruhl in it! he’s taking up every space in my mind. will i ever update my steve rogers fic? only time will tell. part 3 coming soon if ya’ll enjoy this :)

Word Count: 1.7k

Part One

You couldn’t believe what had just happened between you and Zemo. It was like something was controlling your body, not caring what was happening, only that it needed to happen. His hands lit your skin on fire, so comforting but almost dangerous. His kiss left you yearning for more, but here you were, walking back to your dorm instead of spending the night with the Baron.

Your heels clacked against the pavement, providing some distraction from the drunk classmates goofing off in front of Zemo’s house. You just wanted to get to the comfort of your room and lay in your bed until Wanda came home so you didn’t have to process this entire evening on your own. 

“(Y/N)!” Footsteps came from behind you with an all too familiar voice calling out your name, and you let out a groan. Instead of leaving this night behind, Zemo had to follow you out of the party, and you’d be forced to confront the scene that had just taken place in the lovely mansion you wanted to abandon.

Before you could turn around, Zemo was by your side. His suit jacket had been discarded, leaving his arms even more noticeable under his white button-up. There were a few stray hairs clung to his forehead, no doubt from the partying, but Zemo’s face was full of concern rather than a carefree college student.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft, making you release the tension from your shoulders, and you looked at him confused. “You left in a hurry, I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he elaborated.

“I’m fine, Zemo. I’m just ready to call it a night,” you say with a pained smile. 

“Please, call me Helmut.” 

“So any girl that makes out with you can call you Helmut?” A joking tone took over your voice, and your mind still couldn’t understand the effect this man had on you.

“Precisely,” he responded with a chuckle before he continued. “But seriously, I had no intentions of making you uncomfortable, and I apologize if I overstepped.” 

Your smile became more sincere, and you looked down at the ground before responding, “I’m okay, Zemo. I’m just ready to go back to my dorm.”

With a defeated look on his face, Zemo simply nodded, “At least let me walk you back, it’s late and Wanda is still with Vision.”

Your eyes went wide with surprise. It wasn’t easy forgetting about this man, but you’re not entirely sure if you would want to forget about him. His accent and his manners left your head in a spin, and that’s without even thinking about his attractiveness in this moment. The hair that you were able to run your hands through not too long ago clung to his forehead, his cheeks slightly rosy due to the alcohol, and his puppy dog eyes were almost too much to handle. Too hard to say no to.

“Fine,” you conceded, “but you’re carrying my heels.”

“Naturally.” Zemo’s smile showed you a different man than you had ever seen on campus. It wasn’t unusual to see him remaining stoic and unbothered at the library during his studies, nor was it unusual to see him looking constantly formal. Zemo’s messy appearance showed his casual side, making him seem almost more domestic in your eyes. 

With a sigh, you hand over the heels that you’ve been carrying and start the journey back to your dorms. 

It remained quiet for a few minutes, allowing yourself to glance at Zemo whenever given the opportunity, only to find that he was constantly looking at you. A blush crept up to your cheeks as you realize this, and you shake your head as a way to ground yourself back to reality.

“This is the Baron Helmut Zemo,” you thought. “He doesn’t pine after women, women pine after him. Get a grip.”

Yet here he was walking you back to your dorm in order to ensure you arrived safely. 

“May I ask you a personal question?” There Zemo was again, making even a simple inquiry as formal as possible. Is this the European manners or simply how he was trained when he was young?

“You may.”

“Why do you not go out much?” Zemo stared at you curiously, his eyes narrowing slightly at his own question.

“I’ve… got many plans for myself. Men aren’t a part of that plan,” you explain, sending a look over to the man next to you before continuing. “My plan is school first, life second.”

“What’s the point of living if you are not having fun during it? University is a big deal in many cultures, it’s the time people find themselves and experiment.”

A small smile spread across your face, “Do you just like to be poetic randomly, Mr. Baron?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Only when it’s fitting,” Zemo says with a wink.

“I can’t afford to get distracted. Unlike others, I have no back-up plan. This is what I’m doing, this is what I’m going to do. Thankfully, I’ve been able to get enough scholarships to scrape by, but I have to work to keep them.” You answer honestly, feeling almost completely bare due to the intimate conversation, but his presence had a calming effect.

Zemo only nodded and furrowed his eyebrows, signaling that he was in deep thought. He’d stay like that for the remainder of the walk, making you nervous that you may have done something wrong to offend him, but you chose not to voice your own thoughts. 

Just as your building came into view, rain started pouring from the clouds overhead. Without a second to think, you grabbed Zemo’s hand and ran towards the doors under the roof, not wanting to get soaked or offend the Baron any more by leaving him in the dreadful weather.

His hand grasped onto yours instantaneously, and ran alongside you with amusement. Amused by what, you can’t understand because your luck seems to only be taking a turn for the worst. 

Walking into the building, you could take a better look of the state that Zemo was in, and he seemed beautiful. His hair had flattened out due to it becoming wet from the rain, and you could see his undershirt beneath his button-up. You could get used to seeing more of this version of Zemo.

Taking pity on the already wet man who had escorted you back into your home, you keep hold of his hand and lead him to your dorm apartment where he could dry off if he wishes to stay. 

Your hands were slightly shaking as you unlocked the door due to the cold and the skin your dress failed to cover. 

“Just come inside and dry off. You can wait out the storm and go home after,” you say without even looking at Zemo. The thought of being alone with him in your room was nerve-wracking to say the least, and you couldn’t let him know that. Letting him know the effect that he has on you would only lead to trouble.

“You’re very kind,” he responds with a grateful smile, and follows you into the college apartment. 

Thankfully, you were able to clean up the mess left by Wanda while she was getting ready. Although, you felt ashamed that you continued to live on campus while Zemo practically lived in a palace.

If he didn’t like the place, there was no way of telling by his expression. He remained stoic and took a seat on the couch, laying a blanket over so he wouldn’t get it wet, and shook his head like a dog. Water droplets flew off his chestnut hair, and Zemo smiled like a little boy up at you. This made your heart flutter.

“I’ll go grab a towel and some extra clothes, just one second,” you say softly. You had to get out of the room because he was simply making you suffocate with his boyish charms. However, when you returned with a fluffy pink towel and clothes left by old hook-ups, Zemo had already stripped down to his undershirt and boxers.

You averted your eyes, not wanting to make a fool of yourself as you handed him the things he needed.

“You can look, you know.” You could hear the amusement in his voice, but you shook your head at him.

“I’d rather not,” you respond, keeping your eyes trained on the floor. All of a sudden, you felt a finger under your chin. With slight encouragement, Zemo lifted your face to make eye contact, and he smiled down at you.

“Thank you for your hospitality, (Y/N).” Hesitantly, Zemo left a kiss on your forehead before putting on a new pair of clothes, leaving you breathless. 

After gaining some composure, you remove the wet blanket from the couch and toss it into the hamper of dirty clothes before taking a seat. Zemo soon followed along after he got his affairs in order and took the opportunity to sit right beside you.

“I’m assuming these clothes are coming from men who spent the night? After all, even a woman who refuses to date needs pleasure sometimes.” He smiled at you cheekily, raising his eyebrows in a teasing way, but all you could focus on was the way he rolled his r’s. You could listen to him talk about calculus and be able to pay attention.

“That is none of your business!” You reply with a scoff and a little slap against his shoulder. 

Zemo feigned hurt and wrapped his arm around your body, “I’d consider us friends now. Friends know each other’s dirty businesses, yeah?” 

A giggle escaped from your lips, and you wanted to scoot away from the man, but the warmth of his arm around you was heavenly. Maybe you could make an exception for him.

#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #zemo #zemo x reader #The Avengers #marvel #college!au #college!zemo #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #vision #Steve Rogers #Marvel AU #zemo imagine #zemo x y/n

[kewltie]

thinking of bkdk in their late 40s when all their friends have already settled down with a family, izuku muses a lil forlornly how he would like to have someone to come home and katsuki just stares him dead in the eyes and says, "marry me then. i wont let you be lonely in that empty apartment."

the thing is bkdk are super successful heroes, they're the ranking no.1 and 2 and everyone knows their name but because izuku put so much effort into his career he never give himself the chance to meet someone and fall in love because the next things he know he's already 48 yrs old and still very single. as soon as he got right out of UA he had put himself right to work and hasn't truly stop since so izuku feels like he misses out on his youth, the flutter of first love, and now he feels like it's too late to grasp that chance again because he's too old to be stumbling around at love BUT here is katsuki suddenly telling izuku to marry him as though that would solve everything, solve izuku's worries and fears that he'll never experience love the way his friends had or knows what it feels to come home to a waiting arms that will comfort him after a hard day at work.

izuku first tries to laugh it off because katsuki cant be serious right?? but katsuki doesn't crack a single smile. "Do i look like im the type to joke about this kind shit to you?" he asks, voice steady and true. it is then that izuku realizes katsuki had meant every word he said.

but izuku still cant wrap his head around why would katsuki want to marry him of all things?? it is because they're both bachelor and wretchedly alone standing at the very top of their career where nobody can touch or hope to nobody can understand them like they do to each other?? izuku thinks that's a very dry reason to marry someone for the sake of convenience and not love at all because even though he'd devoted all his time to saving the world and helping ppl and HE'S OLD NOW but he still earnestly yearn to fall in love the ways all his friends had.

"If you needed company, we don't have to marry each other. I'm here for you always, you know that," izuku offers instead. "We're partners."

katsuki is silent briefly, then, he says, "You think i want to marry because you're convenience?"

Izuku blinks. "is that not it?"

"No," he says, all grave and serious, and for a moment izuku is breathless with realization.

"Oh," izuku replies, looking down at the table like it has all the answer in the world. "how long?"

"Since our third year at UA."

izuku jerks his head up, eyes wide with shock.

"what—I, wait, you can't mean that right?" he shakes his head as he flounders for the right words. they're both almost hitting their 50s now, so if it started in their third year then it would be 30 years of katsuki waiting for him, of pining over izuku and all that time was lost because of it.

katsuki press his lips into a thin line. "I have never lie to you."

"I—I'm not—" izuku flushes, because this wasn't anything he had plan for. who would anyway? no one would ever believe that katsuki has been in love with him for almost 30 years and izuku only found out about it now. even though katsuki has revealed the secret he has been hiding for 3 decades, izuku has no answer for him. he didn't notice katsuki's feelings for this long not because he chose to willfully ignore it but because he has never thought of katsuki in that light and that is the sad truth of it all. katsuki must have realizes that too because he doesn't press for more from izuku.

"i'm sorry," izuku says, mind racing to come up with a proper reply to katsuki's feelings because he deserves that much. "it's not you—"

Katsuki scowls. "shut the fuck up, don't even start that with me."

izuku quickly shuts his mouth, floundering for another reply that with save both of their feelings.

"Six months," katsuki says instead, eyes firm and never once dull since izuku has known him. "give me six months to convince you and if it doesn't work out we can get divorce then."

"you still want to marry me?!" izuku asks in disbelief. "shouldn't we like date first at least? isn't that how normal relationship work?!"

katsuki roll his eyes. "we co-own an agency, you have your toothbrush at my house, and we spent 18hrs out of 24 together almost everyday. our friends joke about us being a married to each other as much as to our work, we're each other's first emergency contact if something were to happen," he continues, straightforward like he's listing their grocery for today, "and i cant ever imagine wanting anyone more than i ever want you."

throughout this strange turn in their conversation, izuku realizes not once has he ever heard katsuki said he loves him but the way katsuki had revealed his unwavering devotion that lasts 3 decades and the dry, bluntness in which he spoken of wanting izuku, it's heavy. this hefty thing that katsuki has carried with him for nearly 3 decades, and in those years what izuku thought katsuki was just disinterest in any romantic connection because not once had izuku seen him look at another person, but it's because he has eyes only for izuku and nobody else.

izuku should have known never to expect anything less then 120% with katsuki because if there's anything that means something to katsuki, he would give it all and then some. it's humbling really, to be loved so fiercely and with such devotion that 3 decades is worth every second of it but izuku doesn't know if he's worth it especially when he's hesitant about his own murky feelings. he loves katsuki undoubtedly. they're partners in more way then one, but he doesn't know if he can love katsuki the way he deserves to be love in return, to return that same level of intensity.

"and what if the six months went by and there's nothing show for it?" izuku mumbles, hands clasp together under the table. i dont want to ruin this friendship of ours, he doesn't say. "what if you get bored with me and realized this isn't something you want now. what happen then?"

"you're stuck with me for life even if we get a divorce. i won't let you ever get rid of me either way," katsuki says, lips twitching with the slightest hint of amusement. "and if you're worry about me getting bored of you, don't. i fucking wont." It’s firm, assured, and completely sincere.

izuku thinks anybody with a half a brain at all would see this admirable man right in front of them with his unwavering affection and devotion that he had nurtured for 3 decades would be half way in love already, but izuku neither race or skip a beat; it remains dull and unmoved. maybe he's really too old to love like this. maybe, it's not that he's too busy to ever search for it like everyone else but because he has all the love for everyone but none ever hold a special place in his heart. for all of katsuki's sharp edges, his feelings burn ever so brightly while izuku has since been numb to his own emotions. to give too much to the world, to his job that he has never let himself fall freely and unconditionally. it's terrifying.

"what if i hurt you instead?" he says, quiet and severe. "what if in the end i couldn't return what you've given me?"

katsuki doesn't answer right away. the air around them tenses, threatening to suffocate them in the waiting silence. then a hand grab his and draws it toward katsuki's chest. "don't fucking underestimate me, idiot. i can and will make you fall in love with me in 6 months. 6 months is more than enough to make you realize what a fucking dumbass you have been the entire time for not taking notice of me while i have been looking at you for almost half of our life," he says with the cocky assurance that propelled him to the no. 2 position and beyond.

for the first time since this exchange had started and taken a strange, strange turn that left him his world shaken to its core, izuku's heart feels lighten. He stifles a giggle. "i still think we should date at least. marriage is maybe jumping the gun a little too soon."

"No." Katsuki's eyes narrow, and he squeezes izuku's hand firmly. "i'm not giving you any chance to escape from this. we can do all the dumb dating things you could ever want but we're getting marry first."

izuku tries to draw his hand back but katsuki remains undeterred. "Kacchan, please," he says. half begging for his hand back and half pleading against his insane idea. who in their right mind would ever marry first then date each other?! That's just not how it work! yet, katsuki is an unmovable fortress against increasing izuku's distress.

"deku," he says, thumb running across izuku's knuckles in a soothing circle, "give me this chance. let me prove it to you that i can do it. take this leap of faith with me and i won't disappoint you. trust me with your heart like you trust me with your life and i promise i will keep it safe."

izuku draws out a long, lingering breath that leaves his head heady with a dawning realization. "o-okay," he finally acquiesces, shaken with the knowledge that his heart suddenly doesn't feel safe at all for the first time in a long time in the hands of the man in front of him. bakugou katsuki is dangerous, but to the tender beat of his heart.

Katsuki's lips stretch upward into a small, precious smile that rarely see the light of day, leaving izuku breathless just for a moment. "we'll go get the marriage license tomorrow."

"tomorrow?!" izuku shrieks.

maybe he has been wrong all along, maybe you're never too old fall in love and experience it for the first time and that sometimes the things that matter the most to you are always worth the wait even if take 3 decades and katsuki always been more patient then people give him credits for.

#bakudeku #not!fic

[detroit-smash-my-ass]

Yandere Alphabet - All For One

Masterlist

Yes, technically this isn’t NSFW per se, but it gets into topics racy enough that I’m posting it here. And c’mon, who doesn’t enjoy delving into the twisted maze that is AFO? He’s neck-and-neck with All Might as the scariest yandere in this series anyway, but that’s another can of worms.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He’s very generous with the affection, but only if you’ve kept in his good graces. He’s not picky about doling out punishments if you act out. He keeps it fairly innocent unless the mood strikes, and even then he doesn’t care who’s in the room when he decides to seduce you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He’s the single most dangerous villain in the history of Quirks and has no hesitation to take what he wants when he wants. I feel like that should answer itself fairly well.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He’s gentle with you, but firm. His first priority is to make you dependent on him, and comforting you even as you demand answers. Depending on how violent/aggressive you get, however, he’s not above leaving you alone by yourself in a locked room for a while to stamp out that temper. As soon as you start acting nice, he treats you kindly again.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Not in the classic physical sense. He’s manipulative, yes, but he’s not going to force you into anything -- at least, not yet. He wants your will to bend and break before he truly starts doing things with you that you might otherwise say no to. Patience is key - and lucky for him,  he’s got a lot.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He tells you very little about himself other than the basics you already know: all-powerful villain who can take and give any Quirk he gets his hands on. He might liken you to his little brother once or twice, and perhaps if in a good enough mood he’ll tell you stories of when they were both young, but otherwise he’s a mystery to you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Amused. There’s literally nothing you can do to him that hurts, and for a while he’s content to let you think you’re gaining back control, only to crush that determination at the most heated moment. If you continue to act out, however, he will start to lose his patience and will treat you harsher and harsher, outright abandoning you in a locked room with food and water delivered once a day until he feels you’ve learnt your lesson.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It doesn’t matter if it is or isn’t; chances are, he’s already won. He does enjoy watching you go about, thinking you’re being sneaky when he’s already figured out your entire plan to escape. At the very last moment when you think you’re going to get out, he enjoys seeing the hope fade from your face as you realize you’ve failed. It gives him a lot of pleasure breaking you.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Being locked in a cell, alone, with nobody to talk to until he arrives to bring you food. He only wants to isolate you like that when you’re being stubborn; otherwise, you’re locked in your shared bedroom.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

First and foremost, he wants to rule his new empire with you at his side as his loving spouse. Your Quirk is deemed helpful enough that, should you be able to, he would like a few children sired with you to see what kind of Quirks they would get (or not, in which case he’d be delighted to share one of his with them and train them to use it).

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He’s not exactly jealous, but rather paranoid. His way of coping with that is to keep you locked away. You’re his, not anyone else’s, and he wants you to accept that.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He’s very affectionate. Loves holding you in his lap as he caresses your hair, maybe a kiss or two on your forehead. He’s very charming, too; likes to joke around with you and is quite playful when you’re in his good graces.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He met you while you were briefly in Kamino Ward and afterwards desired to have you for himself. He found out where you lived and worked and started sending anonymous gifts (along with a cell number) in the guise of a ‘secret admirer’ until you agreed to meet him over text. When you did meet, you were a bit intimidated by his size, but after a few successful dates you were already falling head over heels.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Absolutely. Most of the time, he acts charming and enigmatic, but when you piss him off, everyone knows it. The sheer weight of his aura is enough to even make All Might shake in his boots, and for good reason. He prefers not to let his charismatic mask slip, though. It’s much easier to manipulate others when they believe you to be weaker than you are and think they have the upper hand at all times.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Depends on what you did. If he thinks you’re just being bratty, he may spank you, chiding you the whole time. If you piss him off? Total isolation. 24/7, 365-366 days a year. At least, until he believes you’ve learnt a lesson. You’re locked in a cell with only a cot, toilet, and shower, and he himself delivers food to you once a day as your only form of human communication. Cameras are trained on you at all hours that only he can access. He doesn’t fuck around.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

At first, he’s quite generous. He allows monitored correspondence between you and your family. He allows you to go places only with either him or Kurogiri present at all times. He allows you near sharp objects only with supervision (like when you cook dinner together). But if you piss him off, he takes everything away, including privacy. Get sick? Need an exam? He gets Garaki to check you out, and he watches the whole time.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He can be exceedingly patient. His thinking is that you’re just a petulant child who needs to learn their place, and if he has to dole out a few punishments along the way he will. He just wants you to realize that he won’t let anything happen to you and that he just wants the best for you (that issue is subjective).

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

You know how he (presumably) reacted to his beloved little brother dying? That. Again. And this time, he would be less lenient on those he deemed responsible. He rules with an iron grip.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Doesn’t feel guilty at all, and absolutely won’t let you go. It’s partially his Quirk to blame; when he sees something (or someone) he desires, he just has to have it/them. He considers you to be totally his, and he won’t stand for anything else taking you away.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

As stated above, it’s partially his Quirk, partially due to being born in a turbulent time of history. Quirks were still becoming more common at the time, and he was already protective of his brother due to his perceived Quirklessness and because he was using his Quirk for good. He made too many enemies that wanted to hurt those close to him, and due to his paranoia (as well as his possessive nature), force of habit dictates that he isolate those he deems his.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Condescending pity. He dealt with that kind of behavior once, with his younger brother, and it nearly broke him then trying to get him to see how much he loved him. Now he’s older and more patient, and all he can do is try and comfort you by petting your hair and telling you that it has to be this way, he just wants the best for you, why can’t you just understand?

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

When he does lose it, he doesn’t ‘go mad’ in the classic sense -- rather, his resolve hardens and he retains his temper. His is more of a tranquil fury - it’s not immediately obvious unless he chooses to show you. He wouldn’t physically hurt you either -- well, not enough to wound you. He would consider spanking, but he wouldn’t break your legs.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Oh, honey. You really think he won’t see what you’re doing and shut it down when you think you’ve gotten free? He’s All For One. There’s not a weakness he hasn’t already thought through.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Aside from light things like spanks, no. Mentally, though? He’s a manipulative, gaslighting monster. He will not hesitate to turn you against everyone you’ve ever loved if it meant you were more dependent on him alone.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He goes the traditional gentleman route: wooing you slowly enough that you don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. He reveres your body in all of its beauty when you get intimate, but he rather wants you to worship him devotedly.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

If anything were to make him snap, it would be you (against all odds) escaping his grip. Maybe one of his underlings somehow slipped you out under his nose. Maybe another decided to just dump you somewhere. Either way, he’s going full lockdown mode and will not stop until he finds you. And believe me, he will find you.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

That’s probably the first thing he does if you’re stubborn/defiant enough. If you prove to be totally into it and are willing to be totally dependent on him, congrats! You get to escape with your will mostly unharmed!

#yandere alphabet #all for one #afo #yandere all for one

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Top five fanfics?

Oh fuck (gets shot)

Well, I shot myself in the foot with that one.

Keep in mind, these are in no particular order, and I'm a bit of a pleb when it comes to reading fanfic. I just tend to like what's popular or stuff written by my friends.

I need to give Height Treason by @wholesomeklei a huge shout-out.

I'm not sure if this fic will ever be continued or not. Last I heard of Klei, they had a cancer scare (it wasn't) updated a chapter about Sizz-lorr and then vanished from the internet entirely. I hope they're taking a much needed break from online stuff and nothing bad happened to them.

But anyways, I can not thank Height Treason enough for existing. It gells with the humor of canon so seemlessly it feels like I'm watching an "Invader Zim after dark" show. Yes, even despite the not safe for work canon.

I love the lore they weave and I'm always a fan of "zim finds out the truth of his mission and schmoops and gets revenge on the Irken empire" stories. Also Pining Zim has my whole heart.

And it even paints side characters with much love.

Membrane tries his best and sucks at parenting and it inspired me greatly for how I write and came to understand Membrane as a character.

Miss Bitters is a delight. Sargent Slabrankle gets a cameo. Tak's ship has an existential crisis. Gosshloog gets an entire chapter about a spicy love afair with his boss. Zim's Computer is his usual sassy self and has ackward conversations with a frustrated teenage Dib.

Like the love for the side characters is amazing.

Height Treason was the fanfic that inspired me to write an entire fanfiction based on Computer Brain lore.

The lore is amazing, it's in character and this fic inspired me SO MUCH and is the reason that Tech Support (and the Brainbrane fic by extension) even exists.

I've probably reread this fic over twenty times.

However, I can't link the fic here, since it's VERY nsfw. As in, explicit sex scenes later. (The chapter where zim learns sex education is great)

So I can't link it, but it's easily searchable on A03.

If you're of age, and don't mind nsfw I highly recommend it.

Honesty Hour by @patchworkpoltergeist is one of those new fandom classics.

Like I don't even know how describe this fic.

Honesty Hour chills me to the core and has me looking at my ceiling for hours on end questioning my own existence.

Like it's Zim gets therapy, but in a psychological horror way.

Patch is a master wordsmith and just has a way of describing things. Everything is in the details.

I just love how Zim thinks and that half the time I don't know what's going on as much as Zim does. Which is honestly more scary then I think.

There's lots of details that I miss and usually after talking about the chapter with Patch or the Moo-ping10 gang, I realize "oh fuck that's what happened?! The hell"

Anyways. I fear and look forward to every update.

But I honestly have to run a mental health check before I even attempt to read the chapters.

Emotions, Cryptids and the possible end of the world series by @bamsara

I feel Bamsara does onto theirself and I don't need to sing her fics praises but I will.

I am a bit behind on my reading, cause I haven't read the latest chapter of Galaxy Days yet.

But I love the casual yet feral friendship Dib and Zim have built throughout this series.

There's just a constant yearning throughout the whole thing, and the two boys are at the center of it all. Like the feeling of a real long road trip with no destination in mind. That's often what these series of fics feel like. There's an underlying tenderness and longing but also something dark and sinister. A lot of moments stay in my head for days after the fact. Not just the cryptids of the fic, but the smaller moments. Zim and Dib having breakfast in France as the sun rises, Dib crying his eyes out in a dingy motel room near the beach, Zim breaking into Dib's hospital room in the dark, Dib attacking Zim in a fit of insomnia hallucinations....

The list goes on.

There's plenty of good moments, and I've even drawn Zim giving Dib space (cause that's the fucking gayest romantic thing and I still lie in bed thinking about it)

Also Dib constantly running into Death's arms and Zim often doing fisticuffs with her and both getting stupid trauma over stupid decisions is very good.

I feel a lot of Sara's soul in these fics and it shows. Especially with how Dib is written and I can tell this is an extremely personal project with passion behind it and I can't help but admire that.

Every star another sun series by @dionysuscrysis

I really love this series. The end.

Okay, unfair.

But Dion's series really needs more views and appreciation.

I like how it just skips over the "zim and dib become friends somehow....realizes mission is fake..yadda yadda" part of the story and just jumps right into the thick of it.

Space Adventures! Wooooo!!!!

A giant sandworm, a Battle Zoo!!! An alien spa, badass good guy Skoodge, and mad max style sci-fi racing.

And I'm glad that Dib is already in his early twenties here. And Dib is just so smart with machines and not a complete lost duck in space. He's sharp as a tack and dumb as an ox this boy and I love him very much.

Lol I'm old. I'm sick of seeing teenage drama sometimes.

And I can also feel a lot of Dion's soul in their fics.

Lots of hurt comfort in here....

It's actually kinda like the Bamsara effect in reverse...

Instead of Dib throwing himself head first into danger...

Zim is the one doing it.

And Dib thinks an appropriate way to fix this is throw himself at the same danger.

Idiots.

Help them.

Parade of Indignities by @rissynicole

Finished recently and since then my heart has never known peace.

It's one of those fandom classics that I ended up reading due to Bamsara's fic recommendation list like roughly two years ago.

Rissy has a way with words and their strengths lend themselves to action scenes extremely well.

Zim finds himself critically ill and it's up to Dib to travel back to irken space to save him.

Thats the basic premise but there is so much more.

A conspiracy, involving the other Invaders, Zim's massive wall of denial, and how everything Zadf happens from Dib's perspective.

I remember reading all the available chapters (like 15 of them) all in one night until 5am the first time I read it.

It's a master suspense and thriller story and I enjoyed it very much.

I still have to leave a huge comment.

Also honorable recommendations:

@melodyofthevoid 's Royalty AU.

....just. it good. Save these kids.

And ofc me and @paketdimensioncomic 's collab fics:

"Jerking around the House" and "Membrane's guide to be a better parent, lose your fucking arms"

You're a delight to work with and I love how your writing style compliments my insane ramblings so they're less wordy.

Also gotta give a shout-out to my Baby Tech Support.

Is it vain to plug your own fics? Maybe.

Do I care.

Nah.

I love my stuff. And I'm glad others do too.

#invader zim #fanfic recs

[shini--chan]

Hiii, How would the 2p FACE family react to a stuck up reader? One that is about as stubborn as a mule and will snap at them for getting too close?

I would imagine it like this:

Yandere 2p! Hetalia America

Allen looked at you, completely forlorn in his affections for you. Just why did you have to be so stubborn, batting away his affections at every opportunity and give him the cold shoulder? He guessed that it simply added to your appeal.  The unobtainable simply made the vying more intense.

Filled with yearning he approached you, where you were sitting on the coach. It was so unfair how you acted, playing all coy as is you were some nymph, the mere movements of you turning the pages being to elegant for him to look away. You had him completely enticed, so it was an injustice that you acted as if there were worlds between the two of you.

“Hey, sugar”, he greeted you, hoping for his desperation to leak through and simultaneously loathing betraying such weakness to you, “How are ya doing?”

It was a simple question, one with all the good intentions of the world, yet you only deigned to give him your usual response. A huff and you turned away from him, nose in the air. “I was fine until you showed up”, you sneered. Why did your words always have to hurt to damn much?

To Allen, this would be a nightmare, the sort of hell that would make him curse his own foolish heart. On a part, he wouldn’t completely understand how he’d become obsessed with you in the first place. The two of you would be opposites, and not in the good way because it would result in a lot of rage, fear, and undiscussed feelings. Allen would be expressive while you would cage all your feelings, at least, in front of him. In fights, he would get hot-headed and rage while you would be the standoffish ice queen. He would just want to unwind around you while you would have a stick up your rear and always have a few verbal taunts at hand.

 On the flip side, having his obsession in no way requitted would pour oil into his fire – it would just serve to amplify his determination to make you submit to your own hidden feelings for him, something that he would tell you on more than one occasion. May the powers that be save this man, for he has watched far too many Hollywood romances.

Canada

“How about you let me in? I won’t hurt you?”, he tried to reason with you. Tried was a good word for it, considering his poor social skills and the tendency to stick his foot in his mouth the few times he did venture amongst ordinary mortals. You have the stubbornness of a scrawny old ass was no antidote to it.

“How about no?”

Cursing under his breath, he leaned against the door frame and pinched the bridge of his nose. Just why did you have to act like conceding to doing the smallest of favours, especially when he was appealing to reason, was like giving him victory.

“Just let me see the cut! Do you really want it ta get infected?”, he growled.

“Go away! I’m doing this on my own”, you yelled back, each word a whip of sand grating at his patience. It was nearly at an end as well. “(Y/n), don’t make me kick down the door.

Canada would be rather frustrated to deal with a person like you. Sure, he himself is a reserved man, that likes to keep his cards close to his chest and sit back and observe before he makes his move. But being in obsession, he would want to be open around you, expose the vulnerable and hidden parts of his personality. You being bull-headed and refusing to head in that direction with him would hinder him on that.

His frustration would then echo in his treatment of you – he would become completely stingy, acting out his emotions in violent outbursts as he would struggle to gain control over himself and the situation at hand. That would cause your cold demeanour to  remain and your loathing for him to intensify which lead to a spiral.

England

Oliver was being insistent again and you didn’t like it one bit.

“Come on, love. Just one kiss. It won’t hurt; that is if you comply”, he sniggered as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lithe fingers digging into your side and trapping your arms to your sides. When he leaned up to plant a firm kiss on your lips, you turned away and sneered icily:

“It will hurt you more if you tried to.”

He growled into your shoulder, his nerves raw from distanced behaviour that had already lasted for over a month. In the beginning, he had told himself that after going a few weeks without any human contact aside from him that you would finally cave and accept his affection. Your defiance kept proving him wrong.

“You aren’t in the position to make threats”, he chastised you, and quick as a praying mantis he launched himself forward and smacked his lips against your cheek, to which your face twisted in disgust.

Out of all on this list, England would have the most extreme reaction. Oliver needs a lot of touch from the person he is fixated on, bodily contact grounds him. When he doesn’t get that, he would start to become aggressive. He is actually like a cat in that regard – he wants affection, just affection without all the constraints a mutual relationship with compromises carries.

He try to coerce you into giving affection to him, him rationalizing that if you get used to giving affection to him, then you’d one day grant him that willingly and even like it. For that, he would lock you up in a cupboard for days without any light and just minimal food and water. Else, if you would want something from him, then you would have to give him something in return – a kiss, a hug, or a cuddle session. Nothing sexual, not yet.  

France

In truth, François would find your distant attitude very romantic and put you up on a pedestal for it. For him, he would either have a lover that would act as his anti-depressant or as some unachievable person that he could pine after. The distance would be an important factor for him, it would make you angelic in his eyes.

He would almost act like he is a knight in medieval times and you his courtly love – not somebody to marry, rather somebody to dedicate his life to, to fight battles in your honour and move mountains just for the smallest symbol of your favour.

That doesn’t mean that kidnapping if off the charts – he would do that if he thought that you were just endangered without him, unable to defend yourself from all the dangers of the outside world. Your continuous rejection would be a bitter pill for him to swallow, yet he would find comfort himself with the fact that he would have committed crimes with your best interest at heart.

#yandere 2p america #yandere 2p hetalia #yandere 2p england #yandere hetalia #yandere 2p canada #yandere 2p france #x reader #yandere x reader

[project-ohagi]

Keigo Takami ღ Hawks x Reader {Omegaverse}

Buy me a coffee!! <3

The crisp, spring breeze wafted over the heavenly fragrance of an Omega. Hawks' nose twitched as it invaded, seeming to ghost through every crevice, every material part, until it permeated his very soul. The scent of lavender and pine was overwhelming, weakening his cognitive functions. Some deeply-buried, primal urge commanded him to go forth, to find the source of such a delicious aroma. He couldn't listen to the whispered voice chastising him, nor the pained twitch of his heart when he imagined taking this Omega by force. Their smell alone was a temptation too sweet to resist; he needed to mark them, to mate them. He didn't stop to consider their appearance - if this was truly his Omega, as the scent appeared to claim, then perfection would breathe into them at every given moment. They couldn't be any less than ethereal.

He abdicated a half-baked conversation with a member of the Paranormal Liberation Front, and took to the skies, searching...hunting. The Alpha inside him begged to hold this Omega, to cradle them, to perform...unspeakable acts on them. He couldn't fight it. His head pounded, following the rhythm of his heart, but he continued to scour the city. The scent should have led him straight to the awaiting Omega, but it was muddling his senses far too much. Soon, he wasn't even sure he would be able to fly, without falling.

Why had this tantalising smell enraptured him so, if it wasn't even within arm's reach?

It was powerful, inviting...but not the type produced by a heat. This Omega wasn't desperate, they weren't in need of sexual satisfaction...then, why did they smell so incredible?

Are they my fated mate? They have to be! I'll find them...I'll make them mine.

That same thought played in his mind a million times over. He couldn't control his instincts. He wanted this Omega - his Alpha craved them. The introduction would have to be short, choppy, or better yet...bypass the entire thing, and dive straight into baby-making. He was still attempting to maintain a semblance of rational thought, but he knew that wouldn't last. Once he found his little lost lamb, the hawk would pounce. There wouldn't be any sugar-coating, for time would cease to exist; he and his cute Omega would lose themselves in ecstasy...they would breed. He wanted three, maybe four chicks. His Omega would be unable to refuse. Of course they would. The whole courting thing was doomed to fly out of the window. Who needed such trivial, tedious romancing, when he could just as easily breed and marry? They would bond, whether this Omega cared to or not. After all, in the current society, Alphas ruled. Hawks didn't anywise liked this mantra, but now more than ever, it was bleeding into his reality.

He couldn't stop it.

Not that he actually would. This was intoxicating, sovereign over all other scents...it was an Omega - his Omega, and he would be damned if he didn't claim them. Right now.

The smoke-like trail, visible only by the carnal desire glossing over his eyes, seemed to be growing stronger, more intense. The aroma struck his heart now, with a new ferocity. He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip - he was closing in on his Omega. Maybe he would snatch them up off the ground and fly over some houses, while fucking them into oblivion? After all, the Red-Tailed Hawk (with whom he felt the most kinship) mates airborne. It didn't cross his mind that they might be embarrassed by such a public display. They weren't even in heat...he had established this, but still, he was desperate to breed. He neglected to consider you - the Omega he truly wanted, the one he yearned for, every waking moment.

...You!

Glancing down with passion swimming in his eyes, he saw you. How had he failed to recognise you, a flirty and vivacious resident of Deika City, solely by scent? He knew it anywhere! Was this his mind's way of teasing him? You weren't the typical, meek Omega, by any stretch of the imagination. If honesty spread its wings around him, then he would reluctantly admit that he was drowning in love for you. He worshipped the very ground beneath your feet, he would probably grovel and beg if only you implored him. It was spellbinding, how he was wrapped around your finger. Though, perhaps the most bizarre part was your complete ignorance. It would take an actual conversation to realise the extent of his affections.

No, he hadn't spoken to you once. He simply...observed. It was, quite obviously, to ensure your safety, especially with the League now occupying the city. You couldn't be stolen from him. He wouldn't allow it. He was your destined partner - you would be foolish not to reach that conclusion alone.

You couldn't be so blind to fate.

Despite his lust haze, he remained at a distance. This was his big opportunity...but anxiety was alighting in his system. He needed a minute to cool down. This was you, for gods' sake, not just some random, ambrosial Omega. If he introduced himself now, so aroused and craving the soft flesh of your neck, you'd probably slap him. You were feisty, and he loved it. His feet touched the ground, but something inside him bade him to hide. The gentle smile gracing your features as a child approached you, tugged on his heartstrings. It was a sight to behold, and he felt blessed. So, incredibly blessed. The child, such a timid, little thing, held two withering flowers in his palm - a daisy and a crocus. He spoke, but Hawks wasn't listening. He was watching. You placed warm hands atop the flowers, instructing the boy to close his eyes and count.

The colours, the life...they returned to the flowers.

You earned a hug, and Hawks almost lost himself entirely. You were masterful with children. When you conceived for him, you would be the most devoted mother. The way you cherished such fragile creatures as if they were your own...he wanted to breed you immediately. You weren't doing anything to deflate his libido. If he attacked you now, the fault would lie with you. He would make you understand this. You wouldn't ever tempt him, seduce him, so naughtily again.

The child dashed off, leaving you on your lonesome.

Perfect.

A sudden gust of wind lifted your hair, and you giggled. This strange Alpha wasn't aware that his pheromones were being carried on the air, was he? You remembered him fondly - his out-of-control urges never managed to conquer him. You respected that. It was refreshing. It was...funny, having the Number Two Hero chasing after you. In your peripheral, you watched him stalk closer. He smelled wildly needy, like he was holding in his arousal to the breaking point. That...wasn't healthy. It was adorable, yes, since most Alphas would pounce on sight. The scent crept into your heart. This abstinence...it was really hurting him, huh?

At least you weren't alone. Your Omega, your entire being...it ached for him. Your pace slowed as he called out, trying to veil his whiny voice with that almost-permanent, playful façade. It didn't appeal to you quite as much as his raw emotions would, but it was still him, and it was sexy.

"Hey, what's such a pretty bird doing out here, all alone? An Omega, at that? It could be dangerous, y'know?" His concern was genuine, but that tone...

Batting your eyelashes at him, you replied, "But I'm not alone? I have a big, strong Alpha with me."

He nearly choked; it took all his willpower not to fuck you right then and there. "Oh yeah? Anyone I should be worried about?"

"Hmm...nope!" You giggled, absentmindedly walking backwards.

She's up against a wall...with no way out. Is she inviting me? Can I really take her? Right here?

He shuffled ever-closer, determination rising within - soon, not even the air would present an obstacle. He would close the gap, even if it was his dying act. This setting was so intimate. Maybe...just maybe...Lady Luck would side with him today. His hand slapped the wall beside your head.

As he leaned into your body, you stroked his hair, whispering, "Don't you know it's rude to wear headphones when talking to someone?"

His hungry eyes darted to your lips. "I don't, so why don't you teach me?"

"Make me."

Oh, he most certainly planned to.

[Word Count: 1407]

#bnha #bnha x reader #my hero academia imagines #ABO #Alpha Hawks #Omega reader #bnha hawks #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #my hero academia x reader #omegaverse

[wistfulcynic]

the fall of dropping water

Summary: Emma’s pining for her roommate, a man who keeps her at arm’s length—despite those flashes of something she sometimes catches in his eyes. She’s too caught up in him to even think about anyone else, but when her deputy Graham asks her out to dinner she finds she can’t say no. 

Now she’s stuck with a date she doesn’t want, breaking down in a shower as broken as her heart—and Killian arrives home just in time to fix it all.

-

@winterbythesea has some crazy dreams sometimes, you guys. This is inspired by one of them. 

The working title of this fic was ANGSTY SHOWERING. Just to warn you.

1.8k words, rated T. 

On AO3 

-

Emma turned the key in the lock as quietly as she could and opened the door to her apartment the tiniest crack—just wide enough for her to press her ear against and listen carefully to… silence. No music blaring or sounds of cooking from the kitchen, and when she crept on noiseless tiptoes to the end of the hallway and peered at Killian’s bedroom door, no light shone beneath it. 

Emma exhaled in relief. He had been due to return that morning from his latest expedition, but must have been held up by tides or trade winds or… twist? Whatever. Something. She never could keep all his nautical terms straight, though she could almost hear his long-suffering sigh and see the sardonic look he always gave her when she forgot them before she pushed his face and his voice and him firmly from her mind.  

The very last thing she needed tonight was to spend it thinking about goddamn Killian Jones and the way he looked at her and the way he smiled… his eyes... how blue they were and how soft… in those rare moments when he let himself relax around her, when the incessant pull of whatever it was that drew her to him seemed to spark and crackle with tension and despite herself Emma yearned. There in that single beat of their hearts when he would truly look at her… before he tensed and turned away… Emma could swear that she saw things in those eyes that made her heart pound and her belly flutter and sparked her hope to life again, and—and no. That was wishful thinking and she wouldn’t, couldn’t let herself indulge in it tonight. 

Not tonight. 

(“Hey, Emma.” The soft grip of Graham’s hand on her arm. “Can I—can we—can I ask you something?”)

She unzipped her boots with jerky movements and kicked them off, leaving them in an ungainly heap beside the door the way she knew Killian hated. A tiny, petty provocation but it made her feel better. She hoped it pissed him off. She hoped he tripped over them, hoped he fell on his stupid gorgeous face and—fuck. Emma stopped walking and squeezed her eyes shut. No, damn it, she didn’t wish that. She didn’t want to see him hurt, no matter how much pain he unwittingly inflicted on her just by existing. She couldn’t even bear to think it. 

“Damn it,” she grumbled as she stomped back to pick up the boots and line them neatly along the wall with all the others. Damn him. Damn Killian, just—just damn him.

Damn him for being everything she wanted and nothing she could have, for his ridiculous hotness and his soft heart and the edge of danger in his grin—the grin of a marine salvage hunter who’d lost a hand and coped with it by making pirate jokes. 

“A crocodile ate it,” he’d tell the wide-eyed children who demanded to know where his hand had gone, smiling reassuringly at their red-faced parents. 

“Really?” the children would gasp, and Killian would give a solemn nod, holding up his prosthetic hook to catch the light. 

“Aye. And he’ll pay for it too. Just as soon as I catch him.”

Damn him for being so sweet to those children, so understanding. He always understood—far, far too much about too many things. Things like Emma’s walls and how she needed them, like the exact right thing to say and do for every mood she was ever in. He understood everything it seemed, except how deeply it hurt her each time he pulled back from those moments of theirs, dropped his eyes and swallowed hard and muttered some lame excuse then ran away. 

Graham, though, he never ran away. He was always there, right at her side, all hopeful smiles and subtle hints and casual invitations to morning coffee runs and working lunches and after-work drinks that he clearly hoped would lead to something with no work involved at all, until finally… inevitably… that very day…

(“So what do you say, Emma?” His tentative smile, the stab through her heart. “Dinner?”) 

Tears were pressing hard and hot behind Emma’s eyes as she stumbled into her bathroom to turn on the water in the shower. Her apartment was old, a converted warehouse with rickety plumbing and a creaky water tank that took ages to heat up. She always had to wait after turning it on, a good fifteen minutes before even thinking about taking off her clothes much less stepping beneath the spray. But this day, this goddamned vicious bastard of a day, seemed determined not just to kick her ass but grind her under its heel as well, and so of course the shower head—tenuously attached at the best of times—chose that moment to burst from the wall, spewing icy water haphazardly from he jagged hole it left behind. The spray hit Emma full in the face, drenching her hair and her favourite sweater and the front of her jeans, dripping down her back in frigid rivulets that raised goosebumps on her skin and suddenly it was all just too much, too fucking goddamn much. The tears she’d been barely holding back burst forth harder even than the shower head had, and she sank to the floor of the shower stall and sobbed. 

(Graham’s face, oh god his face, the hopeful look in his eyes. David’s eyes, the entire damn sheriff’s station watching her. The lump in her throat. The fake smile, so brittle on her face, the lying words she felt forced to speak.

“Sure. I’d love to.”)

The water soaked her clothes and numbed her skin but even its cold couldn’t dull the ache in her heart. The heart that beat for one man only, and that man was not Graham Humbert. 

Why, she wanted to scream. Why now? Three years she’d held Graham’s interest at bay, yet now, today, he makes a move? In the station, her fucking place of work, right in front of everyone so she couldn’t say no. A dick move, and not like Graham at all so why? 

Why couldn’t he just have let things be?

Her sobs were wild, unrestrained, tearing at her throat and wrenching at her chest, but she couldn’t care. She was alone, drenched to the skin in freezing water and tomorrow night she had to go out on a date with Graham. She could give herself this one lonely moment of self-pity. 

“Swan?” 

Fuck. Emma sat up, wiping the tears and water from her face as Killian’s voice sounded again, right outside the bathroom door. “Emma? Is everything all right, love?” 

Damn that soft tone his voice got when he was concerned for her, the one that made her want to melt into his arms and never let him go. “I’m fine,” she tried to say, but the words were choked off by a sob and then the door was opening and Killian was there, falling to his knees in front of the open shower door. 

“Emma!” he cried. “What on earth’s the matter?” 

She shook her head as sobs racked her and before she could fully grasp his intent he was in the shower too, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms tight around her. 

“Shhh, it’s all right,” he murmured as she clutched at him and buried her face in his neck. “It’s all right, love. I’m here.” 

He shielded her from the stinging spray as she wept, sobbing out her heartache and frustration and fear, everything she’d kept bottled up inside her for so long. He cradled her like something precious, rubbed soothing circles on her back until the water began to warm and her sobs ceased, until she lay limp and exhausted against his chest. 

“Graham asked me out,” she said, after a long silence. His hand stopped.  

“And that made you cry as though your heart were breaking?” he asked, his voice harsh. She felt the flex of his neck against her cheek as he swallowed hard. “Did you two have a fight or something?” 

“No, I just—I wasn’t expecting it.” 

“You weren’t expecting your boyfriend to ask you out?” 

“My what?” She pulled back to look up at him, at the confusion laced with anger in his eyes. Anger and… and…

“Did—did you think Graham was my boyfriend?” she whispered shakily. 

“Aye,” he replied, in a voice that trembled just as much. “Isn’t he?” 

“No! He’s my deputy.” 

“I know, but… the two of you are always together, out for drinks and meals, and I—I just assumed.” His eyes caressed her face as the anger drained from them, replaced by something hotter. “So you’re telling me you never—” 

“No.” She shook her head, fingers gripping tightly to his shirt. “Never.” 

“I—I see. And, um, what did you say? In response to his invitation?”

“I said yes.” 

“Ah.” His eyes shuttered again but she clung to him, tugging the front of his shirt until he looked at her, willing him to listen and to see. 

“And then I came home and cried ‘as though my heart were breaking,’” she said. “In your words.” 

“Do you not—” he drew a deep breath “—not want to go out with him?” 

“No. I only said yes because everyone in the station was watching and half of them already think I’ve been leading him on.” 

“Bloody troglodytes,” Killian growled. “Leading him on, my arse. From what I’ve seen you’ve been nothing but—” 

“I didn’t want to go out with Graham,” Emma interrupted, thumping his chest with her fist, “because I have feelings for someone else.” 

He swallowed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath his wet, flushed skin. His hair was plastered to his forehead and his eyes as hot as the water. 

“So who is this man fortunate enough to win your affections?” he growled. 

She thumped his chest harder. “Seriously, Killian? Do you really not know? It’s you.” 

He stared at her as his throat continued to work, his forehead creased with a frown and a tangle of emotions in his eyes. She waited, breath caught in her chest, as his eyes widened and his brow smoothed, as his hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking across it as she tugged on his shirt and then—and then— 

His lips were on hers, hot and wet and hungry, kissing her like she was the breath to his lungs and the balm to his soul, the water to his life. She gasped into his mouth, clutching at his shoulders to pull him closer, closer, as close as they could be, as his fingers caught in her wet hair and his hook dug into her back. Their breaths laboured in air thick and heavy with steam and with lust, their movements hampered by drenched denim and wool and flannel but god, Emma thought, it was Killian and it was her and it was finally, finally them, and—and—

And it was perfect. 

—

@kmomof4 @winterbaby89, @snowbellewells, @darkcolinodonorgasm, @stahlop, @mariakov81, @teamhook, @thisonesatellite, @ohmightydevviepuu, @katie-dub

#cs ficlet #cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #cs fic au #captain swan #angst #and showering #angsty showering #hurt/comfort #many feelings #and wet killian #because I know that's your jam #the fall of dropping water #profdanglaisstuff

[matildashoney]

Daisy Mae // Part One

MASTERLIST // TAGLIST // TAGS

TAGLIST: @detroitkiwis​, @cronias13​, @irishfireandice​

Maggie isn’t really sure what to do at this point.

Harry is asleep, tucked away under the duvet, naked and comfortable. He would be waking up any minute, and the first thing he would see is his best friend hunched over the toilet throwing up or the ten – yes, she bought ten – pregnancy tests lining the sink. All with two bright pink lines.

Going outside the bathroom to try and find her birth control packet feels too dangerous, too risky. Harry couldn’t find out without Maggie there to tell him. He would be annoyed, certainly. His emotions were much more managed as an adult, as it was expected to be, however, there was a more significant reason for Harry to have his thoughts together. That reason, as always, was Maggie.

Maggie and Harry have been best friends since their earliest memories, even though she was two years older than he was. Anne and Patty – their mothers – were best friends, Gemma and Lucy – their older sisters – were best friends, and inevitably Harry and Maggie. Going to school together, playing together, doing all their work at the café in town that his family-owned, they were inseparable. Always there to protect each other and be best friends, they never let each other be upset or angry. Harry was seven when his parents got divorced, and Maggie was the first person he told. He cried behind the huge tree in his garden, and Maggie sat beside him, holding his hand and telling him that everything would be okay. Maggie was fourteen when her parents got divorced, and it was messy and destructive, to the point that Lucy went to live with their father. Harry sat in the study with her and hugged her tight. They were young, barely old enough to understand the feelings that were inside of them, and yet there they were comforting each other. Being the best friends that they could be.

Harry was there when Maggie had her first heartbreak. Harry was fifteen, Maggie was seventeen. He got in his first and only fight that day. Harry broke the boy’s nose and wrist outside the school and ran away with Maggie before anyone saw. He stood against the side of her house with her, his hands beside her head, his height just beginning to reach her as his hands brushed the tears on her face. His heart broke for his best friend, the one that he was secretly – or not so secretly – in love with, and Harry made a promise to himself that if Maggie ever gave him a chance, he would never, ever break her heart. Harry kissed Maggie for the first time that day. Maggie was Harry’s first real kiss.

And Harry never forgot it.

On Maggie’s eighteenth birthday, Harry asked what it would take for her to agree to date him, to ignore the age difference – which seemed to be her only argument against it – and have one date with him, to give it one chance. Maggie pecked Harry’s cheek, brushing his curls away from his face and smiled, Talk to me when I’m thirty. If I’m still single by then, well fuck all, I’ll marry you. Don’t want to get married but if no one likes me and you still think you could love me like that, I’ll marry you. Harry laughed and grinned and suggested they seal their deal with a kiss, and drunkenly, Maggie agreed.

And Harry never forgot that kiss either.

Harry complained when Maggie fell in love with a rugby player at university. His name was something ridiculous and when Harry travelled up to visit her for a weekend they fought because the boy found Harry threatening to their relationship. Maggie rolled her eyes and said that there was nothing to worry about, that they were just friends. Her calls became less frequent, though, and the visits became seemingly unimportant because that was her boyfriend and she wanted to respect his feelings and wishes – even if they were only because of his own insecurity. That is until Maggie found him having sex with her roommate while she was in a lecture. Harry was there when Maggie called him crying and saying that she was coming home. Harry was always there.

Maybe that’s what Maggie is afraid of, that this time, that Harry won’t be there. He’s only twenty-six. That’s awfully young to be a father. He should be there. Harry would never leave Maggie alone, but there is guilt sitting on her chest, in her lungs where oxygen should be, and making her feel overwhelmed.

If Maggie was being honest, she always imagined having a baby with the man she loves most in the world. And yes, Harry is the man she loves most, right now, but that’s because Harry is her best friend. Harry is the only boy to never break her heart, and there is a love in her heart that will always be there because there is a bond between them that will never be broken. Harry and Maggie, friends forever. That’s isn’t a relationship and children kind of love, though. Is it?

And in addition to that, now Maggie has to worry about telling Harry that they’re about to have a baby.

Harry grumbles in his sleep, irritated with the chirping birds and the sunlight passing through the drawn curtains and the way his arms are missing the body they fell asleep holding eight hours earlier. His Saturday mornings are rarely spent alone, and if he was being honest, Harry prefers it that way. His favourite way to wake up on his only day away from the café is with her in his arms, likely naked, and clinging to him as desperately as he clings to her throughout the night. Her hands always inch to his thighs by the morning time, and when they’ve had a bit rougher week, their weekend usually begins with sloppy sex and exhausted kisses before fresh bagels from downstairs.

On a Friday night, Harry and Maggie’s arrangement begins later in the evening – following an unsuccessful date or one too many drinks at the pub with their friends or one of them really needing a satisfying shag after a stressful work week – and everything will come to an end on a Sunday night, falling asleep to a film that neither really pay any attention to. Mornings begin with languid kisses and whispered plans for the evening. Middle of the day is always a guess, anything to spend time together. Nights end with tangling in the sheets and feeling heavy against each other. And everything works for them. Harry and Maggie enjoy it.

Harry would love to have this arrangement for a more official title, Maggie knew this, but Harry knows well enough that Maggie wouldn’t. He knew that this wouldn’t last forever. One day, Maggie would meet someone that she loved more than she loved him, that proposed and promised her a life far superior to the one that he could promise with the café and the tiny two-bedroom apartment that resided on the floor above. He would take this for all he could, though. There was something about Maggie, something that made Harry feel like his heart was in flames.

Harry remembers the moment he kissed Maggie for the first time – not the kiss when they were teenagers, the first real kiss – two years ago. That kiss changed Harry’s life forever and certainly changed Maggie’s.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　✧･ﾟ

Harry takes Maggie’s wrist, tugging her into his chest and brushing his nose against hers, smiling at the way her tongue flicks across her lips and her eyes meet his gaze and his mouth. His senses are overwhelmed by her, by the sweet smell of her perfume – the one she binged on for her birthday and bought luxury after asking his opinion – and the way her breath is fanning against his skin. His gut is telling him to kiss her, to abandon the nervous laughter and the awkward way of asking and the possibility of rejection. Her body language is giving him every sign that he should, that it would be graciously accepted and wanted.

And Harry is willing to take that chance.

“Make me wait on a kiss any longer and I’ll have to start it.”

Harry smirks, dipping his head to Maggie’s height and meeting her lips, savouring in the velvet feeling and the sweetness of her lip gloss, smiling at the way her arms wrap around his waist and their bodies are nearly melting into each other. His kiss is soft, gentle. He’s been waiting for much of their friendship to do this. All the years of pining and loving her from afar are closing in on this moment, with their favourite artist singing in the background, all of their friends teasing and cooing the affection that has been waiting to happen for years.

Maggie basks in the sensation of Harry’s lips on hers, the tingling fire that is set through her cheek and the way his touch is crawling beneath her skin. Her thoughts are overwhelmed by the idea that she’s been pushing her best friend away romantically, intimately, for so many years, that this enticing, intoxicating kiss and touch may be in every way possible for her. Feelings that she’s never felt before, that she’s never experienced. One that she wants to continue feeling. Her lungs barely hold any oxygen, but she doesn’t care. Her lips almost yearn for his to always be attached, to always be close by – on her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, her hands, her body – simply to feel the electricity in her veins.

Leon Bridges sings melodically in the background, “Girl, you know, I am bound by your love. You’re the one I wan’a be around all the time.”

“Come back to mine,” Harry whispers against her mouth, his thumb and forefinger holding her chin and tracing over her swollen lips. “Come on, Mags, let me be around you.”

“Only once,” Maggie concedes, the thoughts in her mind betraying her with ideas about being around Harry much more than either would have believed would happen with their relationship – in her mind, that is. “Try it once.”

His smirk spreads across his lips in a way that makes butterflies swirl in her stomach and the alcohol to float to her brain with the tipsiest thoughts. “More than enough for me.”

And Harry leans in, kissing Maggie deeper, his hands tangling in her hair, disregarding the entirety of the world and soaking in the uptown girl that happens to be his best friend and the woman he’s in love with, and the one with her lips attached to his.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　✧･ﾟ

Maggie wipes her mouth on the towel set beside the sink, her teeth brushed, and face washed to try and break the wave of nausea that is sitting in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes glance over the tests, and there is a part of her that wants to hide all ten and pretend that this isn’t happening, that she isn’t pregnant, that this life that she has – that for once in her life she really enjoys – wouldn’t change. Her head is pounding, feeling as though her brain would implode with the pressure against her skull. Her thumb passes over the digital screen on one test, 3+ weeks, and there isn’t one specific memory that triggers in her brain as the ‘aha’ moment that would make her realise how she’s gotten pregnant.

One thing is for certain, Maggie is organised and meticulous.

That’s part of the reason Harry is able to run the café so well. His grandparents gave him the café in their will because of how much he loves it, and his charisma and charm really make him the best owner. His unorganised tendencies, however, are absolutely chaotic and would cause bankruptcy by thirty had Maggie not helped when he asked. He was young and inexperienced in the business realm and Maggie was willing to teach him what she knew from the one or two business courses she took at university before settling on an education career.

… so, there really wasn’t any way that she would have missed her birth control. Unless it didn’t work. And Maggie has a heavy feeling it didn’t work.

“Mags.”

Harry’s voice travels into the bathroom, taking Maggie out of her trance and bringing her into reality. Holding her breath, her hands adjust the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her stomach and tying her hair into a ponytail and walking into the living room, Harry’s feet dangling over the edge of the bed the only visible part of him. All of the lights are turned off, the only radiance coming from the sun, and as Maggie walks into the room her heart sinks into the pit of her stomach, staring at the sweet boy that maybe she does love romantically a little bit, the tiniest amount, and the idea that is implanted in her brain that he might not be the same way around her.

“Come back to bed,” Harry grumbles, turning onto his back and reaching his arms out for her. “Wan’a love on you.” His voice is raspy and drawn out with the slurred syllables, and at that moment, Maggie wishes that there was more to their arrangement than the sex, that maybe, one day, they might really love on each other, ‘make love’ as they say even though she hates the phrase.

As always, Maggie sighs and gives in, walking around the metal frame – that she helped him decide on when he moved in a few years ago – and sinking into his arms. Harry lays above her, smiling as he sponges kisses along her neck and jaw, his hands sliding beneath the hem of her shirt she stole from his drawer. His teeth nip at her shoulder, the exposed skin from the worn-out and tattered shirt and kissing over the slight bruise. His hands squeeze her hips, trying to coax a reaction out of her – a moan, a whimper, a sigh, a kiss, anything – to know that she wants the intimacy, too.

“Alright,” Harry whispers, kissing her cheek and leaning back on his heels. “What’s going on? Usually, all I have to do is kiss you and you’re, y’know, opening your legs fo’ me, which isn’t an insult, ‘s quite an ego boost.”

“I’m fine, H,” Maggie hums, forcing a tight-lipped smile and tugging on his arm to bring him back. Maybe if Harry kisses her, she’ll forget all about the tests on the bathroom counter. “Kiss me, again.”

“Told you I’d never force you into anything and I meant it.” Harry stares at Maggie, knowing that there is something behind the worrying line in her forehead and the way her throat bobs every time she swallows. “Did something happen with that bloke last night? Is it your class? Talk to me.”

“Harry, leave it be.”

Can’t leave it be for much longer, you’ll be huge in a few weeks.

Harry and Maggie sit in silence for a few minutes, waiting for the other to speak, waiting to break the silence that loomed awkwardly above them. And when Maggie doesn’t talk, as Harry expected, his frustration returns.

“For an intelligent woman that teaches children how to share their feelings, you’re pretty fuckin’ dense sometimes,” Harry puffs, clambering off the bed and leaving the bedroom, pausing at the doorway to turn around and face her as she brings her knees into her chest and stares at him through hooded eyes. “All I ever ask is that you talk to me. Been this way since we were kids, y’know? Went through all that childhood shit together and you still won’t open up to me. Hate being annoyed with you but sometimes you really piss me off.”

“I’m well aware.”

“And she speaks!” Harry exasperates, tossing his hands in the air and clapping his hands over his heart and nodding to her dramatically, the sarcastic smile that Maggie hates on his lips. He has always been petty, a bit jealous, especially frustrated when she didn’t speak to him about how she is feeling. “Care to share with the class, now?”

“You’re so irritating,” Maggie mutters, swinging her legs over the bed and brushing beside him to step into the kitchen, pouring the freshly brewed coffee – she spends so much time there that she’s bought a pre-programmed coffee pot – into a mug. Her education at least taught her that she could drink one cup of coffee while she’s pregnant, and it would be savoured. “Can you stop staring at me?”

“Only day of the week that you have me all to yourself and you’re being difficult.”

Maggie takes a slow sip from her mug, staring at Harry as he stands between the barstools and leans over the built-in bar set above the kitchen sink. “Isn’t that what you like, Styles? The adrenaline that the chase gives you.”

“Over the last two years, the only thing I’ve had to chase with you is an orgasm, Chicken.”

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that? Not like we’re ten anymore,” Maggie pauses, pursing her lips in a smirk etched with sarcasm, simply to get under his skin. “Well, you were eight.”

Harry returns the smirk, brushing the hair away from his eyes and sliding on the tortoise-shell glasses that sit on the counter. “Maybe I’ll stop calling you that when you don’t hide away between my sheets when a bloke says he likes you.”

“Never seem to complain to me, considering you’re getting your dick wet.”

“Never seem to complain to me, considering it doesn’t take much to get you on mine.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Harry smiles, walking around the island and taking the mug from her hands and setting it on the opposite counter, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a hard kiss to her jaw. “Only an asshole to you because you let me tease you.” His kisses trail from her jaw to her cheek to the corner of her lips, repeating the path on the other side of her face. “Are you going to stop being difficult and let me kiss you, now?” Harry’s hands travel along her bum, squeezing the curves and lifting her onto the bare counter, very much aware that she isn’t wearing any underwear. “Not even wearing m’briefs, today. How much would you like to bet that my hand goes between your thighs, you’re going to be a mess? Know you like the arguing. Makes you feel all hot.” Maggie gulps, nodding silently. “Use your words, lovey.”

Gently taking his glasses and setting them on the counter beside her, Maggie mumbles, “Can fuck me on the counter with your hand over m’mouth, if you’re right.”

Maggie would have to be quiet as he thrusts into her, otherwise, everyone is going to know what they’re doing on their day off, with the breakfast rush circling through the café downstairs and causing a raucous through the thin walls and wood flooring.

Harry smirks, knowing full well that he is. “You know how to seal a deal.”

Maggie cards her fingers through his curls, bringing his mouth to hers and kissing him deeply, their teeth biting at their lips and fighting for dominance that Harry was bound to win. His knuckle dips between her folds, collecting the arousal that leaked onto her thighs, a wide smirk on his lips as she moans into his mouth and he breaks their kiss, his knuckle between his lips as he suckles on her taste. “That good enough for you?”

“Not entirely but there’s always the lunch break.”

“Think I’ll let you go down on me?”

Harry grins, sponging wet kisses along Maggie’s collar bone, his hands bringing her to the edge of the counter, her thighs spread to welcome his body closer, her ankles hooking around his waist and her arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingertips tangling in his hair and nails scratching lightly at his scalp. “Know you’ll let me, but the way you’re squeezing me, right now, is telling me that you don’t want to wait.”

Maggie tugs on Harry’s hair, her lips slanting onto his in a kiss that takes his breath away, his thumbs tucking into the waistband of his briefs and kicking the cotton away from his feet. His hand pumps his cock twice, before gently taking Maggie’s wrist and bringing her hand to his chest, sucking on her lip and silently begging her to touch him. His shaft is heavy in her hand, the way she so effortlessly turns him on and the hardness that was apparent every morning working to make his arousal leak from the bright red tip slapping against his stomach. Her thumb brushes over him, making his breath shudder against her neck.

“Don’t make me wait.”

Harry hums in response, taking her hand and kissing her palm, tugging on her wrist to lead her hand to his hair and teasing his cock at her core, her arousal soaking his tip and making him shiver with anticipation. Maggie is the best sex of Harry’s life – always tight and warm around him, velvet and smooth and squeezing him in the best way, taking him so perfect that he reaches the hilt, as far as she could take, the orgasms long and heavy and leaking out of her – and he wasn’t ashamed to crave the intimacy.

Maggie’s heat clenches around Harry’s cock as he slowly, inch by inch, sinks into her warmth. Her moan is whimpered and desperate, her fingertips digging into his shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut as his hips grind against her in the way she adores, the way that brings her the most pleasure, that makes her squeeze his cock so deeply inside of her that he reaches the very hilt every time that makes her see stars. His hand clasps over her mouth as his cock reaches the velvet spot that makes her scream, his name muffled into his palms with a squeak as his fingertips dig into her bum.

Harry nearly pulls all the way out, squeezing his hand over her mouth a bit harder and thrusting into her, their hips colliding and his balls smacking against her bum, the smacking sound echoing through his quiet kitchen. Her orgasm was coming quickly, the way her core was clenching him so tightly telling him so.

“Have you in any room in m’house, in the office, in m’car all the time, don’t I, lovey? Thought you’d never be with me and now you want me to fuck you on my kitchen counter,” Harry pants, releasing his hand on her mouth and kissing her neck harshly, barely grazing his teeth on her skin to prevent anything noticeable to be seen by her co-workers Monday morning. “Never want this to end. Know you want to be with me.”

Maggie moans Harry’s name, his thumb drawing on her clit and her head knocking back against the cabinet. Her breathing is shaky, and her orgasm is so close she can taste it. “And what does that mean?”

“Don’ know,” Harry grunts, Maggie squeezing him so tightly as she orgasms that his orgasm spills into her without warning. “Kids or summat. No marriage.”

“Already did that,” Maggie breathes, her thighs shaking around Harry’s waist as she leans against the cabinet. Harry’s forehead is resting on her chest, trying to regain his breath.

And then it hits him. Already did that.

Harry lifts his head, his fingertips gently grabbing her chin and making their faces meet. “Wait, what?”

Maggie doesn’t open her eyes, sinking into the way his hand feels on her skin and his thumbs are rubbing her thigh comfortingly. “What?”

“Already did what, Mags?”

And that’s what makes Maggie open her eyes, Harry’s eyes widened and his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. His shaft is still deep inside her, and every tiny movement is making her senses go into overdrive. “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit, what, Maggie?”

“Give me a second,” Maggie whispers nervously, squeezing his shoulders as he gently helps her onto her feet, his cock soft against his thighs as he reaches for his briefs and tugs the material up his legs. Her legs are slightly shaking as she walks into the bathroom, oblivious to Harry following closely behind, taking every pregnancy test and shoving it into her drawer near the sink. His hand touches her shoulder, her hands clutching onto the countertop to break the wave of nausea overtook her. “Fuck.”

Maggie’s body flings over the toilet, gagging as the morning sickness waves over her empty stomach. Harry knows what Maggie was saying, and there is an uneasy feeling in his chest. He certainly wasn’t expecting this to be the way their day started. His body crouches down beside her, tightening the ponytail on her head and rubbing his hand over her back, gently kissing her shoulder comfortingly.

“Take a breath,” Harry whispers, his heart breaking as a tear slips down her cheek, her forehead laying on her forearms as she hides away from his stare. “Don’t hide, it’s okay.”

Maggie doesn’t say anything, flushing the toilet and closing the lid, moving to the sink and frantically brushing her teeth to rid her tongue of the wretched taste. Her hands grab the towel, patting her mouth dry, her hands holding onto the counter as she squeezes her eyes shut and takes a breath. Her hands reach for the drawer she hurriedly shut, opening the space for Harry to see, taking a seat on the toilet cover and hiding her face in her hands.

“Alright,” Harry says, holding the pregnancy test in his hands and staring at the two bright pink lines on the white paper. His hand reaches for another, the digital screen saying, Pregnant 3+ Weeks, in printed black letters. He could see clear as day what Maggie meant, but he needed to hear her say it. “Alright.”

Harry turns around, his heart breaking as Maggie cries silently into her hands. He always hated seeing her cry. From the time they were four and six, Harry was doing everything he could to make sure Maggie would never cry.

“Hey, Mags, look at me,” Harry whispers, sitting on the tile and squeezing her knees, kissing her thigh sweetly and trying to get a better glance at her face. “Baby.”

Maggie’s face lifts immediately; they rarely call each other ‘baby’. There are some moments that it slips, that Maggie is brushing her fingers through Harry’s hair to bring him away from his work or Harry’s thrusting relentlessly into her and wants to praise her for taking him so well. Never outside of the bedroom, like this, though. It was an unspoken rule that Harry never agreed to; it meant that their arrangement was only sex, nothing more, leaving the terms of endearment to the person they settle down with.

Not that either of them has ever settled down with anyone besides each other.

Harry smiles softly, “Come on, Mags, you need a hug. Think your love tank is empty.”

“Don’t think it is, but alright,” Maggie sighs, standing on her feet and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sinking into his embrace. “Maybe it was a little empty.”

“Mags.”

Maggie doesn’t move, Harry’s embrace too tight and comforting around her. “Hm.”

“Am I allowed to say something?” Maggie nods silently and squeezes Harry shoulder to tell him to continue. “Don’t want you to think ’m pushing you into anything. Know that I wouldn’t do that, right? Anything we do, it’s all up to you,” he says, brushing his hands along her spine, kissing her neck and squeezing her tighter into his chest.

“Already know what you’re thinking,” Maggie whispers, opening her eyes and staring at the test sitting on the counter. “You think we should have it. Don’t you?”

“’s your choice, whatever you want to do. ‘m here for you, one hundred percent, like always.” Harry takes a deep breath, turning his face slightly and brushing his nose against her cheek, staring into her eyes and allowing his lips to tug into a shy smile. “Think that if anyone could do this, it would be us. Mags, we’ve known each other our whole lives; ‘s not like we’re strangers having a baby because of a one-night stand.”

“Our whole relationship is going to change,” she whispers, tears welling in her eyes and her breathing getting shaky as her lip wobbles. “Don’t want to lose you as my best friend. Can’t see you leave. ‘s my fear, you know that.”

“Mags, I’ll never leave you,” Harry says, kissing Maggie’s temple and squeezing his arms around her waist, his lips tugging into a smile as she hugs him tighter, his hands gently rubbing her back. “Haven’t you caught onto that by now? I love you. I’ve got you. Always do. Have since we were four years old.”

“How are we going to do this? My flat is barely functioning, as it is, and I don’t have a spare room. Not to mention work, I’ll be leaving my students midway through the term.” Her breathing is shaky as her fingertips twirl around the curls at the nape of his neck. “Are we supposed to share the baby? Don’t want to do it how our parents did. All of this is so much.”

Harry grabs Maggie’s cheeks, his hands cupping her jaw and his freshly painted nails – the lilac colour one that she chose for him earlier in the week – dragging along her skin. “Maggie, listen to me, alright? This isn’t all on you to figure out.”

“But isn’t it?”

“Mags, I have that spare room that I’ve never made into anything. Grandad used it for his workshop when Mum moved out. Can make that into a nursery. And it’s not like we’re not already sharing a bed and a shower, you know. ‘s like you’re living here a majority of the week anyway. Can do this, you and me. Know so.”

“Are we supposed to, like, be together, now or summat? Is that what we’re supposed to do? Fuck,” Maggie sighs, her forehead dropping to his collarbone and her hot breaths panting onto his bare torso.

“Mags,” Harry soothes, gently brushing his fingers through her hair, kissing her head sweetly, “baby, can you take a breath, please? For me? One really big breath.” Maggie sucks in a breath and lets the shakiest release heave in her chest. “Good, lovey.” His hand squeezes her hip encouragingly. “Don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. ‘m not seeing anyone besides you. ‘m happy to keep it that way. ‘m all yours, whichever way you want me.”

There Harry goes with the pet name again. He’s going to make Maggie melt into the ground if he calls her that one more time.

“Our families are going to moan about how we’re not together and should’ve been married or at least told them that we’re dating. Our sisters are going to show how we were the fucked ones.”

“Our families set us up for failure with their examples of marriage, didn’t they?” Harry kisses Maggie’s temple, “Can tell them we’re dating, alright? Comfort them and give us time to figure things out with us.”

“Mum is not going to believe us.”

“M’mum will.”

“Mum thinks ‘m easy and that’s why no one will date me,” Maggie sighs, her heart sinking into her stomach. “Mum compares everything I do to Lucy and how she’s more successful than I am.”

“Maggie,” Harry says softly, his arms around her shoulders and trying to think how to better comfort her, “you are so incredibly successful. Have a whole classroom to yourself and students that adore you. Have great friends.” His shoulders shrug, making her smile into his neck and hug him tighter. Harry was only a slightly taller, Maggie fitting perfectly into his side. “Think I’m not too bad, either.”

“No,” she says quietly, “you’re okay.” Moving away from his neck, Maggie meets his eyes with a shy smile. “Kept you around this long for a reason.”

“It’s alright to be scared.” His words are encouraging, reassuring. He is so scared. This is all new territory, an entirely new experience. “Christ, I’m scared out of my mind, but it’s clear to me that whatever we decide, if you decide that you want to have it, we’ll be better.”

“Think so?”

“Doesn’t mean much since I have zero experience with children, but I believe it. Think we could be much better.” Harry tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture simple yet affectionate all at once. “All you have to do is tell me, Mags.”

“Me too.” Maggie sucks in a deep breath, the silence washing over the two for a few minutes as she thinks carefully about her decision. Maybe Harry is right. Maybe they could do this better. Maybe they will. That’s what she chooses to believe. “Guess we’re having a baby.”

Harry smiles, nodding silently, kissing her hairline and hugging her into his chest once more. “Guess so.”

~

Harry and Maggie take the day to really understand what is happening.

Quiet conversations during their lunch at the breakfast table situated in the makeshift dining space, Harry taking the opportunity to make dinner and talk about when they’d like to tell their parents, when they’d like to tell their friends – who surely have already caught into the fact that they’re together in the untraditional sense. Maggie made an appointment at a nearby clinic in the morning when Harry would be in the café for the morning shift, simply to take a blood test and know that she is pregnant – although there were ten positive tests, a negative result seems unlikely – and would tell him everything when she returned.

Nights were typically when, if they were being honest, their benefit arrangement was entirely in effect. Harry and Maggie christened every corner in the apartment, and yet it was Harry’s bedroom that they found themselves most comfortable in. Maybe it’s because it was more intimate, which was something that they craved with each other although unspoken. Maybe it’s because that was where Maggie let Harry kiss her deeper, passionately. Maybe it’s because it felt like theirs.

Harry and Maggie are laying beneath the duvet tonight, instead, her bare thighs tossed over his legs as he quietly sips on his beer, mindlessly watching the programme on the television as she immerses herself in poetry, his fingertips drawing circles on her knees carelessly. Their silence isn’t bothersome, rather nice in the way that her thoughts have been everywhere and anywhere for fourteen hours. Her lips tuck into a straight line, reading one poem over and over again, trying to understand why the words made her want to cry. Harry kissed her over two years ago, and since then, there have been other men that have kissed her, that have made the attempt to go further, and yet, there she is, laying in his bed, in his clothes, with his hands on her skin.

“That night, at the Leon Bridges concert,” Maggie says, drawing Harry’s attention and making him lower the volume. “What made you want to kiss me? Like, why then? Hadn’t kissed each other in years, at that point.”

“That’s why,” Harry shrugs, taking a heavy sip from the glass bottle and setting it on the coaster beside his wooden nightstand, his eyes falling to her legs. “Hadn’t kissed you in years. Nothing more than a kiss on the cheek for what, eight years?” His words are a bit slurred, but very much aware of the seriousness of their conversation. “Not very much fun for me.”

“Harry,” she sighs, “you’ve had girlfriends since that kiss at my eighteenth.”

“And?”

Her hands close the book and set it on the nightstand behind her, leaning on her forearms and staring at him. “Make it sound like you’ve not kissed anyone in eight years. Not that you haven’t kissed me.”

“Not exactly who I wanted to be kissing, though.” Harry takes another sip, the bottle nearly empty. “Haven’t you realised that you’re the only stable relationship I’ve ever had?” He chuckles breathlessly, “And you won’t even properly date me.”

“H,” Maggie breathes, her lips turning into a pout, her legs curling beneath her and swinging over the edge of the bed as Harry does the same, grabbing his wrist before he can walk out of the bedroom.

“Don’t go all teacher-y, on me, now. Don’t need to comfort me like one of your students.”

“Harry, that’s not fair.”

Harry turns on his heel, gently prying her hand away from his wrist, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, his tall stature making him nearly reach the arch. “All this is quite funny, y’know that?”

Maggie folds her arms in front of her chest. “How is it funny?”

“’Cause whether you wanted to or not, now we’re pretty much tied together for life. Eighteen years, at least.” His eyes flicker to her tummy, not yet growing or visible. “Can’t have someone take over fo’ me as your best friend when we share a baby.”

And that’s when Maggie realises what happened, what caused this shift in Harry’s demeanour. One of their friends rang her after they finished lunch, asking how her date went Friday night. They always mention Harry, too. Naturally, Maggie answers with a witty lie about how they’ve talked but haven’t seen each other – even though they had sex the night before and this morning.

“You always do this,” she sighs sadly, standing against the wall outside the bedroom, her head nearly hitting the frame that holds his favourite picture of the two from a family wedding a few years ago.

“Do what?” Harry wonders, tossing the glass bottle in the bin along with the previous three. He reaches for two glasses, pouring himself and her one to bring to bed. He was exhausted and simply wanted to fall asleep and forget.

“Get jealous when you see that someone is talking to me,” Maggie says flatly. “Get jealous when one of our friends mentions a date I went on.” Her heart aches with the words tumbling from her lips without consent. “We’re not together, Harry. Could go out on dates, if I wanted.”

“Don’t ‘ave to tell me, Mags.” Harry forces a smile onto his mouth, and Maggie swears she’s never seen Harry look so upset with her. “’m always the one you call when they don’t work out, ‘member?”

Her eyes well up with tears, unable to really comprehend what she’s being told. He’s right. One hundred percent correct. That’s what makes this hurt more. “Don’t be so harsh to me.”

“Not trying to be harsh,” he sighs, running his hands over his face frustratedly and sucking in a deep breath. “Forget it.”

“No, I want to talk about it,” Maggie says, nodding as Harry hands her the water and nods to walk inside the bedroom.

He sets the water on the coaster, drawing the curtains shut and turning the television off for the evening. “Now?”

“Yes.” Her hands move to her hips, trying to contain her emotions, his stance seeming so harsh and distant. He was never this way with her. His warmth always made everything better, and yet, in this moment, everything about him is screaming that he would be cold to the touch. “Don’t go to sleep angry with me.”

“Not angry with you,” Harry assures, turning the light and climbing beneath the comfort, patting the mattress where Maggie always sleeps and smiling to coax her inside. “Have an early morning tomorrow, I want to go to sleep.”

“Do you want me to go home?”

He shakes his head, turning his torso towards her and holding out his arm, smiling as she takes his hand and turns her light, tucking the duvet over her waist and welcoming him into her arms. “Never want you to leave, Mags,” Harry whispers.

“Alright.” Maggie kisses Harry’s shoulder, smiling as his muscles ease with her touch. Maybe he wasn’t so far away, after all. “I love you,” she whispers, her heart sinking as he waits to reciprocate her kiss to his lips.

“Know you do, just not like I love you.” Harry tucks her hair behind her ear, kissing Maggie’s forehead and muttering. “That’s okay.”

Harry turns onto his side, facing away from Maggie, reaching for her hand to wrap around his waist and cuddle him as tightly as possible. His biggest fear is feeling her slip away, to have her disappear. Heartbreak is devastating and there is something in the way he feels as though he could never recover from losing her that scares him the most. And so, Harry takes the midnight hugs and quiet kisses and soundless sleep, trying to memorise the way it makes him feel, the way she makes him feel.

For Harry, it was never a question of if they would be together, rather when. And this was their when. He has one opportunity to show that this could work, that they could work. Because even if Maggie isn’t in love with Harry, right now, that doesn’t mean it would be impossible to have her fall in love with him. Having been loosely together for nearly two years, there has to be love there. Has to. Harry should at least try. He owes it to himself, to at least give a wholehearted try when he has the opportunity.

And Harry will.

Harry falls asleep, thinking about how much he loves the woman holding him, and Maggie lays awake for hours, with the loveliest man in her arms, thinking about how her very best friend loves her in the way she is petrified to love him.

#harry x reader #harry styles au #harry #harry styles #harry x y/n #daisy mae series #baby daddy harry #1d harry #1d harry styles #harry 1d #harry styles 1d #harry x #harry x you #1d fan fic #1d fanfiction #1d fan fiction #1d fic #1d ff #harry fic #harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry smut #harry angst #harry au #fic #romance #angst #harry solo #harry styles fic #harry styles ff

[pherryt]

Made for the @buckybarnesbingo​ Discord Party Game - and as a fill for a Bucky Barnes Bingo Square .

Note - the owl, otters, waterfall, stream and lantern are all photos I took personally.

Used Prompts from the game: Whiskers and Wings

Title: Unexpected

Square filled: Y2 - Wings

Ship: WinterWidowHawk

Rating: G

Wordcount: 955  (HOW? This was supposed to just have a small caption?? Not a freaking mini story - i’m supposed to be in BED!)

A Fantasy Au where Bucky gets away from HYDRA and finds himself lost in the woods. Without a better idea, just trying to get as far away as he can, he follows a stream going deeper and deeper in, stumbling and finally stopping when it becomes too dark for even him to see.

But then a light beckons him on further, and he can't resist the call of it. It illuminates his path, all pine needles and fallen leaves, the light always staying just out of reach. He should be scared. He should be panicking. HYDRA could be right behind him - the light could be HYDRA - but he keeps going anyway.

Finally, he stops beneath a lampost, old iron and warm golden glass, nestled in among the branches of a tree. It doesn't belong here, and yet it does.

The light of it reflects off a waterfall and a ledge that seems to go behind it. He'll need to hide from HYDRA and he needs to rest, so he cautiously edges behind the waterfall, finding himself in a large cave. 

He goes deeper into the cave and there's another light and he’s just as entranced as he was the first time, unable to stop his feet from moving forward. The fear he should be feeling has been replaced with calm. Not the calm that HYDRA forced on him, the calm of an empty mind and blindly following orders. 

It’s a kind of calm he hasn’t felt in decades, the calm of peace, of serenity. It’s… beautiful and he doesn’t want it to end.

Then the light gives away and he finds himself in the mirror image of the same woods he’d left behind - only it’s daytime now, not night. He wonders, at first, if he’d gotten turned around, if he’d lost time. But there are other things that don’t add up.

Like the fact that he’s suddenly sprouted wings, of all things.

Bucky had often wished he could fly free but this was… nothing like he’d ever expected. 

He flapped mostly white wings clumsily, trying to launch himself into the sky. He wasn’t sure what kind of bird he’d become, but the light was far too bright and his eyes squinted against the sun until he slid back under the canopy of leaves. He flew and he flew, over the waterfall and continuing to follow the stream towards its source - he didn’t want to get lost and it was as good a direction as any other.

Hydra would never find him now, he thought.

What had wrought this magical change, Bucky didn’t know, but if it kept him free of HYDRA, then that was all he really needed.

He flew for hours - Or maybe days - just reveling in this newfound freedom, when something attacked him from above. Bucky desperately tried to fight back and get away from the larger bird, but could not quite do it, unused to the form as he was. An arrow flew between him and his attacker, scaring the other bird away. Bucky tumbled, exhausted and injured to the ground, where a red haired woman picked him up.

She soothed him, carrying him in his arms as he hooted up at her pitifully and struggled weakly to get away. People meant danger. 

He’s brought back to a cottage by a lake, nestled in the trees so closely you almost couldn’t see the structure was there. They are met there by a man with a bow and the two of them take him in.

They do not hurt him.

Bucky watches warily, and now even if he knew how to become a man again, he doesn’t wish to, for surely they’d turn on him if he did?

But they help him, heal him, talk to him and around him, like he can understand every word that they say. And he does, but how do they know that?

The archer is a tall man, and she calls him Clint. The redhead is smaller, and he calls her Tasha. And they talk about things that don’t make sense. They talk about shifters and witches, magic and worlds and Bucky’s head is whirling. They must be crazy. He must be crazy. This was some weird fever dream, an escape from whatever HYDRA was punishing him for this time.

Right?

It’s all so impossible that everything that comes after rocks his world. Because a few days later they bring him outside to get some fresh air and their bodies shimmer and twist and their human forms fall away to reveal a pair of river otters that dive into the lake and swim and play.

He watches them, fascinated, and he wishes… he wishes he could join them. Every day he’d spent with them, he’d found no evidence of evil, and every indication that they could be trusted. They’d left him alone for hours at a time, and now he knows why, as they spend time in the water, diving and swimming. Playing tag, he thinks.

At last, they come up out of the water and shake their fur dry, curling around each other in the sun, basking in it, taking a small nap.

And when they wake, they stretch and shimmer and twist again and they’re human again. And he’s watching them in so much fascination, so much yearning for that same sort of closeness and touch, that he doesn’t realize he’s done the same.

Until they smile at him, and hold out their hands and draw him into their home.

“It’s nice to meet you at last,” Clint says, grinning at him with kind and understanding eyes.

“We’ve been waiting,” Tasha says, her smile smaller but no less genuine.

And Bucky finally realizes - he’s home.

#winter soldier #bucky barnes #clint barton #natasha romanov #winterwidowhawk #black widow #hawkeye #witch!clint #witch!nat #otter!clint #otter!nat #owl!bucky #shapechanging #escapes #moodboard #fantasy #magic

[m-oana-archive]

A Love Too Heavy (For Just One to Hold) pt. 2

catch up on pt. 1

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader x Remus Lupin

Words: 2,595

Summary: After pining after Y/N for years, Sirius finally gets the girl: the happy ending the story is supposed to end with.  The only problem is the fact Sirius’ feelings for Remus still haven’t seemed to go away.  But he isn’t the only one starting to question their ability to love two people at the same time.

requester: @shinysilverunicorn-blog  | read on AO3 | Masterlist

Remus’ POV 

Y/N was looking effortlessly sunkissed when she entered the library.  Remus, ever the early bird, was already at their usual table waiting.  Books were out, parchment unrolled.  But he didn’t actually begin working, just had the illusion of doing such, so that he could seem as though he was caught off guard by looking up and seeing Y/N, instead of her knowing the truth of his patient waiting for her.  About halfway across the library to their table, they caught eyes.  Y/N smiled at him, and he tapped his inked quill so quickly against the parchment he felt some blue splatter onto the back of his hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologized, even though it was Remus that was early, and both of them knew it.

Remus smirked.  “What’s the expression?  A queen is never late?”

“Ha ha,” she mocked, sliding into her chair to unpack her things.  “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not looking to run a country, just pass my N.E.W.T.’s.  Not all Slytherins are that ambitious.”  

“I could see you as royalty,” Remus said, sinking back into his chair, dramatizing the act of envisioning, enjoying that it made Y/N blush and giggle slightly.  

“Well, Sirius is already basically royalty, so that helps.”

Remus scoffed, annoyance masking other emotions.  “If that’s not true I’m not sure what is.”  

While Remus found his comment funny, something dark fell across Y/N’s face, causing her to teeter in her chair and purse her lips.  Remus’ mind scanned the exchange for anything he could have done wrong, but couldn’t find anything.  So, he went to ask what was wrong.  Before he could, she answered.

“Speaking of, you’re not mad at Sirius or anything, right?”

Every bone in Remus turned into brick.  Was it fair to say to Sirius’ girlfriend, the obvious messenger of this information, that he didn’t know?  Was it fair to say to Sirius’ girlfriend, the cause of this frustration, that he wasn’t sure where the anger was pointed at?  Was it fair to his best friend to say everything he wanted to, after hiding for so long, just to end up at more questions, ones he didn’t know the answers to?  

No.  So Remus settled with a rather choked up, “Why would I be mad?”

“He said you two were arguing.  Something small that turned into a bigger deal than it needed to be.”

Oh.  So that’s what he thinks of me saying I want him.

Remus cleared his throat, though he knew it wouldn’t help and it didn’t.  “Oh, yeah.  Um, I’m over it on a logical level.  I’m just waiting for my emotions to catch up.”

“Cool,” she smiled brightly.  “Sirius said almost the same.”

All of the furniture in the library seemed to topple over for a second.  Maybe it was the fact that Remus squinted when he thought, and everything was following the motion of the spiral of his eyelids.  Or, maybe, it was the fact that Y/N has just said Sirius wasn’t over their possibility of kissing either.  How close they had been; if Remus just leaned in slightly, it would have been breath on breath, lips on lips, with the same softness but necessity of the moonlight echoing itself onto the lake.  Was Sirius covering up the same truth Remus had been aching with for the last year?  Ever since that stupid game of spin the bottle, when Remus realized it wasn’t cockiness that made him wish the bottle would have pointed to his body on Sirius’ turn, but desire.  The hope that if Sirius would have been forced to kiss him, maybe, after doing so, it would turn into something he missed, something he longed for, something he wanted to repeat.

That was what happened to Remus, after all.

It was a tall order, though, asking Sirius to switch adorations overnight.  Sirius had yearned over Y/N so deeply and thoroughly—Remus once found a scrap of a love poem while cleaning, which caused him pain both from its cheesiness and from a jealousy he had yet to name—it was hard to imagine him loving someone else.  Especially someone as ugly and flawed in comparison to her.

Sitting with her here, now, and every time before this, Remus couldn’t blame Sirius for wanting to be with her.  She seemed to have the best parts of all of them: Sirius’ mindless beauty, James’ massive heart, Peter’s agreeability, and Remus’ quickness.  And then, of course, all of the wonderful qualities that were definitively hers.  There were fleeting times in their shared sanctuary of the library that Remus forgot Sirius and his feelings for him.  Where, in the privacy of their similarities, Remus forgot he could be happy with anyone except Y/N.  

To restrain complications, he labeled those moments as I’m that happy because I’m forgetting about Sirius, or My feelings for Sirius are valid because of how happy she is with him.  There was a third option, of course, but that thought was a rainstorm he didn’t want to walk into.  

“Cool,” he agreed.  He smiled back at Y/N, genuinely because he was happy to be with her, but also with a certain grittiness, because he was too conflicted to be happy in general.  The hidden indifference of it seemed to set the tone for the rest of the meeting, which was far more focused and serious than ones they had had more recently.  So focused, in fact, neither noticed the sunset streaking the sky, followed by black falling around outside.

The next interruption was hours later, by Ms. Greenpaw, the librarian about to retire.  Remus adored her instantly; she wore thick, circular coral glasses and called everyone “honey,” even when upset.  He wasn’t sure if it was the hours they spent in the library, Ms. Greenpaw’s looming retirement, or both, but Remus and Y/N were granted an extra set of magical keys to close the library up if she left before they did.

“Hi, you two,” she said, pulling Remus’ head out of his book.  “Well, I’m headed out for the night.  I spelled off most of the candles in here, but I can put more on if you need more.”

Remus looked up; Ms. Greenpaw wasn’t kidding: every chandelier and sconce was dark except the one over their heads and one near the grand doors.  Something inside of him said this was romantic, making him ready to deny, until—

“I’m perfectly fine,” Y/N responded.  “Remus?”

He blanked for a moment.  “Yeah, uh… my eyes are already so tired, the softer light is actually pretty nice.”

“Wonderful!  Well, I’ll leave you both to it, then.”

Y/N called out a note of thanks to Ms. Greenpaw as she walked off—something Remus was still too startled to do.  As soon as the doors closed, promising their security, Y/N sofly said Remus’ name.  He looked up to her, eyes still slightly narrowed from reading his book.  

“You’ve been so quiet,” she said.  She wouldn’t meet his eyes fully, her focus refusing to settle.  “I know you don’t usually have issues with Sirius, and you’d think that I’m probably the last person who’d want to hear them fully, since we’re dating.  But I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep secrets from me.  You’re still my best friend.”

She shifted in her seat before continuing: “I know something’s changed since I started dating Sirius.  You’ve been more closed off.  I don’t want to pretend I know why.  So if you want to talk about it, I’m still here for you.”

A new guilt rose inside of Remus; he had experienced regret from having feelings for Sirius, for those feelings not disappearing the moment Sirius and Y/N got together, and for not knowing the difference between jealousy and desire.  But, he had never fathomed that the closed-off-ness he developed while trying to suppress his dangerous emotions would make Y/N believe he no longer trusted her.

The thought was so overwhelming he immediately said, “You’re one of the most important people in the world to me.  And I…” He tilted his head down, unable to bear even her dim silhouette.  “I didn’t mean to hide.  But it’s better that way.  Trust me.”

“Remus, nothing can be bad enough I don’t care to know.”

Remus considered the gravity of her statement for a second.  Obviously, she couldn’t blame him for loving Sirius.  But what would she think of him not knowing how he felt about her?  Not understanding how those could exist at the same time?  It seemed impossible.  

“No,” Remus decided at once.  He got up the next instant, sloppily swiping his belongings into his bookbag.  “No.  It is bad enough.”

He heard his name being called from across the table, but was off, walking so quickly to the door he was almost running.  He heard books sliding across wood, a chair scraping against the floor, a sound that must have been Y/N’s shoes hitting the tile behind him in quick succession, suggesting she was sprinting to catch up to him.  But his focus on the door was relentless.  Then, there was a tug on his arm that couldn’t be ignored.  Out of the surprise of it, his body spiraled around itself: an effect Y/N must not have had anticipated, as she continued moving forwards, resulting in her running into Remus head-on.

“Y/N,” he gasped.  He tried to steady her, but she did so first by clutching onto the shirt fabric around Remus’ chest.  Out of some instinct that could not be named, Remus felt his hand moving, fingers gripping around her wrist.

After a few moments of catching her breath, Y/N looked up at Remus.  It was only at that moment that Remus recognized how close they were to one another.  She already had her hands on him, softening them as she became more stable, and he became dizzier.  Especially with the single light behind her, distant now, which made what could happen next seem like a secret capable of keeping, a risk worth taking, a mistake worth making.  The world was the way the candlelight shone upon her face, making Remus’ hand twitch with the desire to trace those shadows.

“Y/N,” he said.  But it was different this time.  

She looked up at him.  At his eyes.  At his lips.  Remus was going to die right there, in the middle of the library, a corpse good for nothing except loving people he could not bear the affections of.  But then, her gaze dropped to the floor.  Her voice wavered.  “Remus, I just…”

“I know,” he sighed, nodding in defeat.  There were things Remus knew he excelled at—school, not getting in trouble for pranks, hiding the fact he is a werewolf—but in some aspects of life, he had to accept he would always be second to Sirius Black.  This was one of them.  His corpse was back to being good for nothing except loving people he could not have.  

“But you really don’t.  It’s not… this has nothing to do with you.  Alright?  I just need you to know that much.”

“Thanks for the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech,” Remus scowled.  “How comforting.  I’m touched.”  He wanted to put his hand to his heart for dramatic effect, but Y/N’s hands were still on his chest.  Regardless of how he knew the length of time they stayed there would make their release all the more painful, Remus wanted them to stay, the pathetic idiot he was.  

“It’s not like that,” Y/N said.  “I just can’t do that to Sirius.  To be honest, I think I’m in love with him.  And I think he might feel the same.”

Remus scoffed: Y/N saying Sirius might love her was the understatement of the century.  But he didn’t focus on that.  He couldn’t.  Instead, what intrigued him was this thought: “So, in the condition, you weren’t with Sirius, you’d kiss me.  Is that what you’re saying?”

Remus was surprised at how calm his voice came out; he was even more surprised, however, by how panicked Y/N’s was.  “Listen… it’s just that I may have had a massive thing for you when we first met, and for a bit afterward.”  Remus was sad and elated all at once; to know he could be loved was revolutionary, but realizing he had missed his chance with the girl he now was mad for was an emptiness that was beginning to slowly eat him from the inside out.

He covered all of the sinews of his emotions with anger: “So what you’re saying is that you only chose Sirius because I wasn’t available?”

“No,” Y/N demanded.  She yanked her hands back to her own body: a testament to her level of frustration.  “I didn’t go to him because I was sad and lonely and heartbroken and wanted to use him.  I liked him at the same time as you.  I just couldn’t figure out who I liked more.  You took yourself out of the running, so I accepted his invitation to Hogsmeade.  And I’m happy I did.”

Remus blinked, dazed.  “Can you say that again?”

“Why?  You heard me.”

“No, just the part—”

“The part where I refuted your claim that I only wanted to date Sirius because I couldn’t date you, which, if I would have done, would make me a rude, selfish, manipulative person?”

“I didn’t…” Remus struggled, biting the bottom of his lip in agony, wishing he could bring her closer so she could see the blood that was sure to come up, how much he hated himself for having said that.  “I didn’t mean that.  Okay?  I’ve been such a git today.  I’ve been completely awful to you.  I’m sorry for saying that, and for making you think I didn’t trust you.  I’m just… I’m really confused about some things right now.  And I’m taking it out on you.  I’m sorry.”  

Suddenly, all of the anger, the screaming, the vehemence disappeared, leaving nothing but a quietness strong enough to drive any man crazy.  Remus stood as Y/N considered him, her thoughts impossible to know.  She kept looking and thinking.  Remus was just standing.  It felt like forever.

She finally spoke.  “I don’t want to force anything out of you,” she said, words were spoken with meticulous care that echoed what they meant.  “I just think that maybe you’re exploding because you’re bottling things up, and nothing can be figured out if it’s never put out into the world to be understood.”

Remus wanted to protest, but every part of his body that wasn’t his mouth knew that Y/N was right, so he couldn’t.  Instead, he shook his head.  “I don’t think you’re going to like what you are going to hear.”

“We’ve already fought,” Y/N shrugged.  “If it’s bad enough it’s doing that, I think we’ve got to just rip the bandaid off.”

Remus breathed in deeply, closing his eyes.  There were so many confusing truths inside of his body; if someone were to put his tears in a Pensieve, all that would be floating around were thoughts of Y/N and Sirius, together, apart, in love, in love with him.  He saw them all right now in the black of his eyelids.  But how many to say now?  Which to choose first?

Some part of Remus that wasn’t his mind answered for him.

“Y/N, I have feelings for Sirius.”

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

PART THREE IS AVAILABLE NOW!!! Read here. 

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @astertist @beskarjedi @bluemadcnna @boring-viola @carolinesbookworld @finnofamerica @fortisfiliae @gabriel-r3ap3r-reyes @gryffndor @jamcspotters @just-some-nerd @lonelyheart-jadedsoul @neewtmas @portkeys-and-prose @siriusement @siriuslyimmoony @sly-vixen-up2nogood @swellwriting @the-apple-princess @theboywhocriedlupin @who-cares-unknown @woakiees @wzardings @samcycle @luckygirl144

#mine #writing #moonlit members #carlysfamily #sirius x reader #remus x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x remus lupin #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #remus x sirius x reader #sirius x remus x reader #reader x remus x sirius #reader x sirius x remus #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction

[imagi77]

The King and the Knight ~ Drabble

Wrote this with a friend, @claude-frollo-archives​~ I thought I’d share. :’) Nothing official or anything, but it sure made me happy~

His nightly ride had come to a strange end when he soon found someone he knew, oddly placed at the center of a glen. She had greeted him like an old friend, and graced him with an enchanted waltz that even his own discovered wild spirit could not resist. It brought tender memories of this first part of the decade of raising a little girl, when he truly did not have any sort of obligation to take on the work of another. And to continue it to the very end… was just enough proof of the heart to someone who waited deep in the pines for these two wayward voyagers.

The towering pines became from dark and looming to somehow calm and peaceful to the point that it began to feel … uncanny to him. It felt so different that he had to stop. The stallion stalled in his tracks, with his ears back, upon a sudden… The female creature who was accompanying him paused and looked back to him.

Her eyes lit up with realization when this brilliant stallion displayed, shockingly… a lack of confidence? It almost made her eyes water to see this wise one hesitate so suddenly before her eyes. This was a wizard who has scorned in the face of evil itself and had been on a transforming journey for more than a decade — This was unreal. What was fastened here? What was trapping him?

In this form, he had to abandon it, for it was a treasured secret of his and has been so for years — If this was lie of some kind or some cruel trick, he had to come as his true form, the way he was. There was this… tranquility overcoming him, overcoming his logic and if he let that go, ever… it would leave him too vulnerable.

The stallion’s form wilted away before the Dryad and there stood a very on edge wizard, whose cloaks were just as slick as the beast’s coat as before. At her, his eyes looked shocked… hurt even at the mere possibility.

“What are you doing?” he asked her suddenly, a new tone taking over his often strong voice. It sounded fragile.

“I have done nothing,”

“Nothing. Have you charmed a wild animal’s naivete in order to bring me to this place? The very same way that you cursed it?”

“Absolutely not, dear Prince…” she answered, patiently. “You are not who you were almost 20 years ago. Far, so far from that. That curse relies on you now… Not I… but I do really believe that is the least of our worries now.”

“What do you mean…?”

“Only come, there is nothing to fear here…”

“Even you should know that there is always fear — Do not be so with me. I am aware of the dangers of feeling this close to safety can only be a diversion of some kind. If I know the effects of the Dark Arts well enough, this is a deathtrap waiting to happen…”

Her ambers softened sadly. “Things are not as they were, Orpheus… You have loved and have become loved and in doing so, you have something far beyond what you have once dreamed of as a boy. You are correct that fear would always survive, but love blooms brighter during such times, wouldn’t you agree? You have looked after so many and lastly that young inventor who proved to be more than what he seemed to be, after your Lily’s found petal no less…”

The anger fell from his eyes before he trailed them to the ground away from hers. He drew in a deep sigh, yet he still held his wand… ready for anything.

“Perhaps it was the pathetic hope of keeping who I held dear away from the horrors I have seen. If I was that close to losing myself to the enemy that young, it would prove the same for anyone… Or… I was always guilty of my sins…?” he brooded. “A shallow, weak minded fool who only wanted one day in the sun, shrouded in darkness, every day. Lyra… oh little rosie … when she took that hit and held it inside, killing that part of him with it, I felt a part of myself just shatter into ashes… Her eyes were cold ice for so long after those lessons… I thought I would never see her again.”

Soon enough, he looked ahead to the glen she was aiming to lead him to with a sign of dread yet there was a shred of once lost innocence in his eyes.

“I have forgotten this feeling. There was never a time when I ever felt this way, except for a few…”

“Like whom?”

“My mother… Then there was Lily… and then Lyra, two of which I have failed outright. I feel no danger here and so I cannot step further, for I know I will be betrayed and everything I have worked for would be undone —“

“It will not be that way — Prince, that is a promise. This is someone who knows and they will help everyone we hold dear. I swear it! Just come with me, this once. Let me show you.”

Severus couldn’t bear to look her in the eye for one minute. Casting his gaze to the ground and he did not go for her reaching hand - Not at all.

“Whether this is a lie … or not. I shall see and determine for myself.” he warned, keeping his distance. “I am warning you — I have no room in my heart for any more treachery… Of what’s left of it…”

At that she nodded, respectfully. The agony he had to endure to get to this point in time was precious and so she understood as to why he was so cautious about it.

He swept passed the Dryad soon catching onto the distant sunlight that seemed to be trapped within this one part of the forest and oddly, it did not illuminate much else. The Wizard instantly felt a change in the air that almost took the breath right out of him. A fascinating, yet yearning peace warmed up in his chest as he stepped into the sunlight, very cautiously. There was a body upon one of the ledges between two grand pines… A massive golden body with a mane a brilliant as gold as the wind blew through it, it glistened like diamonds. Prince stopped not knowing how to process this at first…. This felt like a dream… As the Dryad joined his side, the great Head then turned to face them. The eyes were more human than ones he had ever seen, belonging to such a massive beast — Pure sunlight gold, full of mirth and a great knowledge that brought forth a score of sorrow. That face resembled that of a crown, for a King so great.

Right then… Prince felt the overpowering desire to stay humbled. All the pride and stubborness he had just vanished entirely… He felt small, worthless whilst in the presence of… whoever this was. It was not only not human, but far beyond that. Far beyond any magic. Had he just died just now… Was time even real?

Right then, the golden Beast rose from their perch on a pair of strong front arms, with a tail gracing behind them.

“I understand that you have much to ask me.” the Beast had spoken in a deep, profound voice, almost purring and rumbled like distant thunder. “Do not fear me, brave Knight.”

For a moment, it seemed that he could not even speak. Prince had a sense that this was a presence to be reckoned with.

“I find that… problematic, with all due respect.” he soon managed a response.

“With a drawn wand that I see, I do understand why. I vow to you that no harm shall come.”

“You know me enough to know my alias…. Who are you?”

“I am ASLAN. The Great Lion. I have come from a world that is not of your own, friend. I have come seeking the courageous, the trustworthy and the wise.”

At the sound of that mighty voice, it had seemed to have the Wizard in a state of peace, whether it was welcomed or not. The Lion knew it was something the weary man needed in his life, it was so lacking that the feeling was purely foreign to him. At that, Aslan held the most compassionate gleam in his golden eyes as he gently climbed his way down from the ledge, with so much power that he even shook the ground beneath Prince’s feet.

“This world has worn you down. I can see it, I can feel it… You must know now that I am no enemy. I have seen your beginning and your present. The rocky road you have traveled on as shook you to the point that you no longer believe in your own truth, yet you believe in others whom you hold dear. You have regrets and sorrows that can never be forgotten… You try to forget the past yet your soul still lives in it. It lives in it and you fear of the terrors of the past returning again. I am not here to humor you of this, but to encourage you to let free of that bind. It never defined you. If you let it free, your heart will heal.”

Prince’s eyes flashed as if something had just awoke within him and his brow furrowed once again, soon taking a step back.

“No one will ever have power over you again, Orpheus Prince… or are you still Severus Snape? The boy who supported and honored his mother to the very end of her days. He who tried to shield his childhood friend from the evils of another… He who had no control over such evils ever since the beginning?”

“DON’T. Severus is DEAD.” Prince soon spoke, his voice clearly on the verge of absolute agony. “… He had been killed along with his filthy excuse for a father, whom I was almost molded into…”

“You were never your father, Prince. He had chosen his fate long before you returned for Eileen. He had been given chance and chance again, and he still returned to what truly killed his soul, entirely. Whereas you, you hung on to a single thread and you managed to mold your own destiny. Severus Snape did not die. He only transformed…” Aslan’s powerful tone soothed further into a gentle and loving tune, even as a tear escaped Prince’s eye. “If Lily and her husband saw you now, they would be overjoyed. You carried on her tender work of raising their daughter, sparing her from evil, as they so wished on their last night. She always had faith in you. It broke her heart that day, but deeply she knew that you would make the wisest choice. This will be your choice to make. I only ask that you consider this offer with a calm heart.” said the Lion. “I do not desire you to be eaten by self loathing… That is not how others see you. The past no longer plays a part in your life NOW. You shan’t look back and compare, rather, look back and reflect of how different and more you have become ever since you had endured those events. I see a magical boy who escaped an abusive home, he who made a living for himself, from what he knew, he taught and therefore he learned… Instead of using your abilities to bring harm to others, you took that evil and created good out of it. You taught others like you to fight for independence and protection. That is no school you run. It is a home now. You are a magician who anyone can trust. Hence why I come to you now. I have been in silent observance, in search of magical blood worthy to aide my realm.”

At that, Prince rose his eyes to meet the Lion’s, deeply confused.

“I? Worthy enough? To aide the likes of you, whose able to flatten me with a mere stare?”

“You are worthy to me, Orpheus… Someone worth more than a thousand songbirds.” Aslan lovingly smiled. “Show me who you really are ~”

This was no challenge but this was a form of expression. The transformed Wizard, with his chest feeling as though it could burst unleashed a Patronus so bright that it trapped the entire glen in pure white light. In quiet tears, Prince freed a sprightly doe from his wand and she danced about the glen… even inviting the Dryad to prance with her.

“There she is…” Aslan softly whispered with a smile at the sight. “As bright as a spring day…”

“Just as I thought…” the Dryad laughed.

Prince watched his own creation be alive about the glen with a deep wistfulness before she gently came to his hand and he seemed to stroke her head.

“. . . what is it do you wish of me?” Prince soon asked, his soul feeling entirely free for once before solemnly facing the Lion who gently closed in.

#The Black Knight #Harry Potter #Narnia #Drabbles #Stories #Prose #Severus Snape

[amycuscarrcw]

╰ °✧ that’s AMYCUS CARROW and HE seems to look a lot like JASON RALPH. according to ministry files, the PUREBLOOD used to attend HOGWARTS and be in SLYTHERIN. now, they’re 25 and is an UNSPEAKABLE. A childlike rage and a childlike loneliness, the hushed quiet of hospital wards, a fine line between madness and genius, the sickly sweet smell of rot , a slowly unravelling thread, the endless ticking of a clock, are the best way to describe them. it doesn’t say in their file, but word around the street is that they’re a DEATH EATER. @mmprophet

introduction.

basics.

NAME: Amycus Cyrus Carrow AGE: 25 BIRTHDAY: January 13th. (Capricorn.) PRONOUNS: he/his BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood. CAREER: Unspeakable. Employed by the Department of Mysteries, on the surface Amycus largely concerns himself with the studies of Thought, Space and Time. Considering the black mark on his schooling records and unsociable demeanour, it’s almost a miracle that the Ministry had ever hired him - in this matter it’s highly likely that strings were pulled to ease his way in and nobody really knows what they do down there in the Department of Mysteries. Most of the ministry employees are just grateful they don’t have to encounter him very often. EDUCATION: Hogwarts WAND:  Pine, 11 3/4″, Dragon Heartstring. PATRONUS: Amycus cannot, and is unlikely to ever, form a corporeal patronus. If he could it would be a Raven. Frequently associated with loss and ill omens, Ravens surface throughout many mythologies spreading prophecy and insight, carrying the messages of gods. There’s a mysterious quality to the raven, they can be charismatic when they require something of you and excellent at hiding themselves when they don’t want to be seen. Greedy and vain. Curious and yearning for freedom. They are observers who only step into the light when it is to their advantage. BOGGART:  It’s the smell that comes first — damp earth, rotting leaves, the slimy new growth of those old woods, milky earthworms writing through freshly turned soil. It’s thick and cloying, suffocating in the dark. Then the weight of it, soft at first, spilling across his skin. Each shovel full growing heavier and heavier as he sinks in, deeper and deeper into the earth, in amidst the roots of the trees that gleam white like bone. It’s hard to see in the dark but he knows who it is who holds the shovel, who takes his time to slowly fill the grave that Amycus’s own clawing fingers can’t seem to catch a grip on, to climb out of. His father still cuts the imposing figure he had when Amycus was just a child. This is what happens to blood traitors. Even after all this time, their father’s shadow looms large over him. more ABOUT.

summary. 

+ The Carrows were sickly children, forever in and out of St. Mungo’s with some mysterious illness or the other for most of their childhood. Whilst their father had seemed largely indifferent to their suffering, their mother had been utterly enamoured with it (too enamoured, some might think.) Attention had always been scarce for Peony after her marriage, one almost couldn’t blame her for enjoying the sympathy that her poorly children brought to her. (Though they couldn’t certainly blame her for the poison she slipped into their cups.) + The twins were mismatching bookends; Alecto overflowing with every kind of feeling and Amycus devoid of any of it, but they were all the company each other had growing up. They relied on each other, in their own way, an understanding born through a tumultuous childhood. + They were expelled from Hogwarts in a scandalous fashion in their Sixth year after a long string of unproven accidents culminated in the pair being caught red-handed (literally) in one of their games. Their wands were broken, they were expelled, and it cost a great deal of social capital on the family name to get the decision overturned and to allow them to be packed off to Durmstrang for the rest of their education.  + Amycus had loathed Durmstrang. Sometimes he thinks he can still feel the cold of that place in his bones. Never mistaken as an overly sociable person, his isolation there had only served to further entrench him in his sour dislike of social situations. 

+ He now works in the Department of Mysteries and when spotted out and about he frequently seems distracted and out of sorts.  + There are very few people in the world that Amycus will willingly spend time with, which is why it had been so odd when he’d gone and picked up a friend, seemingly out of nowhere. One day he had been her brother, the person he’d always been, and the next he had been her brother - someone who befriended women named Lucy in the breakroom. Alecto had been deeply suspicious of the woman who wanted to be her brother’s ‘friend’ from the get-go, intent on discovering the agenda behind it, a suspicion that had only grown further the more that Amycus grew attached. When his friend had abruptly disappeared, in the manner that a great many people were disappearing these days, only to be found dead some weeks later and half her family with her, it had seemed a little too coincidental for Amycus to believe that Alecto had nothing to do with it. He hasn’t confirmed his suspicions, but there’s definitely an edge to his interactions with his sister lately. 

personality traits.

+ Intelligent  - Amycus has always lived in a world of his own. What he lacks in emotional awareness and a distinct inability to decipher what other people want or expect from him, he has always equalled in cleverness. He absorbs information like a sponge and retains it with an almost eerie degree of accuracy. Books were his solace growing up and he seems to always have one on hand. + Innovative - An adaptive thinker with a particular talent for problem solving, Amycus’s booksmarts transfer into practical application. He is good at coming up with new ways of applying what he has learnt and adapting his knowledge to fit the situation. + Focused - There is a laser precision to Amycus’s focus when he becomes interested in something. Dissuading him from a task once he has set his mind to it is nigh on impossible, to the point where most people who have come to know him understand that it is better to just let him get on with it. + Meticulous - A perfectionist at heart, Amycus is fastidious when it comes to attention to detail. He is clinical in his approach to life, sharp and incisive and never willing to let the smallest of details go. + Composed - For such an agitated mind, filled with nervous tics and idiosyncrasies, Amycus has a rarely disturbed composure. While the world rages around him he remains calm and measured. It had once been his greatest asset, the ability to remain steady in his path when the rest of the world unhinged itself, but these days his composure seems to fail him more and more often and in a world that requires restraint, he wonders where his own continues to disappear to. - Shy -  Amycus always struggled with socialisation. He tries, of course, with the same uneasy yearning he’s never been able to shake that demands people acknowledge his gifts, but he has always been odd, unsettling to the people around him. He might blame it on his mother, for his isolated childhood, or his sister who he had learned quickly would not be an easy companion, or his father’s cowering temper, or perhaps on his peers at Hogwarts and later Durmstrang who had been unnerved by him and his strange mannerisms, but the truth of it all is that there is no one to blame except for himself. Amycus does not socialise well and has learned, by and large, to keep to himself to avoid the censure that often follows his attempts to reach out to others. - Impressionable - People have always been fond of considering him weak-willed, but Amycus has simply always been easily influenced. He’d wondered once if it was the apathy that fills him that makes it so, that he simply didn’t feel enough to be decisive, but Lucy had disproven that theory. She had filled his head with thoughts that were so entirely incompatible with the Death Eater agenda that he sometimes still hears echoes of them, ghosts of a person he might have been if she’d survived to make it so. Luckily he’s always had his sister to give him a solid shove back into line when his thoughts veer into dangerous territory. - Apathetic - He has always wondered if perhaps there is simply something wrong with him, in the pathways of his brain or in it’s chemistry. Over the years he has observed the highest highs and lowest lows of emotion, he has seen it in his fellow Death Eaters and his peers at school, in his own family, and yet he feels so rarely that sometimes he wonders if he might be imagining it. At least, that was the case before Lucy - he still can’t comprehend the ruin she’d wrought on his emotional landscape but he does know it’s infinitely more unstable than it had once been. He refuses to acknowledge the feelings she’d made him aware of, or the way in which the heartbreak she’d introduced into his life by rejection and then her death had tipped him over the edge, but he clings to the old comfort of apathy like pretending might just return him back to what he’d been before she’d come into his life. - Ruthless - Capable of monstrous things if they are put into his path or demanded of him, Amycus is largely a passive creature. He has never had a problem with what society considers distasteful or abhorrent and has little in the way of self-restraint to keep him from simply slicing through the obstacles that present themselves in his path. He struggles with the idleness of life after the war was won, of the return of rigid social norms and the pressures of living up to pureblood societal rules. - Explosive - The rarely sighted and often questioned presence of Amycus Carrow’s temper is something that people don’t give much consideration. He has always been considered a cold person, apathetic and even, not given to strong emotions, if any at all. But every so often if the motivation is presented Amycus’s detachment gives way to something else entirely: blinding and overwhelming and violent, his temper has been known to explode with ugly consequences. It happened once at school and the repercussions were something that have stained their family name and reputation to this day. It is fortunate, perhaps, that the Carrows have never cared much for an untainted image.

bio.

(trigger warning: inexplicit mentions of abuse, violence, death.)

Amycus Carrow had been born with the taste of decay in his mouth.

His family tree rotted long before his birth, a once grand family besieged by the gossip of their peers and the ever-mounting debt that crept in like the shadow of the old woods that had overrun their family estate. It swas no surprise that he had turned out so twisted and wrong, given his circumstances. Amycus was a symptom of a much greater disease.

Weaned on poison instead of mother’s milk, shepherded in and out of hospital wings since his infancy, it was easy to believe such a bony little creature would not last the harsh winters of the moors, but survive he did. Amycus was clever, or so they’d soon learn, behind his solemn, eerie stares and an unceasing discomfort within his own skin lay a mind riddled with black holes and infinite constellations. His father’s library was his most trusted companion inside the walls of their quiet home, tucked into corners where his sister’s rages couldn’t rattle him with only books and the contents of his own journals to entertain him.

From those books he discovered the threat the Muggle and their more insidious cousin, the Mudblood, presented to wizarding kind; he learned of the sanctity of the blood that flowed through his veins and how to recognise the taste of Belladonna and Angel’s Trumpet and Baneberry on his tongue disguised by his morning pumpkin juice. (‘You must drink every last drop, my darlings.’) The Carrow home was full of secrets, but the woods at their door buried the darkest.

People didn’t like him very much - he’d been an offputting child and at Hogwarts that proved doubly so. Away from his mother’s care he grew stronger and taller but no less odd, no less curious. They didn’t like the way his speech stumbled and faltered and how frustrated his inability to communicate with others made him, they didn’t like the steady, unblinking malevolence in his stare. It bothered him: his teacher’s wariness and his peers mockery, their inability to see the multitude of worlds trapped in his head.

But he was clever and his experiments (suggestions whispered into his ear from his wrathful sister) never left tangible evidence behind. The girl who fell down the stairs of the Astronomy tower, or the boy whose skin had bubbled and burned for days after he’d dropped the wrong potions ingredient into his cauldron. He never meant to get caught; after hours in the midst of a snowstorm the feeling had blindsided him and her blood had been so vivid against the snow — as it turned out, she would be one more stain upon their family name.

There was no evidence it hadn’t been an accident, his parents had insisted, but Dumbledore had not agreed. The board of governors had been called, but not even an old name like Carrow could budge that decision.

The day that Amycus and Alecto were expelled from Hogwarts, the broken halves of his wand clutched in his hand and his father’s fingers digging into the bones of his shoulder, was the day that Amycus understood just how deep the threat of muggleborns and their sympathisers ran. An appeal had given him a new wand and a new school, but even cold and remote Durmstrang could not smother the burning grudge that had arisen within him.

What Dumbledore stole from him, the Dark Lord would return three-fold in the years to come. Amycus would allow himself to be branded just like his father, a mark of his allegiance, in exchange for opportunity, for the influence to get him inside the door of the Department of Mysteries, and in those mysteries he has found purpose. Oversight is unheard of behind that door: there is nobody to dissuade his interests or curb his tastes and so long as he is careful - well, it’s almost as if you could get away with murder down there.

#mm.intro #still under construction because i can't help myself but #abuse tw #violence tw

[qhostqizmo]

Redemption

All was immeasurably still. Life itself felt like it had came to a halt. The hands on the clock seemed to tick in mockery; counting away the seconds of her life. The only thing louder than the timekeep, Essätha reasoned, was her heartbeat. It was one of the few reminders that reality had not simply frayed. The other was that her breathing was not the only set in the room; as lungs pushed and pulled for air against the tension.

She could bear it no longer. Essie lifted her head, peering down at the parchment in Amon’s hand and the signet ring in the other. She reached up to tuck a curl of black hair behind her ear, worrying her lower lip. Her fingers were shaking as she lowered that same hand towards the nobleman’s. He gave the barest flinch as their skin touched. The sorceress’ swore he’d shivered, but it was probably her imagination. She had been the one to tremble, surely something in her mind was just reflecting her reactions back at her?

“I’m… I’m very happy for you, m’lord Amon,” she began softly. “You’ve earned back your title. You earned that with your blood and sweat and tears. That’s- amazing. You should be so proud. Everyone can go back to the way it was.”

He looked up at her sharply. She smiled back at him nervously. Cracks in the facade.

When he did not respond, Essätha curled her fingers, forcing his to close carefully around the document and the Illiad emblem. “With this, they’ll be able to write out a new document, too; one that labels you appropriately by your title. Someone else could carry it, since you’re a nobleman again by the state’s law. I mean if you didn’t want to carry it, should you continue to… stay and travel with us, that is.”

Those ocean-deep blue eyes widened further upon her. “What?” he rasped faintly, clutching his fists a bit tighter around the heirlooms to his heritage.

“Well, you’ve regained your honor in the Council and Queen’s eye,” she explained, “you may still be indebted to them, but you’ve proven yourself. They’d probably let you go back home, like you’ve wanted. There’s no reason why you should sacrifice any more of your life and your time on these endeavors. It’s a heavy risk; and you’re a Lord to the people of the Emerald Expanse once again. They’re going to want their Protector back, as well Briarton. You can go home.”

In silence, he appeared to digest her words. His expression only grew more and more upset though, instead of clarified. She watched the lines in his face grow deeper, and the restlessness of his hands began to shake and crumble the carefully rolled scroll in his hand.

Carefully holding his hands in hers, she uttered his name gently. His grip on the paperwork and ring loosened, but a faint impression of the ring was now marked temporarily into his palm.

Essie’s throat tightened. Words restricted, she caressed her fingers over his hands and grazed against his fingertips until he was palm-open and lax. The way his gaze lingered on her was mesmerizing, but she kept her cool by keeping her regard solely on his palms. They were calloused, and weathered, but felt intimate. She’d have the feeling of his touch; cautious and tender, ingrained in her mind for the rest of her days.

“I’m going to miss you,” she finally whispered, pain wavering in her tone. If this was the end of their journey, she was going to have to learn to let go and say goodbye, one last time.

Avoiding his searching gaze, Essätha leaned in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Amon exhaled in a ragged, gaping croak. His entire body seemed to jolt from the contact; brief as it was.

She moved for a hasty retreat, her face burning and eyes upon the floor.

The nobleman promptly dropped both the register and the ring, and seized her hand. His breathing was heavy as she was forced to freeze, and look back at him. It tore at her heart, to see how miserable and broken he appeared. It hurt all the more knowing this was the end of the line for anything they may share.

“Essie I’m…” Amon licked his lips, swallowed thickly, and finished: “I’m not leaving you.”

Not leaving. He’s… Not leaving?

Her mind swirled, trying to understand such simple words. That didn’t make any sense. He was essentially a free man now. He had the respect back of the Council, the law, and his peers. There was a place at home for him to return to where he could immediately sink back into his work. He could leave the rest of this cult and the danger to the party, and for the governing system to deal with.

Once more he licked his lips nervously. Amon released her hand then, to cup her face. His thumbs caressed the hollow spaces beneath her eyes, and he leaned in close. The aroma of leather and pine trees, tonka beans and rose with a touch of vanilla, consumed her.

His mouth was gentle and giving upon hers. She never wanted it to end.

Desperate, starved, and craving, one kiss; light and sweet and leaving the feeling of light sparkling in her chest, expanding outward, moved into another as Essätha seized the mantle of his cloak. Her hands crept up in the third kiss, and by the fourth she released the mane of fur to grab the collar of his jerkin. They kissed again; deeper; his breath gasping into hers as her fingers glided over the sculpture of his chin and across his cheekbones. His teeth scraped her lower lip and her tongue swept across the seam of his mouth and suddenly there was electricity, and fire, and she was pressed into his chest with her heart hammering for more.

All the kissing was muddling her brain, and making her dizzy. She tried to speak, but even when he was not pulling her in to snog, she was yanking him back. All that escaped between were merely whimpers and pleas, and the half-mumbled syllables of his name like honey and the sound of her own returned to her, never sounding so marvelous and holy in all her life.

He wasn’t leaving? How could that even be?

Abruptly; her teeth gently trapping his lower lip and suckling it, a rap at the door echoed like thunder in her skull. She forced herself to pull her gropy little velcro-hands away from his handsome face, hearing the last lingering whine of her name still in the back of his throat as he desperately tried to pull her in still.

The second knock seemed to stop him from actually doing so.

Essie’s cheeks felt flush and her lips a bit puffy. She tried to exude normalcy as much as she could as Amon cursed beneath his breath, and headed for the door. Her eyes snapped down to the ring and pedigree upon the floor, which she quickly snatched up just as the heavy oak swung open.

“Lord Amon Thomas Illiad,” droned a young man, bowing, “Her Majesty Queen Morwen Etheron the First and Her Esteemed Council summon you to the throne room, at once.”

“I’ll uh, be right there…” Amon trailed off, his voice raspy. He looked back over his shoulder, catching her eye.

Her pulse stuttered. She snapped her gaze from him, to the startled courier just behind him.

“M’lord, Her Majesty summoned you,” Essätha reminded him, shocked. Surely they’d both heard that correctly?

“I know,” he replied, breathless. Motionless. His gaze was affixed upon her; a ship to the lighthouse seeing harbor and sanctuary. Every nerve-ending in her body hummed beneath his gaze. She could feel goosebumps breaking out and racing down her arms.

She stepped closer. His entire body turned in towards her; leaned towards her. The message bringer, still stunned that someone did not instantly fall on their heels to follow towards the chamber room, merely gaped at them both.

Essie reached out to offer him his certificate, and ring. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Please?” Instantaneous. Yearning.

Swallowing, she gave a mute nod.

“R-Right, then…” The emissary muttered, adjusting their tailcoat jacket. “If you two would follow me, then-”

They turned to go, but the nobleman’s gaze was still holding hers. She found it impossible to shake loose. It was like being under a spell, but not at all. Something life-altering had just happened, and neither she nor he could seem to unlatch their tongues from the roof of their mouth to describe it.

Rushed but not fleeting, Amon brushed his lips in a barely-there kiss upon her lips once more. She trembled, finding the grateful feel of his fingers twining against her own. The stability of his grasp; an anchor, kept her from falling flat on her face like an imbecile. Or free-falling into space and time itself.

She had just been kissing him. Her saucer-sized gaze scanned the nobleman between her rushed tripping steps, trying to keep pace with the two men who actually seemed to be paying attention to where they were going. She’d kissed him, and he had been kissing her back! Not as perhaps, rare friends do either; polite, a mere peck on the cheek. This has been… Bold, and passionate, and famished. They’d been all grabby-hands and sighs against each other’s mouths and it had been sensual and unexpected and…

Wow could he kiss.

Her entire face felt as though she’d been leaning in too close to a flame. Tearing her gaze away from him, she contemplated the ground instead to watch where she was going. Her mind was still racing; unable to simply drown out the taste of him, the feel, the way he sounded. Gods the way he’d spoken her name had been like granting the title of saint, or naming a star, or speaking a divine language. Essätha he had bemoaned, and Essie he had begged, and both were her, and she was…

She was something he wanted. Something he was longing for. There was no other way, and no other explanation. Her pinging was not as one-sided as she’d been forcing herself to believe.

Their walk felt like it lasted a panicked lifetime and yet, none at all. As her brown scrunched up, trying to calculate the math to when her feelings may have begun to be reciprocated and how she had not noticed, they were suddenly coming to a half before a very familiar, very imposing set of doors.

The guards on duty stared upon them. Swallowing, Essie tightened her grip against Amon’s hand.

“Her Majesty only requested Lord Amon.”

Bowing respectably, Amon replied, “We understand.” His eyes finally moved over to catch hers. He hesitated, licking his lips anxiously. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, squeezing her hand.

Dazed, the sorceress nodded. “I’ll be waiting for you,” she answered, staring with a deep longing back into his gaze. Fuck, he had the most gorgeous eyes, and the most kissable mouth…

With reluctance, he let go of her hand. Her nerves got the better of her, reaching out to smooth out his attire. Was it wrinkled from how they’d been pawing at each other and pressed chest-to-chest, or was she just being self-conscious? Both, she reasoned, briskly adjusting his jerkin so that it lay stiff and his collar turned up properly.

Amon rested his hand on top of one of her fretting ones in the silence. His touch lingered; keeping her touch stalled over the middle of his chest. Her heartbeat ached and picked up, matching the way his felt like it was thumping heavily beneath her touch.

With the uncomfortable looking messenger shifting on his toes, and a set of guards watching, the nobleman brought her hand to his face, and brushed a kiss to the back of her hand.

If she had thought her pulse was erratic before, it was untamed and uncontrollable now.

Looking her directly in the eye; golden haze meeting the sea, Amon whispered faintly: “I love you, Essätha.”

Her mouth fell open into a large ‘o’.

Before she could even process the words; those four blessed words, Amon turned towards the doors as they were swung open and stepped inside with a gallant strut.

She raised her hand. A squeak did not even make it past her lips, and the doors were shuddered in her face.

He… loved her?

Her eyes snapped shyly, embarrassed, from one guard to the next. None of them showed any sign of reaction, but that didn’t stop her bodily reaction. Her skintone blushed a vibrant hue, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks to feel the almost feverish heat baking her palms.

He loved her!

Awed, she sighed dreamily, pacing part of the way down the hall. She looked back, seeing the same scenery; doors closed, armored guards strapping and stoic revealing nothing.

She hadn’t gotten to say it back!

Essätha groaned. She slid her hands over her face, allowing the mixed feelings to move through her trembling body. Elation, humiliation, giddiness, hope… He loved her. He loved her!

Her legs of their own accord, began to pace in the opposite direction. She paused to glance at the door once more.

Oh heavens, how long was she going to have to wait now to tell him!

Turning on her heel, she strode down the other direction before turning back to wear the same path, back and forth, in front of the throne room chambers.

He loved her! He loved her! He loved her!

Her itchy fingers couldn’t wait to grasp his collar again, and to press her smiling face against his and to warmly respond that she loved him, too.

What must he be thinking? Locked in the room, talking about who knew what, and he’d just confessed his feelings without receiving an answer. Was he lost in the memory of what had just occurred between them, like she was?

Groaning once more, head in her hands, Essie turned to pace the other way once more.

Oh Jubaeta, he loved her and he planned on staying?

Her heartbeat jolted. Was he wanting to stay for her? With her?

She licked her lips; a similar mannerism to her nobleman’s, and gazed hopelessly at the door.

“I love you too,” she whispered. Her heart was already counting the seconds to the moment she could see him again.

Who knew 173 seconds could feel like an eternity? 174, 175, 176…

Be quick about it, and give him back to me so that I may have what is mine, she thought stubbornly turning on her heel to pace the other way.

He loved her, he loved her, he loved her…

What else might he have to say that had been left unsaid between them, she wondered?

#qhost story #OTP: Essamon #Essatha Meduza #Amon Illiad #softly written

[mdelpin]

Shadowlight Week 2019 Prompt: Cuddles AO3 | FF.Net

Operation: Gay Exceed

Summary: Frosch is tired of seeing Sting and Rogue constantly pining over each other. When he visits the Fairy Tail Guild and discovers Happy has managed what he can only dream of he begs to be told the secret. Time for Operation: Gay Exceed!

Chapter 1

“So I guess I’ll see you in a few days,” Sting smiled awkwardly as he ran his hand through his hair.

“Yeah,” Rogue nodded, giving Sting a small smile in return.

Frosch watched them both with disgust. What the heck was it going to take to get the two clueless mages together? The tension between the two was so marked even he could feel it, and he was generally oblivious to most things. Frosch could see Lector rolling his eyes at him, it had become a private joke between them at this point. The difference was that while Lector was content to watch them try to figure it out, only making a sarcastic comment every now and again, Frosch desperately wanted to help.

He hated to see how Rogue's expression turned sad at moments like this, although he enjoyed the extra cuddles he got as a result. He loved Rogue with all his heart and wanted nothing more but to see him happy. Humans were so complicated, why couldn't Rogue just walk up to Sting and tell him how he felt? What was he so afraid of?

Sting and Rogue finished saying their pathetic goodbyes, and Rogue went back into the guild, already focused on the paperwork that was waiting for him in Sting's office. Frosch knew that Rogue hated paperwork, it was yet another way to show his affection for the Sabertooth guild master, one that Frosch knew Sting definitely appreciated. The White Dragon Slayer was in a bit over his head as Master, he'd definitely be lost without Rogue's help.

The truth was the two of them made a fantastic team, together there was very little they couldn't defeat, except perhaps their fear of exposing their feelings for the other. Frosch watched for a few minutes as Rogue buried his feelings in bureaucracy and promptly fell asleep.

“Frosch”

Frosch opened his eyes groggily as he heard his name be called gently. He blinked a few times until he was able to focus on his partner. He could tell that something was up by the way Rogue looked vaguely annoyed.

“Is something wrong, Rogue?”

“I just got a call from the Magic Council, they need my help with something since Sting isn’t here,” Rogue told him.

“Fro help too!”

"I'm sorry, Frosch. It might get dangerous, and I can't be worrying about you."

“Oh, Fro will stay with Yukino,” He cheered internally, he loved Yukino because she would spoil him rotten.

“Everyone I would trust to take care of you is already gone on a job. Rufus is here, but I need him to stay in charge of the guild while I’m gone. Besides, for someone with such a good memory, he isn’t very good at remembering to do basic things like eating,” Rogue chuckled good-naturedly.

Rogue tapped his temple with his finger as he thought and then with a defeated sigh he got out the lacrima and made a call.

“This is the Fairy Tail Guild,” Rogue could hear Mirajane Strauss’s voice clearly, “How can I help you? Oh, hello Rogue!”

“Hello, Mira. By any chance are Natsu or Gajeel around?”

Natsu, lacrima for you!

Frosch could see Rogue grimace, but he managed to put himself back together before Natsu arrived.

“Hey Rogue, what’s up? You and Sting okay?”

Frosch saw Rogue tense up at hearing Natsu say Sting’s name and giggled to himself.

Jealous much?

"We're fine. I'm sorry to do this, but can you do me a favor? I was called away by the Magic Council, and I have no one to leave Frosch with, could you watch him for me? It shouldn't take more than a day or two."

"Sure, Lucy has enough money for rent, so we weren't planning on taking a job for a few days. Bring him down, Happy will be excited!"

“Thanks, I owe you one!”

They talked for a few more minutes before Rogue said, “I’ll drop him off tomorrow morning.” He put the lacrima away and turned to Frosch.

“I’m sorry Frosch, I know Fairy Tail is noisier than you’re used to…”

"Frosch thinks so too!" He was inwardly happy to be able to spend some time with the other Exceeds. He hoped that maybe they could help him with his problem. He followed Rogue to their quarters, and after watching the Shadow Dragon Slayer pack for his trip, he settled in for a night of cuddling with his partner.

“Rogue, are you ever lonely?”

Rogue looked surprised by the question but answered with a smile, “Of course not, I have you, and Sting and Lector. How could I ever be lonely?”

The words sounded good, but Frosch had already seen the sadness that had flitted across Rogue's features briefly before he'd answered. He snuggled into his slayer's arms as both fell asleep.

o-o

Frosch watched as Rogue looked around the guild impatiently, there was no sign of Natsu.

“Hello Rogue,” Wendy Marvel smiled at the Shadow Dragon Slayer. She kneeled down, “Hello there, Frosch!”

“Wendy,” Rogue answered warmly, “Have you seen Natsu around?”

"He waited for a while, but now he's out back training with Gray," Wendy replied pointing to the guild's back door. "Would you like me to get him?"

"No, I have to get going, or I'll miss the train, can you please make sure he looks after Frosch?"

Wendy giggled, “There’s nothing to worry about, Frosch will have a great time.”

Rogue didn't look particularly convinced, but he had to go, so he gave Frosch one last hug and left, heading towards the Magnolia train station.

"Frosch, would you like to go find Happy and Carla?" Wendy asked, and Frosch nodded eagerly. It had been a while since he’d seen his friends. He followed Wendy outside and was shocked to see Natsu and Gray kissing in the field. Happy and Carla were sitting on a tree stump, watching the two mages in a bored manner.

Natsu and Gray were kissing? But Natsu and Gray had been just like Sting and Rogue the last time he’d seen them. All of the Exceeds had joked about how clueless Slayers were when it came to love.

Frosch walked towards the tree stump slowly, trying to slow down his thoughts. He continued to watch the two mages kiss with yearning. Why couldn't that be Sting and Rogue? Frosch knew that would make Rogue happy, and more than anything he wanted his partner to be happy.

He sat down and Happy, and Carla greeted him warmly, but he was still too dazed to respond.

“It took them long enough, huh?” Happy giggled, “They’re in looooooooooooove!”

“But how?” Frosch asked eagerly.

“It’s all thanks to Happy,” Carla smiled at the blue Exceed proudly, as he basked in her praise.

“You did this?” Frosch’s eyes widened even more than usual at the news.

Happy blushed, and looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Come on Happy, don’t be shy. Tell him!” Carla giggled into her hand.

“Please Happy? If it worked on those two, it might work on Sting and Rogue.”

“I’ll leave you two tomcats to discuss it, Wendy and I are going out on a job.” Carla waved and flew over to Wendy.

Happy remained quiet, and Frosch waited patiently. He watched Natsu for a moment, seeing the bright smile and the way Gray leaned forward to touch their foreheads together before going back to training.

“They look so happy together,” Frosch commented wistfully.

Happy sighed, kneading his temple with his fingers, "Ok, I'll tell you, but you have to promise you won't tell Lector, he'll never let me live it down."

Frosch frowned at Happy, he wasn’t used to having to keep secrets from his friend but if it could help…

“I’m serious, Frosch. I’ve already had to deal with enough teasing here.”

“Frosch promises,” He made the motion of crossing his heart to prove his point.

“I pretended I was in love with Lily so I could talk to Natsu about it,” Happy said quickly.

Frosch blinked slowly, “What?”

Happy sighed before launching into an explanation, "Natsu and Gray were really getting out of hand, they were fighting all the time. We all knew what was wrong but they were oblivious, and their fights were getting really destructive, so the Master wanted us to talk to them."

Happy watched Natsu and Gray spar before continuing, smiling as Natsu got in a good hit. Frosch imagined he looked much the same when he watched Rogue The fact that Happy had accomplished what Frosch could only dream of at the moment made him feel warm inside. He was sure Happy loved Natsu just as much as he loved Rogue. He listened intently to every word.

"No one trusted Erza to do it without bashing their heads in, and Lucy argued that the only time she tried to talk to Natsu about it, he ran off cause he thought she was going to confess to him. So that left me."

Frosch nodded, not really understanding the words but wanting Happy to continue.

"I asked Natsu whether it was alright that I liked a boy and he didn't answer right away, but after a few minutes he said that it shouldn't matter who I liked as long as I really liked them and anyone who said different could deal with him."

“You said that?” Frosch and Happy both jumped as they heard Gray speak right next to them.

Natsu's face could not get any redder but he nodded, and Gray smiled at him, grabbing Natsu's hand and kissing his knuckles. Frosch watched them, enraptured by how much their behavior towards each other had changed and daring to hope that the same could happen for Rogue.

“That was pretty smart, you know, for you,” Gray added, teasing Natsu as he normally would but this time there was a wink at the end to let Natsu know he meant nothing by it.

“Hang on, is that why you and Lily were all over each other for a few days?” Natsu asked as pieces of a puzzle that had been bothering him began to snap together.

Gray looked at Happy admiringly, having already figured out what Natsu was still putting together, he whispered something about fish to Happy, causing the blue Exceed to grin greedily.

“You did all that for me? Thanks, buddy!” Natsu grabbed Happy into a big hug before going back inside the guild with Gray.

“So all you did was ask Natsu if it was okay to like boys and then pretend to be with Lily for a few days?” Frosch asked to make sure he understood everything.

"Yep, I knew once he accepted that it was okay he would realize his feelings for Gray," Happy said with a smug look, "Natsu doesn't distinguish between races. If he believed it was okay for Exceeds, then the same would go for humans."

Frosch couldn't stop thinking about what Happy had told him. Could it really be that simple? It might be uncomfortable for a few days, but he would gladly endure it if it would get Sting and Rogue to act like Natsu and Gray. Frosch smiled dreamily as he imagined what that might be like.

He couldn’t wait to get back to Sabertooth and put his plan into action. Even though he spent the rest of his time at Fairy Tail playing and hanging out with Natsu, Happy and Gray he couldn’t wait for Rogue to return so he could put Operation: Gay Exceed as he liked to call it into play.

O-o

Rogue looked Frosch over to make sure he was okay before thanking Natsu and heading back to the train station to catch the next train to Sabertooth. He looked tired and even though Frosch was impatient to put his plan into action he knew he’d have to wait.

Rogue would be motion sick the whole way home, and he'd need some time to recover after taking two trains in one day. Frosch spent the time trying to decide what he was going to say.

They arrived at the guild and Frosch could see Rogue sniffing the air hopefully, only to shrug his shoulders. “Sting and Lector aren’t home yet,” Rogue informed Frosch.

Rogue was soon surrounded by his guildmates who greeted him enthusiastically before reporting on the various jobs they'd taken. He was then given a comprehensive report by Rufus who could not wait to hand over the Guild Master reins back to Rogue.

Not really interested in watching Rogue deal with more paperwork for hours Frosch decided to go over to Yukino who was soon feeding him sweets.

A few hours later they were finally settling into bed when Frosch couldn't contain himself any longer. He'd rehearsed the words in his mind so many times but instead of the clear, concise words he'd practiced he blurted out, "Fro likes Happy!"

Oh no! That’s not what I meant to say at all.

He tensed up waiting for Rogue’s reaction but instead of understanding what he’d meant Rogue just responded absently, “Yeah, Happy’s nice enough. Did you have a good time at Fairy Tail?”

“Fro did!”, Frosch thought hard about how to make Rogue understand, “Fro really likes Happy!”

Yeah, that should do it! Frosch thought proudly.

“So you said,” Rogue chuckled petting Frosch on his head before hugging him to his chest.

“No, you’re not listening!” Frosch became so upset that things were not going as Happy had said that tears were already forming and he’d begun to tremble in frustration.

“Frosch? I don’t understand what you’re upset about,” Rogue studied Frosch, clearly at a loss as to how to respond to Frosch’s outburst, “Now calm down, and start over. Is this about Happy? Do you miss him?”

"Frosch likes boys," Frosch finally got out, and from his position on Rogue's chest, he could feel the mages heartbeat speed up.

"I see," Rogue replied slowly, "And you want to know how I feel about it?"

Frosch nodded, now they were getting somewhere.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with you, if that's what you mean," Rogue was quick to reassure him, and Frosch smiled happily until he heard Rogue's next words. "But you need to understand, it's not something you should be so free with. If you’re not careful you might lose the one who’s most important to you."

That's when Frosch realized his mistake, Natsu had never considered he might have feelings for Gray which is why Happy's plan had worked so smoothly. Rogue had known his feelings for Sting all along. Crap!

With nothing to lose and a relationship on the line, Frosch opened his mouth and praying that Happy would both forgive him and agree to play along he jumped mouth first into phase two. “But Happy is already Frosch’s boyfriend!”

Frosch and Rogue had been too focused on their conversation to hear the knock on the door, but that didn’t stop the knockers from entering the room.

“Way to score Frosch!” Sting burst into the room and gave the Exceed a high five while Lector stared at Frosch in shock, giving him a look that clearly said they would be discussing the situation later.

“Sting, you’re back,” Rogue greeted a tad stiffly, probably wondering how much the dragon slayer had heard, “How was your mission?”

“It was a piece of cake, sorry I took so long. Did everything go okay while I was gone?” Sting inquired cheerfully.

“Yeah, I had to help the Council with a small matter,” Rogue sat up and smiled at Sting.

“Fro went to Fairy Tail!” Frosch informed Sting and Lector.

"And scored yourself a boyfriend," Sting grinned playfully, "Nice! We should visit Fairy Tail soon so you can see Happy."

“And to see Natsu?” Rogue added drily.

“Sure, that’d be fun too, I guess,” Sting shrugged, not giving it much thought.

“Well I’m tired, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Rogue dismissed his guests and lay on his side to sleep, failing to see Sting’s disappointed expression at his dismissal.

“Come on Frosch, let’s let Rogue get some rest, I wanna hear all about your visit!” Lector grabbed Frosch by the arm and dragged him out of the room.

They followed Sting to the guild’s kitchen and watched him prepare an impossibly large sandwich. “Lector, you coming to bed?”

“Nah, I’ll be up later.”

“Ok, suit yourself,” Sting waved at them, already eating as he walked, “Tell me later, I wanna hear too!”

Lector and Frosch waited until they heard the familiar sound of Sting's bedroom door closing, so they knew he was far enough away to not listen to them.

“Spill,” Lector demanded, “What are you up to? There’s no way you like Happy, and he would never do anything that got in the way of Carla.”

A/N: This was a lot of fun to write and is probably the closest I've gotten to writing a crackfic. I hope you enjoy! On an exciting note (for me at least), this marks my 50th story on AO3! 

Chapter 2

@shadowlight-week @fuckyeahstingxrogue

#fairy tail #shadowlightweek2k19 #stingue #gratsu #ftlgbtales #ftfanfics #fanfiction #prompt: cuddles #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #frosch #happy #natsu dragneel #gray fullbuster #wendy marvell #carla #humor #friendship #my edits

[lkfortier]

The Beast

He anticipated the screams. They bubbled up from the throats of every one of his victims, silenced quickly as they came with a single slash across the neck. In those moments, he relished their terror. They’d no time to plead or pray, beg or bargain. When his prey was most vulnerable, he thrived.

        But he did not expect the tears.

        The others did not cry. There was no time. One second, perhaps two, and their lives were ended with a flick of his claws. Sometimes he felt almost guilty, for it seemed too easy—then again, who could stand against him? What man could hope to match his strength, his cunning, or his cruelty? None, for he was a god among them, seeking out their frailest and fiercest alike and felling both indiscriminately. The humans knew this; they feared him because of it.

        So why the hell did they send him a child?

        He could hear her sobs before he saw her. Pathetic gasps for air escaped her lips, mixed with tears she’d yet to shed and the ones that bled down her pale cheeks. The snow was knee-deep for her; she could walk no more than a few steps before stumbling, falling, disappearing into the white. His lips curled. No. This had to be a mistake. This tiny wisp of a girl could not be their latest offering. Surely they were not so desperate?

        A bizarre feeling overcame him as he watched her struggle to stand. Even from a distance, he could see the way her limbs trembled. Whether from cold or from fear, he could not tell. All he knew was that this delicate human child had wandered into his domain, and he was furious.

        He’d half a mind to kill her then and there. In that instant he yearned to lunge at her, knock her small form to the ground and tear her to pieces. He dug his nails into the tree he clung to. Even in his current form—admittedly far weaker and less able than his beast one—he could destroy her with minimal effort. And yet, something held him in place. He did not throw himself at this girl, though he could feel the carnal desire for her blood wearing at his willpower. No, he had something better in mind.

        He allowed himself to drop from his perch, hidden away in the upper branches of the pines, to the snow-covered ground below. The icy outer layer gave beneath his weight with a sickening crack that echoed through the wood. Hearing a noise behind her, the girl froze. She did not turn around.

        Well, won’t this be fun.“Are you lost, little maiden?” he called to her, dusting the snow from his clothes that hung, loose but not ill-fitting, around his frame. The girl had tensed at the sound of the impact, yet his voice seemed to set her somewhat at ease. She turned slowly to face him, cracking open one eye just enough to see the stranger who addressed her.

        “I-I, um…” Her voice was small as she was, little more than a whisper swept away by the wind. Were his hearing not quite so sensitive, he would have missed it. “I just…”

        She trailed off. The tears continued to fall down her cheeks. He wondered how long she had before her eyes froze shut.

        “Oh, come now,” he said as he approached her. She bit her lip but made no sound. “I don’t bite. You seem to be in distress. I only want to help you.”

        A few strides brought him within a foot of her. He looked down his nose at the child, smaller up close, as a familiar hunger began to gnaw at him. For the moment, he forced it aside. The little girl did not move from her position, though her eyes darted about like a caged animal’s. Despite this inconspicuous form he’d taken, she was not easily soothed. His suspicions grew stronger.

        “What has you so upset? I’d hate to see a pretty little thing such as yourself shed such ugly tears,” he murmured. He hadn’t meant his words as a compliment, yet she seemed to respond as such. The ends of her lips twitched upwards in the faintest of smiles. At last she looked at him, and he could see that her cheeks were tinged a deep pink.

        “My parents sent me out.” She buried her gloved hands in the folds of her skirt. Her teeth chattered with each word.

        She went to lower her head again, but he stopped her, cupping her chin in his hand. He locked his eyes on hers, large and fawnlike, a green so light they appeared almost gray. She squirmed a bit but did not struggle. Judging by her reaction, she likely didn’t realize his true identity. Such was to be expected. Few if any humans knew of his talent for changing forms, and those who did rarely lived to tell his secret. Were she to look closely enough, she might see through his disguise—see the dark gold of his eyes, the way his sharpened nails bent a bit at the edges, or how his hair, thick and rough, resembled the untamed majesty of a wolf’s winter coat.

        Poor, stupid little thing. She was too blind to understand, and it would be her undoing.

        “Why did your mother and father send you off into the cold?” he asked. “Surely they know how dangerous this forest can be. You’ll catch your death all alone.”

        At his words, the child stiffened again. She tried to pull her face away, but he held fast, his nails digging into her soft flesh. A few spare tears burst against his thumb.

        “P-Please,” she begged, her voice reduced to a faint stutter. “I have to—I really must—”

        “Go? Surely not so soon. For you see, my dear, I’m curious about you. Your parents set you loose to face the beast, did they not?”

        More tears. The burning of their warmth against his skin was starting to annoy him.

        “I—”

        “Do not lie,” he warned her, as with his thumb he brushed the tears away from her lower lip. She opened her mouth, but no words would come, so she stood silent, slack jawed and trembling. “Fine then. I offered you my help, but if you refuse—”

        “They made me!”

        He’d just relinquished his hold, been prepared to wrap his hands around her pretty little throat and end her at last. Her shriek stopped him. The girl pulled away too suddenly, and she fell backwards into the snow and ice. White flooded her boots, found its way into her gloves and beneath the folds of her skirt and under the long sleeves of her cotton shirt. Had she any exposed skin, the large ice shards would have left their mark, though as it was he knew she would not go unscathed. Now, cold, bruising, and terrified, the child finally gave in. She let out a wail and began to cry harder than before.  Her sobs, interwoven with hiccups and fits of coughing, caught in her throat.

        “Ple…please, I just…” She choked on her words, each one more unintelligible than the last. After a few tries, she gave up, letting the tears flow as she shut her eyes, no doubt prepared for the inevitable.

        “Child.”

        She hiccupped.

        “Look at me.”

        It took a moment, but she did. Again, she cracked only one eye open, as if expecting him to become the beast and devour her the moment she looked his way.

        “Why did your parents send you out?” he whispered. He eyed her simple clothing—suitable for indoor wear, perhaps, but hardly enough for extended exposure this time of year. She carried no items, no weapons. Whoever had her undertake this journey wanted to ensure she did not return alive. “Did they want to see you harmed?”

        “They…they told me it was for the good of everyone,” the girl said. Her voice shook slightly. At least her sobs had softened. “They said that I’m too small. I’m not much use. It would be better to send me out, so that someone else could…”

        She trailed off. He noted how she kept her head bent, her gaze focused on her hands, palm up in her lap. Her dread had not dissipated, yet she seemed so much more submissive. It was as if merely speaking of her parents reminded her of the task they’d assigned. How typical of a human child, he thought. So dependent upon her parents, so desperate for approval and praise that she’d walk blindly into the devil’s lair for reasons she could not begin to understand at her age.

        He sneered at her.

        “They lied to you.” He ignored the look of disbelief that flitted across her face. “Your sacrifice will do little if nothing at all to appease the creature that haunts these woods. You will die here, and it will be just a matter of time before the killings in the village begin again. Then another will take your place, make your same journey, die your same death. It’s a vicious cycle, my dear.”

        “How…how do you—”

        He could see the gears turning in her little head, brows furrowed. In a few seconds, it all seemed to click, and he watched her eyes widen, his lips splitting into a grin that revealed a set of teeth too sharp to belong to a human. The girl’s face paled. Another tear escaped her eye and raced towards her trembling lips.

        “That’s right, little one,” he said, kneeling down so that his face was level with hers. “You’d have done well to remember: there are no kind strangers in these woods.”

        He wiped a tear from her cheek. The child said nothing.

        Something was off in the village.

        No smoke billowed from the chimneys on rooftops. No lanterns glowed, no candles gleamed. Not a sound could be heard in the whole of the place. Had someone noticed the scene, it would have been too easy to assume the beast had made a meal of the villagers and run off, leaving but a quiet decimation in his wake.

        But that was not the case.

        “What’s taking so long?” A small voice broke the silence, no more than a faint whisper. All of the people had gathered in the town center. Cloaked in blacks and greys, they huddled together for warmth in the darkness, no one daring to speak, save for one restless child. His question met with concerned murmurs from the other villagers as his mother pulled him closer.

        “Silence!” A large man near the front held up his hands. “We must stay patient. It will happen soon.”

        Everyone knew what they were waiting for: a sound unlike anything of this world, one of despair and unequivocal terror. The sound an animal makes when cornered, when injured and alone it makes one last desperate attempt for its life, only to be mercilessly slaughtered by an indifferent predator. This night, as with all that had come to pass, the villagers waited for a sound they now knew all too well. Only once they heard it would they know they were safe.

        “It’s been hours,” another voice hissed from the back. His voice carried across the unsettled crowd. “We should have heard it by now.”        

        His words prompted unease from the others.

        “What if she escaped?”

        “Did he reject the offering?”

        “It’s too late to send another, we can’t possibly—”

        “E-nough!” The man at the front held up his hands. Even in the dark, his pale eyes glinted with a fire none could match. “This is not unprecedented. We are not unfamiliar with the creature’s ways, how he toys with our offerings. This is part of his plan. We must not turn against each other!”

        “How are we to know, Charles?” the woman next to him argued. “She was so small, it seems impossible that he would be able to torment her for long. If he’s dissatisfied, then—”

        “Then nothing,” Charles said. He shot her a look that demanded her silence, and she complied, clutching herself for dear life. Turning back to the crowd, he said, “In the event the offering is rejected, we shall send another. However, we must not do so until we are sure. It will simply encourage the beast to manipulate us into killing off ourselves.”

        “Elisabeth is right,” another insisted. “She shouldn’t have lasted this long. If the girl’s been killed and he isn’t satisfied, he’ll come for us next! We have to send another.”

        Elisabeth bit the edge of her thumbnail, knowing Charles was glowering at her. His rage would not be easy to avoid once the night was over. Meanwhile, the other villagers had resumed talking amongst themselves.

        “We should send someone capable, lest the beast think we’ve insulted it—”

        “And who would you suggest, Mathias?” Charles turned to a young man several feet from him. “Would you like to select one of our best men from the crowd and send him to his death? Or perhaps we should send you?”

        Mathias approached. Though he stood a good head shorter than the leader of their village, he held his ground. “Why don’t you go, Charles?” he asked. “After all, it was you who decided to send the girl. Shouldn’t her father be the one to rescue her from the beast’s maw?”

        Both Elisabeth and Charles stiffened. His features contorted with rage.

        “Why you insolent—” He lunged at Mathias, who stumbled backwards into the crowd.

        “Charles, stop, please!”

        “No!” he snarled. Elisabeth flinched and released his arm. “We havesacrificedour daughter for the sake of this village! That he dares to question our choice, our authority shows he is too ungrateful to understand what we have done!”

        At last he began to settle. His breathing slowed, and he stood, no longer restrained by his wife. All eyes were on him. The whispers had ceased.

        “Since you all seem to doubt that our sacrifice was sufficient,” Charles seethed, “I will grant your requests. A second sacrifice will be made.” His eyes flicked to Mathias. “Take him.”

        “That won’t be necessary.”

        The village seemed to turn to ice. Neither Mathias nor Charles had spoken; both stared at each other with wide eyes, neither daring to believe what they’d heard. Beside him, Charles heard Elisabeth whimper. Just behind them stood a silhouetted figure, its features indistinguishable in the darkness.

        “Hm, how curious. Did any of you think to check, perhaps, on the sacrifice you so graciouslysent me way?” The thing approached. As it withdrew from the shadows, moonlight fell upon its face. Two golden eyes watched the petrified villagers with subtle eagerness. A set of dark lips twisted upwards in a wicked smile.

        Charles felt his wife go limp beside him. Mathias had fallen silent, as had all the others. With a tremor in his voice, he took a step towards the creature, cursing the trembling of his legs.

        “We’ve given you what you wanted!” he pleaded. “Please, we’ve followed the precedent of our ancestors. For this month, you are to leave us be, you are appeased!”

        The beast chuckled. “Oh, am I? Well, that’s a surprise. You see, I don’t quite feelso appeased.”

        His gaze fell over the other villagers—men beside their wives, children clinging to the skirts of their mothers. His lip curled.

        “You thought that by sending a child to me you would spare yourselves. Was that your plan?” he asked. His voice, though low, was enough to make those closest to him flinch.

        “We—we believed that if—”

        “Silence!” the creature roared, and Charles spoke no more. His heart beat painfully in his chest with each moment that passed. “You dare to disgrace that which your ancestors promised me! A hundred years of worthy sacrifice—your strongest warrior, your most learned historian. It seems I have been too lenient with you. You believe that you can offer up a calf for slaughter in place of a bull, and expect no punishment? There is a price to pay for such insolence.”

        Looks of horror and prayers for sympathy fell on deaf ears as the beast took hold of Charles. Their cries turned to screams, and the villagers scattered, some to their homes, some trying in a blind panic to flee to the forest. It did not matter. Within a matter of minutes the land was quiet once more. Crimson stained its snowy blanket, glistening beneath the moonlight. And the beast, now satisfied, returned to the wood.

        “Forgive me. I hadn’t wished to act so rashly. However, old promises need to be kept, no matter how much time has passed.”

        The child said nothing. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, the beast watched the moon begin to set. In another few hours the sun would rise, bringing to light his crimes. Any who saw would know what had happened, and think twice before acting on their cowardice.

        “I’m certain your parents never told you the truth of your ancestors’ promise, did they?” the beast asked. Again, his words met with silence. “Ah, no matter. They were old fools. In their minds it was better to sacrifice one innocent life, and bear the sins of that offering, than to die with any semblance of honor.”

        The beast sighed. His gaze fell to the child before him. Her lips were turned downward, her arms folded neatly across her chest. Wrapped as she was in her little red cloak, she might appear to be sleeping to any passerby. Only her eyes shattered the illusion. The pretty green was now a dull and lifeless grey, concealed only slightly by her wilting lids and thick lashes. A loose blonde curl clung to her face, frozen by tears that would never fall.

        This was how it must be. She was the lamb, he the lion. A sacrifice had been made, and unlike the selfish ones who had sent her to her death, he had every intention of keeping his promise. Still, he would not compromise himself. The beast bent low over the child, and with two fingers closed her eyes forever. She deserved better, he thought, than being set up to fail, an offering that would never suffice. A pup trying to fill the role of an alpha. He shook his head. At least now, in the forest’s embrace, she might know some peace.

        Casting one final glance at the child, and then back towards her village, whose remains would be discovered come morning, the beast turned, and disappeared into the heart of the wood.  

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