#took him 13 hours to get away from his grave

[papirouge]

Simon -Ghost- Riley...

"(...) Ghost’s real name is Simon Riley and he grew in Manchester, England and he grew up a really bad childhood. His brother was really mean to him and always would wear a skull mask at night to scare Simon. Simon’s father was really abusive towards Simon and often made him do really screwed up things. Apparently Ghost was a apprentice butcher at a grocery store but joined the military due to the 9/11 attacks. He eventually joined the SAS. However, when returning home a few years later, he found his brother and mother in really bad conditions. The brother took drugs and kept stealing from his mom to keep having the drugs. Simon didn’t return to the military until he had changed and helped his family get back on their feet. Simon got them back to good and his brother had a wife and kid. Now here’s the really messed up parts. Simon was tasked with taking down the Zaragoza Drug Cartel who was ran by Manuel Roba. He and his team were going to make a move on them until the team’s commanding officer, Vernon, betrayed and ratted out the team. Simon and his team were tortured in brainwashing facilities for months. Vernon couldn’t break Simon and ended up ordered to die by Roba. Simon was buried alive with Vernon and broke out with Vernon’s jawbone due to Vernon’s rotting corpse. Simon ended up crossing the border to Texas and got healed from injuries but suffered from temper-management issues which didn’t allow him to return back to active duty. He later met up with two of his former teammates, Sparks and Washington but he found out that they were both broken and brainwashed by Roba. He ended up trying to kill Sparks but Washington interfered. He returned to his home to find his mother and his brother and his family all dead. He killed Sparks and Washington and then went on his journey to find and kill Roba. He worked solo and killed Roba and his men and ended up being recruited by General Shepard to join Task Force 141."

— Youtube comment about Ghost origin story

#i've read the 6 chapters of the comics and that's pretty accurate #him being a butcher explains why he's so good with knives #oh and the comics provides a MUCH deeper insight as of why he's wearing a GHOST mask #there's a whole reflexion about dying to the self trauma and mourning #i REALLY enjoyed it #OP left out a bunch of things tho so hmu if you want more infos about the comic<3 #as I said in a previous post about the comic i on't recommend you if you're very sensitive bc it's very violent and triggering at times #i.e torture rape extreme violence etc #honestly im not surprised Ghost ended becoming insane #dude got tortured and raped for months in this facility #buried alive with a rotting corpse and maggots #took him 13 hours to get away from his grave #his entire family got butchered #and since he never learned to properly proceed his emotions what did he do when he realized that? #he laughed hysterically😶 #and he's off his meds too. obviously #papi watch #interesting #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #ghost call of duty #quote

[kaicubus]

Blah Blah Blah | Wayne M.

₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ───────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ─────────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊

warnings ✩° : fluff(?), mentions of violence, mentions of blood, heavy cursing, spoilers for wayne the series on amazon prime, reggie’s holding a gun, gun is not used but everything else is, established relationship with wayne.

pairing ✩° : wayne mccullough x fem!reader

premise ✩° : not only did reggie did his own grave when he took wayne’s car, but he dug himself an extra 6ft when wayne found out it was him who took his girlfriend, all to win a fight he was never going to win anyways.

word count ✩° : 2k

authors note ✩° : yes blah blah blah is the actual name and not filler,, i was listening to an edit by typingfilms on tik tok and got inspired!! guys i gotta be real with you..idk how to write fight scenes. this was a challenge. but its a blurb so it’s short and not many descriptions!!

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"Would you look at that! There he is. And I thought the son of a bitch wouldn’t show up and save his little girlfriend.” Reggie gasps dramatically and throws his hands up in the air.

For hours, Wayne had been looking for you. For hours he’d gone without seeing your face, only fueled by the raw essence of hatred and hope to find you that allowed him to stand up right. Your boyfriend’s face was bruised, cut and sliced in multiple areas from things you didn’t even want to imagine, but he was there now, and he wanted nothing more than to save you from this hellscape and hold you in his arms.

The only thing stopping him? His bitch of a step-brother, Reggie.

Wayne had only found out about Reggie after he got into a heated argument, which was mostly one-sided, with him after seeing that the car his late father left for him was being driven by some random guy he’d never seen before with slicked back hair, an unkept beard, and tattoos running all over his body. The interaction wasn’t pleasant, but it was better than when Wayne was told that Reggie and him were in fact related since he didn’t have to talk to him or even look at him for long that time. Now, he was face to face with the guy who seemed to get everything he wanted, like a spoiled, whiny brat.

Never in your life did you think you’d get kidnapped, then again most people who do don’t either. You had only met Reggie once with Wayne when his mom was present to tell them both, and right away you could tell from the situation that Reggie was fortunate enough to be in and by the way his entire top row of teeth sparkled in gold, that he was one of the most vile creatures to walk the Earth.

By some string of luck, Wayne had somehow tracked you down after you were knocked out cold by a quick swing to the head by Reggie himself, who laughed over your unconscious body and dragged you into the same car Wayne had full ownership over. When you hear him for the first time in what you could only assume had been 13 hours, you nearly shrieked with happiness—but you couldn’t make much noise with a cloth gag stuffed inside your mouth anyways.

You were in no way a match to fight Reggie, but he had you tied up as precaution; wrists, ankles, and even a blind fold that you begged to be removed were all tightly bound together with whatever crunchy, white cloth he could find, and they hurt.

It only takes one glance for Wayne to see what Reggie had done, and as clear as it was in broad daylight, Wayne just couldn’t believe it. Wayne had been chained up, gagged, threatened with fire, stabbed, kicked, and crashed into by cars and other vehicles, but nothing compared to seeing you like this. Even if you weren’t hurt physically, Wayne could tell you’d been crying and possibly screaming out for him, and that was enough for him to reasonably lose his shit.

“You took my mother away from me. You took my dad’s car and claimed it as your own. And you took my girlfriend.” Wayne stares tiredly at his step-brother, “Why else would I be here?”

“And what the fuck is you gon’ do about it,” Reggie leans in close, too close, rolling his plump lip back into his mouth, only to spit it back out at Wayne with an intimidating, “Brother?” The exaggerated, wet ‘pop’ noise was all it took for Wayne to snap.

“Lookie here, Y/n!” Reggie gawks and smacks the side of your head, tearing the blindfold away from your red, puffy eyes, “Wayne’s here to save you! Isn’t that peachy?” pulling out a loaded gun from behind his back, “Now I won’t hafta shootcha! Lucky girl.” Reggie flashes a grin at Wayne and tilts his head to the side, scraping his pierced ears against his sunburnt shoulder, “What’dya say Wayney? Should I give her up?”

One look at Wayne’s eyes told you a million stories. From those hours you two were separated, you could tell he had lost all hope by the way they were deeply sunken into his face. Grey eyes became black with the shadows of his half lidded stare, and his eyebrows were now more prominently placed lower on his face than before. It pained you to see him like this, but even more when you realized Wayne had nothing to defend himself, and Reggie had a gun.

You let out a muffled cry, screaming his name and thrashing around the best you could to alert your boyfriend who already saw the weapon the second Reggie had pulled it out. Wayne doesn’t even look at you because he knows that if he looks too long, he’ll lose all the rage surging inside of him and rush to save you; so he keeps his eyes are locked onto the man holding you hostage.

“Yeah,” He says lifelessly, “I think you should let her go.”

Reggie scoffs, “That’s it? You’re not gonna beg for her life? I could, shoot her now, steal my goddamn car again, and live the fuckin’ high life, and you be miserable! No girlfriend, no daddy, no mommy, not even me! You don’t wanna stop me from doing allat?” He waves his gun around carelessly.

Wayne only shrugs, “I guess you could if you wanted to. But I don’t think you can.”

You stare, wide eyed at Wayne, knowing he has a specific way to get out of things like these, but still worrying that he might slip up. Judging by the way Reggie holds himself, sagging down when he talks and shooting himself up when he thinks he makes a smart point, he’s unhinged at its worst. Taunting him doesn’t seem like the right thing to do, especially with his finger stuffed into the space holding the trigger.

Instead of losing it like you fear he would, Reggie cocks his head to the side and licks his lips, “And why wouldn’t I? I’m the one holdin’ the frickin gun, aren’t I, bozo?” He lets out a hoarse laugh, “What’re you, stupid? Why wouldn’t I be able to pop Y/n’s fuckin’ skull open right now? Huh?”

“Because your limbs are all broken, and you’re missing your eye.”

Without wasting a second, Wayne lunges forward and crashes his fist into the side of Reggie’s face. You don’t even notice him at first, seeing as Wayne’s pace quickly picks up speed to the point where he’s charging towards him. It isn’t until you see red streaks of crimson blood start to seep out of Reggie’s face as he staggers back from the initial punch do your eyes catch a small, silver glisten intertwined between Wayne’s knuckles.

Despite having his face cut, Reggie only laughs, “Ooh, I like that! Hit me harder!” which was weird coming from his half brother, but you decide not to cringe at the...flirtatious(?) undertones. Wayne’s brow scrunches together as he delivers another sharp blow to Reggie’s chin, his makeshift weapon crashing right into the soft flesh between his scruffy jaw and unprotected neck, piercing right through. The force alone is enough to drive Reggie to the ground, knocking his opponent onto his back right onto a few other objects that make his fall way worse than it would be landing on the cold, hard tile itself.

“Fuck!” Reggie laughs, “You’re gonna regret doing that you little bitch!”

Unfortunately, even with Wayne’s skill, he’s knocked to the ground with a firm kick to his legs, knocking his balance over and causing Wayne to tumble down just enough for Reggie to crawl on top of him and lock in a closed-fist punch right into his nose bridge. You wrestle your restraints more than ever after hearing the two grunt, and Wayne’s nose break followed by booming laughter from Reggie.

Wayne’s blood paints all over the floor next to him, trickling down his pale cheeks and neck, as well as Reggie’s hands before his moment of power is flipped and Wayne is able to gain back his footing.

All you could do was watch, listening as the cries Reggie screamed out became more and more unhinged, surely to the point where his throat was excoriated. You watch how his body curls in agonizing, writhing pain as Wayne whacks him relentlessly with anything he can get his hands on. There was nothing that Wayne couldn’t do with nothing. As confusing as that realization was, Wayne knew exactly what he was doing and how to finish it quickly.

Making use of his foot, Wayne weaves past Reggie’s attempt to kick him down and hastily stomps his heel right into his forearm, finding the weakest point of the limb and bruising it all until he hears a muffled crack spit from it. The sound makes you nearly vomit then and there, but your eyes remain open and watchful in case Reggie was the one to step up and do the exact same thing to your boyfriend.

Luckily, he doesn’t, and Wayne finishes off exactly what he said he would. He uses the strength of a metal chair and slams it down onto Reggie continuously, targeting his legs next, which were somehow easier to break than his arms. Maybe it was because of all the work Reggie did focusing on his arms rather than his legs during his days in the gym.

As Wayne is about to use a metal scrap piece to finally take out his step-brother’s eye, you wave around, shaking your head. You had already seen and heard so much that the thought of Wayne gouging someone’s eye out right in front of you made your already weak stomach want to give out entirely. Wayne was covered in blood, head to toe, that thankfully wasn’t his as the majority of his own blood remained stuck to his face.

Your sudden outburst catches Wayne’s attention instantly and he comes rushing to your aid, leaving Reggie groaning incoherently on the ground, with all of his limbs broken, but two fully functioning eyes. He turns his head to the side and exhales deeply, seeing Wayne run up to you before his eyes cross and he passes out.

“Y/n, you uh, you ok?” Wayne makes his way over to you and kneels down, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier...here, let me get those.” He starts removing the binds around your wrists and ankles, peeling the soaked fabric from your mouth and tossing them all to the side. In an instant, you fly towards Wayne and wrap your arms around his shoulders, wanting nothing more than to feel the warm touch of your boyfriend. Wayne does the same, hugging you as if you were oxygen, and he had been struggling to breathe ever since he lost you. But losing you was far from the question. Wayne knew he’d find you again, it was only a matter of time before he did, whether that required spilling blood or not.

You didn’t care, as long as Wayne was in your arms and you were in his. Your eyes close on their own from exhaustion, sniffling back the tears that eventually start bubbling at your lashes, breaking like shards of glass. Wayne struggles to hold you up but lets you crumble against him, using his chin to tuck your head closer into his chest.

“Wayne...” Your body shakes and unwanted tears start to stab your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know he was going to do this and bring you so much trouble! He just came at me and I didn’t even know! I was so scared.” 

“I know, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, I’m so sorry.” His voice is thick with worry, and even he’s holding back tears too, “I won’t ever let something like that happen again, that’s a promise.” 

────────────────────────────────────────────

“You...You didn’t kill him...did you?” You cling onto Wayne’s arm and glance over at a still bodied Reggie.

“He’s fine. He’s just resting. C’mon, let’s get outta this shithole.”

#kaicubus #wayne #wayne mccullough #wayne x reader #wayne mccullough x reader #wayne mccullough imagine #wayne mccullough x y/n #wayne blurb #blurb #wayne series #mark mckenna #wayne show #mark mckenna x reader

[rubydubydoo122]

Jason gets de-aged because I've seen fics of Tim or Dick being de-aged, and Bruce losing his memory, but no one has realized the potential for angst if you de-age Jason.

Jason was surrounded by green. Green that felt thick like jello, yet lucid like air. Green that bit at his skin like frostbite, yet burned like explosions on his back. 

Explosions. Bomb. Joker. Mom. Dad. 

Jason bolted up, gasping for air. That was the Lazarus Pit, wasn’t it? But what about the explosions? Why the Joker?

As if thinking the name summoned the demon, Jason could hear the laughs echo around the room. He threw the blankets off and checked the time. 

6:13 am. 

Weird time for a house filled with vigilantes. Even if he went to the library to get a book, Bruce would probably be asleep. Or by the time he woke up, he would have to get ready for work. 

“If you need me for anything, it doesn't matter if I’m busy, come get me. I want to help you. You don’t need to figure things out on your own anymore.”

But his Bruce said that. Not this raisined version of him. Not that he was thinking of asking this fake version of Bruce for help. He was a big boob. 

Though, if he got ready on the slower side, he could probably find Alfred. 

Jason soon realized that he probably hasn’t been in this room in a long time, because all of the clothes in his closet were the same. 

Wait. Something was missing though. 

His runaway bag was gone. Why did he run away? The journal said coming about going to Ethiopia to find Sheila Haywood, but Jason would’ve assumed he’d go with Bruce. Not on his own. 

Jason will figure it out once he sees the case report. There’s no need to draw conclusions when the facts are within reach. 

He decided against changing just yet, because his clothes were really dusty, and he’d rather not be sneezing all day. 

So he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Jason and Dick shared a bathroom. It’s like, one of those bathrooms that connect to two different rooms. And if Jason remembers correctly, Damian probably shares the bathroom with them too. There were two toothbrushes in the cup in the center of the vanity, but considering that Jason probably hasn’t used his room in years, he took a new toothbrush from the cabinet under the sink. 

Hey! Dick no longer uses bubblegum toothpaste. Is it possible to be proud of someone for that?

“I got eight hours of sleep, why am I hallucinating Jason?”

And Jason did what any reasonable human would do, and punched the person, because he did not sound like Dick, or Bruce, or Alfred, or any of the people he met last night. 

“Ow! Ok! Fine! Not a hallucination.” the dude who looked to have permanent eyebags like a racoon rubbed his arm.

Jason suddenly realized he had a fifth sibling he hadn’t met yet, and punching them was probably the worst first impression “I’m sorry! Sorry. I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t thinking-“ 

And Jason and him just stood in the bathroom staring at each other. This racoon dude also looked really familiar. 

“Who revoked puberty from you?”

“A lady with a magic stick.” 

The dude just nodded. And then a smirk formed on his face, “How spooked is everyone?”

“Bruce won’t even look at me.” 

Maybe Jason should get the dude's name, but also, if this dude thinks that Jason already knows everything, then maybe he can get some information. 

“You’re gonna use this to guilt trip him, aren’t you?”

Jason thought about it, he didn’t really want to guilt trip Bruce, but, information . “Obviously. I’m just trying to figure out the best way to go about it. Have any suggestions?”

The dude grabbed his toothbrush from the cup, “You could get your Robin suit out of the mem-“

The door opened behind Jason, “It is too early to be listening to your irritating voice. I thought you would be at your apartment.”

Nonono, Damian would maybe ruin Jason’s plan to gather information, “Hush, child, the adults are speaking.” Jason turned back to the mystery sibling, “you were saying.”

“Don’t tell him anything about the past five years. Todd does not remember. He Probably doesn’t even remember your name.”

“Damian’s lying. Of course I remember.”

Damian crossed his arms“Then what’s his name?” 

Jason squinted at the man hoping the faint trickle of familiarity would turn into recognition. And then it hit him like a car iron. “Tim Drake. Camera kid.”

Tim stopped brushing his teeth for a moment and tilted his head to the side, “I never told you about that.” Tim spat into the sink, “if you had to go out on patrol with the rest of us, would you be Robin again?”

“Drake what—“

“The adults are speaking.”

Jason spit into the sink, “I wouldn’t wear the emo Robin getup Damian has going on right now, but if my old uniform is somewhere in storage, I’d put it back on.”

Tim seemed to smirk at the Emo Robin comment, though he flicked Jason’s forehead,  “If you had your adult brain in there, that would not have been your answer.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to be Robin anymore? Robin is magic.” 

A look of pity crossed Tim’s face, though it didn’t feel patronizing. It honestly felt like it was masking another emotion from showing on his face. “You just, kinda out grew Robin.” Then he winced, “Trust me, a ripped 6 foot tall Robin is not a pretty sight.”

Jason suddenly had a mental image of a man in a Walmart Robin suit that was ripping at the seams burned in his head, “Why would you give me that mental image? I need to bleach my brain. ”

Tim just shrugged, “payback.” He turned around to leave and visibly shuddered, “In a shake, garter snake.” he waved his fingers over his shoulder.

“See you soon, fat racoon.” Jason grinned, because he very much feels like as an older brother, he would teach his younger brothers corny goodbyes. Though maybe he didn’t. Who knows

Tim had been out of the bathroom, but peeked his head back in and grabbed a comb from the counter, “Gotta run, skeleton .”

“ Drake ! You can’t say that!”

Tim walked away again, “What I say is fine, spiky porcupine!”

There was definitely a growl that came from Damian, but Jason couldn’t say he wasn’t laughing.

Alfred was cutting up some fruit by the time he made his way down to the kitchen. 

“Ah, young Master Jason. I didn’t expect you to be up this early, considering how much adventure you had last night.” Though Jason didn’t see the way Alfred’s knife faltered momentarily. 

Jason shrugged, “And more adventure awaits. I gotta figure out what happened in the past five years. Need any help?”

A wave of nostalgia hit Alfred. Not many other people in the house could be trusted to cook without burning the house down, and even though maybe Cassandra or Damian could be, cooking with Jason felt special in a way that would hurt if he tried to teach another one of his grandchildren. “Would you mind preparing the pancake batter?”

And Jason gave Alfred that smile that was brighter than the sun, before they fell into their rhythm, working side by side. 

As usual, Duke and Damian were the first downstairs in their Gotham Academy uniforms. Alfred placed a bowl of fruit in front of Duke and a cup of chai in front of Damian. “How come Todd is allowed in the kitchen?”

Jason frowned, “Wait, am I not usually allowed in the kitchen anymore? Or is it because I’m not in the manor often anymore?”

“What makes you think that, Master Jason?”

“My room looks pretty much the same. There’s nothing to show that I’ve grown up in it.” he stopped mixing the batter, “Did Sheila Haywood get custody of me? Is that why I stopped being Robin?” Why must Bruce raise all his children to be detectives?

There was a clatter that came from right outside the kitchen, followed by a, “I didn’t tell him anything, Bruce, I swear.”

And then there was a mischievous smile that formed on Jason’s face, “Yeah, he didn’t. He didn’t even tell me why I was dunked in the Lazarus Pit.”

Bruce came into the kitchen and leveled Jason with a look, “If Dick didn’t tell you either of those things, how do you know them? Did you remember something?”

Jason went back to mixing, “You’re forgetting you’re not the only detective in the house, old man.”

Dick snagged a chocolate chip from the container Jason had gotten out, “He found an old notebook and eavesdropped on me and Damian’s conversation.”

“Though Todd does remember some things. He remembered my mother and I. And I suppose Drake.”

Then Tim came in making a beeline for the coffee maker, “I don’t think I count, gremlin, I was the boy next door.”

“No, you were the camera kid. Bruce, I was right . How many times did I tell you there was a kid following us? How many times did you say, hrf.” Jason put down the bowl to emphasize his point.

Bruce sighed, but there was a slight smile on his face, “Fine, Jason, you were right—“

“Exactly. Now, since I proved to be more observant than you, you have to give me something?” Jason was obviously trying for the teasing tone that Dick usually uses, but it came out less certain. Like Jason didn’t know where he stood with Bruce. Which was fair considering last night. 

Bruce picked up on it too, and reached a hand across the counter, “Jason, I’m sorry for acting really distant last night, I just– it’s a lot different seeing you like this again. Though, that doesn’t change the fact that I would give you the world if you asked for it. You don’t have to prove anything to me.” Bruce looked around the room, and then glanced at the floor, “That goes for all of you.”

And all the boys just stood there, gaping at Bruce. 

Though Jason was frowning and looking down. He shook his head, “But not… older me, right?”

“Doesn’t matter if you’re old and wrinkly, or too little to walk, I would give any version of you the world.” he had a hand on his heart, “but I- I can’t kill for–”

“No!” Jason had taken a couple steps back and had his hands up like he’d been caught, “I would never want you to kill someone. I would never want anyone to kill someone. Not for me.”

Bruce stood there frozen for a second. Everyone was frozen. Because the youngest three were suddenly given the knowledge that their older brother, the one who always seemed to be out for blood, was a pacifist. And the three people in the room who knew Jason, were hit with the fact that death and all the hardships Jason had to go through had changed him so much.

Though Bruce nodded, “Ok. ok, Jason.” Bruce cleared his throat, “What did you need?”

“I’m just… really confused. And no one’s telling me anything, and I-I know something bad happened, I just don’t know what and I don’t want to draw any wrong conclusions, so can I ask? What happened?”

The grief looked like it was about to tear Bruce apart. How are you supposed to tell your son that he went through hell and back. That he’s lost almost everything he’d gained in the three short years he had lived with them. How are you supposed to tell your son that he died ?

“A lot. A lot happened in the past couple years, Jason. Zatanna is coming over tomorrow to hopefully get you back to your normal age and all your memories back. Going over what happened during that time would just be…”

“Like digging up old graves?” Jason supplied. He must have noticed everyone flinch, “Sorry, that was probably a bad choice of words. Can’t I be given one piece of knowledge? I’m just trying to figure out how everything fits together, and the one piece I can’t seem to let go of is…Sheila Haywood? Did I really get a mom back? Are we close? Can… Can I see her?” 

And the hopeful look in Jason’s eyes was an exact mirror of the look he had in his eyes days before he disappeared. “No, Jason.”

The hope in his eyes flattered, because maybe just couldn’t see her. Right now. “To which one?”

Bruce didn’t say anything,

“Oh. I lost another mami .” And even though Jason was looking at the ground, it wasn’t hard to tell there were tears pooled up in his eyes, “How?”

Bruce clenched his jaw and looked to Alfred. He would not be able to make it through any more of this conversation.

Alfred wiped his hands on a towel and brought out a handkerchief to wipe away the tears that had fallen from Jason’s face, “Your mother, she was being held hostage. And you tried very hard, you tried so hard to save her, but in the end… there just wasn’t enough time.” 

“But, I-I could’ve been faster– I could’ve–”

Bruce rounded the counter and kneeled so he was eye level with Jason, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Jason bit his lip to keep it from wobbling, before burying his head into Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce immediately wrapped his arms around Jason.

“It was the Joker , wasn’t it?” Jason mumbled into Bruce’s shirt.

Bruce held onto Jason much tighter.

#jason todd #batman #batfam #dc comics #red hood #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #damian wayne #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #sheila haywood #dc #robin jason todd

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

The Auror&The Devil part 13

Aesop Sharp x MC (fluff, hints of angst, slice of life) (10K words)

"Again," Aesop muttered, rising from behind the round table, seeing that Morana hadn't quite replicated the movement of the Expecto Patronum spell correctly. Instead of casting a powerful, radiant blow to the mannequin (covered in a black rag, to which Aesop had attached a note saying "DEMENTOR"), it released a sad spark from her wand, which immediately fizzled out. It was fortunate that it ended there, as an hour earlier rows of jars and Mr. Skelebone in the corner of his classroom had suffered.

He limped over to her and stood beside her, observing attentively. Morana brushed her hair from her face and took a deep breath, trying to focus.

"EXPE-!"

"Wrong," Aesop interrupted her, rolling his eyes.

"Arrrrghhh," Morana stomped her foot and glared at him. "I'm trying to focus, here."

"You're not focused," he shrugged. "What's going on?"

She hissed, but the gentle tone of his voice momentarily eased her anger.

"Well, I doubt I'll be able to conjure up any happy thoughts; I keep thinking about home," she confessed, and Sharp nodded understandingly, leaning against one of the workstations for potion making. "I don't know... There's something wrong with me, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get at myself. It doesn't make any sense. We were there just over a month ago, and it feels like ten years have passed. Or like it never happened at all..."

"What do you mean?"

Morana sat on the cold floor and, rotating her wand in her hands, slowly gathered her thoughts.

"I... I didn't feel anything at their grave. Like I was standing at the grave of strangers. Neither sadness, nor joy, nor grief... Just disappointment."

"You have the right to feel that way, Mora, because you didn't know them or that place... You didn't know them at all... Feelings don't magically flow to someone who is a complete stranger to you..."

"I was sure something would change... That suddenly I would have an epiphany and know who I am..." Silver tears flickered in her eyes. She wiped them away with a quick motion of her hand. "Once again, I have more questions than answers. Once again, I know nothing. I don't know who I am, I don't know what happened there, or who caused it! What good is a pile of stones to me..."

"Sometimes you have to put the investigation aside..." Aesop said quietly. "Patiently (hard word for you) wait for a breakthrough, and I'll tell you, we've learned a lot anyway. Just like I told you back then at Sirona's after our return: we know a lot, for example, that it wasn't an accident, that someone wanted to cover something up, most likely murder, that it was a very capable person, because such a powerful spell, which literally wiped the memory of your parents names from entire collective's minds... Merlin, I've never encountered something similar in my life... Hmmm, what I mean is that when such frustrating moments came in my work, we just dealt with current matters. Simple things related to the shady shops, where something was always happening..."

Morana got up and leaned against the countertop, standing next to Aesop.

"As for the Patronus, I don't know if I even have any happy memories..." she confessed. "Everything seems dull to me; I rarely feel real joy, let alone happiness."

"...You don't feel it because perhaps you're afraid you'll lose it quickly, right?" Aesop's eyes gleamed intelligently, immediately making Morana blush. "Well, I must send you to Professor Ronen for joy training; I'm rather bad at it myself," he joked and nudged her shoulder. "Come on, try one last time; I'll help you."

Morana positioned herself defensively, and Aesop approached her, gently taking her hand holding the wand and adjusted her stance with her permission. She could hear his deep breath by her ear, and his scent tickled her nose.

"Keep your wrist loose, Mora, remember."

"Mmmmhmm." She swallowed stiffly.

"Good." He stepped back a pace. "Clear your mind, focus, summon the memory."

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A beam of light emanated from Morana's wand and pushed back the "Dementor," blowing away its rag and the inscription.

"Oh! Very good!" Aesop praised her. "What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about how I saved Highwing with Natty and we escaped from poachers."

Aesop's eyebrows furrowed, and his face contorted into the familiar grimace known to Morana.

"It's still a bit weak, but it's better than 'meeting a dragon with Poppy'... I dread to think what your happiest memory might be and what monster you'll see in it..." he joked and limped back to his desk. He dipped his quill in the ink and continued checking tests. "Memories associated with relationships with loved ones are usually the strongest..." he said, not taking his eyes off his work. "Maybe I'm nosy, but if it helps you, maybe you have some memories with your umm friend... Mr. Gaunt, for example?"

"No... we're not together anymore, if that's what you mean..." Morana confessed, blushing. "We're still friends, but nothing more."

"Hmmm," Aesop uttered, and even he didn't know why it sounded rather cheerful than saddened by the lovers' separation. He quickly changed the subject to avoid awkwardness. "Perhaps my mother will have a small task for you; of course, she'll pay you and probably stuff you with cake and tea."

"What does she need?" Morana asked, pleased with something to occupy her mind and push away thoughts still drifting towards Nitria and Jelenec. She pushed aside Aesop's trinkets and sat at the other end of the round table, sneakily peeking if her paper didn't stick out somewhere in the stack of exams, which she might still have a chance to correct...

"Yours I've checked a long time ago," he grumbled, not looking up from his work. "You did a bit better than last time; you're lucky, but by Merlin's Beard, if someone saw the niffler you drew and captioned it with 'Don't upset the Niffler, give Morana a P.'... ughh..." He looked at her sternly from under dark lashes, shaking his head. Morana made an innocent gesture with her hands, as if she wanted to defend herself without words: "But it worked."

Aesop sighed dramatically, pretending he had no strength left for her. He planned to keep this exam for himself and frame the awkward drawing, which he found incredibly endearing, and keep it somewhere in his workshop.

"... what was I supposed to tell you? Oh! She needs a few ingredients for her tapestry threads. She sews real works of art, repairs those hanging in Hogwarts... It's not simple; they're made with very old, almost woven magic, known to very few wizards, and simple Reparo won't help..."

"Do you also know that magic?" Morana asked, curious.

"When I have time, I help her a bit, but I'm more useful in handing her threads and chasing after the fur of magical animals... Oh, speaking of animals, what about your little idea of becoming an Animagus? Are you still interested in that?"

Before Aesop could elaborate, Morana opened her mouth, showing him the soggy mandrake leaf she held against her cheek. He grimaced and shook himself off in disgust, closing his eyes.

"Firstly: ew. Secondly: I respect your decision; I wouldn't dare."

Morana laughed.

"Interesting what animal you would turn into, a real mystery..." she chuckled sarcastically.

"That's exactly what I fear." Aesop chuckled. "I'd probably enjoy the life of a chubby thief more and would stay that way forever. Nifflers don't have to work or teach anyone Patronus spells, or make sure Mr. Weasley doesn't turn my class into a flock of sheep again, like he did last month... Merlin, I still have nightmares, and when I see sheep before falling asleep, I jump up on my feet. Still, when I go for a walk, I'm afraid one of them might be, for example, poor Mrs. Sweeting... Well, at least she remained herself in the sheep's body and was able to throw herself at poachers... Otherwise, we would have a problem with recognizing her..."

Morana laughed, remembering the headline in the newspaper: "Crazy sheep attacks poachers, do Aurors have competition?". Almost at the same moment, she and Aesop screamed: "POPPY!" and hurried to find her, catching poachers along the way, so they could turn their unconscious bodies (before handing them over to the Aurors) into bait for her... Mora snorted with laughter. Yes, it was a strange, surreal adventure. Before she herself was cured by the potion, it was strange to see the world through the eyes of a sheep, to eat grass that tasted delicious at the time, and after which she had heartburn for a week in her human form.

Aesop tried hard to find a remedy for them all (the unexpectedly strong potion didn't respond to just any antidote, and Sharp had to demonstrate his knowledge of poisons), he took care of the flock, even though he had no clue about shepherding. The worst were the letters to parents that he had to send when everyone was back in their original forms, including the last Poppy, who got a bit lost and an ordinary sheep attended classes instead of her for a while... Morana frowned. From one of her classmates' father, probably Leander's, Aesop received a howler that humiliated him in the corridor in front of students. She didn't understand why the parent had to vent their frustration on him in such, in her opinion, rude manner, considering the potions master was not to blame for anything. He accepted the howler with dignity, not even blinking an eye. However, Morana knew deep down that he took it very hard and felt terribly sorry. Touched by a premonition, as soon as she finished her lessons, she went to find him; he hid in his office, completely shattered, sitting in silence, absent-mindedly staring at a glass of whiskey, in which the ice had already melted... He just tried to fix Gareth's mistake, he wasn't guilty of anything... She talked to him and calmed him down and, knowing that it would improve his mood, took him to the Room of Requirement to show him the newly born Nifflers. All of them, both young and adult, climbed him and Aesop fell asleep covered by a dozen of furry creatures... Everything ended well, but even the memory of the father unjustly shouting insults at the upright, proud man who heroically got everyone out of trouble made her blood boil.

"That's it for today," Aesop summed up and got up from his seat with a quick flick of his wand, making the exams disappear. "I have a few things to attend to, see you tomorrow, Mora." The woman was slightly surprised and looked at her pocket watch. He never finished at this time. She looked at him questioningly, but no answer came. She sensed some mystery, which somehow worried her a bit. He dusted off the dust particles from himself, put on one of his coats that he wore on "occasions," and waited for her at the exit to let her out and lock the classroom. As she passed him in the doorway, she saw him looking at her askance, and although there were no emotions on his face, there was a mysterious spark in his hazel eyes, as if he were waiting for something and was in a bit of a hurry. For a meeting... with someone.

A strange feeling twisted her stomach. Anger caused by the lack of information about who it was, what he would do, swirled in her head. Why did he dress differently than for a whiskey outing with Ronen? Why do his perfumes smell stronger today, and his velvety hair is perfectly arranged, reflecting even the smallest rays of candlelight?

"What's with the face?" he grumbled as they walked alongside each other. "Don't worry, I'm not mad about that drawing..."

"I'm tired," she cut in, staring at the floor. "I'm going to help Poppy, her cabbages escaped today, I promised we'd look for them... See you tomorrow!"

Aesop didn't have time to respond, and Morana turned on her heel, tossing a wave of black curls and she was gone. He didn't know what had bitten her, but apparently something had annoyed her. He shrugged. Morana, queen of Nitra, of the Puffed-up-Goose crest, he made up on the spot, amusing himself, and pulled out a mysterious letter from his pocket, which he had been hiding from her with difficulty. He read it carefully to make sure he remembered the meeting time and wouldn't be late. He wanted to make a good impression - after all, he was meeting a teacher. A teacher didn't want to appear bad in front of another teacher and seem unprofessional. Excited by the opportunity he had accidentally received, he straightened his tie and disappeared with a whoosh of floo flames.

He sat in a cramped bench, much too big for him, constantly adjusting and fidgeting, unable to get comfortable. He glanced with a playful smirk at the letter lying on the desk in front of him.

Seriously?

It started without any polite greeting.

Aesop, what are you up to now? Merlin, of all the languages in the world, why Slovak?... Anyway, I know you won't tell me, it's silly to ask. It's hard to find someone around here who speaks it. I only know one Muggle... She's the governess of my bank colleague's daughter - the girl was born a Squib. The teacher said she could meet you at the parish nursery school (you have a map in the envelope, don't lose it, you idiot) during the break, at 6 in the evening, where she teaches children from poor families for free every Friday... She noted that 'she doesn't teach old people and you'll have to show exceptionally that she's not wasting her time.' She added that if she sees you slacking off, even though she's not doing it for free, she'll quit. What a woman... Anyway, supposedly she teaches quite effectively. Sounds like you'll get along.

I don't feel like looking for someone else, so PLEASE try, since you're already bothering me with this. I love you like a brother, but sometimes I just can't stand you... Damn it, Aesop, now as I think about it I'm sure It's because of a woman, isn't it? ISN'T?... Buy her flowers or do something normal people do. I dunno, take her for a dinner. As I told you before: doing weird things like bringing troll's head is not romantic at all. Hope you at least read her poetry in that twisted language, but knowing you, it's going to be weird anyway and you'll scare her away.

Have fun & respectfully fuck you

Torq

The door slammed, and a small room was entered by a tiny, stooped woman with glasses as thick as jar bottoms. She didn't honor Aesop (who greeted her with a wide smile) with a glance.

"Slovak, belongs to the Slavic group of languages, grammatically complex and difficult to master, so you will have to show intellect and discipline..." she trotted to the board and wrote: I am, you are, he she it is, etc. "Do you know any Slavic languages, Mr. Sharp?"

"Russian..."

"Ugh, if you had said: Serbian, Polish, or Czech, it would have been much easier," she interrupted him, not hiding her disappointment. Aesop felt himself getting increasingly tense, and his hands started to sweat. "And now the rules: you come to my classes punctually, and if you're not prepared, you don't come at all, and we end our cooperation. Understood?..." Sharp felt himself sinking deeper into the collar of his coat, as if trying to hide. He mumbled only, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. Each month, I'll test your knowledge in writing, and I'll quiz you on the spot each lesson..." He swallowed saliva obediently, jotting down everything that appeared on the board, when it dawned on him what he had gotten himself into. He had the feeling that Torq deliberately chose her as his teacher so he wouldn't get too bored. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if he should really dedicate himself to learning this language and instead of resting, cramming oddly sounding words written with letters he saw for the first time in his life. Why was he actually doing this?

He came up with this idea shortly after returning from Nitra, when he was sitting with Morana at Sirona's table near the fireplace. She looked absent-mindedly at the dancing flames, tears sparkling in her crystal eyes. Sad, disappointed. And very... hmm... lonely. It was then that he realized that despite not hearing any accent in her voice, Great Britain was a foreign place for her. What's more, there wasn't much of a Slovak minority here with whom she could spend some time... if only she could be understood in her own language, express what she feels in her own words... heh... It sounded beautiful in her mouth. Like the language of elves from fairy tales.

Why was he really doing this? Logically, it made no sense at all. He would waste many hours of his time for a young woman who would soon leave Hogwarts and go her own way, and in a few years, she wouldn't even remember that she was taught by some Aesop Sharp... But, in the end, what else did he have to do, especially with his boring life? Maybe at least it would make his Puffed-up-Goose feel a little less lonely for a while... At least that's what he silently hoped for, because he couldn't do anything more for her. He had nothing to give her, no knowledge that could restore her memory... He was a cripple, a loner with an unpleasant character, whose jokes were exceptionally weak. Moreover, he was old, and his body was disfigured.

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the words, which he struggled to pronounce, unable to get rid of the Russian accent that Mrs. Hedviga Ostrá commented on with a disgusted "tsk."

Aesop sank into the chair in his art studio.

His brain, overloaded with knowledge, absorbed about 30% of the information, and therefore, as he walked down the corridor with an armful of notes, he almost stumbled over Matilda, who happened to be on curfew. He wasn't tired, but he had to occupy his mind with something else for a while and relax a bit.

For some time now, he had been occupied with a certain project waiting for him on the table. He smiled gently. He reached for the chisel and with a light movement of his hand, he extracted from under the shavings a tiny wooden leg with joints at the knee and ankle. It wasn't just an ordinary wooden leg. He poured onto it a significant piece of his knowledge, some of it he had to read and some come up with himself, and create spells from scratch. A bit like his mother showed him during the creation of tapestries, when every move involved anchoring the spell in the material. Weaving it. So now he sat in place, cleared his mind, recalling only those thoughts he wanted to transfer into a piece of basswood, humming protective spells, rhythmically combining them with tool movements. The process took quite a long time and required patience. He sang softly, shyly, but every word poured his knowledge into the magical object, creating a true masterpiece and artifact at the same time, because the prosthesis slowly became something almost "alive." It didn't feel pain, but it could grow with its future owner, fit perfectly, regardless of weight changes, there was no question that it would even fall off during jumping on a trampoline. Well, it wasn't perfect; it was still a piece of wood, and there was a fear that Sidó would limp.

Madame Niffleur soon, according to his subtle plan, was to temporarily join the ranks of the nuns.

Together with Poppy and Sirona, Mora sat by the lake, enjoying probably the last warm rays of autumn sun. Sirona dipped her legs in the lake, pleased with her long-awaited day off, Poppy was feeding the newly hatched Snigets sitting in her pocket, and Mora was reading the next chapters of Aesop's book, reading stories of the next patients of St. Mungo's.

"Is it definite?" Sirona asked, and both girls turned their heads towards her. "Durmstrang? Won't you get bored there?"

Morana sighed deeply and nodded.

"Damn, so I'm in the decided minority of people who want to keep you."

Morana laughed and looked at her questioningly.

"I talked to Aeso... um... Professor Sharp," Sirona glanced at Morana sideways, mysteriously examining her with her eyes, smiling slightly, as if she knew some secret. "...and even he, the perfidious traitor, thinks that Durmstrang will do you good."

"Hey, I plan to visit quite often." Poppy nudged Morana's shoulder, suddenly her brown eyes sparkled. "Imagine, Scandinavian DRAGONS, oh, how wonderful it will be!"

She jumped up from her place, surrounded by a bunch of Snigets flying over her head, and did a few pirouettes dancing with the wind. Morana smiled broadly, seeing her joy. Sirona splashed water on her, and a fierce battle of water spraying ensued between them, full of squeals and laughter.

Wings flapped in the air. Above Morana, for a moment, an unknown owl circled, which, dropping a letter on her lap, immediately flew off in its direction.

For a moment, Morana didn't know who the parchment was from - the writing looked like Aesop's, but the sentence "Dear Miss Dimm!" completely threw her off. Only when she delved into the content, describing the furs of magical animals, did she remember the task from his mother.

"Why don't they give you a moment's peace?" Poppy joked. "Who's this time? Mr. Moon found another Demguise statue?"

Morana laughed and shook her head.

"Mrs. Sharp asks for help in finding ingredients for tapestries."

"Oooo...." Poppy became interested, and her eyes lit up. "Professor Sharp once let me know that she found injured Puffskeins. I was sure she was just as awful as him and I was afraid to meet her... But she turned out to be really wonderful, so warm and hospitable, we drank tea together. Besides, she's terribly tall! When she hugged me goodbye... she lifted me off the ground!"

"It's not really difficult, little one." Morana suddenly caught Poppy around the waist and lifted her up, then both, laughing, fell on the grass.

"hmm Professor Sharp isn't awful at all." Sirona defended him. "I met him probably at the worst moment of his life, and I understand what he went through. Maybe he seems grumpy, but when he feels comfortable with someone - he opens up and gains a lot... He's a true gentleman, of which unfortunately there are fewer and fewer."

Morana smiled slightly, her cheeks blushed. Yes. Aesop Sharp definitely gained from getting to know him better. She felt Sirona's gaze on her, still smiling slyly, Morana was sure she knew something she didn't.

"I think I prefer Mrs. Sharp..." Poppy muttered shyly. "She made a delicious cake. I wonder how it would be if she taught us potions?"

"You'd probably gain a few kilograms." Sirona burst out laughing. "Still haven't found anyone to replace Professor Fig?"

"No one wants his place, because everyone's afraid to work at Hogwarts now, because of the goblins..." Poppy grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Cowards."

"The only Magical Theory teacher worse than Professor Black could be a cauliflower." Morana mumbled without looking up from the book she had returned to reading, and Sirona and Poppy burst out laughing.

"Oh, I'd argue." Poppy admitted, barely catching her breath from laughing. "Professor Cauliflower would be definitely funnier."

Morana had been to Cragcroftshire only once before, during the search for Demiguise statues, but just like then, she now thought it would be a good place to live, or at least spend her holidays there.

The tree growing in the middle of the village seemed to be something more than just a decoration... it emanated magic, possibly as old as Morana knew, or even older... It watched over this place as an ancient god.

Right behind the stall of the seller, whom Mora greeted with a smile, was Mrs. Sharp's house. Dimm stepped quickly onto the threshold, shook the dust from her favorite outfit and knocked patiently waiting for the invitation, finally, the door opened a crack.

"Aesop?" she asked, not expecting to see him. He smiled broadly, his eyes sparkling, but before he could say anything, a female voice invited Morana inside. Aesop let her in, indicating the way, she lightly brushed against his clothes with her arm, the corridor was definitely too narrow for two people to stand side by side. Suddenly, he moved a bit closer and, smiling indulgently, took a leaf from her head, which must have fallen on her hair from the magical tree. She held her breath, embarrassed, Aesop chuckled. She looked so lovely and cute, like an elf from children's books, dressed in a fancy little hat, and he would prefer not to tell her that she had a leaf on her head, to enjoy the sight longer, but... they weren't alone.

"I won't bother you." he said almost silently.

Morana went ahead, and he for a split second analyzed the beautiful shape of the leaf and carefully tucked it into the pocket of his jacket.

The beautiful red-haired woman sat in a comfortable armchair near the fireplace, spinning threads on a spinning wheel, which squeaked slightly. Opposite her, on a small sofa, an old man was dozing off, a straw hat covered his face, probably so that no ray of sun entering the room through the small windows would wake him up. Passing by him, Aesop first quickly turned some framed photo, as if he were ashamed of it in front of Morana, and then adjusted the blanket covering the old man, and affectionately touched his arm, then limped to the kitchen and started looking for a jar with the right blend of tea, poking his big nose into every jar. Morana smiled, it was adorable.

"Morana Dimm, nice to meet you." Mora introduced herself with a wide smile.

"Juno Sharp, nice to meet you too, love," the woman said softly, so as not to wake her partner (she had a very strong Scottish accent) and shook Morana's hand. It was a firm grip and cold, delicate touch, just like Aesop's. Morana smiled slightly surprised by this discovery, sat opposite her in the armchair, and began to look at her closely, looking for more similarities to Sharp. There were few of them, very subtle. Slightly crooked front teeth, bright, kindly look of dark eyes, well-defined jaw, moles on the hands, the way she slightly tilted her head when she looked at her...

She flicked her wand and in Morana's hands, a plate of cake suddenly materialized.

"Well, I don't even know where to start..." Mrs. Juno hesitated, visibly as excited as she was shy. She nervously rubbed her hands, just like Aesop often did. "I recently miscalculated the amount of ingredients in the pantry, and I received a big order from Professor Black, and I'm afraid I won't be able to complete it on time... I feel a bit embarrassed to ask for your help..."

"It's me who should feel embarrassed, Mummy, that you have to ask someone other than me for help..." Aesop said softly, with a sad voice, as he carefully hobbled over, trying not to spill anything, and handed them cups of freshly brewed tea with a pleasant orange scent.

"Oh!" Mrs. Sharp hissed at him and gave him a sharp look, tenderly touching his hand. "Silly boy! I hold no grudge against you and never have! Ugh..."

"Well..." Morana began uncertainly. "Aeso... um... Professor Sharp, just has a lot of responsibilities... I have significantly more free time and I'm happy to help."

Mrs. Sharp smiled warmly, as if pleased that Morana wanted to defend her son, and looked at him as if to say, "You see, she's right, it's a good idea." He nodded wordlessly in agreement and sat down in the chair next to them, focusing his attention entirely on his slice of cake.

"I have a list of ingredients prepared, of course, I'll pay you for everything... I just need a small amount, you can keep the rest, or sell it to Mr. Pippin. Aesop told me that you work with him, hmm, maybe I'm being nosy, but... I expected someone... much younger than you..."

"Um, no, it's a longer story." Morana laughed lightly and quickly swallowed the chocolate cake before continuing. "I come from Slovakia, I grew up in an orphanage, I don't know my last name or age."

"Oh..." Mrs. Sharp looked concerned, but something caught her attention, her eyes sparkled. "They left you there as a child?"

"Well, not exactly. One day I found myself in the woods, I was found by the forester..." She considered whether to tell her that her son had helped a lot in finding her past, but bit her tongue, unsure if she could talk about it. "Recently, I found out that my family is dead, our house was burned down, and their identity was literally erased, I was hit by a powerful memory charm..." she pointed to her cheek. "Dark magic."

"Oh, and exceptionally powerful, without a doubt..." the old woman mused, still deeply intrigued, she asked another question. "Sad story, extraordinary... You say you don't remember anything?"

"Not entirely." Morana smiled lightly, feeling warmth in her heart. "I still have my name."

"Doesn't that surprise you?"

The question caught Morana off guard and even drew Aesop's attention, who stopped eyeing the cake on the kitchen counter.

"Hmm?" he murmured.

Aesop's mother smiled mysteriously and straightened proudly.

"For me, everything is clear. But let me start from the beginning: hundreds of years ago, magic looked somewhat different than it does now. It was mainly practiced by men, in the sense of treating it like science, while women knew a slightly different kind of magic focusing on their role in society. Raising children, taking care of the home... All the protective spells are the work of our grandmothers, great-grandmothers, and hundreds of their mothers before them. Salvio Hexia is one of them. But that's not all. What I'm involved in also has very deep roots: the enchanting of threads, whose weave creates images living "their own lives"... Unfortunately, it is time-consuming, requires concentration, proper movements of the thread, and this art is slowly dying out. There are other spells. Strong magic related to blood magic..." Morana and Aesop exchanged glances, listening with increasing interest to Mrs. Juno. "Hundreds of years ago, child mortality was high, dangers lurked for them in both the magical and non-magical worlds, so many mothers secretly protected them with ancient protection. Love so great that it became an unbreakable shield. It took on various forms, and often hid in the power carried by the child's name. Children were given two names: one that everyone around them knew, and another that only the mother and her offspring knew..."

In Morana's mind, restless thoughts began to swirl, questions piled up.

"What I want to say is that perhaps such a spell protected you from danger, that's why you survived... Could it be that when the curse hit you, it could have transported you to a completely different place? I don't know, but I don't deny it. Every mother who knows these charms uses them slightly differently... I also protected my child with them..." She smiled tenderly and with a gentle movement of her hand, closed Aesop's gaping mouth.

"Mummy... how... where... how do you know all of... this?"

"Oh, you thought you were so clever, after my ex-husband!? Ha, good one! Besides, you never asked about these things."

Morana's heart beat faster. She organized everything in her head.

"Do you think... do you think my mum protected me? That she knew such magic?"

"No differently, in my opinion everything points to that. History knows many similar cases, now more as legends, although the 'magic of names' centuries ago was a popular practice among the Celts, Slavs, Germans... Even Rome supposedly had its magical name known only to the residents, for fear that someone might attack the city... Returning to the subject: it's possible that the spell that hit you worked, but only on your, hmm let's call it 'external identity'. Your true name remained with you. Morana."

Mora breathed deeply, sinking into the armchair. It didn't dispel all her questions, it was even a small piece of the puzzle, but it meant a lot to her. Even the simple fact that she could finally be sure that her mum loved her.

Silence fell. Mrs. Sharp smiled innocently, Aesop processed her words with disbelief, glancing at her and then at Morana who holded back tears. Suddenly she stood up and threw herself into Mrs. Sharp's arms. The woman, surprised by the sudden closeness, stiffened, just as Aesop did, but Morana didn't mind at all. Aesop looked at his mother with admiration, "Thank you," she whispered. Juno awkwardly patted her arm and twitched trying to free herself from the hug, which eased to her relief, and Morana, regaining composure, returned to her armchair.

"I don't know why you're surprised, Aesop, I always said your mom is a genius," John interjected, waking up from his nap, probably not even knowing what the conversation was about. He stretched and getting up, planted a passionate kiss on his dazzled partner's lips, which made Aesop feel queasy.

"You're not alone..." he mumbled, turning away, seeking refuge in Morana, who felt equally amused and embarrassed. "Alright, alright, enough kissing!" He separated them almost using force. "Just keep you out of sight for just a moment, oi!... Shame on you two!... tsk, tsk, tsk." He eyed the infatuated lovers and changed the subject. "Mummy, maybe you'll show Morana your tapestries before she flees in horror from your depraved behavior, eh?"

While the gentlemen continued to indulge in cake, Morana followed Mrs. Sharp upstairs, where unfinished works hung on strings... Rather, like Aesop, she was a follower of the "artistic disorder" prevailing in the apartment. Threads, scraps, sewing equipment, spinning wheels... Everything scattered around the room was waiting for ingredients to start work. Downstairs, from what Mora noticed, was John's kingdom and his musical instruments. As they descended the stairs, she heard him tuning his violin, telling Aesop about his students, and then about the concert in Hogsmeade.

"Aesop, lad... please agree... You have such beautiful drawings... Just think how nicely an exhibition would complement the concert..."

"No way, John," Aesop cut in, fingers tracing the rim of his cup. "It's not a good idea. I... don't feel up to it..."

"Hmm... Think about it again, lad. We would be honored..."

Aesop smiled warmly at the man. "Thank you, but..."

He fell silent, noticing Morana standing on the stairs, and behind her, Mrs. Sharp ducking under the ceiling too low for her. The women joined the conversation, then John played on the magically floating violins, showing Morana how the instruments worked in the magical world. Aesop's mother, meanwhile, used Mora's tiny hands to wind threads, demonstrating how the spell sung by her seemed to take on a material form, similar to the fleeting strands of Ancient Magic, changing the color of the fibers.

This was interesting. John wasn't Aesop's father, yet they got along very well. Morana observed them both furtively, thinking about herself and the Dimms. If not for John's darker complexion and facial features nothing like Sharp's, she would have thought they were family.

Time spent with the Sharps flew by for Morana. She thanked them for their hospitality; the evening practically caught her off guard, and Aesop insisted on escorting her to the dormitory to avoid any trouble with the prefects.

"I love you, I'll come on Wednesday, after classes," Aesop whispered to Juno, kissing her cheek affectionately goodbye. Morana hugged her. Aesop tugged at young woman's sleeve, indicating it was time to go.

For a moment, they walked arm in arm in silence, drowned out by the music and chatter in the house. The sound of distant, ocean waves and the rustle of the wind were incredibly soothing.

"Is John organizing an exhibition?" she asked timidly.

"No, he's not organizing any exhibition," Aesop grumbled.

Morana laughed. She knew deep down that Aesop was torn.

"Well... The author of the works doesn't necessarily have to reveal themselves... They could have a pseudonym, or be completely anonymous..."

"Ugh... Why do you always have good ideas, hm?" he asked rhetorically, squeezing her arm holding his shoulder a little tighter.

Morana chuckled and returned to the matter that had been bothering her since she met the Sharp family. She didn't know that Aesop's relationship with John would leave such a strong impression on her.

"If I didn't know that John isn't your father, I would never have guessed it in my life," she confessed, bringing a smile to Aesop's face. "How long have you known each other?"

"Well... I don't really remember. Long. He's always been close to mummy, as her best friend. Mummy loved my father, but..." He sighed deeply, summoning painful memories. "The more money he gained, the more he distanced himself from us. Work was the only thing that mattered to him, then politics and 'pure blood' nonsense... Any sign of 'disobedience' from my or her side ended with a severe beating. John helped her escape... She wanted to scare my father with divorce and take away most of his custody rights over me... She thought it would open his eyes, make him want to fight for us... He happily signed all the papers, not bothered by the fact that he would see me once a month, which in practice turned out to be even rarer. For over half a year, I only saw him from the headlines of newspapers covering his successes. After the divorce, he quickly found himself a new family, his longtime lover, as it turned out, which broke my mummy's heart completely. John was always there for her, took care of her, and only when I was ten, it turned out that he loved her since they met in the Hogwarts Express, going to his first year. He simply loved always. Hmm..." Morana walked looking at him with tenderness, stroking the sleeve of his arm she held. "At first it was strange, to see a man at home with mummy (even though I knew him), who isn't my dad - I was very frustrated... but over time, when my father gained fame and money... John read me bedtime stories, taught me how to fly on a broom, showed me how to brew Wiggenweld Potion because I came back from almost every walk battered by some wild creature, with at least a scraped knee..." Morana chuckled, resting her head on his shoulder, listening to his story. "Father spent much more time with me when he retired, and I was slowly finishing Hogwarts. I didn't understand then why John was sad when I chose Oxford over the Highlands more often. I was torn, rebellious, full of longing for my real father, who suddenly, because he had no other children, showed interest, realizing he needed an heir. And I was a fertile ground, a small-town boy who suddenly began to experience city life; it just took a decent allowance, a little attention, and... I forgot about all the beatings I received as a child, or my mom's tears... It doesn't mean I completely agreed with his approach to life; I thought I was different, better. I saw that my successes bought his attention... out of ambition, I did a lot of awful things I'm ashamed of, hurt many friends, and I'm not talking about Scarborough... It was the icing on the cake. At least it opened my eyes because after waking up, next to my bed I saw John. He took care of me at st. Mungo with mom, taking turns, while my father disappeared again for a while, ashamed of my disability and my failure..." Aesop stood staring at the view of the silvery sea and the clouds on the horizon from the hill. So beautiful and calm. "The first thing I said then was 'I'm sorry, John,' and he just hugged me. I understood then that although I love and will always love Aristotle Sharp, my father is someone else."

Morana felt a squeeze in her heart, which stirred her deepest desire to have a family, and for a fraction of a second her thoughts wandered towards the Dimms, but after a moment she rejected them, angry with herself for allowing them. Her family was gone, no one could take their place; she felt it would be a betrayal of the love her mother gave her...

She noticed a tear that trickled down Aesop's scarred cheek, she approached him a little closer and tenderly wiped it, lightly touching his scar. The man flinched and held his breath, feeling her delicate fingers on his cheek, which first shyly brushed the skin, and then the whole hand lay on his bony cheek, burning him like a piece of hot coal. He closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, wanting to discreetly snuggle into her hand; it was so pleasant that he couldn't resist. In her tearful, gazing eyes, stars flickered and the sharp crescent of the moon, black strands of hair brushed her face moved by the cool breeze, and shapely lips parted slightly. He had never seen a more beautiful sight. Never.

He leaned in ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, to hear the soothing sound of her breath, to feel her scent mingling in his senses. He had never felt as good and safe with anyone else. Only she knew the thoughts he had just expressed moments ago, only she had the right to...

Morana smiled gently, discovering that his beard wasn't as unpleasant to the touch as she expected; it pricked a bit, but just a little, and it was quite pleasant. She struggled to resist the urge to follow her hand towards his chin, to see how it felt to touch it entirely. She glanced at Adam's apple on his graceful neck, and following its trail, she noticed through a button undone at the collar of his loosely tied tie, fair clear collarbones covered with tiny, dark hairs. They seemed very soft... She held her breath, feeling warm despite the cool wind.

"Get a grip, Aesop!" a voice resonated in his head, drowning out the thoughts that wanted to get a tiny step closer to her. "She's a young, beautiful woman, you'll scare her off. She probably just wanted to be nice. You're allowing yourself way too much!"

The spark of joy that had lit up his dark eyes just moments ago suddenly extinguished, alarming Morana. She had allowed himself too much. She shouldn't have touched him. She withdrew her hand, blushing with embarrassment. She pretended to brush away a stray lock of hair, thinking that it would somehow pathetically cover up the whole situation, but once her hand got closer to her face, she felt the oils he must have used to care for his beard; their scent made her head spin... Sandalwood, resin, orange blossom, cardamom, cloves... She quickly brushed away all thoughts, as if warding off demons, and changed the subject.

"While you were busy looking for glasses with John, your mum showed me that infamous photo of you after your first investigation, which someone turned upside down... I wonder who that was?"

"Ugh..." Aesop theatrically rolled his eyes, trying to restore his facade at all costs. He joked and, taking Morana by the arm, they started walking towards the Floo flame. He was glad she wasn't angry with him in any way, that she hadn't noticed he had allowed himself a little too much. He breathed out, trying to cool down. "I'll talk to her about it on Wednesday... I'll be firm, won't be swayed by cake, I promise."

Which facade? He was starting to get completely lost in it. Gruffnes once only covered his gentleness and sense of humor, which had now resurfaced... But at the same time, they covered something deeper underneath, something he hadn't been aware of before. What exactly did he feel just now, being so close to Morana? Did he even want to know?

End of part 13, thanks for reading

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy meme #hogwarts legacy oc #aesop sharp x mc #professor aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp smut

[doodling-doodle]

A Modern Great War (PT. 13)

They were searching. They needed to find Kyle before it was too late.

Alex was panicking. He needed to get Kyle, he couldn't let this happen, he had to save him, he needed him, Rose needed him, they all needed him.

Maxis took him away from him.

Maxis took him away from him.

Maxis took him away from him.

It had been twenty-four hours since Maxis took Kyle. They were all just hoping that he’d open a portal and come back. Alex could hear the voice that he loved again.

In the meantime, they were at a safehouse. Using what they had to see if they could find anything regarding either Maxis, Kyle, or Kortifex. 

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He was going to lose Kyle.

"Alex?"

He looked up at Graves, then back down at the computer. Kyle's tracker was coming in and out, and he was trying to keep an eye on it.

"You can't stay up all night watching that."

"We have a day left before Kyle is gone, I can't do that to him and I can't do that to Rose. I need to find him before it's too late."

He sat next to him, looking at the screen.

"He- he's in Germany. Maxis has him in Germany, we'll never get there in time."

"All we can do is hope he snaps out of it and gets here."

He just kept an eye on it. Twenty-four turned to thirty-four. He just wanted his Kyle back.

“Please, Kyle… Come back…”

They weren’t getting him back.

Maybe they could…

A portal opened.

They all went through it to see…

“What the fuck is this place?” He whispered.

“Welcome to the Wilds, Seedlings.”

“What the fuck?!” Price yelled.

“Relax. I am Vercanna the Last. I am helping Sergeant Garrick.”

“Why didn’t you just take us to him?!” Alex yelled.

“Don’t worry. Things will make sense soon.”

They were left alone in “The Wilds”.

Then Kortifex showed up,

“Welcome to the Dark Aether, Red Bloods.”

They didn’t have the saving grace that they did last time.

But, still, a purple Rune Wall sheilded them.

And a young woman appeared out of smoke. 

“Maxis…”

Her. The fucking person that took his Kyle from him.

“Did you miss seeing me like this?”

“I never missed you at all. Where’s your ‘pawn’?”

She smiled as small explosions happened behind her.

Then, his worst nightmare happened.

Kyle appeared out of a portal. Yellow eyes. He looked… empty. Hollow. 

Maxis took his Kyle.

He couldn't save him.

"We were too late…"

#call of duty #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare #cod zombies #call of duty: vanguard #call of duty black ops #kyle gaz garrick #alex keller #john price #phillip graves #samantha maxis #vercanna the last #kortifex the deathless #gazalex #alexgaz #price x graves #A Modern Great War AU

[denimbex1986]

'Groves’ role as director of the Manhattan Project makes him one of the most significant figures in Nolan’s three-hour epic Oppenheimer. Although Groves is best known for overseeing the Manhattan Project and the creation of the atomic bomb, those aren't the only significant parts of his legacy. Groves' military career continued beyond the events of the movie Oppenheimer, and the director racked up other accomplishments during his later years, too.

Leslie Groves Worked For AFSWP After The Manhattan Project

After his involvement in the Manhattan Project during World War II, Groves continued managing the United States’ nuclear weaponry. One of his chief concerns was losing the wartime knowledge of handling and maintaining nuclear weapons after soldiers and scientists returned to peacetime work. Because of this, he requested 50 high-quality personnel in the top 10 percent of their classes to replace those who were lost. These individuals worked with the remaining scientists on the project, but the former Manhattan Project director hoped for a more permanent solution. This eventually arrived in the form of the Armed Forces Special Weapons Project (AFSWP).

In 1947, Groves was appointed as chief of the AFSWP, where he oversaw the aspects of nuclear weaponry that were controlled by the military. Groves' reluctance to compromise gave higher-ups reservations about giving him the role. However, he proved instrumental to the genesis and early days of the AFSWP. Groves served as chief of the AFSWP from 1947 to 1948, when he decided to retire from the U.S. Army.

Leslie Groves Retired From The Army In 1948

Unfortunately, the concerns about Groves being a good fit for chief of the AFSWP wound up being well-founded. When the General of the Army, future U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower, gave Groves a performance review in January 1948, he reported several complaints about Groves’ conduct and attitude as chief. During this dressing-down, Eisenhower dashed Groves’ hopes of ever becoming Chief of Engineers. Groves realized that in the shrinking postwar military, he would likely never get another assignment as important as the Manhattan Project. Three days after the meeting with Eisenhower, Groves announced his intention to retire from the Army.

Groves officially retired from the U.S. Army a month later, in February 1948, following 30 years of service. Right before his retirement, he received an honorary promotion to lieutenant general as special recognition for overseeing the bomb project. By a special Act of Congress, Groves’ promotion to lieutenant general was backdated to July 16, 1945, the date of the Trinity nuclear test. This promotion cemented Groves’ decorated military career, as well as his commitment to the U.S. military during World War II.

Leslie Groves Died In 1970, 3 Years After Oppenheimer

After retiring from the U.S. Army, Groves expanded his career by becoming vice president of the manufacturing company Sperry Rand. He also wrote a book titled Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project, which details his and Oppenheimer's work on the atomic bomb. Following these accomplishments, Groves passed away in 1970. On July 13 that year, Groves had a heart attack. He was rushed to Walter Reed Army Medical Center, where he died at the age of 73. His funeral service took place in Fort Myer, Virginia, and he was buried at Arlington Cemetery in Washington D.C. Groves' grave is next to his brother Allen's.

Groves’ death came three years after the death of his former Manhattan Project colleague, J. Robert Oppenheimer (played by Cillian Murphy in the Nolan movie). Oppenheimer died on February 18, 1967, at the age of 62. His death came on the heels of a battle with throat cancer. Despite Oppenheimer's and Groves’ deaths during the second half of the 20th century, Nolan’s Oppenheimer ensures that the men’s legacies and roles in U.S. history will not be forgotten.'

#Oppenheimer #Leslie Groves #Matt Damon #Cillian Murphy

[calyxaomphalos]

The Ghosts of Windy Ridge

Turn #40, four components

location #13 - the cemetery (3) - Red Pine Cemetery neighbor #11 - human who always speaks truth (1) (Sagittarius) item #18 - makes me nostalgic event #6 - find an item! -- #7 - wait to use...

Both a new location and a new neighbor, but reaction rolls aren't great and while I gave the neighbor a name eventually, it isn't used in this scene.

10 April 2022, Sunday Night

I drove away from Foras' Lair thinking about having spooked Andy and wondering what on earth he'd been doing there. The idea of a spooking on a late Sunday night had me thinking about going to the one place I should have gone when I first got here. The cemetery. Mo's grave site. I had another one of those little airline bottles of rum that I can pour out when I get there. I'm sure he'd appreciate that.

The Red Pine Cemetery was all the way out at the northern-most end of the road that Dani and I parked on last Thursday night after the weekly gathering when we made that clandestine visit to the Pastor's office. I had to drive all the way through town and out past the church to get there.

It was a small cemetery. I'm guessing no more than a hundred headstones, give or take a dozen. Mo's should be relatively new. He'd passed four years ago, though it was really more like not quite three and a half. I debated parking with the headlights on pointing into the gently sloping field but decided natural night vision and moonlight would be best. I could use my phone's flashlight in deep shadowed areas if it came to that.

The air was cool and still. Most of the headstones were in orderly rows, but over in one corner, they were rather chaotic. I sat for a minute or two to let my eyes fully adjust, spending that time looking into the deep shadows of the pine trees lining the far northern edge of the field. I was about to get up when I heard a shotgun being cocked behind me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, careful not to move at all and not knowing what to expect next.

"Ain't no reasonable God-fearing man come around the cemetery this time o' night, on a Sunday at that," came a low masculine drawl from the same direction as the gun.

"So what are you doing here, then?"

"Don't make me shoot you. Get up and turn around real slow like, hands in the air wheres I can see'em."

"Okay, I can do that," I said, complying with the directions.

Once I was facing him, the moonlight accentuated his thin wild gray hair, sticking out every which way. "You've got ten seconds to explain yourself," he said, keeping the gun pointed at me.

Again, direct honesty was the way to go. "My name is Serren Dyer. I am spending the month of April here in Windy Ridge to research the history of an old friend, Maurice Forrester. He died late in 2018. I'm here to visit his grave."

The gun lowered a bit, but not as much as I'd like for comfort. "Move along. Maybe you come back here at a reasonable hour to see your 'friend'."

"Okay. Look, I'm going to lower my right hand and open my car door. Then I'll get in and leave, deal?"

He gestured with the gun toward the car, which I took as agreement. My hands were sweating a bit and slipped on my first try to open the door. "Shit," I said and then got it on the second try. The gun was lower now. I slid into the driver's seat and then pulled the door shut. Getting the engine fired was a relief. I turned on the headlights and I could see him standing in front of me. "Don't put it in 'drive', don't put it in 'drive'," I muttered as I threw it into reverse. I made a sloppy three point turn, swearing under my breath the whole time. A quick look in the rear view as I drove away and he was already gone.

#the ghosts of windy ridge #writeblr #nanowrimo #over the mountain

[luvvewan]

promptsssssss!!!

13: “Just listen to the sound of my voice.” 🥺🙏❤️

Thank you for the prompt, @sanerontheinside ! I went full Obi-whump, so I hope you like it.

—

The healer crouched at the edge of the bunk and took Obi-Wan’s bare feet in his hands.

Obi-Wan cried out, trying to pull away from the touch, twisting in the blankets.

“Caht, nah.” The elderly man, Hagit, said softly. He glanced up at Qui-Gon. “Numo.”

Qui-Gon had garnered only a handful of words in the native tongue, but he didn’t need to know what the healer said; he could see it in his eyes. Pity. For Obi-Wan, yes. But also for him? Fear lodged in his throat.

“Evvi, eh. Uh…here. Boy…numo.” Hagit motioned to Obi-Wan’s foot.

“Keep him still, Master Jedi, please.” Evvi, their young interpreter and Hagit’s grand-niece, translated. “He sees the spine in the left heel.”

Qui-Gon suppressed a shudder and turned away, leaning over his insensate student. Obi-Wan’s face was covered in sweat, eyes half-lidded, lips cracked and quivering. His Learner’s braid had plastered itself to Obi-Wan’s pale neck and chest. Qui-Gon smoothed it carefully between his fingers. “You are doing very well, Padawan. Just stay still. I know it’s difficult but you must not move,” he used a gentle voice better suited for younglings, despite the fact Obi-Wan was twenty three years old and a newly senior apprentice.

He watched Obi-Wan try to look at him, but another wave of pain erupted through their connection in the Force, and his eyes rolled back. Qui-Gon absorbed what he could, wanting to take it all, though even the echoes of Obi-Wan’s agony were enough to make him briefly light-headed.

He noticed Hagit was speaking again, a distant noise. Evvi said something back to him, then Qui-Gon heard several small, hesitant steps. A hand touched his arm.

“I’m sorry, Master Jedi. Removal is very painful and delicate. He does not want the spine to break apart while still in the foot. It will release more poison.” Evvi explained. “Can you hold him down?”

Obi-Wan was more powerful than his small frame would suggest. The pain and delirium made him combative, and when Qui-Gon gripped his arms he thrashed and snarled. He had never seen Obi-Wan, obedient and self-possessed Obi-Wan, untethered this way. Fingernails raked down his forearm, tore at his robe sleeves.

Sedation was not possible. The medical supplies were limited anyway. They were lucky to have Hagit, who was old enough to remember when the stone-fish were plentiful, before a plague wiped them out. Now it was exceedingly rare to catch a stone-fish on the shore, due to both its near-extinction and impressive camouflage. Obi-Wan had accompanied some of the village’s children to the water, or really they had accompanied him, starry-eyed at the presence of an offworlder, a Jedi. He had been stepping along a path of craggy rocks leading to the ocean when his foot landed on a stone-fish, its spiny, algae-crusted body hidden amongst the rocks and sand.

The pain had been immediate. The children had run, screaming, for help. By the time Qui-Gon found him, Obi-Wan was screaming too.

Other villagers had come. Among them was Hagit, helped along by Evvi at his elbow, his grey eyes milky and grave. Obi-Wan was administered a general anti-venom there on the beach, already overwhelmed by the agony that radiated from his foot through his entire body.

Evvi had told Qui-Gon the poison was brutal and quick. It was not always fatal, but it triggered something nearly as cruel: most victims were gripped by an unbearable sense of dread, demanding to be killed before the poison could fully take them.

From his admittedly foggy calculations, it had been close to an hour since Obi-Wan was attacked. Qui-Gon’s stomach lurched. He did not look behind him, where he knew Hagit was hovering at the wound site, arthritic hands shaking, preparing to perform a task of great precision.

“Still, Master Jedi. He must be still.”

He brought the Force to bear down on his Padawan while using his own brute strength to pin Obi-Wan’s wrists back onto the bunk. Obi-Wan whimpered and moaned, whipping his head to the side. Tears streamed freely down his face, snot and sweat dripping from his nose.

“Help!” He kicked his legs, trying to free himself from the healer’s grasp.

Hagit made a sharp noise under his breath, likely a swear.

“Obi-Wan, listen to me! We’re trying to help you!” He barked hoarsely, wiping sweat from his own brow before straddling his Padawan and laying over top of him, using his weight to hold him down. Their heads were pressed together and Obi-Wan wept and keened in his ear.

Qui-Gon’s heart found new ways to break. The Force was overrun with panic and hopelessness. Obi-Wan twitched and fought under him, desperate to get freed. Qui-Gon tried to use a sleep suggestion but his Padawan’s aura was clouded, elusive.

And time was draining away. He imagined the spine lodged in Obi-Wan’s tender heel, the poison seeping into his blood and causing more damage. “Just…breathe with me, Padawan, alright? There is no pain, there is the Force.”

“I can’t.” Obi-Wan whimpered.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s temple. “Leave it to me, then. Trust in me, young one. Whatever else is happening…it doesn’t matter. Just listen to the sound of my voice.”

He knew it was a risk, to appeal to the dutiful instinct in Obi-Wan that very well might be overridden by poison-fueled anxiety. But what else could he do? Hold his delirious student down with every last bit of strength he possessed, and possibly break his bones in the process?

Obi-Wan bucked against him, sniffling and gasping. “It won’t stop it won’t stop oh gods…”

“Shhh,” Qui-Gon smoothed his damp hair. “You are so far away from that, aren’t you? Safe with me. Safe and very tired. Only you and only me, far away.”

Nerveless fingers clutched at him. “M-Make it stop make it stop I can’t—“

“Of course I will. Hold onto me and keep your legs very still. You can do that, I know you can. Put your arms around me and hold on, as tight as you can.” Qui-Gon blinked back the sweat pouring into his eyes, body vibrating with hope and dread as Obi-Wan slowly obeyed. “That’s it. Now I want you to keep the rest of your body very, very still, Padawan. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan heaved an exhausted sob, but nodded. His arms gripped around Qui-Gon’s back while his legs gradually relaxed on the bunk.

Hagit murmured to himself. Evvi touched Qui-Gon’s leg.

In the stuffy little room, everyone tacitly understood what would happen next.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan begin to tense. “Far away,” he continued, as if there had been no interruption. “We can go anywhere, can’t we? We’ve been to so many places together.”

“Nuh, Evvi.”

“Uncle says now, Master Jedi.”

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and released his fear to the Force. “Where do you want to go, Obi-Wan? I remember you enjoying Alderaan, with all the beautiful trees. The people there were so kind, weren’t they?” He did his best not to think of the fragile procedure happening inches away. His muscles shook, ready to react if necessary. He knew once Hagit began removing the spine it could not be halted. “I can’t remember…did we visit in the summer or winter?”

Obi-Wan was holding onto him for dear life, strangled moans catching in his throat.

My brave boy, Qui-Gon thought to himself. The pain was unreal. He couldn’t begin to comprehend what it felt like for Obi-Wan.

“Kill me Master Master oh Force I can’t…”

Qui-Gon squeezed him close. He thought of what Evvi had said--the poor victims who begged for death. He had not thought Obi-Wan would reach that point. But even the Force could not insulate the young man from such all-encompassing agony.

Obi-Wan wept openly against Qui-Gon’s neck. “Master, Qui-Gon...it’s moving..what….what is it doing..?”

“Don’t move,” Qui-Gon warned. “Do you want to go to Alderaan? Or someplace else? Someplace warm?”

They had just finished an extended mission on a frigid planet, yet Obi-Wan shook his head. “N-No deserts.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. Obi-Wan sunburned easily, returning from desert assignments with pink cheeks and ears. “Of course not. No, someplace cool enough to sleep out under the stars. Kodasta, perhaps? Remember how the stars seemed so close, as if we could nearly touch them?”

Obi-Wan clutched at the robe on Qui-Gon’s back. “Y-Yes…ahhh…”

“What was the constellation you saw? I can’t remember. It was quite rare, wasn’t it? I’m never any good at that but you spotted it right away. What was it called?”

“…Th-The El…usive Mage.”

“Oh yes. That was it.”

Obi-Wan moaned into Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

Qui-Gon held him steady. The pain was beyond excruciating and Qui-Gon could only feel the edge of it; Obi-Wan had long since given up any attempts at shielding from him. It was a testament to Obi-Wan’s endurance that he had not passed out.

“Nearly done,” Evvi said.

Thank the Force. “You’re doing so well, Padawan,” Qui-Gon praised him quietly. “Keep right here with me, can you see the Mage? Close your eyes and see if it’s there.”

“M-Master…”

“I know. But we are so far away from that, aren’t we? Among the stars on Kodasta. I see them when I close my eyes. Close your eyes and you’ll see them too. No, no, you can’t twitch like that. Squeeze me instead. That’s better. Now look for the Mage with me. Help me see it.”

“Ugh…” Obi-Wan groaned and panted. “Mmmmph…”

Qui-Gon could not let their progress unravel, not now. “Is it there, towards the left?”

For several strained seconds, Obi-Wan made harsh, pained sounds and struggled for breath. Then, finally: “Y-Yes. You have to…un…ah…unfocus your eyes to see. Look for the hat f-first.”

Qui-Gon smiled, blinking back the tears gathering in his eyes. “Ah, of course.”

“It’s out, Master Jedi.”

“I see it now, Obi-Wan. It’s beautiful.”

His Padawan sagged under him, unconscious.

—

Qui-Gon went to the shore and walked along the rock paths, fingers hooked in his belt. The stone-fish had been immediately killed, its remaining spines safely collected and the rest of it burned by a few of the villagers. Evvi told him some of the men searched the beach until dawn, out of caution.

They had not come across a single other stone-fish. Obi-Wan’s foot had apparently found the only specimen on the entire beach.

But then, Obi-Wan had always been blessed with a particular sort of luck.

He came to the place where Obi-Wan was stung. Specks of blood stained the rocks there. His instinct was to throw them into the ocean.

Instead, Qui-Gon left everything as it was, sea spray misting his cheeks as he turned back towards the village.

—

When he returned to the little cottage, Hagit was sitting at a sun-bleached wooden table in the kitchen. The red-tinged spine, still full of venom, was sealed in a plastibag and held loosely in his liver-spotted hands.

Hagit looked up at Qui-Gon. He was quite old, skin sagging and eyes permanently wet.

“Boy…yes.” Hagit nodded firmly at him.

Qui-Gon found it difficult to swallow. He bowed before the healer. “Graz-ta,” he said. Thank you.

—

Obi-Wan was curled up on the bunk. A heavy blanket was wrapped around him, his bandaged foot sticking out from the bottom. Though he had improved since the day before, his face still looked drained of its color.

Qui-Gon glanced around the quiet, dark room. He noticed Obi-Wan’s clothes and boots tucked under a chair. Evvi had done it, probably, but it was still a familiar sight, reminding him of how Obi-Wan tended to neatly fold his tunics, no matter where they found themselves. His heart tightened; he let it pass. He knew he would feel this way after such a close call. Small, tender things about Obi-Wan were going to strike him at odd times—he knew that, unfortunately, from experience.

Like the way he would hold his braid between his fingers when he slept. Qui-Gon could not recall Feemor or Xanatos ever doing that.

He sat on the bunk beside Obi-Wan and listened to the quaint sounds of life beyond the door. He appreciated the borrowed sense of domesticity that came with staying in family houses: home cooking, careworn sheets, a calmness and mildness in the Force. He wished they could stay here until Obi-Wan fully recovered from his ordeal, but the Council had already sent them their next assignment.

Qui-Gon brushed his fingers against Obi-Wan’s forehead. Glassy grey eyes fluttered open.

“Only a slight fever now,” Qui-Gon told him.

Obi-Wan kept his braid laced between his fingers. He looked swallowed up by the thick weave of the blanket and the night shirt that was several sizes too big. Or was it simply the absence of Jedi trappings that made it more obvious that he was young, human and fragile? “Well,” he croaked, voice ruined from prolonged screaming followed by prolonged silence, “I didn’t die.”

Qui-Gon tried to laugh, but it came out as an awkward huff. He touched Obi-Wan’s cheek. “No. You seem very much alive to me.”

Obi-Wan smiled, his eyes already drifting closed. “I didn’t sense it. The…ah…thing.”

“Neither did I,” Qui-Gon admitted, gazing out the window above Obi-Wan’s head. The villagers had searched the beach, but who could search all of the sea? He began to think of other dangers on other worlds, the unnamed masses of threats that awaited Obi-Wan in his life, on their next mission, even tomorrow. “If we could sense everything, our lives would be much easier.”

“Mmmhmmm. Less interesting?”

“I’m slipping. You’re guessing my lessons before I can give them.”

“Mm, but I can…always sense you, Master.” Obi-Wan mumbled. He would be asleep soon.

Qui-Gon leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “May the Force be with you, my Padawan.”

—

They rarely dreamed together, but that night they did, climbing through constellations in the dark sky, safely above the sea.

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan #qui-gon #writing prompts #obi wan and qui gon #obi wan whump #luvewan fanfic

[1d1195]

The Window

I really love writing about Louis. He’s always a lot of fun. This is a mess of word vomit but I wanted to get something out. Something that was low stakes and just fun and cute.

The first time they figured it out, they were 9 years old. Louis had come around to deliver her homework she missed while she was out with the chickenpox. Rather than use the door like a normal person, he snuck into her backyard, climbed the tree beside his best friend’s window, and tapped against the glass. He noticed it was the perfect height when they were playing soccer in the yard the week before and now seemed like the best time to use it to his advantage. She blinked away from the TV. Louis watched her on her bed covered in red spots and she shook her head in confusion. Surely it was a hallucination.

Louis just smiled at her.

So, she opened the window and Louis crawled inside to sit in the window frame. “I’ve already had chickenpox,” he shrugged as he passed her the papers. She was covered in calamine lotion and like a character on TV she had oven mitts on her hands to keep herself from scratching. She was adorable. Even if she was a girl that had cooties.

He caught her up on the events of third grade and distracted her from the itch that felt as deep as her muscles. She was happy to see Louis. He always made her smile. More than that, she noticed she really liked that he used the window. It was special. Just what she’d want for herself and her relationship with her best friend. A secret—that wasn’t really a secret—just for them.

*

When they were older, he would sit in the window frame—or just let himself in totally—and he’d watch her do whatever it was she was doing.

In high school, she usually had headphones in listening to music as she ran through her chores. She would always smile at him when he entered, and he would make himself at home. It was a flurry of activity when he arrived. She never seemed to sit still. She would be folding laundry, reorganizing her shoes, vacuuming her rug, or reading the next chapter for school. Occasionally she’d paint her nails, work on her chemistry homework, or she’d just be watching TV or reading a book. He tried to remember if he ever saw her relax.

It made him feel good to realize that the only times she ever relaxed were when he watched movies with her, went over their study materials together, or just chatted and played board games. He thought about those moments a lot when he saw her window from the back street on his walks around the neighborhood.

When she wasn’t there, Louis would have to find ways to entertain himself until she returned. He never invaded her privacy—not after the one and only time he did.

It was middle school—right about the time he first started going through puberty; he perused her underwear drawer and pretended to wear a bra that was impossible to put on himself. It wasn’t because he wanted to make fun of her—it was just a bonus. He was doing it to be funny because he was 13 and his best friend was a girl, and she was turning into this beautiful being right before his eyes and he quite frankly didn’t know how to react to it. She berated him for an hour when she returned to find him stuck and entangled in the straps and didn’t find it funny even a little bit. She wasn’t even embarrassed he tried it on—much to his annoyance at wanting to tease her. She was only mad because he was stretching it out and it would fit weird after that, and she really liked that one.

Louis would take it to his grave, but he imagined it being his favorite on her too.

When he thinks about it now as an adult, he realizes he wasn’t immune to his best friend’s good looks (still isn’t). Except now, for lack of a better analogy, she was able to stretch her own bras out, in the most perfect way that made Louis anything but immune to her beauty. Same thing with her jeans and skirts and everything else she wore. She was stunning. It took a lot of mental reminders to not stare at her like an absolute dope. She was the prettiest girl he knew and if he didn’t constantly remind himself that she was his best friend he would probably stare at her for forever and ever.

He wished he could.

*

To be in her room was so intimate yet it felt so innocent because he had done this for so long. It made him feel special he got to be there. Throughout high school, he dreaded the day she was going to take another guy back to her room.

It’s not like he ever said anything to her to signal she would or should know. Nevertheless, he still felt entitled as the only guy besides one of her family members to be in the comfort of her most private place. In his eyes, no one else deserved to be in her room aside from him. But she never did bring anyone back. Not in high school anyway.

The room was entirely her. It was warm and cozy. It felt like he was being hugged by her even when she wasn’t anywhere near him. He felt so safe there to be himself. If he thought for longer than two seconds, he would know it’s because he adored her in every way.

*

“You know you can use the door; my mom will always let you in,” she joked after he shook himself off the rain that clung to his hair on a drizzly Thursday evening their junior year of high school. She threw a towel to him and then lifted the covers where she was snug in bed with her book from English class. He flopped in beside her. His heart was in his throat but he could play it off that it was elevated from the climb. It’s what he always did. He had to keep his lower half away from her though. There was no way he could hide what she did to him if he did.

“More fun this way,” he explained with an impish grin and he pulled her toward him so her head was resting against his shoulder. She started to read the chapter out loud and Louis imagined her reading to their children years from now in their cutely decorated children’s bedrooms. He imagined her doing voices for the characters and he imagined him sitting there with her and their kids thinking about how wonderful it was to be with her in this life.

It was more fun to use the window and be a little secretive. Even if it wasn’t secretive. Her mom always seemed to know when Louis was there. Maybe it’s because it was her job. Maybe it’s because the two were inseparable.

*

He dreaded the day she would move out. With university on his mind, it felt like the days of climbing her tree were rapidly coming to an end. “I’ll get a room with a tree,” she joked. He smiled because he liked the sound of that. Even if it was a joke.

When they were at university, he had to sign into her dorm like a normal person and it nearly killed him. He much preferred her window. Although her roommate was probably appreciative of the use of the door. But on break, he was back at her window letting himself in or on occasion waiting for her to let him.

*

It was her stupid boyfriend that ruined everything.

He was always there.

He had to use the door like...some common peasant.

Louis hated the door. He wanted the window.

The first time Louis realized his tree climbing days were coming to an end was when they were home from school for the summer. She was showing him around, Louis was already waiting in the window looking at his phone. “Oh, hey Lou,” she said simply as she gestured for her boyfriend to enter. Louis and he made eye contact. There was a moment of pure silence and posturing.

“Oh, hi,” he mumbled after a moment. “Didn’t realize y’had company,” he said quietly.

She smiled. “We’re actually headed to a movie; just wanted to give him the grand tour,” she explained.

“Oh, nice,” he said. “Well, I won’t get in your way.”

“See you later, Louis,” she said sweetly with an almost pitying look on her face. He hated it. He knew she just felt bad for basically ditching him, and because the situation was a little awkward. But it still felt horrible and left a sour taste in Louis’ mouth. It was her space and someone that wasn’t him or a family member was in it. He was entirely too possessive, and he was a little grateful to be leaving because this could not be healthy for him.

“Does he do that a lot?” He heard him ask quietly as he climbed down.

“Ever since we were nine,” she said almost proudly. That made his heart happy to hear her talk about him in such high regard. To hell with him. Louis’ place was always with her, and he wouldn’t be told differently.

But to be polite, he had to use the door, now.

And he hated it.

*

He thought for sure they would have broken up by now. It’s not that there was anything wrong with him. Louis just wanted to go back to hanging in her room without feeling awkward. He felt weird being in there whether he was there or not. It’s like he was invading her privacy. When they watched movies, he had to sit in her desk chair or lay on the floor. He couldn’t sit in her bed anymore. It felt wrong.

He also didn’t mind him—he was a gentleman, and he didn’t seem to hate Louis either. After warming up to him, of course. They had similar interests—the main one being his favorite girl.

But Louis was still using the door and not the window.

So, he wanted them to break up.

Again, if he thought about it for longer than two seconds, he would realize that it wasn’t just the window. It was the fact that he couldn’t sit in the window and watch her fold her underwear. He didn’t feel right when he turned his back to her knowing that she was changing into her pajamas behind him (even if he wasn’t looking). When she was crying about a movie, her family, or something about school that stressed her out, he couldn’t comfort her like he used to.

She wasn’t his to hold. The window to her wasn’t opened like it used to be.

*

It was after they graduated from university. Louis was now a licensed athletic trainer hoping to find his way into the soccer club he grew up watching. But for now, he’d settle for being there in the high school athletics department and seeing his best friend working down the hall as a guidance counselor. He worked as a gym teacher in the meantime while he applied and waited to hear from the soccer club. She studied her brain out wanting to give back to her community in the most meaningful.

Plus, she enjoyed gossiping with Louis about the teenage gossip that she never had to deal with because it was always Louis and her against the world. Louis was going to live at home to save money for a year or so, while he got his feet under him at his new adult jobs and waited for the dream one.

But she...

She moved into an apartment with her boyfriend.

It was over. The window was closed.

Louis was devastated.

*

He was still waiting on his dream job and on his off periods he wasn’t swamped with other work and business he would meander his way to her office to get the latest high school gossip and eat lunch with his best friend.

The kids knew he was in love with her. It seemed she was the only one that was oblivious. Outside of school they didn’t have as many opportunities to hang out like they used to. Her boyfriend was always around and while he was grateful, he was invited to group dinners he missed the days of the two of them.

He imagined those were over too.

Just another window closed, and another tree cut down.

It was while he was helping her hang some artwork made by a student along the wall of her office. “Hey Lou,” she murmured quietly.

“Yes, love?” He asked as he straightened the portrait not turning to her for fear she would see the way his eyes got all hooded and filled with love at the thought of her actually being his love.

“Thank you...for being my best friend,” she said softly.

He turned to her then and eyed her suspiciously. “Well don’t know who else I’d bother,” he said with a shrug but placed a peck on her cheek before exiting her office. He thought if he stayed longer he’d finally tell her to leave the guy that made her abandon that wonderful tree and made her permanently close that window.

And he couldn’t do that.

*

If he hadn’t been walking his sister’s dog during her visit, he wouldn’t have noticed the light on in her bedroom. It didn’t make sense. She was moved out. She was in an apartment with her boyfriend. A one bedroom with no tree next to the window.

He brought the dog back and headed out again immediately. How many times had he climbed that tree and now, after maybe the millionth time he felt like a creep? What was he expecting? Her parents probably wouldn’t care about Louis in the tree if it was them in there. They were used to his antics.

Now that Louis was rapidly sliding into his late twenties the tree climbing wasn’t as easy as it once had been. A branch that was once so used to his weight and pressure smacked against her window. Her head snapped to the sound instinctually and his heart broke instantly.

Her eyes were swollen and red. Her nose and cheeks puffy and pink too. She took a deep breath that looked like it hurt her to suck all that air in, but she shoved the window out of the way. She backed up to her small bed frame and she sat. He wasn’t an idiot. He saw the boxes and bags. But he didn’t know what to say or do. So, he leaned against the wall beside the window.

“Hey,” she croaked.

“Hey,” he repeated quietly. She seemed fine at work. This was fresh. It had to have been.

He waited. She was quiet too for a long time. She looked at the boxes beside her. He could see her calculating how long it would take to unpack. He would bet anything she had more planned for her night than this.

“I saw your light on...I thought...er...for old time’s sake,” he explained breaking the silence.

She snorted and turned to look at him out of the corner of her eye. “Guess there will be more than you thought,” she ran her hands along her cheeks brushing the tears away.

He couldn’t help it, but his heart fluttered. It pained him to see her so sad and broken. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and shower her face with kisses until all the tears disappeared. But he needed her to say it first. Louis wasn’t going to do anything he shouldn’t until he was sure he knew all the right details. Nor was he going to invade her privacy or space without permission. He missed coming through that window so much. It was like a private piece of heaven, and it had been so long he felt so right even though she was falling apart in front of him.

He waited some more. Patiently. It was killing him. As the seconds ticked by, he watched the tears well in her eyes again and he ached to reach out and push them away. He stayed glued to the wall instead. Finally she broke.

“Is there a reason you won’t tell me you love me?” She whimpered eventually. “Because it’s agony waiting for you,” she said. “Do you really not?” She wondered and she looked at him with this broken expression that with a thousand years he wouldn’t ever have words to describe.

He gaped at her. “Uh...” he cleared his throat. “Um...” It was probably the last thing he expected her to say. It would take a lot for Louis to be embarrassed. This was about the closest he’s ever been. Her saying exactly what he was feeling for her and he wasn’t even brave enough to say it.

“He broke up with me because I apparently never shut up about you. And I apparently haven’t ever realized I’m hopelessly in love with you,” she sniffled, and the tears fell down her cheeks. “And clearly, I’m a much better actor than anyone gives me credit for because I’ve let you in through my window for over 18 years and suddenly on a random Tuesday, he realized it was too much. I hate Tuesdays!” She was almost shouting. Of course, she hated Tuesdays; just another clue that she didn’t know or maybe he was oblivious.  Yet, you still aren’t...you’re not...you haven’t said...”

Louis always hated Tuesdays.

Until today.

“Love,” he whispered. She loved him. This was the worst trick if it wasn’t true. But it was the best dream he’d ever had.

She shook her head her breath seemed to shiver in her chest as she sucked in more air. “Please don’t call me ‘love’ unless you mean it.” He pressed his lips together. He wanted to scream. But he didn’t know how to say it and it had to be perfect. She was perfect. “I really thought I could love that man as much as I loved you. But he didn’t like you. And you’re my best friend. But you climbed into my window and right into my heart. And he didn’t like that. And...and...You really don’t love me like that?” She croaked again as she rambled.

If she said he didn’t love her one more time he was going to lose it. “Love,” he repeated. “Just...shut up,” he said.

That was certainly, definitely not perfect.

She sniffled so cutely—surprised by his tone. Here she was confessing her love for her best friend and all he could manage was shut up. She supposed it was good he called her love. That had to have meant something. Louis pushed off the wall and met her in the middle of the room where he must have fallen in love with her four million times.

He held her face in between his hands, and he brushed his thumbs over her damp cheeks pushing the bigger tears off her cheeks. “I’ve...” he shook his head. “I’ve been in love with you since we were nine,” he whispered. “You are so good,” he explained. “And...”

“And what?” She asked. Louis could feel her relax. The tension in her shoulders drooped as her face rested between his hands. He felt like he was holding a bubble and if it popped, he’s sure he would die.

“I don’t know, love. I just never imagined,” he said shaking his head. “I really don’t know,” he repeated. “But I do know I love you,” he whispered, and she swore he could see into her eyes and right to her brain and heart all at once where he knew that the only time her heart beat like this was when she was with him and the only words in her head were Louis Louis Louis Louis. “I love you so...so fucking much,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then he sprinkled more pecks along her face, over her puffy cried-out eyes and cheeks. Her heart was beating rapidly. He carefully turned her face to the left and right being sure to get every inch of her face with his lips. He would do this forever if he could. Nothing else but kiss this beautiful face that belonged to the most beautiful being he’d ever known. “It killed me to see you shut that window and move out of this room. Into a place with no tree or window,” he smirked pulling back a moment to stop the kisses. His lips felt empty without the touch of her skin, and she felt cold without his lips to burn little tiny reminders against her face. His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips for just a moment.

“You love me?” She asked.

“So fucking much,” he answered eagerly, breathlessly.

“Thank God,” she sighed and closed the distance between their lips. She sighed again with relief and Louis moaned quietly into her mouth. His hands slid down her neck and arms to wind around her waist. He pulled her tight to his body lifting her just so her toes brushed against the carpet.

Her arms looped around his neck, and she clung to him desperately.

Eventually he pulled back just enough to bring her feet firmly on the ground. He brought one hand to her face and carefully tilted it again to the left and right so he could line her skin with another hundred fiery kisses.

“I love this goddamn room,” he whispered. “It’s going to be awful to move you out of it and use the door to our own place,” he smirked against her cheek.

“Slow down,” she smiled against his face. “S’only been like 18 years. Might be rushing.”

Louis pinched her sides and pulled her away from him so tightly. She whimpered. It was cold. “No,” she squeaked out. His heart fluttered at the sight of her. Whimpering for his touch and it was only mere inches. He tugged her to his chest again and he backed himself up to the window without pulling her away from him nor without tripping the two of them into a heap on the floor.

“Please keep the window open,” he whispered into the top of her hair as he leaned against the frame.

“Always,” she answered pressing her ear over his chest and she sighed serenely.

#one direction #one direction imagine #one direction imagines #one direction blurbs #one direction blurb #one direction fluff #1d #1d imagine #1d imagines #1d blurbs #1d blurb #1d fluff #louis #louis tomlinson #one direction writing #1d writing #louis tomlinson writing #niall #niall horan #harry #harry styles #liam #liam payne

[charmingwillow]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Skipped 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20]

21. Golden hour - Lily wanted to stretch her legs out. Get out of the dusty old classrooms, odorous potions dungeons and into the sunshine. After the past few days, weeks, she needed it.

The weather had been gorgeous the whole week. Clear blue skies, crisp breezes and little puffs of white clouds… Lily loved it. Loved kicking up piles of fallen leaves as she walked and the crunching that followed. 

She loved how the sun blazed just above the horizon, casting a golden shroud over the world around her. It was well and truly autumn now, but she supposed summer had some life in it still; the warmth she felt now seemed to be one last farewell. She turned her face toward it, closed her eyes, and soaked it in. 

The lake sparkled when she opened her eyes and something caught them: a small stone skipping across the water. She followed the path from which it came, right up to the slice of shore, and found James Potter. 

His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, both hands in his pockets. The golden sun gleamed in his glasses, and he himself seemed to glow along with it. 

James looked up the same moment she saw him and seemed to pause as he took her in, something intense in his gaze.

Lily bit her lip, watching him as he watched her. Neither said anything, the moment far more intimate because of it. She flushed as she so often seemed to do these days, but she didn’t shy away. 

Instead, Lily offered a smile, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and made her way over to James. He held out a hand to her, to help her along the squishy, gravely shore, but he released it when she stopped beside him. Flexing her hand, the warmth of his a soft echo, she bent to pick up a rock.

“See who can skip it the furthest?” Lily weighed the small rock, a challenge in her eyes.

For a second, James seemed to hesitate and in that second, she worried about what he and Sirius had talked about the evening before. Hope that he wouldn’t give in to his hesitation coursed through her; her heart beat with it. She held her breath.

And then, “you’re on, Evans.”

#jily #jilytober #jily fic #james potter #lily evans potter #my writing #falling into place

[tiarnanabhfainni]

alright lads i have written spn fic about the family of deanna campbell, path dependency, kansas coal mining and generational misery. also dean mirrors because that’s what this whole industry runs on. it was heavily inspired by this insane post by tumblr-user @uhuraha. you can also find it under the cut

blood and bone is the price of coal

There’s a concept in social science known as path dependency. The gist is this: the decisions you will be faced with in the future are heavily dependent on the choices you make now. Human trajectories are resistant to change. Once a family enters the mines it becomes nearly impossible for them to dig their way out. 

The Winchester and Campbell names have long pedigrees. Two families whose history goes back as long as humans have records. In fact, their traditions are as old as angels can remember. The Winchesters. Men of Letters. Generations upon generations of knowledge of the arcane passed from mouth to pen to typewriter. The Campbells. Hunters. Parents, siblings, and cousins standing shoulder to shoulder in the endless bloody fight against the monsters under the bed.

Deanna Campbell née Foster had no such pedigree.

See, her family had a somewhat different history than that of the Campbells or the Winchesters. Deanna was the first of her family to be drawn into the shadowy world of the supernatural. Her death at the hands of a demon was not the result of centuries of angelic influence on her family line. That cooling body on the kitchen tiles was not preordained by fate. A fluke. A woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and as a result crossed paths with a demon. There really could have been any woman sitting at that kitchen table with Dean Winchester in 1973 and the apocalypse would have gone ahead.

Because the Foster family business was not hunting things or saving people. It was coal mining. Generations of men lining up to take their place in the cavernous tunnels. Hauling their shovels and pickaxes far below the surface to obtain the precious black stone hiding under Kansas soil.

-----------------

Jacob Foster was one such miner who toiled below the packed earth almost a century before an angel placed Dean Winchester in the perfect place to witness the damnation of his family to a life of misery and revenge.

It’s hard to determine the exact relationship between Jacob and Deanna. He was not a cosmically important man. As a result, there aren’t many records of his life that survived.  He could have been her grand-uncle or maybe some distant cousin. It doesn’t really matter in the end because either way he worked in the coal mines like everyone else in the family. Like his father before him.

Jacob’s life was a small one. His family had been poor as long as he’d known them. A family life that might have sounded familiar to hundreds around the country. An exploited, overworked drunk of a father and a mother wasting away at the kitchen counter, bent over with exhaustion.

The wages from his father’s long hours were barely enough to cover the food on the table and yet still most of it found its way into the pockets of the men who owned the local taverns and bars. His mother did her best with what she was given.

She put as much food on the table as she could with the means available to her. Not once did she confront Jacob’s father about the money he spent on drink nor did she ask for a larger cut of his paycheck for use on groceries.

Sometimes Jacob felt that her fear had more of a presence in the house than she did.

--------------------

Dean’s life shrank the night his mother burned alive on the ceiling. His childhood shaped itself to fit inside broken, dirty apartments and cheap motel rooms. The overpowering stench of a man blackout drunk on bourbon and beer became more familiar to him than that of home cooked meals.

He did his best with the scraps of approval he was given and never asked for more.

His father was grieving, overworked, and doing his best and what could Dean do but take what he could get.

--------------------

The lack of records makes it hard to be precise about what age Jacob was when he first went down under the shifting earth to search for precious black fuel in the pits. The family stories are confused on this point. Historians agree that the youngest boys in that particular mine were thirteen years old. But Deanna’s aunt always insisted that Jacob’s mother was fearful for her child’s safety and so she wheedled a year or two of reprieve from his father.

But regardless of his mother’s concern there was no other job open to her son and so - some time before his sixteenth birthday - Jacob’s father put a shovel in his hand and placed a cap on his head and walked him down the dirt tracks to the mine

In another life maybe Jacob could have been something else.

Maybe if his father was a butcher, he could have studied book-keeping and gone to work in an airy office rather than a dark airless hole in the ground. If the miner’s union was stronger in those days, maybe his father could have earned money enough to get his son into trade. But instead, the mine-owners underpaid their workers with little organised protest against them and Jacob worked where he was always destined to. Carefully extracting the bedrock of industrial expansion. Digging up coal that would keep other homes warm.

-------------------------

John Winchester first put a gun in his eldest son’s hand at six years old, brought him down to the woods and had him fire at cans. He looked his little boy in the eyes and handed him the tools to the trade that his mother had sacrificed so much to keep him out of.

Before he turned 16, Dean wasn’t allowed on any other hunts other than salt ‘n burns. But it was fitting in a way. Dean Winchester, grandson to Deanna Campbell née Foster, digging his shovel into hard-packed earth. The bruises on his face warmed up by the crackling flames in the open grave, earned while protecting someone else’s home.

There’s a concept in social science known as path dependency. The gist is this: the decisions you will be faced with in the future are heavily dependent on the choices you make now. Human trajectories are resistant to change. Once a family enters the mines it becomes nearly impossible for them to dig their way out.

-------------------

In his early years down in the shafts of a Kansas coal mine, Jacob was careful to save as much from his paychecks as he could. He handed this money over to his mother as she wrung her hands over the kitchen counter.

But every year the hours got longer, the pit got deeper and his paychecks grew slimmer. The siren call of the bourbon behind the barman’s back grew ever stronger.

Can we grow beyond our parents? Every tool that Jacob had was handed to him by his father. His leather workman’s boots, his dusty cap, the shovel he used to break his own back. And his father’s oldest and deepest friend, the whiskey he drank to numb himself to the grinding misery and exploitation that defined his life.

Path dependency means that the past matters. Every option that lies before us was predetermined by choices made long before their consequences would be felt. Once a man enters the mines, can his sons ever dig their way out?

By his twentieth birthday Jacob was leaving all of his paycheck on the barman’s lowest shelf.

-----------------------

The hunting life is founded on revenge.

Supernatural forces cut a life short, and husbands, wives, mothers, brothers, and daughters dive headfirst into miserable, bitter, and transitory lives where their only options are dying young or dying alone.

In 1983, John Winchester’s marriage and home went up in smoke and the ground shifted beneath him. He packed his car with a hunter’s basics, - a shovel, some shotguns, whiskey - and dragged his family down into the mine.

Dean Winchester only ever got out of the life once. After his brother threw himself into the pit.

But it’s hard to live on the surface when you know what lurks underneath and every tool Dean had, he got from his father.

----------------------

The rules of Jacob’s mine stated that no more than five pounds of black powder explosive could be taken into the mines by a miner at one time. But inspections were rare, and miners rarely took time to remember the rules by hour six in the pits.

The explosion that killed Jacob and his father also took out three of his cousins, five 13-year-old runners and a group of newly arrived Italian immigrants to the town who barely spoke a word of English. The local undertaker was put to hard work in the following days. 43 closed pine coffins lowered slowly underground. Maybe in another life Jacob could have been a painter, a baker, a steel mill worker.

Instead, he died as he lived. Smothered by coal dust.

----------------------

Dean Winchester looked heaven, fate and God in the eyes and told them all to go fuck themselves. He taught an angel free will, cancelled the apocalypse and stripped the cosmic author of all of his power.

Dean Winchester died choking on blood in a barn in Kansas hunting a monster that his father failed to kill. He couldn’t dig his way out.

#spn #dean winchester #john winchester #fic tag #so yep #i have notes on research on the ao3 link but i am not bothered to transcribe #basically listen to springhill mining disaster by luke kelly #the reason i left mullingar #and navigator by the pogues to get a feel for the mood i was in while writing this lmao

[mandoalorian]

hiii could you do a drabble with Din?? I was thinking he doesn’t know you have anxiety yet and you’re having a panic attack and he doesn’t rlly know how to handle them?? I thought #16 would be perfect bc protector Din is like “I will fuck up whatever is making you feel like this” (surprise bucket head, it’s their own brain)

Melting Dew [Din Djarin x GN!Reader]

Prompt no.16 “Who hurt you?” — thank you for the request!

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attack, body dysmorphia, food mention, domestic!Din, Din and reader have pre-established relationship.

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 2000>

Masterlist

Din wasn't meant to be back for at least two more hours. The farmers market was about a three mile walk away from where he'd parked the Razor Crest, and he'd taken Grogu with him this time, who was sure to preoccupy Din whilst you were unable to accompany him. You'd spent the past week beaming at the thought of returning to Naboo, and craving the delicious, juicy taste of their native sourberries. Last night, before you fell asleep in Din's arms, you excitedly told him how you were going to purchase enough sourberries to last the entirety of the upcoming bounty hunting season. Din jokingly rolled his eyes at your comment and pressed a chaste kiss into your forehead, always finding your love for the simpler things in life extremely endearing.

Din Djarin spent the majority of his life a lone warrior. But upon meeting you and rescuing Grogu, it seemed like that all changed— and quickly, too. Now he was providing for the little green bean he called 'son', and you, the most beautiful, interesting and equally important person he'd ever laid his eyes on. Your appearance was soft, delicate, and your features were doe-like. In a galaxy filled with hatred and war, you were the epitome of hope and innocence. How could he not love you? He admired your attitude and excitement for life, and he adored the way you cared for Grogu unconditionally, like he was your own child. You were unlike any other person he'd ever met before. You were as pure as melting dew.

So of course he was protective over you. You, Din and Grogu had scowered the most dangerous depths of the galaxy and you all had your fair share of abuse from Imps, crime syndicates and immoral scoundrels. But there were people out there who tried to hurt you. However, they could never even get close to drawing a knife to your neck. Din was always one step ahead. Messing with you was no game. He hadn't let a single one of them live.

You'd awoken early this morning, quietly slipping out of bed and padding over to your closet in search for an appropriate outfit for the day ahead. You picked out a white tunic and embroided belt, along with some brown boots; but strangely enough, none of it seemed to fit. This was your favourite outfit and you wore it on practically all your days off. You loved the flow of it, and the way it hugged all the curves and accents of your body. But today... something wasn't right. The stitched tunic was tight around your arms and boxy on your shoulders, and as you looked in the full length mirror, your heart sank in your chest. The boots made everything worse. The belt didn't hang on your body correctly. And hell, it wasn't even just the clothes. There was something wrong with your hair today too— and your skin had broken out— and the dark circles that graced your under eyes had become significantly more prominent. You felt completely and utterly disgusting. There was no other word to describe it.

You heard Grogu stir from the quarters and you knew it wouldn't be long until he and Din woke up. You felt so embarrassed. So ashamed. The Mandalorian was an esteemed bounty hunter, best in the Guild, and also your husband— but Kriff, if he seen you like this... he'd shove you off his ship and make the jump to hyperspace within seconds! Panic filled you and the palms of your hands became clammy. He couldn't see you like this. He couldn't.

Just as you anticipated, you heard Grogu's garbles, signifying that the child was now awake and ready for breakfast. Din groaned something incoherent and you glanced over to him as he shuffled amongst the blankets. Your mind was still racing. If he saw you like this, he would for sure leave you. You had to hide. But where?

You bolted to the other side of Din's quarters and into the Refresher, turning on the shower and discarding the clothes that had made you feel so monstrous on the floor. Din heard the screeching noise of the Refresher and thought it was strange you were showering so early. The water was always particularly cold on a morning, and you knew this. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off and headed over to grab some pots and pans. He was preparing bone broth for breakfast.

When you didn't join the duo, Din left a bowl of broth for you in the cockpit of his ship. After he finished washing the dishes, he knocked on the Refresher door. "Cyare, are you alright?" he called, his voice rife with concern.

"Y-yes, I'm okay." you lied through gritted teeth. You were sat on the cold tiled floor, a towel hugging your body as you shivered uncontrollably.

"I was going to leave now... for the farmer's market. The walk is quite far so I wanted to set off early. Are you still coming?" Din asked curiously, his gloved hand nervously tracing the details of the steel door.

"I think I'll skip today, but have fun with Grogu, and stay safe." You tried to sound as optimistic and normal as usual, but behind the closed door, a silent tear slipped down your cheek. There was a brief silence and you had considered maybe Din had already left. But then you heard his modulated voice again.

"Are you sure everything is okay?" He knew how much you'd looked forward to going to the farmers market. It was all you had been talking about for the past week. Sourberries.

"I'm fine!" you forced a smile, even though he couldn't see.

Din wasn't convinced, but he knew better than to push you. If you said you were fine, so be it. He believed you. He had no reason not to trust you when you'd been nothing but honest to him since the very day you met him, all those moons ago.

Once you were sure he was gone, you pulled your pajamas back over your head, and climbed into bed. You felt safe, and free from any judgement. You were all alone. And that meant you could cry. So, you did. You sobbed for what felt like hours. You laid on your side and clutched the thin blanket tight to your chest, almost like you were hugging it for comfort. Your whimpers echoed against the interior of the Crest and this was the only time you had been thankful for Din and Grogu not being around.

Until you heard the entrance to the Crest shoot open, with that all too familiar whizzing noise. Dank Farrik— they were back early. They were back and you weren't even dressed. Your eyes were red and puffy, your hair was sticking up in places. You were, to put simply, a mess. But you felt like you were no less of a mess than what you were when you had worn the white tunic and embroided belt this morning whilst they were still asleep. You sunk under the covers of the bed and tried to hide from them. You prayed to the Maker that perhaps Grogu would help you out and use one of his magical force abilities to make you invisible. Then you'd never have to face the oncoming conversation with Din. The conversation that was inevitable.

"Cyar'ika?" Din asked, putting Grogu down on the floor and approaching you hesitantly. Thankfully, Grogu was more preoccupied with the little silver beskar ball he'd always play with. It came from one of the many levers on the Razor Crest. Din gently pulled away the blankets, revealing your tired glazed eyes and your tear stained cheeks. "Oh, my love. What... what happened?"

You didn't answer, feeling a swell of guilt erupt in your stomach. Din removed his helmet and placed it on the nightstand, and your heart jumped at the mere sight of your husband. His dark eyebrows were furrowed together in bewilderment and his honey colour eyes raked your body. "Who hurt you?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave. It was low and gravely; and you knew he was very serious. "Cyare... did something happen? Did someone-"

"No." you cut him off quickly.

No? Din's mind couldn't compute that answer. There was clearly something very wrong, and Din had to find out what exactly it was. Someone must've done something. You were fine yesterday. Had someone been on the ship while he and Grogu were out?

"Whoever or whatever it is— I can fix it. I will hunt them down cyare, you hear me? They won't know what hit them. I can-"

"Din stop," you pleaded with weak gasp, bringing your hands up to hide your face. You felt nothing but shame. "It's not... it's not like that. It's me."

Din's expression changed almost immediately. His face softened, his perfect plush lips parted slightly at your confession. He sat on the edge of the bed and took your hand. "What do you mean?" he quizzed quietly, although he had an inkling he already knew what you meant.

"I got up early this morning, excited to venture out to the farmers market with you and Grogu. Excited to go sourberry picking. But when I got dressed, it was like... something just hit me. I can't put it into words but I just felt so... so... ugly."

Once again, Din's brain simply could not compute your revelation. Ugly? You? How could you possibly feel that way. You shared the likeness of an angel. How could it be?

You swallowed and continued. "And then I got afraid. I got so scared that you'd see me the way I see me, and you wouldn't want to be with me anymore. That you'd run away from me and leave me behind." you shrugged helplessly. Now the tears were beginning to free fall.

"I could never, ever, think that of you, riduur. I love you so much. How could I possibly leave you? Without you, my life would end. It would be meaningless." Din revealed, his chocolate eyes glossy as he cupped your face with his large hand. His thumb traced the height of your cheekbone and you found yourself subconsciously leaning into his touch.

"Don't say things like that," you whispered, shaking your head. "You don't need me around... you already had everything under control before me."

"But nobody to make me smile. Nobody to make me laugh. Nobody to bring me joy... or show me the pleasure of how to love, and be loved in return." Din huffed, pressing his forehead against yours. "Next time you feel this way, please don't hide it from me. Whatever you're going through, we go through it together. Okay?"

You sniffed before finally nodding your head in affirmation. "Okay Din."

Din leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, the curve of his nose bumping into your cheek as he manouvered his body carefully over you. "So beautiful, and all mine." He purred lovingly before licking a stripe over your lower lip. You moaned wantonly and interwined your fingers in his curly brown locks of hair.

It was moments like this that you cherished forever. The sweet touches and soft murmers that made you void of all worry and insecurity; because in that moment, all that mattered was you and your riduur.

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #grogu #star wars #baby yoda

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 13)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Goldenrod

Next Chapter: The More You Know

Next SFW Chapter: Big White Lies

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, specify if you're okay with nsfw posts or not, and please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

Chapter 13: Home Sweet Home

That weekend you went back home. It was so refreshing to see everyone. You yelped out with joy as you ran over to your cousin “Hiroki niichaaaan~” You jumped into his arms.

He hugged you tight. “How have you been doin lil sis?”

“Very good! I missed you all so much, especially you Hiroki nii." You pouted up at him.

You caught up with your family, had meals with them, and trained with Hiroki. They were most curious about your soulmate, as you have expected.

“What’s he like? Aren’t people from the big 3 clans so stuck up all the time? Even Satoru is full of himself at times, ey?”, Hiroki asked you with a mouthful of food.

“He isn’t too bad to be honest. He’s a gentleman and sweet with me. Decent man. Just, seems a bit like the private type? I mean… Doesn’t talk much about his family even though we are soulmates. Oh I’ve already talked to him about you guys.” You added.

Hiroki tilted his head, “Ehhh… mysterious huh.”

“Give him time. The Kamo Clan aren’t the most open minded people. They’ll feel you out before allowing you in.” Your dad said.

“Even though I’m his soulmate?!” You exclaimed.

Silence. “We don’t know what they’re thinking so we can’t say for sure.”

◇◇◇

“Heh, you’ve gotten better lil sis,” Hiroki dropped low and thrusted out his spear. You jumped and immediately shifted your stance to land a kick on him. He easily parried and slipped out of your range.

Your family specializes in dealing with reverse cursed techniques aside from the occasional esper. Hiroki was only a semi-grade 1, because he trained his ass off for years.

Now that he’s built, he uses cursed tools to help him fight. A strong 185cm man can definitely handle close combat well. And in terms of healing abilities, he was number 1 in the clan.

It was only the women in your family that were able to inherit psychokinesis for some reason. But usually it only applies to a specific thing. Like how your mom can control plants. And your other aunt does with small metallic items like coins and darts.

Mother approached you after your sparring session. "Does he make you happy my dear?" Your mother asked you. Hiroki drank quietly from his water bottle.

You thought about it. The past few months were not easy but really colorful with Noritoshi. Minus the nagging feeling of him covering up his family affairs from you.

But… "He does. I feel so safe with him ma. Like I do with all of you. He is family to me now. I think I really like him and I trust him with my life." You whispered out.

"Then next time, bring him here. We will gladly welcome him with open arms." Hiroki smiled at you and leaned into your side.

◇◇◇

You went to visit your dead older sister’s grave just before you went back to Kyoto Jujutsu High School.

It was just you and Hiroki. You both cleaned the grave, trimmed the weeds, changed the flowers, burned fresh incense, and said your prayers for Sora. It was such a clear day with barely any clouds. The sky was so blue.

Just like her namesake.

Hiroki left you to give you some privacy, saying that he’ll pick you up in 2 hours.

You took a deep breath. “Sora neechan. It’s been a while. Sorry I couldn’t come to see you as often, because I’m currently a student at Jujutsu High.”

“I met this guy. He … So he is my soulmate. The first time I met him, I thought he was pretty. As I got to know him more, I felt as if there was a reason as to why the heavens chose him for me you know? He is really cool, but so warm and sweet with me. I think I’m a little bit in love with him.” You admitted.

“I’m really scared to lose him. After I lost you, I just… it was hard… I try my best to be cheerful and helpful really. But it gets tiring at times. I’m glad I was able to make a lot of friends who understand the life of a Jujutsu sorcerer at least. I tried to open up to Noritoshi a bit more. But it’s hard because he seems so closed off at times.”

You had mixed feelings, because you promised Noritoshi you would trust him more. That means working on anything that bothers you regarding your relationship with him. But can he accept it if you tell him that you want to know more about his family? He already clearly stated he needs more time.

“Am I being too greedy and hasty Sora? I want to support his clan affairs, even if it's just a tiny bit as his soulmate. He seems so troubled with it all the time. Like he wants to carry the burden all alone. I want to help, but he doesn’t really let me. I don’t know. I wish you were still here with me.”

“Last time I asked him about his parents, he snapped at me. Of course he apologized. … Maybe it’s all just in my head. But I do want to meet his family. Eventually. Though at this rate I have no idea when. Everytime I ask about them he just shuts up.”

“Falling in love is way too hard….”

The wind blew as if to agree with you. The leaves rusted in a circular dance just around the grave. You smiled.

You bid farewell to your family after the weekend. Hiroki hugged you tight and whispered, “I hope it gets better for you and Kamo kun soon enough.”

You looked up at him, “Yeah, thanks bro.”

◇◇◇

You texted Noritoshi and let him know that you were on your way back. He said he was free for the evening and that you could come over to his room.

You knocked on his door with anticipation. You opened the door, “I'm back, Toshi!” He pulled you into a tight hug and closed the door behind you. “I missed you. Come in. How was your family? Sorry I couldn’t go with you again.”

“It’s fine! They’re all okay and excited to meet you next time.” You looked up at him. He looked a bit regretful, “Next time I’ll make sure to properly clear my schedule with my father so I can go meet them okay?”

“Ah, okay.” You both walked over to his table and knelt down on the floor.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while,” you started. Noritoshi looked on intently. “I’ve already told you about my family right? Mom and dad and my other male cousins. Ah, what I didn’t tell you before was… I used to have an older sister. I - uhm. Well she died after being attacked by a curse. I … I hope to bring you to her grave one day.”

Noritoshi’s heart dropped. He pulled you in close. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m sure she is proud of you. Of course I’ll go with you to see her next time.” He was now highly regretting choosing to do some useless tasks for some of his clan’s elders instead of spending the weekend with you.

You gripped his clothes tighter. “Thank you, that really really means a lot to me.” You started tearing up, but you blinked your tears away.

"Oh! My family and I have gifts for you. I'm not so sure if you'll like it. It's a Coral and gold bracelet. Everyone in my family has one. It's almost like tradition for us, and we believe it to have a layer of protection. I also brought Jade here for you." You presented the bracelet alongside the Dragon carved Jade Pendant hanging on a thick white gold chain.

Noritoshi's eyes widened. The jewelry was stunning and looked expensive. He may have been favoured as the heir to the Kamo clan, but even he didn't own so much expensive jewelry.

He sputtered out “I appreciate it but I can’t take something so expensive and precious-”

“Noritoshiiii,” you whined out loud, making him stop talking. “You don’t want to accept such a precious gift that I picked out for you?” you whined with the largest puppy eyes.

“No, I- I am grateful. Thank you, I’ll accept it.” Noritoshi conceded.

Got him. You grinned madly as he shook his head. “You’re a dangerous one,” he muttered under his breath. “What was that?” you asked him absentmindedly as you worked on unclasping the bracelet to put it around his wrist. “Nothing, nothing at all dearest.”

You narrowed your eyes at him before grabbing his wrist and putting it on for him. It was a perfect fit. You thanked yourself for loving to hold his hand so much that you knew his general hand measurements.

His hands down to his wrists were so pretty. You didn't realize that you were playing with and smiling down at his fingers until he opened up his hand and linked his fingers with yours.

Slowly, carefully. Falling in love with you was the easiest thing Noritoshi had experienced. Now that he had embraced his emotions and tried to open up to you, it was a bit better now.

'Is this what love is? I don't know since it's my first time experiencing it.' Noritoshi wondered to himself.

It was in the smallest of things with you. He loved the way you would call out his name with loving eyes. The way you would always greet him first before the other senpai. The way you give him coffee and kisses on late and cold nights of studying.

The way your hair smells. Your perfume. The way your eyelids flutter shut when he kisses you. The tightening of his chest and shortness of his breath made apparent whenever he was with you.

The way you don't ask for too much from him. Just that he shows his love to you either by his actions or words. The comfort he simply feels when he is beside you.

He really just needed some time, and seeing you around more often really made up for it.

He ticked the inside of your palm which made you shiver and yelp. He laughed out loud at this and pulled you into his lap, hugging you tightly.

Staying quiet, you buried your head in his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, and it was faster than you expected. But soon it went back down to a steady rate.

"Your heartbeat is so steady, but mine is always wild around you. Noritoshi I feel kinda embarrassed to be honest." You admitted, fingers curling into his kimono.

He smiled and his heartbeat quickened to match yours. You looked up at him in confusion. "Did you just…" He just leaned down to rub his nose against yours. "I am a blood manipulator. I can manipulate my pulse rate darling." You huffed out a laugh, feeling warm and fuzzy.

"I love you." You said suddenly. He stared in shock at your words. You realized that you said it without intending to. But you didn’t take it back.

"Kamo Noritoshi I'm madly in love with you." It wasn't a sudden realisation of being in love. You slowly fell for him again and again each day.

Noritoshi’s brain short circuited.

Suddenly he was kissing you. Tongue slipping into your mouth and playing with yours and rubbing along the roof of your mouth.

You tried to fight his tongue for dominance, but you ended up surrendering, your back bent back with your face turned up towards him.

You clasped your hands around his neck as he pressed deep kisses against the top of your chest. Your face was flushed as you fell limp against him, gasping out heavy breaths. "I'm not going anywhere angel." Noritoshi whispered against your neck, hands tightening possessively against your waist.

‘Please wait a little longer for me. Until I can confirm that these feelings for you are indeed true love.’ His thoughts went unsaid.

The one thing Noritoshi promised to himself is that he would never lie about his feelings for you. To him, the worst he could do was to confess his love without actually being in love with you.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #itadori yuji #jjk fanfic #fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x oc #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk fic #noritoshi fluff #blood bound #red strings of fate

[fieryghxul]

Margaritas, reunions and confessions. [a.h.]

                                    ✧｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✧

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Warning(s): fem!reader – dom!hotch (well i tried) – last season’s spoilers – drinking – cursing – smut –  unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it tho) – oral sex (fem receiving) – slight chocking – a bit fluff at the end.

A/N: hello everyone! this is super random but i came up with this in the middle of the night and i couldn't shake the idea out of my head. i am not a writer and english is not my first language so if there’s any mistake, i apologize in advance. also, this is my first hotch smut so i hope it’s good. enjoy!

                                     ✧｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✧

[March 14th, 2020. 8:30 pm.]

“I have to go but promise me that you’re going to stop thinking about work and that you’re going to have fun these days.” You heard the pleading voice of Penelope Garcia on the phone as you walked out of the bathroom.

“I promise. I love you and I’ll see you when I get back.” You smiled and you knew that she was smiling too.

“It’s a date, angel. Love you more.” And with that, the line went silent.

You put your cell phone aside and took a look at the open suitcases on the bed. You didn't have anything planned but you knew you have to go out to clear your head and relax, things at work have been very stressful lately so when Prentiss told the team about taking some vacation time, you didn't hesitate to get a ticket and get on the first plane you found.

And that's why you were currently in a hotel room in Santorini, Greece. Yes, it seems like a lot, but nothing you can't afford.

A few minutes later, you finished applying some mascara and lip gloss, and took a few steps back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The navy-blue self-tie slit dress hugged every curve of your body perfectly; you paired it with a pair of black heels and a black jacket, just in case it gets cold at night. After taking one last look and smiling slightly at the reflection, you turned to grab your bag and left the room, hoping to have a good night once you were out of the hotel.

                                                       ▪ ▪ ▪

People flooded the streets and it was understandable, the night was really beautiful, there was a light breeze and the full moon was perfectly reflected in the sea. You have been walking for almost 2 hours, taking photos of almost everything and enjoying the night until you came across a bar, the word "cocktail" in the name of the place definitely caught your attention so you didn't think twice before walking into the place.

You walked to the bar and waited for the bartender to come up to you. While you were waiting, you could feel the back of your neck burning, someone was watching you but you didn’t want to deal with anyone yet, so you just ignored it, concentrating on reading the menu even though you already knew what you were going to order.

“Good evening, ma'am. Are you ready to order?” You look up from the menu, a brunette in her 20s is at the other side of the bar was smiling at you.

“Uh, yes, a margarita would be fine.” You ordered, mirroring her smile, and the girl gave you a little nod before walking away.

In the meantime you took your phone out of your bag and opened the ‘bau ladies’ group chat to send one or two of the photos you took a few hours ago with a “next time, i’m bringing all of your cute asses with me.” below them.

JJ was the first to reply, “oh my god, it’s gorgeous!”

Followed by Emily’s “look at that and some of us are still doing paperwork :( get drunk on my behalf please.”

You chuckled under your breath at her text and the margarita arrives just in time, “i’m on it, boss ;) isn't it a little late to be doing paperwork?"

Penelope replies next, “paperwork hahaha what a weird way to spell tara’s name“ and two “PENELOPE!” appear automatically in chat.

“you two are so obvious and spencer owns me 20 now.” You hit the send button before graving the margarita, taking a few sips of it. It takes about 3 minutes for your phone to vibrate again and you were about to answered but you are interrupted by the bartender.

“From the man at that table, ma'am.” She says placing another margarita in front of you and discreetly pointing at one of the tables that were on the patio of the place, you turned around but the only thing you see from the bar is his back. “Don’t worry; it doesn’t have anything weird on it.”

“Thank you...” The bartender walks away again and you stare at the drink, debating for a moment about whether or not to go and face the mysterious man. Fuck it. You decided before putting you phone back in your bag, forgetting about the messages and graving that and the drink before making your way to the table.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat once you reached said table, "can I seat here or are you waiting for someone?"

“Please.” He murmur in a low voice while gesturing toward the empty chair, indicating that you can sit down and a strange feeling of familiarity floods your body at that gesture. You shock your head trying to ignore that before placing your bag aside and sitting down in front of the man.

“I just wanted to thank you for the—“

The words got stuck on your throat and the world seemed to have stopped when you finally laid your eyes on the suited man that you thought you'd never see again.

Holy shit.

You stood still, a part of you fearing that if you moved he might disappear. Your face probably showing clear signs of confusion and shock as Aaron Hotchner sit right there in front of you.

He still looked serious and intimidating, his gaze reimaging cold to those who didn't know him and you remember all of those times you teased him about being a robot, there were times when you actually managed to make him laugh.

Yet at the same time there was something different about him. There was a different glow around him, he seems more relaxed and you could see it in his expressions, even in his posture.

“Hello, Y/N.” Hotchner said, voice still low but strong enough to bring you back to the present.

“Hey.” You said, still processing the fact that he was here with you and in the most unexpected place. “I, uh, it’s been a long time.”

“Almost 3 years.” He said before taking a sip of the glass that rested on his hand, you assumed that it was scotch.

3 years in 6 months, 13 days, 1 hour and 65 seconds. Give it or take.

“Almost, yeah… so what are you doing here?” You asked, “I mean, you were more a city type of guy.”

“I still am, Y/N, but Jack and Jessica insisted on me going on a little vacation because apparently it’s been a while since I had some ‘me-time’.”

Your face light up a bit at the mention of the kid, Hotch noticed it. “How’s Jack? I can barely remember when the last time I saw him was was but he must be so big now.”

“He’s 14 and almost as tall as me.” A smile appeared on Hotch's face, he didn't used to smile a lot and you thought it was a bit normal considering the work that you two shared, but those times that he did you used to felt butterflies in your stomach. Still do apparently. “What about you? What are you doing here? I mean, you were more a city type of girl.”

You chuckled softly when you heard him repeating your words and you shrugged slightly, “I'm having some vacation time, it's rare to have free time at the BAU, you know? So when you do, you take it without thinking twice.”

“How’s the team doing?”

“Good. We're working on some things, going through a few changes, the usual I guess.” This time it was you who drank, taking a long sip of the margarita that was still in your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you want to hear me talk about it?”

“Of course, unless, do you have somewhere else to be, Y/N?”

“Not anymore. We might need a few more of this though.” You pointed to the drinks on the table and flashing him a smile, catching a glimpse of his before calling the bartender and ordering another round of drinks.

And then you started talking, Hotch listening carefully to every word that came out of your mouth. You started with the cult that kidnapped Spencer and Garcia and then launching into the saga of the Everett Lynch a.k.a "The Chameleon", you mentioned how Emily is now shortlisted to be the next FBI director and how she would name JJ as the next unit chief of BAU unit, but that remains to be seen; you also talked about Garcia leaving the team to work in Silicon Valley and Hotch noticed the sad tone in your voice when you mentioned that but in part he was happy that everyone was moving forward with their lives, making new decisions and following different paths. You continued with Spencer being a consultant and teaching at the same time and finished with Rossi getting married again then talking about retirement but not fully doing it.

“That’s because Rossi’s never going to retired.” You and Hotch said in unison, laughing after noticing that.

“A lot of things had happened then.” He said, not very surprise and titling his head to one side, you nodded mutely. “But you forgot of someone, Y/N.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you. What about you? How are you?” He asked, his tone of voice changing to a concerned one.

“Oh… I, uh, I’m good.” You began but more hesitant this time, “I will never get used to the changes but its part of life so I just have to suck it up and live with it. I don’t have an outer motive yet so I'm not leaving the BAU, that's for sure. I always knew that that's where I belong and I can’t even bring myself to think about other options.”

“You have always been an important asset to the team, Y/N. The BAU is still lucky to have you.” Hotch said, still sounded like the boss but you didn’t comment anything out loud about it. Instead, you smiled kindly at him and both went silent after that, staring at each other every now and then and finishing the rest of your drinks. It was a comfortable and familiar silence, one of the many that you two used to share while working together in the office or in the long nights in the jet after finishing a case.

Your gaze swept over the bar, noticing the few people that was still there and the employees staring to clean up the place. You took at deep breath, pulling out your wallet.

“Well, Hotch, this was fun. Unexpected but fun.” You left some money under your empty cup, paying for your part of the drinks and Hotch did the same thing. “I should get going now, so—“

“Let me walk you over to your hotel.” He cut you off, grabbing his blazer from the chair and turning to look at you.

“Hotch you don’t ha—“

“Please, Y/N. I insist.” He said and his voice serious once again, just like when he used to get too bossy with the team but with a smile that contradicted that tone and you couldn’t say “no” to that.

“Alright, Sir. Let’s go.”

You grabbed your things and started walking out of the bar, Hotchner walking behind you.

                                                          ▪ ▪ ▪

The walk back to the hotel was shorter than you thought; maybe it was because you were so focused on Hotchner and the small talk that you stopped paying attention to your surroundings.

“Thank you, Aaron.” You murmur while grabbing the room key from you bag, “But you didn’t have to come up here though.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

You could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn't dare to do it and it doesn't feel good to pressure him, so you settled for just smiling at him.

And in that moment, standing in outside of you room and looking closely at him, you realized how much you missed him. You didn’t admitted that out loud after he left the BAU, you couldn’t do it because you also never fully admitted your feeling for him. Partially it was your fault, feelings were never your thing and you were afraid of what might happen if you confronted him about it so looking for excuses and reasons to not doing it always seemed easier.

For a while you truly did believed that it was just a stupid crush on your boss, something temporary, until the days turned into weeks and then months, years even, but then… he was gone.

You couldn’t really blame him for that though; he had a good reason for leaving so suddenly.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Hotch finally mumbled.

You looked at him in confusion, “For what?”

“Leaving.”

“You did it to protect Jack; it was the right thing to do.” You reassure him with a smile, you unconsciously took his hand in yours. He didn’t pull away. “Don’t ever apologize for keeping your son safe, Hotch.”

“I know, choosing to be a full time dad to Jack is something I do not regret. It was something that we both needed it, especially after everything that happened with Haley.” You gulped at the mention of the name, remembering how devastated he was after her death. He took a deep breath, “But what I am trying to say is that I am sorry I didn't came back to you or the team, I should at least have called to let you know that we were fine but I got so caught up with the mundane life that it was a little too late by the time I realized about everything I left behind.”

To you.

Those two little words echoed in your head as you look at those chocolate eyes that used to drive you crazy without knowing it. You noticed that he was even closer now, slightly towering over you. It’s now or never, Y/N. You thought to yourself before speaking.

“I waited for you. I never told anyone but for a whole I waited for you to come back, hoping one day to see your demanding self in an expensive suit walking through the BAU doors again but deep down I knew that eventually I had to let you go.” You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding until now and smiled sadly, “That was easier said than done considering that I never stopped thing about it, about you. Because the true is that I loved you, Aaron. Maybe I still fucking do… but I doubt that this makes any difference now because maybe you never saw me in the same way that I saw you or just because it’s a little too late now.”

You finished and Hotch frowned, probably processing what you just admitted to him. He was silent for a few more seconds and you took it as your cue, letting go of his hand and turning around to open the door of you room. “I had an amazing night, thank you. See you around.”

But before you could even step foot in the room, you felt his hand grabbing your wrist and your chest hitting his. The next thing you knew after that was that his lips were on yours.

Aaron Hotchner was fucking kissing you after admitting your feelings for him.

He pulled away before you could react properly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours; this time he looked at you in a way that you had only fantasized about until now, there was love and lust on them and you could feel it, just all those feelings that you tried so hard to keep locked in the deepest part of you.

And that's all you needed before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and kissing him again, in a matter of seconds you two were inside the room. His lips were warm and the kiss quickly turned into a desperate one once the door was locked behind you, you could already feel yourself melting in his arms.

You didn’t even realize how it happened, but in one quick moment you were being totally pinned against the door with Aaron holding you by your thighs as your legs were wrapped around his waist. The position was now lifting your short dress, leaving your thighs even more naked but you didn't mind considering that now you could perfectly feel Aaron's hand caressing your hot skin. You move your hands from his shoulders to his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt and stripping him off it, dropping the piece of clothing somewhere in the room. As you were doing that, he broke the kiss and moved his lips to your neck, nipping and teasing the area just under your ear, turning you into a moaning mess almost immediately. The sounds being like music to his ears.

“Aaron , please.“ You moaned, this was good but you need it more. You needed him.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He asks, slightly biting the skin of your neck and you bite your bottom lip.

“Please, Sir. Fuck me.” You let out, noticing a sparkle in his eyes that you've never seen before and that only turned you on even more.

“Since you ask so nicely…” He said before walking to the other side of the room where the was a big bed in the center of it, Aaron kissed you lips and put you down in front of him, his hands moving to the zipper of your dress. “Are you sure about this, Y/N?”

“You’re kidding, right?” You asked and Aaron stares deeply at you, the sudden seriousness on his eyes making you gulp. You nodded.

“Words, Y/N. I need words.”

“I’m sure of this, yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Fuck, he was hot.

“Yes, sir.”

He bent down, his hands working on your zipper as he whisper “Good girl.” in your ear and you bite your lip once more, muffling down a moan.

He finally pulled down your dress, tossing it onto the floor completely and leaving you with only your red lace underwear; you weren't wearing a bra tonight, so you were much more exposed to him than you thought. He took one really good look at you before throwing you onto the bed, knocking the breath out of your lungs. Guess that we’re done playing around.

He kneels down on the bed, moving your legs with his knees and positioning himself between them. His hands are caressing your legs again, making their way up to the sides of your body and he leans in, kissing you again, your hands flew up to grab his hair, eagerly responding the kiss. You didn’t care how needy you seem right now, you’ve been waiting year for this, fantasizing about it, and now you had it, not really knowing for how long and that only gave you more reasons to enjoy every second of it.

“You know?,” Aaron began, his lips leaving yours and making his way down your neck, placing kisses all over your skin, “if I had know about how much you wanted me, I’ve would done something about it earlier.”

“Yeah?” You asked, arching your back as he bites one of your nipples gently, his other hand working on the other one.

“I would've pinned you down on my desk and take you right there on the office, baby. Not caring about anyone who could hear us.” He casually said, like he thought about it before and you moaned. You definitely thought about that particular situation too.

When he finally reached the place where you needed the most, he stopped and you were about to complain but Aaron shut you up by grabbing your ankles and yanking you down the end of the bed. He kneels again, parting your legs a bit more, placing one of your legs over his broad shoulders and kissing you inner thighs, slowly making his way to your soaked panties.

“I barely touch you and you’re so wet for me already?” Hotchner asked teasingly, rubbing circles with his thumb on your clit but over the fabric before taking a hold of them and ripping them out. And with no more words, Hotch held both your legs open and buried his face between them, making you moan in a matter of seconds.

He swept his tongue over you pussy swiftly, tasting my arousal first and groaning again your skin. A shiver ran through you as he stared circling your clit with his tongue and then moving down between your folds before going up again, alternating his speed and pressure.

When you thought that it couldn’t get better, Aaron proved you wrong by teasing your entrance with one of his finger and looking up at you, locking his eyes with yours. He wanted to see your reaction. You try to maintain the eye contact as he slowly started pumping his finger in and out of you, curling them an hitting the right spot, a string of cursings leaving your mouth.

It didn’t take much for your legs to start shaking around his head, the knot forming on your lower stomach.

“I’m- fuck, I’m close.” You breathed betweens moans and just when you were about to reach your high, he pulled away.

“Hold that thought, sweetheart.” He shortly kissed your mouth and you tasted yourself in his before he got up off bed, his hands immediately went to unbuckle his belt and now you took your time to watch him. From his messy hair, to the red marks on his shoulders caused by your heels -oops- and then stopped at the large bulge formed in his pants, you groaned at the sight of that.

Fuck, he is big. God, if you weren't so desperate to feel him inside you, you wouldn't hesitate to drop on your knees and start sucking him.

“Do you like what you see, sweetheart?” He asked with a smirk on his face while taking off the rest of his clothes.

“Just fuck me already, please.” You begged and he positioned himself between your legs again, but he was hesitant. “Hotch?”

“I don’t have condom on me and I doubt that you have one, Y/N. I’m clean but if you—”

“I’m clean too and on the pill so don’t worry.” You smiled at him and gave a little nod.

And apparently he was as desperate as you because at all at once, Hotch took grip of your hips and pushed inside you. You immediately arched your back, moaning loudly in both pain and pleasure, your hands grabbing the sheets at your side. You were surprise that you didn’t ripped them apart yet.

“Fuck, Hotchner.” You screamed and he didn’t move for a few seconds, letting you adjust to his size. He really is big.

“You’re so thigh, baby.” He moaned in your ear, the raspy voice sending shocks straight to your core. He was capable of making you cum by just talking.

That’s how much power he had.

And then he finally started moving, pounding in and out of you slowly at first and working his way up, picking up a pace that had you both groaning and moaning.

“F-fuck, Y/N. I love hearing you scream my name.” His lips attacked your neck again and you threw your head back against the pillows, giving him all the space that he needed to play with your neck. And he took this as a perfect opportunity to sneak his hand around it, squeezing under your jaw around enough for your eyes to roll back in total pleasure as you instinctively wrapped your finger around his wrist, holding him in place. You didn’t expect him to be into chocking but you were definitely not against it.

“Harder, S-sir. Please.”

“You’re taking it so good, just like I expected it.” He growled, pulling away enough to look at the whimpering mess that you were right now, his hand never leaving your neck as he pounded even harder into you with every word. “Calling me ‘sir’ and everything, I didn’t even had to ask you to do that. You’re such a slutty responsive whore for me, aren’t you Y/N?”

The sudden dirty words coming out of your ex-boss’s mouth did nothing but to turn you on even more, if that was possible at this point. You weren’t able to form a proper sentence so you limited to nodding and moaning his name. He didn’t like that.

“I asked you a fucking question, sweetheart, answered it.”

“Y-yes, I am, S-sir.” You chocked, the knot on your stomach forming once more and by the way that his pace flickered you knew that he was close too. “I’m close, Aaron.”

“Then cum for me, baby.” He commanded, continuing his thrusts and you were already oversensitive from his earlier work so it didn’t took you long before you started clenching around him.

“Fuck, Aaron.”

“Say it louder, Y/N.”

“Aaron!” He bottom out inside of you again and you moaned loudly one last time as your body reached its limit, hitting your climax with every nerve in you tired body.

“That’s a good girl.” He said between moans, his dick twitching softly as he release himself inside of you with one last and hard thrust.

He let go of your throat but didn’t’ pull out immediately after that. His breathing was a little erratic, his lips were red and swollen, and there was a thin layer of sweat all over his body. He looked disturbingly hot.

Of course he did. He’s Aaron fucking Hotchner.

It was as if these last 3 years had never existed.

Neither of you said a word as he slowly got up and walked into the bathroom of the room to grabbed a wet towel to clean you up, doing the same thing on him before putting back his boxers, you didn’t have the strength to grab your clothes so you just put the sheets of the bed on top of you, covering you nudity.

“Oh, sp now you’re shy?” He snorted, chuckling softly and you smiled.

“Shut up and come here.” You patted the bed and he didn’t hesitate on laying next to you, wrapping his arms around you. You felt safe, like there’s was nowhere else you rather be in that moment.

“Thank you.” He whispered after a moment breaking the silence, his face resting on your shoulder.

“For what?”

“For all of… that.”

“You’ve always have such a ways with words, Hotch.” You chuckled as you looked down at him. “Thank you for ordering my margarita in the first place.”

“It was a pleasure.”

“It really was, wasn’t it?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him in a playful way.

“How long are you staying here, Y/N?” He finally asked and you let out a tiny sigh at the question.

You knew you weren't here for a long vacation and neither was Aaron, you two have your lives outside this room , but being here now felt so good and peaceful. So… right. This, also, was probably a one-time thing, something that was destined to happen eventually, no matter how long it took.

But you didn’t want- no, you couldn’t face the fact that you may have to let him go again. Especially not after what just happened. I mean, how could you?

And little did you know that Aaron was feeling the exact same thing.

“Enough not to have to worry about it right now.” You answered with a shrug while your fingertips trace invisible circles on his back.

“Good. I can live with that, for now at least.” And then he broke the comfortable embrace by getting up and out of the bed, you furrowed you eyebrows and he extended on his hands towards you, “Come on, let’s take a shower so we can sleep properly.”

“Yes, sir.” You took his hand, getting up with his help and trying your best not to limp as you made your way to the bathroom, “By the way, where are you staying while you’re here?”

He turned around at the question, pulling you closer to him and softly kissing your lips before using a more serious tone to say, “In the room above this one.”

Of course he was. You thought while you watched as he began to prepare the bath for the both of you.

Funny how destiny works sometimes.

#cm #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner x y/n #hotchner imagine #ssa aaron hotchner #sorry if this is a bit out of character #i try my best #thanks for reading

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

In recognition of 200 followers.....

I composed a list of 200 hero x villain dialogue prompts for you guys to ask me or reblog it and ask your own followers or if you take inspiration.

Thank you so much! It means a whole lot!

1. "I wish I had longer to love you."

2. "Sometimes being the greatest is being the worse."

3. "I will kill you if you die on me."

4. "Bury me... under a willow tree... with tulips and lilies to blossom in the spring and a small stream to keep me company."

5. "Villains aren't capable of love; yet, here I am crying over your grave."

6. "The kitten's name is Max."

7. "I'm going to get a beer."

8. "There is only one way to kill me, but you could never muster the strength to pull through."

9. "I'm dizzy with love for you."

10. "Hero, you are drunk not a toddler."

11. "I pledge to serve you willingly, butthead."

12. "Ride the waves with me." "You are a mermaid, no thanks."

13. "Stay awake for me; it's only a little farther."

14. "I can't carry you!"

15. "He isn't much, but we'll make do."

16. "I WANT TO SEE HER! LET ME SEE HER PLEASE. Please..."

17. "George Washington never told a fib, and I am greater than him, so trust me, Hero, when I say I am telling the truth."

18. "Eggs and butter make dough, knives and guns make death."

19. "You are insane."

20. "The bomb is going off in twenty seconds, Hero. Run now. I-I'm going to stop it."

21. "What is love?"

22. "I don't get the function of hugs."

23. "Mentally I'm good, but physically..."

24. "I only wished for happiness from that genie. I guess it was evil."

25. "Break him, shatter him, destroy him."

26. "Sing with me."

27. "Villain you are touch starved, not dying."

28. "What the heck did you do to your hair." "What? You don't like it?" "It looks like my cat's litterbox."

29. "Don't give me hope."

30. "I am not a disease or a parasite. I am a human. I am one of those millions you swore to protect."

31. "Kiss, marry, kill?" "Kill, kill, kill."

32. "You created me."

33. "Villain don't you dare pass out."

34. "I like the look of blood on you, compliments your eyes."

35. "I kinda dropped Hero through space."

36. "Power exhaustion sucks."

37. "Time to save the world. Yay!" *says in sarcasm*

38. "Let me feed you Hero."

39. "You do not have AC?!"

40. "Villain you have a fever."

41. "Am I drunk?"

42. "Movies. Nine o'clock. Don't be late."

43. "Lemme grab a beer and we are good to go."

44. "Don't. Look. At. Me."

45. "He just had his wisdom teeth out sooo." "How bad can it be? Villain has been shot with twenty tranq darts at one and didn't pass out... immediately anyway, took a good twenty minutes." "Well, you see-" "THE KITTEN IS TRYING TO KILL ME!!!!!"

46. "She needs surgery."

47. "It's a panic attack..." "KISS HIM!"

48. "Blood, gore, madness... this was made for me."

49. "Quit drooling on me and sit up."

50. "There's only one bed."

51. "He looks so cute when he sleeps."

52. "Of all the places to live, you had to choose a heavily fortified medieval castle two thousand years in the past?"

53. "You are a peacock Hero."

54. "Let's see who will drown first. You or me. One, two, three... let's go!"

55. "I wasn't always like this."

56. "Madness is for geniuses, not for me."

57. "It's just a sedative that's going to make you nice and docile."

58. "He's out." "Good, let him rest, villainy is hardwork."

59. "I love her, but she doesn't love me."

60. "If I had a choice to save you or me, I'd pick me."

61. "Gag her."

62. "They aren't made for this, give them mercy."

63. "Talk now or she dies."

64. "Broken ribs, broken jaw, broken arm... are you sure you want me to continue." "No." "Then tell me your name."

65. "Get me some thread and a needle. Just don't touch me."

66. "The police are coming."

67. "Tell me where she is. TELL ME WHERE IS SHE OR I WILL SLASH YOUR THROAT AND TOSS YOU IN THE SEWER!!!!!"

68. "I love you." "I don't."

69. "Hug me just one last time."

70. "Villain hey hey hey. Calm down. You've been in a pretty bad accident."

71. "They won't be able to walk again."

72. "Tell me... just tell if they made it."

73. "Can't you just poof me another arm?"

74. "If you saved all of them, you can save me."

75. "I'm really tired..."

76. "Sleep. I will stay with you."

77. "She is sixteen years old." "All musicians start young." "This isn't a concert, this is life. Stop ruining it."

78. "He"s been in an accident." "Where?" "Five minutes away from your place."

79. "I wish he wasn't unconscious, so I could talk to him. So I could thank him."

80. "It's been four months now. I have came everyday and, uh, I dunno what to say. Hero, I need you to wake up. I can't function knowing you are right here."

81. "I have a date." "Hmm with who?" "Supervillain." "When and where honey?"

82. "Shhhhhhh. Be quiet. We are still being hunted."

83. "Desert?" "What are you trying to do? Kill me?"

84. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." "I know, I know dear and I so sorry, but I need you to help me. I need you to help them."

85. "Villain just sleep. Allow the drugs to take you under. Don't fight it, don't resist... just sleep. In the morning, we will be safe."

86. "Being lost in the woods isn't ideal."

87. "An injection of valium will do it."

88. "There's no anesthesia."

89. "Wouldn't it be great if we never met each other?"

90. "Bless you." "I didn't sneeze." "Yeah right. Now go sit down, you're sick."

91. "It's called insomnia you dim-wit."

92. "Join me and we can be great."

93. "You didn't bring me here for the cake." "No, dear, but you are so gullible. I brought you here for a sacrifice." "My life?" "Why yes."

94. "I don't know. I never had someone collapse on my doorstep before."

95. "I have nothing to lose. No family, no friends, just my meaningless life."

96. "That's my daughter, not the villain's... so give me her back before I rip your eyes out."

97. "How long was I out for?!" "Ten minutes, but you were drifting. I don't think you had that good of rest." "Oh, I thought I was asleep for hours."

98. "I know, I know you are going to hate me after this, but trust me when I say it's for the best."

99. "I know everything about you."

100. "I think narcissism is contagious because after watching you for a couple hours, I think I may have developed a little crush on the mirror..."

101. "What did you give me?"

102. "Is she screams, I'm going to scream, and then we are going to die."

103. "No fighting today, my cat just died."

104. "How hard did you punch me?"

105. "Not gonna lie, being delirious was epic."

106. "I am cooking for you. You aren't my servant, so stop thinking it."

107. "My old masters made me into a weapon and called me Villain, but if you desire a lapdog I am going to need to be refurnished to fit your needs."

108. "What is his deal?" "I think he's just crazy."

109. "Love is not what I had in mind when I agreed to go on a date with you."

110. "Hugs are overrated."

111. "Are you too hot or too cold?" "Both."

112. "I wish we could turn back time."

113. "I lost the game." "What do you mean? Hero is dead." "Precisely."

114. "Make a wish." "That you live."

115. "Villain has been acting exceptional! Today we granted them a break from the machine. Go ahead Hero and take him for some ice cream."

116. (Sleepy murmurs) "Don't go. I neeeed you." "Yeah yeah I know Villain."

117. "Villain was the one who hurt me, not Hero."

118. "Supervillain is in danger!"

119. "If everyone is scared of me, I might as well be alone."

120. "My head is killing me."

121. "Don't call an ambulance. Just... hold me."

122. "You don't have to do this. It's going to hurt you more than me." "Anything for you dearest, anything at all."

123. "Hero, go wash your hands before dinner."

124. "You have PTSD?" "I don't know?"

125. "I have soap in my eyes!' "Rinse it out." "Mm no I'm permanently mortally blinded." "Uh huh."

126. "We need to cuddle to keep warm."

127. "Take care of them for me, will you?"

128. "When I'm gone, promise to tell my mother, please."

129. "Drug him and then bring him to me."

130. "Superheroes are for children. In all honesty, we are all villains."

131. "Oh my gosh, Hero, what happened?" "Poisoned."

132. "Wouldn't it be nice?" "I don't fancy prosthetics."

133. "Just shut up and listen!"

134. "There is a memorial parade for Hero tomorrow. They asked you to lead it."

135. "She turned it around... at the end."

136. "I wish that he understood how much I care for him."

137. "Civilian! He fell asleep in my lap last night, like totally zooted. It was so cute, but also very tempting. I stuck a french fry up his nose." "Wow. Did he wake up then?" "Yeah, I am sorta kidnapped right now..."

138. "The book, the sword... all pieces of the puzzle huh." "No, darling, all pieces of my game."

139. "Their death is my fault! Not your's, but mine, so quit trying to make me feel better."

140. "Once upon a time-" "Oh please, not another fairytale."

141. "If only it was that easy."

142. "We are stuck in a maze, how can you be so joyful?"

143. "Celebrate Hero, eat your cake, party into the night... but just know, I will be back."

144. "Call 911!" "Why?" "I stubbed my toe."

145. "Your jawline looks like it was gauzed over in lard." "It looks better than your hay for hair."

146. "You're my best friend." "Villain? Are you on drugs?"

147. "Lay him there and leave him. Let the rats dine on him."

148. "The point of the cow suit?" "Oh, uh, I was at a Halloween parade. You know, for children."

149. "I-i never wanted to hurt you." "I know, I wanted you to, so I allowed it."

150. "Favorite movie?" "Your death." "Ooo never heard of it, let's watch it." "*groans* Oh my gosh, you are stupid."

151. "Being a flutist is my only superpower. And being modest apparently."

152. "Your head will join my collection if yoi don't watch out."

153. "Hey, hey! Wake up, buddy. It's just a nightmare."

154. "Meh head hurts." "Yeah, you hit it pretty hard."

155. "Let's go for a ride." "On that yellow miniature school bus?" "It's a ranger you idiot."

156. "No painkillers, no bandages, perfect environment for infection to settle... I'm just gonna leave you here Villain."

157. "I save you and this is how you repay me? A prison?"

158. "What are you doing?" "Climbing a tree? No Hero, I am breaking into your house to kidnap you."

159. "I formally apologize."

160. "Of all places, Hero, you had to teleport us to a desert. A DESERT."

161. "Supervillain won't stop unless we team up." "I don't think our alliance will stop them, I think it'll just make them angrier."

162. "Stop singing or I will blow this place until even the last atom is broken into itty-bitty molecules!" "That... that is scientifically impossible."

163. "I'm a genius! Yippee!"

164. "Life isn't perfect and nor is your morals."

165. "Control yourself before you kill everyone around you."

166. "Say your goodbyes."

167. "Of all the ways I've died, drowning was by far the nicest."

168. "Love the collar. Is it for fashion purposes?" "Uh, um, uh, er, no?"

169. "You look lonely. Want some hot coco?"

170. "It is negative million out there and you expect me to come in toasty warm after fixing your power?"

171. "Are you sick?" "Yeh." "Come on in then."

172. "Civilian, don't even bother trying to save him."

173. "We have a breach!"

174. "What makes a villain's life less important than your's?"

175. "Enjoy your soup." "You poisoned it." "And you're delusional, eat up."

176. "I hate 99% of the population." "According to a meme I found, you are therefore a cat."

177. "Don't overuse your powers."

178. "This is just an unfortunate event."

179. "You look so cute when you are sleepy and barely conscious."

180. "His fever is rising."

181. "Save her, leave me. I'll-i'll get out of this somehow."

182. "Sometimes self-sacrifice isn't noble, it's selfish."

183. "You are so funny that I need my inhaler to kill you with." "That sentence was so discombobulated that I am leaving."

184. "Just for your information, I hate oranges but love grapes."

185. "Walking down the stairs shouldn't be a momental effort." "You broke both your legs."

186. "You just destroyed my life's work, don't expect me to give you a huge bear hug."

187. "Is it true that you have telekinesis?" "Yes, why?" "Go steal me a donut."

188. "You are so incredibly touch starved, Villain." "Mmm." "Tired? Go ahead and sleep, I'm here."

189. "This is for your own good, I promise."

190. "I'm cold."

191. "I don't want to move and you can't make me."

192. "I AM RETIRED! YOU DON'T NEED TO CONTINUE TO SEND ME PAMPHLETS OF THE HOTTEST HERO OF THE YEAR!"

193. "He's unconscious." "That tired, huh." "No, he passed out from blood loss."

194. "I want a kitten."

195. "I'm no scared of you, so stop acting like I am."

196. "He isn't dangerous, just scared."

197. "They won't be going anywhere for a long, long time."

198. "Hero? Hero? Oh my goodness, please wake up."

199. "Life is too short for pleasures."

200. "I hope you are happy, in the end."

#heros and villains #ask game #200 followers #thank you so much

[avengershumanresources]

blood 12 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 11 - part 13

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist (GUESS WHO FINALLY FIGURED OUT THE PLAYLIST ISSUE)

12 - a memory

You’d been in the tunnels hundreds, if not, thousands of times in your life. There were very few places you were positive you could navigate blindly, but these caves and tunnels? Someone could take away every sense you had and you’d still be able to find your way home. 

It was a little unsettling bringing Loki into your secret place. Very few people knew of the natural caves that fed into manmade tunnels (carved by your ancestor, Richard Stark, when he settled the land). 

In fact, you could only think of four people, including yourself, who could navigate the paths without becoming lost. 

There was you, Natalia (who’d originally shown you), James, and Stephen. 

Not even Peter was privy to the knowledge of these cavernous paths, covered in old magic and fake tunnels. 

The cave system was incredible. It was naturally occurring and if the history you’d dug up with Stephen was accurate, your ancestor had purposely selected the land for that reason. They were enhanced with this very action in mind. 

To reclaim the castle by surprise if an antagonistic force overtook it. 

Stephen once mentioned that history often repeated itself, but you liked to think it was more of a mimicry of the past. Similar, but never the same. 

King Richard Stark the First never dealt with any serious threats to his reign. He lived a long life, had many children with his beloved wife, and died a very old man with his family at his bedside. 

His son, however, King Emil Stark, faced many problems in his short reign. He was nearly murdered by his own brother, but escaped the plot using these very tunnels. 

Later, he took back the castle with regional support and a surprise caravan of soldiers marched through one of the larger sections of the cave system. 

You’d assumed and so had Stephen, when you’d read about the tale, that Richard had only told his eldest son. Why else had he been able to catch the younger brother by surprise? 

But why had Richard only told one son? 

Emil took the knowledge to his grave, but one of the soldiers had a son, who went with his father long after the battle to explore. That son had another son, and so on until one day, a red haired daughter was born. 

That daughter was caught sneaking bread from the kitchens and when you protected her and gave her extra food, she taught you. 

It was a funny thing, time. Cyclical, ever changing, but in the end, the fates would do as they pleased. How these tunnels led Nat into your life. How these tunnels have you freedom to explore and learn the land around you. How these tunnels brought the most important person into your life. 

(—)

The first time you met Stephen Strange, you were sixteen years old. 

By that point, you’d scared off almost every Master who’d passed the threshold of your castle. Some complained you asked too many questions, others tried to restrict knowledge of the dark and dastardly from you, one insisted a princess was to be simple minded and obedient.

That was the last one you’d chased off after casually bringing the fact up during dinner and letting Pepper deal with the rest. 

This was long before Morgan. This was when Peter was still a little boy and you were a girl still trying to figure out your place in a world that didn’t value or respect you.  

The first time you met Stephen Strange was ten days before he was due to arrive, officially.

You hadn’t known it was him at first. He’d been sitting in the woods on a stump, reading a book on local geography when you passed him on your way back to the tunnels that threaded their way through the forest to the castle. You and Natalia had spent the last few years wreaking havoc on the guard, slipping away without a word, only to reappear in a pub later that night. 

You noted the odd fellow, out of place in the massive woods but not entirely unexpected and paused to do a double take. 

“What are you reading?” 

He peered up from his book, a brow quirked in her direction. 

“What?” 

You took a few steps closer. He didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons. Though Natalia would later reprimand you for being too trusting of strangers. 

“What are you reading?” you repeated, having read the title and still wondering why someone would spend a beautiful afternoon such as that one, in the forest, alone, reading a book on geography. 

“A book on geography,” he answered, folding the tome half shut and pointing a finger to the cover. “Geo-graph-y.”

He recited the word slowly, as if you couldn’t understand reading or letters. 

“I know what it says,” you huffed, a little indignant at his tone. Did you look like some lowly peasant who couldn’t read? Glancing at your clothes you frowned. A simple frock.

Oh. Maybe you did. 

“Why are you all the way out here?” you asked again, a little irritated when he went back to the book and ignored her. 

“It’s quiet,” he lowered the book again, staring at you over the edge of the pages. “Or rather it was.”

“No one passes through here, usually,” you hummed, glancing around. “It’s a bit depressing though, isn’t it? The trees are blocking all of the sun.”

“I don’t need sunlight,” he stated cryptically and you noted his distinct robes of blue. 

Kamar-Taj. 

“Are you a sorcerer?” you asked, settling across from him on a mossy rock and leaning forward. “You’re a little young aren’t you?” 

“I’m eighteen,” he shot back sharply. “I’ve been training my whole life. That’s considered more than experienced at this point.”

“So you are a sorcerer,” you confirmed with a sly smirk. “They’re getting a new Master Sorcerer up at the castle soon. Maybe you know him? Master Strange?” 

If he knew the name, he made no indication and instead let out a long sigh, standing and closing his book. 

“Never heard of him,” he replied curtly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He started to move toward one of the paths in the forest, but you caught up to him and followed closely behind. 

“Why were you out here?” you asked curiously, trodding behind in the footprints he left behind. 

“I told you, for peace,” he stated, a little exasperation to his tone. 

Maybe that’s why you couldn’t hold a Master at the castle for very long, they frowned on questions and maybe Kamar-Taj taught them all to be sticks in the mud. 

“You’re reading a book on geography,” you repeated. “Local geography if I recall?”

Your eyes fell on the book in his hand and he immediately shoved it to his chest, blocking it from view and continuing his path. 

“You’re certainly not from around here,” you continued musing, plucking a flower from a nearby plant and twirling it between your fingers. He stopped and looked over at her. 

“How can you tell?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Your accent is a little off,” you noted with a little chuckle. “It sounds like it’s from the border, where Kamar-Taj is located.”

“I was in Asgard,” he countered and you shrugged. 

“Just to visit I’m sure,” you insisted and he didn’t reply. You twirled the flower again, giving it a small sniff. “I’m betting you were looking for the caves, weren’t you?” 

His irritated expression fell and you walked up, tucking the flower behind his ear and grabbing his wrist. 

“Here’s the thing, I’ve read that book and it’s ridiculously outdated and inaccurate,” you continued, pulling him back the direction you just came. “You see, Richard Stark, the son of Arthur Stark the Conqueror, had this whole region charted when he sought to build his fortress.”

“Yes, and this book is that report,” the boy insisted quickly and you laughed, much to his annoyance. “Why would he have built the castle if the report was inaccurate?”

“There was an accurate report at some point,” you explained, reaching and snatching the book up. You flipped through the pages until you found the section on the cave systems. “There’s a little truth to this, some of the tunnels are accurate but the entrances are all wrong.”

“But given the layout of the land-,” he protested and you shook your head.

“Just follow me,” you led the way past the stump he’d been sitting on toward the mouth of one of the well memorized tunnels into the castle. “They can go on for miles, so you have to be careful.”

“How do you know?” he challenged, sizing you over. 

You paused. The tunnels were a closely guarded secret between you and Natalia, whose late father had passed the knowledge down to her. Aside from the serious security risk, you knew nothing of this boy or his past. So you stayed vague. 

“I’ve explored them a few times,” you answered casually, hopping down into one of the smaller openings and calling for him to follow behind. 

The two of you spent a few hours exploring areas even you hadn’t been familiar with. He pointed out a few magic runes, explaining their meaning as best he could (some were completely foreign to both of you) and not looking too annoyed when you peppered him with questions. 

“Are you noble?” he finally asked when you walked him from the structure back toward the forest. “You’re very well read.”

“I like books,” you answered with a smile. “My father taught me to read at a young age and I never stopped.”

It was a half answer and a full truth, satisfying enough for him because he nodded.

“I’m in town for a few more nights,” he looked hesitant, clearing his throat nervously. “If you’d like to stop by the inn?” 

Excitement sparked in your chest. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” you promised, a big grin on your face that was decidedly not very ladylike. “Who should I ask for?” 

“Stephen,” he replied. “Ask for Stephen.”

(—)

“I can feel Amora’s magic,” Loki stated, pausing in the tunnel and looking around. “How certain are you of those wards?” 

Stephen’s hand reached and lightly touched one of the intricately carved runes in the tunnel wall. He paused, his expression moving from its usual frustration in failing to recognize the pattern to surprise. 

“They never faltered when I tried experimenting,” he assured the prince. 

“And many Master Sorcerer’s before you have tried completely sealing the castle,” you added, finally lowering your hood to look between the men. “It’s impossible. The runes are very old magic.”

Loki said something, but you didn’t hear him, instead you were taken by surprise when Stephen turned and flipped the amulet around your neck around to study the runes carved into the back. 

“By the Gods,” he murmured, holding it up to the wall. “It’s seidr.”

You looked between the two symbols. Nearly identical with a few alterations, likely given a difference between the spells, but the base characters were perfect copies. 

“Impossible, seidr was eliminated before this castle was built,” Loki insisted. “My grandfather completed the task and died before Arthur Stark even dreamed of this land.”

“It’d explain why traditional magic can’t touch it,” you pointed out. 

“And why you can navigate the cave system so flawlessly,” Stephen reminded you. “We’ve found wings and sub-tunnels that defy geological principals…”

“Then it’s a promising omen,” Loki stated firmly. “We continue on with our task, remove Amora and reclaim the kingdom.”

(—)

“I can’t stay for long,” you explained a few days after your initial meeting. The ball to celebrate the new sorcerer was that evening and your maid had been nagging you all morning about getting a proper bath and dressing done for the event. 

She’d heard the sorcerer was quite the looker. 

Gods if you cared.

“I’m due to leave tonight as well,” he replied quietly. “I wanted to give you something to remember me.”

He handed you a book, “The Complete History of the Vanir Valley”.

“I might have uh, borrowed it from Kamar-Taj before I left,” he explained sheepishly. “It’s a very good book and it mentions this region and some of the more ancient history involved with it. Given your knowledge of the geography and geology…”

You clutched the book to your chest, absolutely moved by the young man’s kind gesture. Despite only knowing him a little over a week, you’d come to respect and enjoy his company on your adventures. He’d even met Nat, who admitted she enjoyed his sharp wit and jokes- a rare acknowledgment by the hardened thief.

“Do you have to go?” you asked quietly. “There’s so much more to explore…”

“I’m due to report to my next assignment,” he kicked at a nearby stick. “I’ll write. You live near the village? I’ll send a raven when I arrive.”

“I’ll miss you, Stephen,” you mumbled, trying to blink back a few tears. This stupid boy was the first person who hadn’t looked at you and completely rejected your intelligence. He listened and discussed philosophy and magic and history and science and…

He was leaving. 

“Our paths will cross again, I’m sure,” he stated with a curt nod, pausing, unsure what to do with himself. He settled on leaning in and pressing a quick peck to your cheek, his face burning bright red when he pulled away. “Goodbye.”

He murmured your name like a soft prayer before starting back down the pathway toward the village. 

The entire time you knew him, Stephen never admitted if he knew you were the princess the whole time or if it had taken him by surprise as well. 

But the moment you saw him enter the ball room, you had to hold onto a nearby table to stop yourself from tumbling forward in shock. 

Master Stephen Strange. 

“You didn’t tell me you were the new Master,” you challenged, catching him by the elbow once introductions had been made and he was mingling between rounds of dancing. You guided him toward the edge of the room, ignoring the incredulous looks and whispers being shot in your direction.

“You didn’t tell me you were the princess,” he countered, a smirk on his lips, eyes wandering toward the dancers moving across the floor. 

“You already knew, you must have,” you narrowed your gaze suspiciously at him. “‘Our paths will cross again’, that was nonsense then?” 

“Would you like to dance?” he offered an arm, already pulling you toward the dance floor. You relented, continuing to badger him while he hummed and didn’t directly acknowledge your accusations.

“Admit it, you knew!” 

“The roasted duck is incredibly tender, is that a regional recipe or how the ducks are bred?” 

“The cook marinates it for two days,” you answered briefly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Your father mentioned your last Master called you simple?” 

“In so many words.”

“Their loss is my gain, I have a phenomenal collection of books you can read if you’d like.”

“I’m not letting this go,” you started back, asking him about the collection in detail, and eventually, letting it go. 

Your new friend was now your tutor and companion within the walls of the castle, as well as outside of it. 

You weren’t one to tempt the fates too much.

(—)

The path into the castle from where you had entered had three break off points. One lead to the hall by your quarters, the second led to the throne room and the third led down to the kitchens. 

For obvious reasons, the three of you decided on the kitchens, hoping to slip in unnoticed with the general chaos outside the castle. 

Before exiting the security of the tunnel, you paused, fingers drifting over the stone walls, praying their security and strength would somehow leech into you. 

“I didn’t know it was you,” Stephen murmured, leaning into your shoulder while Loki scouted ahead. 

“What?” you blinked up at him. 

“The ball,” he explained quietly. “When I first arrived, you asked if I knew and I didn’t. I was just as surprised as you were.”

Dumbfounded you turned to face him, chests nearly pressed together from the small space. 

“You acted like you had,” you scowled at him. “I was furious for months.”

“I know,” he frowned sympathetically. “But you were so impressed, because truly, you hid it well.”

“Aside from being well read,” you challenged and he shook his head. 

“There are plenty of non-royal nobles who can read a good book,” he countered softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “I was transfixed by such a stunning creature with an equally stunning mind. Would you believe me if I said it was love at first sight? I almost turned down the post.”

“Will you two quit it and get a move on?” Loki hissed back into the tunnel. “It’s clear.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you whispered, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Gods, I’m glad I didn’t either.”

(—)

13 - a surprise 

(--)

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#doctor strange #Stephen Strange #Doctor Stephen Strange #Dr Strange #dr. strange #dr stephen strange #dr strange fanfiction #dr strange/reader #dr strange x reader #dr. strange/reader #Dr. stephen strange/reader #dr. stephen strange #dr. strange x reader #reader insert #reader fic #Female reader #stark!reader #stark!daughter #fantasy marvel au #fantasy au marvel #marvel au #MCU #MCU au