#Head in hands. Past Owl people aren’t gonna read this if you just leave it in drafts

[darklight-owl]

Multifandom...? Nah man I'm a Fandom Traitor. I stay in a single fandom long enough to establish my presence there and then immediately switch to another one leaving my followers confused.

[tarydarrington]

"Alright, everyone," Veth says with authority, and everyone else quiets down. "Tomorrow is the big day."

Caleb sighs and ducks behind his drink. There is a speech coming. This is exactly the sort of ceremony he had hoped to avoid by having this get-together at his home rather than the bar Veth had suggested. It's only five of them, tonight; Beauregard and Yasha are always in town, and Veth had insisted on coming. And Essek, of course. He's not sure when the elf's presence at his side became an of course, but in a careful way, he likes it.

“As the person in this world who cares the most about Caleb--”

Essek silently quirks an eyebrow at that, and it doesn’t get past Veth.

“Alright, come on, just because you got him into bed and I didn’t doesn’t mean--”

Caleb clears his throat loudly, and Veth’s smile snaps back into place.

“As Caleb’s oldest, dearest, truest friend,” she says, and Essek manages to look dignified even while rolling his eyes, “it is my humble duty to tell you all how amazing he is on this momentous occasion.”

“You know, I am starting a new job, not getting married,” Caleb murmurs in her direction.

“And we’re all very proud of you!” Veth replies.

Caleb takes a long drink as the others chime in with agreement. Yasha shoots him a sympathetic look, and he returns a tight smile.

“Come on, man,” Beau says from where she leans against the table, “aren’t you excited, at all?”

He takes a long breath. Excited is a word for it. Ready to vomit at a moment’s notice is perhaps more accurate. The Soltryce Academy is tricky. He’s been back there a few times in recent weeks, for interviews and preparation, and each time, it’s felt like walking through a dream of a place the mind could not quite capture properly.

For whatever purpose, Trent has always wanted Caleb - Bren - to follow in his footsteps. Those footsteps feel a touch too literal in those hallways.

“Caleb?” Beau’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. “You still with us?”

He shakes his head. "Ja. Entschuldigung. There is a lot to think about."

Veth lowers her glass, frowning. "Nobody threatened you, did they? Because I'll have words with them."

"No, nothing like that." Not lately, anyway. He sets his own drink down on the table. "Just a bit worried, perhaps."

"Worried about what?" Beau asks flatly.

Caleb lets out a long breath, looking down at the floor. Where to begin? He’s worried that everything will go wrong. Worried that he’ll turn up with his clothes on backwards, or spill coffee down the front of his shirt, or trip over his words before the lesson even starts. Worried, most of all, about what comes after.

“I hope that I will not…” He searches for the right words. “I hope that I will be able to serve my students well enough,” he settles on. “The examples I have had were, ah….” Trent Ikithon is not one he wishes to emulate.

Essek frowns. “Carve your own path,” he says. “Someone as brilliant as you are needs no one to emulate.”

“Ja, well, that is fine for throwing together a spell or two, but I imagine the students will need a little more structure.” These are young minds. Any mistakes he makes will stick with them. He, of all people, knows just how much.

“Maybe you could ask them what they want from you,” Yasha pipes up. “You know, make sure you’re doing alright.”

Caleb lets out a long sigh. “Ja, maybe. That is a good idea.” Of course, it also requires that the students in question trust him enough to give him a straight answer.

They sit in relative silence for a moment, working away at their drinks. He hopes Veth doesn’t resent him for stepping on the atmosphere.

“Seriously, man, you’re gonna be great.” Beau knocks back the rest of her drink. “You’re already the best professor I’ve ever known.”

“I do not think the owl counts as a point of comparison,” Caleb deadpans. “Regardless, I will settle for not making a fool of myself for a first impression. That will be difficult enough.”

Beau shrugs, and reaches over to refill her glass. There’s a devious look in her eye that makes him nervous. "So why don't you practice?" she asks.

Caleb looks at her warily. "Practice?"

"Yeah, man." She gestures at the others. "Here's your class. Teach us something."

Before he can object, she’s already begun to pull an armchair toward the coffee table in the center of the room. Soon enough, three more seats have joined it, all on the same side. She throws her arms wide with a challenging grin.

“First day,” she says. “Don’t be late.” With that, she flops down onto the rightmost chair.

Transfixed in bemusement, Caleb watches as Yasha and Veth rush to occupy the next two seats in the makeshift classroom. The Expositor commands a room, it seems.

“Are you comfortable with this?” Essek murmurs as he brushes past as well. “I am willing to be the, ah... wet blanket, if need be.”

Caleb sighs, briefly twining their fingers together and squeezing once before letting him go. “Not comfortable, no, but it’s not a bad idea.”

Someone wolf whistles from the peanut gallery, and Caleb turns a fond glare on them all. All three of them are, of course, the picture of innocence. He shakes his head as Essek settles down primly in the last remaining chair. It’s not exactly the picture of an academic setting, with their glasses of half-finished booze still on the table in front of them and the lot of them draped over armchairs and ottomans.

“Alright,” says Beau, who has not even bothered to put her drink down. She makes a trilling sound that he thinks is probably meant to emulate a school bell. “Hit us.”

"We will be brutally honest," Veth promises. "Which means we will tell you honestly how perfect you are."

"Or if there's anything you could do better," Yasha adds.

Caleb stares back at them. It’s nothing he hasn’t gone over in his own head a hundred times. Even once or twice, to a captive audience of cats. It’s a short class. It will be over before he knows it.

The others look up at him expectantly. Watching him. Waiting. Caleb clears his throat.

"I, ah... feel a bit silly,” he admits.

Without a word, Essek waves a hand, and the familiar faces before him shift to those of strangers.

It’s almost embarrassing how much it helps. Caleb takes a deep breath and lets it out, running through the lesson plan in his head.

"Guten Morgen, class, I am, ah… Professor Widogast." It's the first time he's said that particular pair of words out loud.

"Whoo!" the student who is not Veth shouts.

"Yeah!" the student who is not Beau chimes in.

Caleb gives them a look and straightens his coat. "This is Introductory Transmutation, in room 142, so if you are all in the correct place--"

"Professor?" The student who is not Yasha raises her hand.

"Ah, ja, Miss…"

"Lionett."

Not-Beau slaps a hand over her own mouth and mutters, “Holy shit,” into it.

“Was that too much?” not-Yasha whispers.

“Babe, it was so hot,” not-Beau hisses back.

Caleb clears his throat. "Miss Lionett, do you have a question?"

Not-Yasha seems to suddenly remember her role, and she folds her hands in her lap. "No," she says, "I have to use the bathroom."

Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose as not-Beau bites back a giggle. “Ja, okay, go.”

“Don’t let her go!” not-Veth interjects. “She knew it was almost time for class; she should have gone earlier.”

“Dude, if she has to pee then she has to pee,” not-Beau protests.

Pointedly, not-Essek raises his hand.

Caleb lets himself sigh with relief. “Ja, Master…?”

“Gross, Professor, we don’t need to know about your weird sex dynamics,” not-Beau says.

Not-Essek’s face blooms red, and Caleb presses a hand to his face to hide the same. “You know very well, Beauregard, that it is an honorific.”

Not-Beau shrugs, looking very pleased with herself as she takes another sip of her drink. Not-Essek glares very polite daggers at her before clearing his throat.

“Thelyss,” he answers.

Beau cups both hands around her mouth and boos.

“No, it’s better that he’s honest,” Veth says. “We already know he’s a terrible actor.”

“Herr Thelyss,” Caleb says, raising his voice above the heckling. “Do you have a question?”

Essek leans forward, resting his elbows on the table in a gesture that’s much too endearing. “I wondered what you will be teaching us today, Professor Widogast.”

Caleb tries not to dwell on the way the title hits differently on Essek’s voice, instead straightening up and waving one hand behind him. An illusory chalkboard appears in the air behind him to polite applause from Veth and Yasha. Back on track.

“Well, this is your first day,” he says. “So I know that - Beauregard, please remove your feet from the table - I know that most of your other teachers will be spending time going over the material that you will be covering this semester, but, ah…” What is he meant to be doing with his hands? They feel limp if they’re at his sides, but too formal behind his back and too awkward in front of him. Perhaps he should have a lectern? Somewhere to rest them, or shuffle with papers?

His gaze drifts back to his “students,” who all blink back at him expectantly. Essek inclines his head as though to prompt him on. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, hoping it will do for now.

“Right,” he continues. “Ja, so I thought we would take a look at something more practical to start. We will leave the reading for tomorrow; you have enough of that today.”

He waves his hands again, and behind him, a set of runes and diagrams appears on the chalkboard. Above it is written the word Prestidigitation.

“So, ah, partner up,” he orders. “Introduce yourselves. If there is someone on their own, a group of three is perfectly acceptable.”

“I call Miss Lionett,” Beau shouts, grabbing Yasha’s hand.

“Can I go to the bathroom, first?” Yasha asks.

Caleb gives her an incredulous look.

“I really do need to go,” she says.

He gestures towards the hallway, and she shuffles off. In the meantime, Veth and Essek scoot their chairs closer together. Caleb’s gaze lingers questioningly on Beau, who shakes her head.

“She’s not learning anything tonight, man. Go ahead.”

“Ja, okay,” he says distantly.

It feels silly, explaining the spell to this motley crew. Beau has leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes glassy, clearly not paying an ounce of attention. Essek has produced a piece of paper upon which Veth occasionally scribbles, though the way he periodically nods approval at Caleb’s points betrays his own prior knowledge of the subject. After a few minutes, Yasha returns and attempts to take down notes of her own.

“Is everyone following along?” he asks after a while, knowing it’s a futile question.

“Yep,” Beau lies.

“Hmm.” Yasha hums.

“Perfectly,” Essek says.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” Veth confirms with a wink.

He continues, running them through the various applications one by one. Beau gives him an occasional “uh huh” that he believes not one bit. At one point, he catches Essek take a passing glance at Veth’s paper, widen his eyes, and lean forward to murmur something to her. He isn’t sure he wants to know what that’s about.

“Let’s keep focused, please, everyone,” he reminds them.

Essek waves a hand to signal him to continue. Nothing too scandalous, then. He goes through the final few points, then comes to stop in front of the chalkboard, hands awkwardly clasped again.

“Okay, that is it,” he says. “You have as much time as you require to finish the spell, and when you are finished, I would like one person from each group to demonstrate.”

He gives the others a questioning look. It’s one of the points he’s most worried about. A way to take pressure off some of the slower students could just as easily be a way to unintentionally foster competition and resentment. But none of them objects, so he gives them another nod.

“I suppose we should skip the demonstration portion,” he mumbles.

“I can do it,” Yasha chirps. Without warning, she swings the massive greatsword from her back and sinks the tip into the table, making the others jump. “I made a small mark.”

Caleb covers his eyes with one hand. “Ja, will it go away in one hour?”

Yasha silently places her drink down over the indentation. Caleb sighs. It isn’t as though he has very many guests, anyway.

“I can probably swing producing an odor, for you,” Beau offers. “But I figure you probably don’t want that.”

He ignores her, and instead gives Essek a tight smile.

“Well, would my second group care to demonstrate?”

Beau jerks a thumb in Essek’s direction and fake-coughs to Yasha, “Teacher’s pet.”

Essek ignores her and sits back, fingers working in those little patterns he draws when something has piqued his curiosity. “I believe so,” he says, and nods to Veth.

Caleb raises his eyebrows as all eyes turn to Veth. Though Essek had the courtesy to leave her a halfling, her features and coloring are entirely different - but that wide smile as she stands and rubs both hands together would give her away, no matter the face it was set in. And as Beau swears under her breath, Yasha and Caleb look on wide-eyed, and Essek watches with a smirk, she pulls her hands apart to let loose a shower of sparks.

“You… learned the spell,” Caleb says numbly. He hadn’t imagined any of them were actually paying attention.

“It was an excellent lesson!” Veth replies.

As she takes her seat again, Beau and Yasha give her a smattering of stunned applause. Essek clears his throat pointedly.

“And I guess, maybe, Essek gave me one pointer,” Veth amends with an eye-roll.

“Hey, so your partner system worked,” Yasha points out.

It had. The lesson had worked, the procedure had worked - his teaching had worked. There’s still a little voice in his head reminding him that Veth is brilliant, and an adult, and perfectly capable of learning things like this without even so much as his help - but he can’t deny that it’s his guidance that taught her this particular spell. ‘An excellent lesson,’ Veth had said. In this moment, he’s inclined to believe it might be half true. Caleb realizes very suddenly that he’s beaming.

With a snap of his fingers, Essek dispels the disguises. The soft smile on his face - his real face, and Caleb always misses it dearly when it’s hidden - says he hasn’t failed to notice Caleb’s relief.

“Danke, all of you,” he says sheepishly, waving a hand to vanish the chalkboard.

“Thank you!” Veth says. “For the shiny new spell and for the masterclass in professoring.”

“You were really good,” Yasha agrees. “I’m, uh... I’m sorry about the table.”

He dips his head to hide the way his face is flushing. They exaggerate, the lot of them. But there is something to be said for having friends who will say such things. “Ja, well,” he says, “I am not convinced it will translate to an actual class, but I will hope.”

Beau takes another swig of her drink, wiping her mouth afterwards. “Dude, we were the worst and you still managed to teach somebody something,” she says. “Those kids have nothing on us. You got this.”

He offers her a smile, retrieving his glass from the table as Yasha, Veth, and Essek do the same. He hopes it’s true. He hopes that, separate entirely from his ability to teach them the how of magic, he will be able to keep them safe. That he will be able to keep from passing on any damage he received in his own time in those halls.

He catches Essek’s eye, and the knowing look there puts some of the anxious buzzing to rest. He will be better. He will struggle, most likely. He will stumble, inevitably. But he will give better than he got. He’s been practicing that part for years.

“To Professor Widogast!” Veth shouts, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Professor Widogast,” the others echo, and Caleb smiles.

“To my very good friends,” he replies.

“To the hottest professor the Soltryce Academy has ever seen,” Veth shouts in response, and Caleb nearly chokes on his drink when Essek casually clinks his glass against hers with a nod.

They drink together. Caleb thinks, just a little bit, he might be excited.

-

thanks @peregrintook for reading this over and telling me it wasn't the worst thing i had ever written (in much more generous words than that), and @saturdaysky for catching me red-handed last time i deleted it and being so kind about it 💜

[bokuroskitten]

𝔅𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥

�� you and kuroo have been together for years. Bokuto is his closest ally, so what happens when theres a breach.

† genre/pairing: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI Yakuza AU, Bokuto Koutarou x Fem!Reader.

† word count: 4.2k

† warnings: dubcon (corersion / power imbalance), pining, fingering (f!receiving), creampie, unproctected sex, aftercare if you squint, possessive behaviour.

❦ this lovely piece is for @sugawara-sweetheart decadence collab! I’m slipping in right before the due date hehe! Please check out all the other amazing pieces in collab. Also shoutout to @semisgroupie for beta reading this for me! Ily dee ❦ please let me know what you all think!

You can still remember it, the day Kuroo finally asked to be your boyfriend. Standing outside of the gym, still sweaty from practice. He had come all the way to Fukurodani Academy from his college in Tokyo just to make sure he caught you leaving the gym.

He had been so nervous, taking your hand into his and giving you that classic smirk you loved so dearly.

“I know you have a volleyball team to run, but do you think you have time for a boyfriend too?”

You had been together ever since, even when you graduated, even when Kuroo had to drop out to take over for his father, even when you discovered his father ran a large chunk of the Japanese Yakuza’s underground division.

Kuroo had always been careful, he never brought that life home to you. You were his angel, his precious kitten. Whatever hardships, shady dealings, and dangerous activity he had to do was kept away from home. Away from you at any and all costs.

His job and his life with you was kept separate, for your safety mostly. He has enemies on the other side that would do anything to get their hands on the great Kuroo Tetsuro’s little fiancé and that alone was enough for Kuroo to keep you safe, hidden, and protected with the help of his closest allies.

Which consisted of Bokuto Koutarou. You were already well acquainted with the silver owl, considering the two of you had gone to the same high school. Bokuto had gone into the Yakuza around the same time Kuroo did, easily making a name for himself so his father could enjoy the rest of his life without crime attached to his name. Kuroo and Bokuto stayed close, and got even closer when they had to step into this lifestyle.

Allies were important to have, Kuroo and Bokuto knew this and used their long term friendship to their advantage. Bokuto was one of the only people who knew exactly who you were, your true identity and your relationship to Kuroo. He was to look after you if Kuroo had any “business trips” or had to suddenly leave for “meetings.” Kuroo trusted him to keep you safe, and Bokuto promised to do just that.

What Bokuto hadn’t expected was to fall for you.

He had always seen you like a cute underclassman, always trying your hardest to make everyone happy. Never once did he think he’d start to notice the way your hips swayed when you walked, or how plump your lips were when you applied lip gloss.

It had to be your fault. Maybe you were doing this all on purpose. Bokuto knew himself, and he knew he wasn’t the type of person to fall for his best friend's fiance. So that means it had to be you, maybe you were trying to get his attention when you wore those pretty skirts, maybe you were trying to pull him in when you batted your lashes at him.

Bokuto couldn’t take it anymore, not when he started staring at you a little longer than he should, not when he started to get hard in your presence. Especially not when he started to fuck his fist late at night, hips humping wildly into his palm as your name vibrated off his lips.

So he decided to do something about it. The opportunity presented itself when Kuroo called him up, told him he had some last-minute business to attend to and if he could stay the night with you just in case. Of course, Bokuto agreed, reassuring him that you would be completely safe with him.

So that’s how the two of you ended up here, on the couch late into the evening. You were already dozing off, nuzzling your face into a pillow while your legs laid across Bokuto’s lap. Although a movie had been playing, his amber eyes were locked on your legs. He ate up the surface of your skin, eyes lingering until they landed on your crotch which was currently covered in a pair of satin red pajama bottoms.

The ones Kuroo had bought you for your last anniversary.

Bokuto could feel his heart picking up in speed as he smoothed his palm over your leg. Which had been resting on your knee, but he moved it up, rubbing soft circles into your thigh. You stirred a bit, a yawn slipping past your lips.

“Bo, m’sleepy, gunna go to bed.”

He felt his chest tighten, along with the grip he had on your thigh. It made you squirm.

“Don’t go just yet Birdy. Stay up a little longer, yea? We can watch whatever you want.”

“I won’t stay awake.” You rebuttal, attempting to pull your legs away from Bokuto’s lap.

He worked quickly, deciding on tickling your leg. You jolted from the suddenness of the attack, giggles and whines leaving your lips in streams as Bokuto persisted. He worked his way over you, fingers travelling up your sides and continuing the tickling until his hands found your hips.

Your eyes were sparkling with tears when he finally finished the onslaught, chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. That task only seemed more complicated when Bokuto’s large palms pressed your hips further into the couch, his much larger figure looming over you.

In the dimness of the living room, his eyes looked different. Lit up by only the subtle glow of the tv. His pupils were blown out, darting between you and your chest. You suddenly became very aware of his piercing gaze, clearing your throat which made his eyes shoot back up to meet yours.

“Koutarou… is something wrong?”

Bokuto had to hold back a moan at the sweet sound of your pretty little voice. Koutarou. His first name so easily slips off your tongue as if you already belong to him. The scar on the corner of his lip twitched when he grinned down at you.

Before you could ask him again his lips were on yours, smothering any words that threatened to question him again. Your eyes widened, shock and confusion and an odd sense of warmth filling your stomach.

You did the first thing that came to mind, you squirmed, whimpered beneath him.

Wrong. This is all wrong. Bokuto was your senpai, a friend, an ally.

What if Kuroo came home?

“B-Bo--” you managed to squeak out when his lips finally left your own, only to begin pressing wet kisses along your jaw, down your chin. Everything was suddenly a little hazy, and you couldn’t tell whether this sensation was fear or something else.

Something that you had only felt for Kuroo for as long as you could remember.

You snapped back into reality when his lips got dangerously close to your chest, lips threatening to pass the hem of the satin neckline. You yelped, fingers going into Bokuto’s hair and giving a harsh tug.

“B-Bokuto! What are--”

“Birdy--” There was a growl in his tone, one that made your fingertips go numb and your breath caught in your throat.

When he looked back at you he didn’t quite look like himself. This is what you pictured Bokuto looked like on the job. Eyes cold, lips held in a stern line. Not a single speckle of that sparkling gold that his orbs usually held. No traces of a grin that his lips usually graced.

This was Bokuto Koutaruo, a businessman, a potential threat, a possible killer.

“Birdy.” He repeated again, softer this time. He must have felt the way you tensed, the way you sunk further into the couch beneath him. He brought his face close to yours once again and to his displeasure you let out a soft whimper.

“Don’t be scared of me baby, I’d never hurt you…”

“But--”

“But what, pretty, what's the matter, hm? Don’t you want me to show you how much I care about you… don’t you wanna feel special…”

His words were slightly slurred, or so they seemed in your head. His tongue was against your ear, tracing along your earlobe as his warm breath fanned against your skin.

It was a familiar scent, bubblegum. Bokuto’s favourite. It seemed too sweet so close to your nose.

His hands smoothed up your sides, thumbs just inches away from slipping up your tank top and it had goosebumps forming all along your skin.

Wrong.

“We can’t.” You muttered, voice sounding much weaker than you wanted it to when Bokuto pressed another kiss behind your ear.

“Why not?” He was relentless, one knee slowly wedging itself between your thighs despite the way you were squirming.

“Kuroo--”

“Kuroo wants me to take care of you Birdy, and I’m doing just that, aren’t I?” You yelped softly when his teeth suddenly sunk into the flesh of your collarbone. When had he moved down so much? Why hadn’t you noticed his sliver spikes tickling your chin or the way his palms had begun to slide the silky material up your skin.

“I’m taking care of you by makin’ you feel good…”

“But--”

“Kuroo’s gonna be happy…” Bokuto continues, his words suddenly sound distant, your body unbelievably hot as his lips find the tops of your breasts. “His pretty kitty is gonna feel safe and pleased when he gets home…”

Your fingers were no longer lost in Bokuto’s hair, rather they were held loosely above your head, one of his big palms keeping them anchored there as he lifted himself.

You whined, the sudden loss of contact making goosebumps rise along your flesh.

Bokuto had a hard time keeping his grin to himself. Your lips were in a small pout, body squirming, eyes holding a little bit of confusion but most of all.

Desire.

He would get you there. He would hear it.

“I want you Koutaruo .”

“Your heart’s beating really fast.” Bokuto’s voice was low, nothing more than a whisper behind the static of the tv. It made a lump form in your chest.

Your chest tightened the further he pulled away from you. You weren’t exactly sure what you wanted, but you knew you didn’t want him to leave.

“Koutarou.”

There it was.

He leaned back in, his large palm sliding away from your wrists and down your arm instead. All the way down until he cupped your cheek in a large palm. His thumb swiped along your bottom lip.

He had to hold back a groan when your lips opened up just a sliver when your tongue threatened to touch his thumb.

“Let me take care of you, Birdy.”

“Will Kuroo really be okay with it?”

Your voice shook, soft and sweet and oh so innocent. Naive. Adorable.

Bokuto couldn’t wait to have you all to himself. Clearly, Kuroo hadn’t taught you well enough. But Bokuto would, he would teach you to stay away from guys like him.

“Course he will, baby, he always wants what's best for you, isn't that right?”

All you had to do was nod. A gentle, subtle nod. And Bokuto’s lips were back on yours. It was a deep kiss, pressed tightly to your lips and suppressing any chance of denial. Your fingers were back in his hair, but you didn’t tug this time.

Rather you just ran your fingers through silver locks. A bit stiff from the gel, and yet so very soft.

Soft like Kuroo’s.

“Spread your legs, angel.” That dizzy feeling was back when Bokuto’s words vibrated against your lips. Your legs spread open despite your confusion. They were commanded, working on their own.

Working because of the strings Bokuto has somehow placed on them.

“Good girl.” You shivered. That’s what Kuroo always called you.

Was it him speaking to you?

Bokuto was holding back a groan. He should have felt sick to his stomach, looking down at you between his legs with teary eyes and a slightly confused expression. He should have been thinking of Kuroo, his best friend, ally.

But instead, he just felt himself harden, licking along his lower lip and bringing his large palm to cup your sex. You were so warm, even through the fabric of your shorts.

He rubbed it, slow and soft, his eyes widening as he watched you, twitching and whimpering. You were already becoming so pliant, hips rubbing back into his palm. The longer it went on, the warmer you got.

He was so excited to split you open.

“Tell me what you want.” Bokuto looked into your eyes, waited. He knew the words were there on the tip of your tongue.

“C-Can you…” It was so cute, hearing you stutter over yourself despite the way you shamelessly pressed into his hand.

“Can you touch me, Kou...”

Finally he released his groan, loud and guttural. He moved his hands only a moment, just long enough to grip the hem of your shorts. In one swoop they were off your trembling thighs, discarded on the floor.

You were even more beautiful than Bokuto had imagined, one palm covering your flustered face while your thighs glistened in the dim glow of the tv. And there was your cunt, folds slightly swollen and shiny with your desire.

He would have taken a picture if he could have but that could be saved for another time.

“You’re so pretty baby, you’ve got the perfect little cunt.” Bokuto said with one of his signature grins, the ones that used to make your heart flutter back in high school when he would score a point.

His fingers were gentle, rubbing one large strip along your slit. Slowly he split open your lips, holding back the urge to drool. There was your perfect hole, fluttering around nothing.

Basically beckoning him.

“S-Stop staring Kou…” your voice was so whiny, so soft as you looked at him through tear clumped lashes. He hushed you softly, one palm on your cheek so he could have a better view of your face.

He just had to see what you looked like when he finally pressed inside.

“Can’t help it Birdy, you’re just so beautiful…” His thumb pushed past your bottom lip at the same time he pressed two thick fingers into your pussy. Your gasp was adorable, lips quickly latching onto his thumb to hide the whines.

His fingers alone were enough to cause a slight burn, the stretch feeling so much different than the one Kuroo could provide for you. It made you press your hips into his touch, your trembling fingers gripping his wrist with desperation.

Bokuto bit his lip, slowly pumping his fingers in and out. He would push all the way in until he reached his knuckles, allowing the cold surface of his rings to make you yelp every time before pulling out to just his fingertips.

He kept this pace until your hips began to match it, your adorable little body humping along his fingers as you tried your very best to keep yourself quiet.

Bokuto didn’t want that though. He wanted to hear you, needed to hear his name spilling off your lips. So he pulled his thumb from your mouth, gave your bottom lip a little tug as an act of encouragement.

“Feels good baby? Tell me how it feels?”

“F-Feels.” You were still stumbling over yourself. So cute. “Feels good…”

“Yea? I can tell, your pussy is swallowing me up.”

He chuckled when embarrassment flashed over your face, but before you could hide your face from him yet again he pressed the pad of his thumb to your clit. The action had you gasping, back lifting slightly off the mattress.

“That’s it…” Bokuto murmured, gaze locked on your face, how it scrunched up and twisted so pretty as the pleasure took over you. Your cunt squeezed around his fingers, an indication for him to add just one more.

“S’too much~” you tried whimpering at him, but Bokuto brushed it off with a couple of quick kisses to your lips. He had to prep you anyway, his cock was already threatening to rip through his pants.

When your voice heightened in pitch Bokuto picked up his pace. He brought his face close to your pussy, allowing his hot breath to fan over it. That had you grasping the cushions for dear life, a string of pleas leaving your lips.

“Want you to come on my fingers now Birdy. You can do it. It’ll feel so good. Be a good girl and cum.”

Your body reacted for you, lips hung open in a silent scream as his fingertips focused on that spongy spot within you. With a couple more tight circles into your clit you fell apart, walls clenching before gushing around his fingers.

Bokuto’s pupils blew out at the sight, nothing but primal desire flooding his system as he watched your arousal drown out his fingers. It wet his knuckles, coated his rings as he ever so slowly pulled his fingers free. The slick pop had both of you groaning softly, and he couldn’t help but watch as he spread his fingers apart to find strings of your arousal keeping them together.

He had to have a taste and refused to continue the evening without it. So he sucked his fingers into his mouth. His moan was nothing short of obscene, making sure he licked off every ounce of your essence.

You were panting as you watched him, eyes still tear glazed and body tingling as it came down from the high. When he finally noticed you staring he grinned.

But this time it was different. Not the scoring high school Bokuto, or the Bokuto who would flash this grin when he had a little too much to drink

This was different. Darker, carnal. It made a shiver travel all the way up your spine.

And yet you still didn’t say no when he told you to take your tank top off, didn’t say no when he pulled off his own black button up, back muscles rippling in the dim lighting as he pulled you into his lap.

And you definitely couldn’t say no to him when he pulled his cock free, the sheer length and girth making you whine.

He was so much bigger than Kuroo. Thicker, wider, maybe even longer.

“Shh Birdy, hold on tight. It’s only gonna hurt for a few seconds. Then I’m gonna make you feel so very good.” His reassurance puts you at ease. Kuroo had done the same for you, way back when the two of you first slept together.

Would Kuroo really be okay with this--

The gasp that was ripped from your throat made Bokuto that much more excited. Just his tip had pushed past the first ring of muscles and already there were tears in your eyes, nails digging into his shoulders at the stretch he provided.

“K-Kou, can’t, I can’t”

“Shh birdy. Remember I’m gonna make you feel good, promise.” And he really did want to make you feel good but fuck, with the way your pussy already clenched around his tip, threatened to suffocate him as he pressed in inch by inch, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his cool.

You were already creaming when he finally bottomed out, your legs wobbly when they tightened around him. Bokuto couldn’t tear his gaze from his lap, where he stretched out your sweet cunt. It was already drooling, swollen from just being split open by him.

Absent-mindedly he trailed his fingers over your tummy, fingers cursorily tracing the bulge he was able to form there.

There’s no way Kuroo filled you up this good, Bokuto knew that for certain.

“P-Please.” Your voice snapped Bokuto back to reality, the whine in your tone enough to make his dick twitch inside you. “M-Move Kou, need you.”

He sighed. Of course you needed him.

With his palms firmly grasping your hips he pulled you up his cock, just enough that the tip was still edged inside before he began to fuck you on himself. His arm muscles rippled with each push and pull, his hips thrust upwards every time he pushed you back down in order to help with the momentum.

You were gripping onto him so tightly, leaving red streaks along his shoulder blades. Your moans were sweet, sweet music, filling up the empty space with nothing but babbles and cries of his name.

There was still a part of him that looked at you with disappointment, a part of him that screamed how wrong this was, a part of him that knew if Kuroo walked through the doors right now you’d probably both be dead.

But when you looked at him with a tear streaked face, lips hung in a silent cry, skin rippling due to his relentless thrusts, how could he stop himself?

He was even more thrilled when your nails dug into his skin, along his back and shoulders, even along his forearms and pecks. “That’s it Birdy, you’re doin’ so well, takin’ my cock like this.”

The wet slapping sounds soon filled up the room, along with the moans and whimpers the both of you released. With a grunt, Bokuto had your back against the cushions once more, just so he could thrust within your tight cunt harder, faster.

Anything to feel you coming around him, to feel your walls squeeze him. It was everything he knew it would be, better even.

And he knew, Kuroo couldn’t make you feel this way, no way in hell could he even compare.

You had planned to ask him to pull out. No one had ever come inside you before, except Kuroo of course. It was his way of marking you, the subtle possessiveness always coming through when he would fill you to the brim and then plug you up.

But now, as Bokuto drilled into you, showered you with praises and sweet groans you lost all thought. All you thought of was the sweet sting, the stretch his cock could provide. The way he was able to smack into your sweet spot with every thrust.

So when he grunted out a “gonna cum.” you couldn��t find the words to stop him, rather you just let your eye roll back, let out a sweet cry when one of his calloused thumbs pressed into your clit.

Bokuto’s hips smacked into you once, twice more, before his balls twitched and his load filled you up. Rope after rope of warm cum spilled into you, one last strand being milked from him as you clenched up around him, finishing only seconds after he did.

His arms were around you, holding your trembling form so tightly to his chest. He had to look though, had to see exactly what it looked like when you were filled to the brim. So he pulled up just a little bit, moaned out loud at the sight of his cock, how when he slowly pulled it out it was covered in a layer of milky slick.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful…” He murmured, fingers scooping up the beads of arousal dripping from your used hole, only to push them back in.

He didn’t want a single drop wasted.

You were finally starting to come down from the high when Bokuto lifted his weight from you, the loss of contact making you shudder. In your right mind you could have covered up, but instead, you stayed sprawled out, lips tilted into a dumb little smile.

“K-Kou…” You murmured to him, making him look down at you as he stretched out, wincing from the marks you left that managed to break skin.

“Kuroo is gonna be so happy, you took great care of me…” Bokuto hummed, his smirk growing. He was so lucky, so lucky you were so sweet and naive.

He scooped you up then, carrying you bridal style up the stairs. As much as he would have loved to leave you there on the couch, a nice mess for Kuroo to come home to, he had to play it safe. He made sure to clean you up properly, tuck you into bed with fresh and clean clothes.

Bokuto couldn’t lose his closest ally just yet. So until then--

“I’ll make sure Tetsu knows. But you baby, I want you to keep it our secret okay? Can you do that for me?”

That sat funny with you, made your stomach tighten, just how it had at the beginning of the evening. You wanted to question him, ask why you couldn’t be a part of the discussion.

But when Bokuto loomed over you once more, one of his much larger palms easing itself over your neck, you were reminded yet again. Reminded of Bokuto and his power, his power over you.

And now over Kuroo.

“It's our secret. Remember that Birdy. Kuroo has always kept you in a cage, away from the world so others couldn’t hurt you, isn’t that right? Well now I’m going to do the same, keep you in a cage of my own, just the two of us…”

❦ @hqintheclub {check out the network}

❦ all rights reserved to bokuroskitten©

[fandomscombine]

It's the Lease I Can Do

Platonic! Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: The Weasley twins are so close to having their joke shop become a reality. They had found the perfect location but they had hit a minor problem that could cause them everything. You want to help, but how can you when they, the birthday boys themselves had given up?

a/n: I had this idea for a almst a year now and waited til ther twins bday to write it. I hope you enjoy.

WC: 2111

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred and George causing a ruckus in the common room is a daily occurrence that everyone is accustomed to. However ever since the start of Year 7, the amount of commotion these two had caused can be counted in one hand.

At first glance, it could be attributed to NEWTS or in this year's case-to a pink toad acting as High Inquisitor. Still, more and more nights the twins had claimed the back corner of the common room.

~

The last remaining batch of students were making their way through Filch's checkpoint (an added security protection which also serves for Umbridge having a list of names on who comes in and out of Hogwarts). You glanced down at your watch- 2:27pm, they’re late. Weird, the twins never pass a chance to go to Hogsmeade.

You hear the castle door open behind you. Thank Merlin, you thought but instead you were greeted with a disheveled Angelina. “I’m coming! Wait!”

“Have you seen Fred and George?” You called as she ran past you.

“I think I saw them in the common room!” Angelina shouted back.

The common room? “What are they up to now?” You sighed. Stomping heavily up the stairs. “Ditching me….”

~

“Oi Weaslebees! I know you’re in here!” You rounded the corner of their secret spot. “AHa!”

You caught them red handed, midway into shoving papers into their “Weasley & Weasley'' Trunk. Though what they were hiding, you weren't exactly sure.

“Y/N!” Fred greeted, grabbing onto your shoulders, effectively covering George and the table. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Narrowing your eyes at him. “Really?” Hands on hips you blatantly say “2:15 am, courtyard?? Ring any bells?” Fred shook his head.

Meanwhile George’s head shot up. “Oh shit, y/n we’re so sorry!”

Fred turned to his brother, still clueless on what the heck George was talking about.

Abandoning the trunk, George gave his twin a classic smack on the head. “Hogsmeade, you idiot! We were supposed to all go together.”

“OHHHH FU--” Fred knew he was screwed. “I’M SO SORRY! WE’RE SORRY.” Seizing the messy trunk, he strategized. “Right, here’s the plan: I’m gonna quickly drop this off back in the dorm while you two make your way to the gate. If you run, I guess you can make it. I’ll catch up with you two then.”

“Fred….. We’re not gonna make it” you argued.

“Not if we don’t try.”

“It’s almost 3, Filch would be closing the gates by now.” You sat down on Fred’s empty seat. “Besides we can go to Hogsmeade next time, we could just hang out here. I miss having my best lads around.”

“Awww…we’ve been upgraded from annoying pricks to best lads!” Gushed George, pulling you into a side hug.

“Yea, I could help in whatever it was you guys were doing before I came. I don’t mind.”

At that, you could feel George tense up, his arm around you dropping. “Uhhh…” He looked to the older twin, silently conversing.

You gaze between the boys, sometimes they get so caught up in their scheming that they don’t notice that to others, especially those who had known them for years that their non verbal communication is not so sly.

In the end, Fred gave his brother a subtle shake. “No, that’s alright. I’ll just put this back and we could play gobstones or something, anything you like.”

As Fred headed up to his dorm room, you noticed a piece of paper under the table. Picking it up, the header caught your eye. RE: Lease Agreement. Were the twins looking for a new home after graduation? You didn’t mean to pry. You were close friends, they would tell you if they were moving right? This is big news….you decided to brush it off until another line caught your attention. The shop premise located at Number 93 Diagon Alley. Shop? They are trying to set up shop? That’s brilliant! The twins would get to showcase their inventions to the world! You could feel your pride swell. Leasing Agreements would not proceed if tenants, Mr. Fred Weasley and Mr. George Weasley, are unable to provide an endorser by the date of 31st of March.

“Where’d you get that?” George standing across from you, gobstones on one hand and another pointing at the document. There’s no backing out now.

“It was under the table.” You explained. “I didn’t know you were this far along with the shop.”

“Yea, well it’s not happening now is it?”

“What?”

“Cmon y/n. I know you read it.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright. We aren’t getting the place anyway.”

“Wait what? Why?”

“No endorsers.” George stated matter of factly but you sense the pain in his voice.

“How about your parents surely-”

George laughed. “As if mum would suddenly have a change of heart. You knew how she disapproves of our inventions, calling it a waste.”

“Arthur then.”

“Mum won’t let him.”

“Anyone then?” George huffed in defeat. “How about me! I could back you up.”

“You have to be an adult with a proven financial stability.” He stated, effectively shutting you down. “Forget it y/n. The hold ends in 3 days. We’ve tried everything. Just don’t let Fred know that you know. He’s devastated. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And no pity, sad eyes!” He added as footsteps are heard descending the staircase.

“But I suck at poker faces!”

“Then let’s hope that Freddie is distracted even to not notice.”

~

It’s been 4 days since you had sent the letter to your father.

“Dear papa,

I know that this is a huge favour to ask but I believe it would be worth your while.

So remember back in the summer when you caught Fred Weasley, George Weasley and me snooping around with the Extendable Ears but let us go because you were so enamored?

Well turns out the twins and trying to get a shop up and running! How amazing is that?

The only problem is that they need an endorser to back them up in order to proceed with the lease agreements. The are currently on hold for the Shop Number 93 in Diagon Alley until the 31st.

This is where the huge favour comes in. Could you please be their backer? You did say that you’d love to help in some part in their invention, be an investor of sorts. Please papa. I would love to do it myself but I have to wait a couple more months to qualify. Plus it’s their 18th birthday on April 1st. Imagine their surprise if it were to come through.

I’d love to hear from you soon, regardless of your choice.

Your favourite child

y/n.”

The twin’s 18th birthday was spent with absolute love and madness.

Lee had unloaded his stash of butterbeer and firewhiskey, Fred had slipped Angelina with one of their new prank inventions- which changes the person into a sickly color of vomit green, a perfect way to ditch class or events.

Upon learning that the color would last for a few days and would only fade with the ingestion of an antidote, antidote that George said they still had yet to create. Angelina (understandably) threw cake at them. The Gryffindor chaser with perfect aim, hits its mark. However, Fred using his beater skills, instinctively blocks the incoming cake.

Resulting in a wide splat zone. Fred’s arm was covered in frosting, having sprayed everyone around him in whipped cream during the impact. George wasn’t safe too, despite being across from Fred, the rebounce of the cake had made him the new target.

You had just changed into your pajamas when a tapping sound came from your window.

Your family owl, Lanny, was outside carrying a large yellow envelope.

Quickly letting him in, you gave Lanny a gentle pat and brought out some owl treats for the tired bird.

Unscrolling the note tied to his leg, you begin to read.

“My dearest y/n,

My sincere apologies for the late reply, it’s been quite hectic at work.

In regards to your favour, you need not worry. Everything is taken care of. I had met with the landlord of Number 93 Diagon Alley and had all the documents settled. I had also gone and checked to make sure the two lads aren’t being ripped off. Fred and George had picked a nice prime location.

Greet them a happy birthday for me alright? And tell them that I look forward to witnessing them succeed in their endeavors.

They would undoubtedly be bringing a lot of much needed joy into these darkening times. The people would be thankful for them.

I also had Lanny bring the twins’ copy of the Lease Agreement.

I can’t wait to see you all soon.

Much love,

Papa.”

~

Fred was grateful that their friends had retired into the night, leaving him and George to sulk into the dreadful reality.

“We were this close Georgie, this close!” Fred winced, pinching his fingers close without touching.

“I know but there was nothing else we could have done.” consoled George but even he himself was having a hard time. Number 93 was the perfect location for their joke shop. But now it’s gone.They are back to square one, scouting for locations.

“Fred! George! There you are! I have great news!” You yelled, not caring if you could wake up the other students.

“Oi Y/N! Be careful!.” Even in a bad mood, Fred Weasley couldn’t help being protective.

You banged the envelope on the table. “Surprise! Happy Birthday! From papa and I.”

“Another gift?” wondered George.

“So you don’t want it then?” You challenged, crossing your arms. You tried to look intimidating but the pajamas weren’t doing any good. “Cause I bet a hundred galleons that you’d shit your pants if you were to reject it.”

“That confident eh?” Smirked Fred, taking the contents of the envelope out. “ What do you think is so grand that Georgie and I would---BLOODY HELL! Y/N!” Fred kept looking down at the paper and up to you, unbelieving.

“What is it Freddie?” asked George leaning over to read whatever it was that left his brother speechless.

Re: Lease Agreement

Mr. y/l/n has submitted his endorsement to Mr. Fred Weasley and Mr. George Weasley.

The turnover of the leasing property of Shop Number 93 Diagon Alley would begin on April 1st …..

“Oh My- Y/n? Is this real?” George whispered, afraid that if he were any louder this dream would end.

“Yes, absolutely, 100%.” You affirmed. “The shop is yours! Opff-”

George embraced you tight, catching you off guard. You could feel your right shoulder getting wet. “Heyya big guy, don’t cry.” Running a hand up and down his back.

“But how?” Fred with brows creased was still stuck in a trance, you could see the paper shake in his grasp.

“You left the agreement noticed a couple of days ago. I might have accidentally read it. George said to not let you know cause you might get angry-”

“YOu KNEW?!?”

“George only knew I saw the paper. Nothing else.” You defended. “I thought i might try and help, so I called in a favour with papa. You knew how much he was impressed with the Extendable Ear, so I mentioned if he wanted to back you up. I only got his reply just now, said he’d love to and got onto ironing out the paperwork and viola!” Pointing at the document. “Oh and he also said Happy 18th Birthday, looking forward to your success and the people would be thankful for bringing a lot of much needed joy into these darkening times.”

“Thanks Y/n but this is a lot we can’t possibly-”

You cut Fred off before he could say more. “Oh please, you have done countless things for me. And I know what you’re gonna say- but see you would do the same for me. Besides think of this as your first investors. We want to help. We see your potential, we know you two, Fred, George, are gifted with bringing laughter and joy to people with your inventions."

"Thank you, truly y/n and to your dad too." Fred admitted, opening himself up. "No one's really backed us up with our inventions before, we've been always told off for being childish. It really means a lot."

“Hey, it’s the lease I could do.” You replied, causing the twins to chuckle immediately lightening up the mood.

It's great to see them relax again after weeks of stressing over the shop. Times might be changing but at least tonight, you got your best lads back.

~

Everything Taglist : @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

[mayansmcsblog]

the prank war has began

sooooo i saw this gif and instantly got an idea but as i wrote it, the idea completely changed and somehow it turned into this.

there is a ton of swearing😂

credit to @thedevilsmoonshine​​ for the gif!

thanks to @withmyteeth​ for helping me with some ideas of what to add in.

this is the first time I've wrote anything in years and the first time I'm ever publishing my work. sorry in advance for any spelling mistakes

A persistent ringing was what woke you up at 2am for the 3rd time this week. You already knew who it was, let's face it who else would be calling at 2am other than him? Opening your eyes you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling debating if you should let it ring out or answer

What if he’s hurt? No, that would have happened during the day not in the middle of the night Maybe he just needed someone to talk to? That was the likely option.

 You and bishop always had a ‘vibe’ as some people said. You were friends for a few months before he introduced you to the mc, of course it was a shock at first but after a month it slowly became your life. All the parties? you were there. Club events? You were there.

Overtime you and bishop had gotten closer, he would come over to your place all the time, announced or not.

he would come over in the dead of the night when his mind got too loud ,When he needed someone to talk to ,When he simply wanted the company of a friend that did not judge him for the things he did for the mc. He would come over any opportunity he got.

You could swear he was at your place more than he was his own Most of the time he would spend a few weeks at yours, only going back to his to get clothes.

Over the course of the last 6 months you and him had gotten a lot closer, he spent the night a lot, his stuff is all over the place but you two aren't dating , you didn't have any type of label. Why? You couldn't be sure. Most people assumed you two were dating but they were wrong. You two did everything normal couples would yet- you had no label. you were never his girlfriend and he was never your boyfriend.

Taking a deep breath you reached to your bedside table and grabbed your phone but as you could pick it up, it stopped ringing.

That’s not a bad thing right? Maybe he didn’t want to wake you up. Before you could set it back down you reserved a text, scrolling down your notification panel you read it;

📲: Bishop 🖤

You up?

Two words. That’s it just two short words.

Should you ignore it? Yeah, that's probably the best option. Did you want to ignore it? No

Another ping brought you out of your thoughts

📲:Bishop🖤

The guys are being children and I could either use some help over here or a way out😂please tell me you're awake and not just reading this from your notifications and watching Netflix again.

he knows you too well. Being a night owl you normally go to sleep around 3am, maybe 2am if you have work the next day. Normally you would just ignore bishop till the next morning but somehow he always knew when you ignored him and when you were actually sleeping.

Taking a look at your notifications again you saw you had a lot for snapchat, a  few from Coco, a few from Angel along with one single snap from Gilly.

Looks like the trio is having fun.

Opening bishop’s texts you finally reply;

📱: I’m awake just debating on if I should open all the snaps I have from the trio and reply to a seemingly annoyed jefe.

Almost immediately you got a response

📲:Bishop🖤

Ha-ha very funny. Come and sort your boys out, they are messing with that shitty ass car again, trying to do something with the engine

📱: my boys? You're their president, you sort them out. What makes you think they listen to me🤧?

📲: Bishop🖤

They actually like you😂they will listen

📱: keep telling yourself that, they only listen to me when I’m getting them food

📲:Bishop🖤

That counts as listening

📱: whatever

Locking your phone you got up out of bed knowing there was a slim chance you would go back to bed till the early hours now that you were awake. 

Putting on a pair of shorts and a shirt you got your phone and went to the kitchen, deciding to get on a bottle of water and find some shitty Netflix show you wouldn’t even pay attention to

Grabbing a bottle from the fridge you heard your phone vibrate on the counter. Pulling down the notification panel once again you saw it was a text from Ez

📲; smart ass😂📚

Please come and get these children, I can't deal with them anymore

Okay something is seriously going on here.

Face timing Ez you set the phone back on the counter, moving towards the window to open it and let the cool air flow thru the room

Within seconds he accepted and his voice came over the speakers

"Ayyy y/n where you at? Come get the children. Me and bishop are going crazy over here" you could hear a hint of playfulness in his voice 

Picking up your phone you saw he was sitting on the steps outside the club, his phone in his hand angled so you could just see the side of his head while he was looking at something in the distance. 

"I'm at home like all of you should be by now, leave the children alone to play. Are they hurting anyone?" you said as  you headed towards the front room and sat on the sofa

"Not yet"

You could hear cursing being thrown around by numerous people in the background along with the clacking on metal and rock music in the distance.

"Yet?" You questioned

"Yeah, I mean other than themselves" he laughed

"Of course"

There was a few beats of silence before you heard Coco shouting

"Boy Scout! Who’s that eh? You got you another girl?" By his tone you could tell he was definitely high

"No it's y/n dumbass" he responded, turning the phone so you could see Coco walking towards him.

"Ohhh damn I thought you was about to get some man" by now Coco had took over the whole screen "heyyyy y/n what you doinnnnn"

"I’m about to hang up on your dumbass"

"No, no, no don’t do that" taking the phone off Ez he stood up "that’s not nice is it"

You could hear Ez asking where he was going with his phone and be replied with a simple "shhhh" as he walked back to where he originally came from

"Want to see something funny?" He said. You weren't sure if that meant he was going to show you Angel tied to a chair again or Gilly attempting a backflip.

Both are amusing but it's doubtful it would happen three times....

"Did you tie Angel to a chair again? What did I tell you about playing nice hmm?" You put on the most sarcastic voice you could

"Ha funny and no...We couldn't find and ropes"

That made you laugh way more than it should have because you knew that Bishop had hid them in the meeting room and under Ez's trailor after the last time they guys got drunk and thought it was a good idea to put rope all over the place like an obstacle course

"Coco you're gonna kill someone at this rate”

"Hush ight? Jesus be quite ino want em to know your here"

"Okay?" Putting yourself on mute you could hear Angels voice in the background along with Gillys and bishops

"Listen," Angel said , slapping something metallic, clearly as high as Coco was and seemingly having one of his 'genius idea' moments

"OI dumbass listen to meeeee" he said again

"What?" Gilly responded along with a sound of something metal hitting the ground "dammit Angel you made me loose the fucking 10mm socket again"

The camera was still pointed at Coco’s shoulder as he walked over

"Boys, boys, boys" damn he sounded like a child "what would you say if I told you I could get y/n  to being us food"

You audible groaned as he suggested that, there was no way you was going to get them food this late at night.

You heard both Gilly and Angel say "what" then "tell her to get McDonalds" or "let’s get subway" by they were quickly cut off

"Oi children! Stop it, it's  2:30 in the morning, leave her alone '' bishops' voice was closer than you expected. He was probably sitting in the garage with the others observing what they are doing and making sure they don’t kill each other

You couldn’t help but unmute yourself

"Sorry Obispo but the children need their food" your tone was playful, kind of, half of you was saying it just to annoy him, the other half was wanting to see his reaction

"Gimme that phone" within seconds Coco was gone from the screen and Bishop was in the frame 

"So this is why you haven't replied to me hmm?" You couldn’t tell if he was serious or playful

You hadn't missed his text? He never responded to you right?

"Hold that thought" you pulled down the notification panel and saw he did text you.

2:15

📲:Bishop🖤

I’m kicking these guys out in a few minutes

2:20

📲: Bishop🖤

I’m giving them 3 more minutes till I kick them out.

2:23

📲: Bishop🖤

Can I come over if it's not too late after these children leave? "

"Oh, sorry I was busy talking to Ez and then being stolen by Coco" 

"Nah you were just ignoring me wasn’t you?" He responded

"No totally not"

"Sure I totally believe you" he laughed

"I think Ez might want his phone back"

"Wow, nice to see you like speaking to me"

"Well then why don't you call me instead? At least smart ass wanted to talk to me, even if it was about the children of the mc"

The line went silent for a moment. All you could hear was the guys cursing about finding the 10m socket and the sound of bishop walking.

"Okay, I’ll be back in like 20 minutes" with that the line went dead, he didn’t even give you time to respond

 Wow he deadass hung up on me, how mature.

Maybe it was time you opened those snaps. What else did you have to do?

Opening snap chat you saw there was a purple bubble next to Coco, a red bubble next to Angel and a blue bubble next to Gilly.

You opened Gilly's first

12:22~

"What time does McDonald’s close?"

Followed by

"Nvm its 24 hours isn’t it😂😂"

You quickly replied "dumbass" and moved onto Angel’s chat.

Opening the snap it was a picture of Coco, Gilly and creeper sitting opposite him, beers in hand, while seemingly talking along with the caption

"Come party with us"

Skipping past the snap you was presented with another one, this time a video where Coco was sitting on the roof of a car while Gilly was attempting to push it

"C’mon man it's not that hard" Coco said

"Yeah man come on" Angel said from behind the camera

"Shut up before I make you do this" Gilly responded

What the hell have these guys been up to all night?

The snaps just got worse from there. 

Coco’s was full of them doing random stuff, throwing things at each other and even them sitting on Ez trailer roof? How did they even get up there, and how did it not break?

One of them definitely stood out from the others. It seemed like someone else was filming on his phone while Coco was trying to rip off a car door by the handle but it snapped off, sending Coco across the garage and into the wall while Gilly, Ez and Angel laughed at him

His only response was a simple "okay you mother fucker this is war" followed by his practically running like a horse in battle towards the door kicking it resulting in a bent. Unfortunately that's where the snap ended.

Is this what they had been up to? No wonder bishop wanted out.

When the cascade of snaps finished you saw there was still a blue bubble next to Coco's name, clicking on it you could see it was a video around 3 minutes long. 

You saw part of it was what you had already seen. Coco trying to pull the door, being flung into a wall, the guys laughing along with Coco kicking the door once again except this time it didn’t end when he kicked the door.

"Bro you’re not doing it hard enough" Angel stated while moving Coco out of the way

"Look you gotta-" he kicked the base of the door "-start from the bottom-'' he kicked it again causing the bottom to cave in slightly "-see? It's easy"

"Shut up man I’m stronger than you let me do it" Coco pushed Angel out of the way

"No" Angel responded, pushing coco slightly

"Yes" Coco pushed back

"No" Angel pushed again

This went on for a few moments before Gilly set the camera down on some type of surface before walking over to them

"Yo I'm stronger then both of you let me do it"

Coco stopped pushing Angel and turned to Gilly "Nah man you will steal all the shit and run off again like last time"

"Shut up man"

All three of the men were too busy arguing to notice Ezekiel had come into the garage in search of something

"Why the fuck are you guys arguing?"

All of them spoke at the same time

"Coco is sayin he’s stronger than me"

"They are children!"

"Angels tryna be a smart ass"

"You guys are fucking stupid" Ez moved towards where the phone was but didn't pick it up, rather opening the draw of the desk that was below it and picking something up, as he pulled back you could see he was holding some keys.

"Move“ He pushed Angel out the way of the door and unlocked it, grabbing a duffle bag out of the back seat, handing it to Coco

"Here"

All of the guys stood in a state of shock. Coco was the first to speak

"Why the fuck didn’t you tell us there was keys!" He exclaimed

"Because watching you guys be idiots and is fun to see you struggle"

"I swear to God I’m going to say no on your patch vote" Gilly butted into the conversation.

Ez just laughed as he walked away, the video ended shortly after all three of them cussed.

Shaking your head you laughed, of course they are dumb enough not to look for keys.

You quickly texted Coco

"You guys are dumb as shirtttt, you’re lucky Ez is around to help your dumbass's. Did the door not want to play nice hmm? Did you put a dent in the wall again with your fat ass? What was so important in that bag?"

Checking the time you saw it was 2:45

Thank god it's a Saturday tomorrow.

Setting your phone on the coffee table you realized you never put the TV on when you sat down, you were obviously too distanced by FaceTime, meaning you were sitting in silence.

Was silence a bad thing? No

Was it somehow deafening? Yeah

Grabbing the remote you turned on the TV, quickly going to Netflix in an attempt to find something decent to watch.

Your watch list was full of horror movies and crime documentaries. Definitely not the best thing to watch on your own. There were a few suspense movies on there but none of them seemed to interest you.

Going to the movie section you passed almost every more option from horror to romance to action because nothing grabbed your attention or seemed interesting.

Going back to the home page you looked at the screen for a few minutes

Was it even worth putting something on? It was almost 3am after all.

Grabbing your phone you decided to scroll through Instagram.

After a few minutes bishop’s name appeared, taking over your screen with an incoming FaceTime.

Accepting the call you were immediately greeted with the site of his kutte, followed by him putting his helmet on. By the angle you could tell his phone was resting between his handlebars and the fuel tank.

"I take it you're still awake then" he wasn’t looking at the screen. Rather he was looking in the distance just above his phone

The background suddenly filled with the sound of bike engines. He seemed to say something but it was overpowered by bikes, so you didn't hear what he said. His bike wasn’t turned on yet because the phone wasn't vibrating.

Suddenly Bishop reached his arm out to someone just out of frame and you saw him lift upwards off the seat slightly, someone’s hand patted his shoulder blade.

By the look of the tattoo on the wrist you could tell it was Coco.

Looking away from your phone you looked back up at the TV. You could still hear engines coming from your phone but now it sounded like 3 of them.

Almost simultaneously they all revved before pulling off. The sound slowly faded out as they got further out the compound.

You were still looking at the TV, you decided to look at the top 10 of the day, maybe there was something good on there.

The Meg

Reading the description it actually seemed like a good movie. Putting it on you set the remote down and looked back at your phone

This time bishop wasn’t in the frame at all. Rather you could just see the length of his bike and the wall behind where it was parked.

Where did he go?

Your question was quickly answered when he picked up the phone.

By the sound of the wind you could tell he was jogging somewhere. The phone was at his side facing outwards, you could see him approaching the steps to the clubhouse. He quickly went up them and opened the door

"Prospect!" He shouted "make sure you lock up, I’m heading out"

You could hear Ez reply with a quick "okay" from somewhere in the back

He picked up his phone so you could see his face. unlike before, you took the time to actually take in his appearance 

His eyes looked tired, his beard was longer than it usually is, he looked...well, you couldn’t describe it. He just didn’t seem himself.

You were too busy looking at him to realize he asked you a question

"Y/n"

"What?"

"Did you not hear me?"

"Oh- no sorry I turned my volume down because of the bikes"

"Oh" he paused "I asked if your door was open"

You looked at the screen for a second

"What?"

He placed his phone back on the fuel tank and straddled his bike

"I said, is your door open. You know like your front door.....to your house" he repeated, grabbing his helmet, he must have taken it off while you were looking at the TV, once again he was fastening the buckle.

"No? Why?"

"Do you want to unlock it?" you could see him kick the stand of the bike up by the way his leg moved.

"Why?" You asked he looked at the screen for a few seconds before laughing at the way your face changed as you realized what he meant

"Obispo are you inviting yourself over once again?" You questioned

"Yep"

"What if I don't let you in?" You challenged. Of course you would let him in but sometimes it was fun to mess with him

"What if I climb through a window?" He said, pulling a cigarette out his pocket and lighting it

"Okay now that's just creepy" you laughed. He shook his head as he blew out the smoke from his lungs

"So? Can I come over or not?"

Looking around your front room you saw it was a little messy but you could easily clean it up within 5 minutes.

"Sure"

"See you in 20 querida" he winked as he started the bike before ending the call.

~

You finished cleaning the front room, kitchen and your bedroom up within 10 minutes

Checking the fridge you saw that there were only 4 beers left, taking a mental note to get more the next time you go shopping.

Sitting back on the sofa you realized you had missed around half of the movie.

Pointless watching it now

You knew by bishop coming over there was a good chance you two would be awake till 4am talking about random stuff and watching something on Netflix or playing some type of game.

You also knew he liked action movies so you went to that section in search of one that sounded entertaining 

The platform ~ that didn’t sound so bad right?

Watching the preview, you became interested and wanted to watch it, forget Bishop you can watch it on your own.

"The ones above, the ones below and the one before" the voice of a man came over your speakers, he sounded young but old simultaneously.

You had just got past the introduction when you heard the rumble of a bike in the distance. For a moment you wondered if it was off the TV but as it got louder you realized it was bishop.

Getting up from the sofa you walked towards the door.

You set your hand on the door handle for what seemed like hours as you waited for him to pull up outside. Did you normally meet him at the door? Nope. Most of the time he would invite himself over and just sit down on the sofa with you for hours.

Sometimes you two spoke the whole time he was over until you both went to bed, other times you would sit in a comfortable silence- just happy to me in one another's presence.

You heard the engine cut off just beyond the door. You counted to three before unlocking it, as you did you saw Bishop was parked on the curb, still sitting on his bike while setting the helmet on the handlebars. He was yet to notice you standing at the door.

Taking a cigarette out his pocket he turned towards the street, looking at the houses to see if your neighbor's were awake, you had no idea why he did it but every time he pulled up, whether it was in a car or on his bike he always seemed to look at the neighboring houses.

He lit the cigarette, back still turned to you as he looked down the street. Leaning against the door frame you looked him over you could see that his posture was slouched indicating he was tired, he still had one hand resting on the handlebars almost like he wasn't just looking down the street but also trying to crack his back. The other hand was on the cigarette in his mouth, even from the distance from the doorway to the curb where he parked. You could see his leg was bouncing and so was his hand slightly, now that definitely wasn't normal.

 As he exhaled the smoke he turned around towards your house, jumping slightly when he saw you standing at the door. He seemed to compose himself as he took the keys out of the bike and stood up, walking towards you, his head bowed slightly as he tossed the cigarette onto the food

“I hope you are going to pick that up” you said 

“I will” he looked up at you, he was just beyond the porch steps. His eyes looked tired, there were clearly bags underneath them. He was definitely tired- if you knew anything about him ,he probably hasn't slept for a few days, and if he did it was for a short time

“You look tired”

“So do you” he cracked a small smile, by now he was standing in front of you

“Maybe because someone woke me up at 2 in the morning then I had to deal with grown ass men asking me to bring them food then suddenly someone decided to invite themselves over?”

“In my defense i thought you were still awake and the children wasn't my fault” 

You laughed as you moved away from the door frame and towards the kitchen “just come i stupid before i lock you out”

“Ouch that's harsh” he put a hand over his heart “that insult really hurt” he walked threw the door and shut it behind him, hanging his kutte up on the coat hook in the hallway along with his jacket

“Stop being a wimp” 

You heard him move into the front room and sit on the couch.

“Want a beer?” you asked as you went in the fridge for another bottle of water

"Yeah- what's this?" He questioned

“What's what?”

”On the TV dumbass” 

Walking back into the front room you saw he had his hand behind his head, his phone was on the table along with his keys.

“Oh, the platform. It seemed interesting so I started watching and only someone distracted me” you said as you handed him the beer and sat on the sofa, leaving some space between you and him.

“What's it about?”

“Not too sure something along the lines of some type of prison system where the food is on a moving platform, I only just started it”

“Hmm” grabbing the remote he pressed play while sipping his beer.

You two sat in comfortable silence while watching the movie but every so often you would look over at bishop, partly to make sure he wasn't asleep and partly to see if he was okay.

Over the time span of 30 minutes you noticed he wasn't watching the movie, rather he was looking at the wall clearly spaced out somewhere in his own mind. He was sitting so his right elbow was on the arm rest and his right hand in his mustache, messing the hair lightly. He always did that when he was thinking about something. His other hand was resting in his lap holding the beer you gave him.

“Bishop?” you waited a few moments but he didn't respond “Bishop'' you repeated, still no reaction. Taking the beer from his hand you set it on the table, putting your hands on his cheeks you turned his face toward you “bishop”

“Hmm?” he finally looked at you. Removing your hands from his face you looked him in the eyes

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing” he said shaking his his head

“Don't lie to me” your tone came out harsher than you intended he raised his eyebrows at you

“sorry didn't mean to sound like i was being mean” you pulled away slightly with the intention of going back to where you originally sat but that idea was quickly thrown out the window when he grabbed your torso and practically picked you up, sitting you on his lap. He put his head in the space between your shoulder and neck while rubbing his hands down your back

“What's wrong Obispo?” you asked once again, putting your hand in his hair, playing with it slightly.

“I'm just stressed” his voice was muffled as he spoke into your shouder

“About?”

“Everything” he moved his head so he was looking up at you “the stuff with Marcus leaving, the mc as a whole with the guys turning against each other ,all the shit going on with other clubs. Everything is just a mess and it's stressing me out” he explained. You kept on hand playing with his hair while the other went to his cheek

“Can you do anything about it?” you asked, he cocked his head to the side slightly clearly not understanding what you meant ”can you do anything about that stuff?” he looked at you for a moment before shrugging his shoulders

you continued “Marcus made his own mind up, you can't do anything there. The mc always sorts itself out, members fight, it's normal, you of all people should know what.” you explained while using your thumb trace the lines across his face caused by the lack of sleep

“Yeah, i guess you're right” he leaned up and kissed you softly “I have to say, I'm a president of a fucking mc and yet your smarter then me”

“I'm not smarter than you, I just look at what's happening and think about in the moment, where as you” you poked his chest lightly “ seem to think its a good idea to overthink stuff and look at consequences a year in advance that will probably never happen” He hummed in response before putting his head back into your neck

“Can i ask you something?” you asked

“You just did”

“Very funny” you moved to get out of his lap but was quickie pulled back down

“What was the question?”

”What the hell was in the duffle bag? coco sent me the video them trying to get it and it seemed like they really wanted it”

“Oh” bishop almost immediately started laughing to the point his whole body shook and his head was thrown back.

“Tell me stoopid” you slapped his chest slightly, playing with his shirt

“Well you see- me and Ez thought it would be funny to lock it in a car that needed scraping while they were getting high and then tell them the doors didn't work to see how long it would take for them to it but Gilly ended up pushing it from the front by the fighting cage to the garage” he managed to get out

“That didn't answer my-”

“Just wait” he cut you off “neither me or Ez knew what was in it but those three are too stupid to just break a window so they were attempting to get it for a good 20 minutes before Ez opened the door and got it out” he explained still laughing slightly “turn out it was just full of junk food and snacks they brought to eat once they get hungry later ”

“You two are evil”

“No we was having fun” he laughed

“Evil”

Just as bishop was about the respond his phone started to ring, you moved out his lap and sat back on the couch while he get up and went out the back to answer it.

looking at the tv you realized the film wasn't interesting you at all. Grabbing you phone you saw you had a snap from coco and one from angel 

what did they do now?

opening the app you clicked on to yours and Angels chat only to find a simple text

“if coco send you a video, delete it”

what?

“why” you replied before swiping off the chat and going onto Coco's. inevitably you where present with a video and a chat 

“Pease, please watch this it will be the best favor you ever do for me 🙏🏽”

your curiosity got the better of you, clicking on the video you immediately recognized the place.it was Angels front room. Gilly was chuckling lowkey behind the camera while coco was next to the door on a stool with a bucket in his hands while laughing. The camera panned down to show Gilly holding a bag of flour, now you could only assume that the bucket was full of water 

surely this couldn't end good

within a few seconds the door opened and angel walked in, coco immediately reacted throwing the contents of the bucket on top of his head while Gilly threw the flour over him.

Angel immediately froze, his face going into a startled expression followed by on of anger. Shutting the door behind him he shook of the excess flour before locking the door.

Gilly and Coco where in hysterics as Angel turned towards Coco and lunged for him, coco had a quick reaction and ran towards the backdoor , only to find it locked 

“fuck” he cursed looking for ways to escape, looking at the kitchen window he seemed to weight out his chances. by now Angels attention had gone towards Gilly who was still stood in the same place laughing. Angel lunged for him, tackling him to the ground while coco grab the phone from Gillys hand and made a run for the kitchen.

There was a lot of laughing from Gilly and shuffling in the background along with Angel cussing him out , then there was a bunch of laughing from them both of them but you could make out Angel saying “you think that shits funny huh?” “watch me key your bike” “ I'm gonna get you back so hard man

suddenly the phone was tossed out the kitchen window, shortly after you could see coco's head and body slowly emerging from the kitchen window. after a few seconds he finally managed to crawl out. picking up the phone he began to jog down the front yard 

“ha bitchesss I'm freeeee!”he exclaimed “the one time being skinny pays off”

in the background you hear a door unlock followed by Angel shouting “run bitch cuz I'm fucking coming for you”

then the video cut off

you where sat on the sofa crying from laughing so hard you quickly saved the video and texted coco back

“that is the best thing I've seen in months😂”

just as you started to calm down you started to hear bishop laughing from outside the backdoor. almost imminently he walked threw the back door in hysterics 

“did you-did you see-” he could barely talk in-between laughing 

“did i see the video?” 

“yeah”

“yes i saw it” you laughed

taking his phone he turned it towards you, it was a FaceTime from angel covered in flour, his beard was a littler of loose flour and a clumpy mess of flour and water. you couldn't help by laugh at his serious expression

“not funny y/n” he said clearly angry. in the background you could hear Coco and Gilly laughing

“you watched the video didn't you” it wasn't a question rather a statement 

“yeah” you replied still laughing 

“fuck sakeeee” suddenly he cut the call of cause both you and bishop to laugh even harder

~~~~~~~~

so yh this was men to be a fluff with bishop but i got distracted and it just kind of turned into the start of a prank war between Coco, Angle and Gilly.

[tricksters-captain]

Weasley Twins/Cedric Diggory Imagines - Accidental Meeting - Part 3

AN: Another day... another part!! Honestly I can’t write this story down quick enough so I thought I’d post another part for y’all!! Let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!!!

Overall Summary: (Y/n), is a young witch who always kept her head down due to her complicated past; one day she bumps quite literally into one of the most popular boys in Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory, and that’s when (Y/n)’s plan of keeping her head down seems to go up into the air. Things only seem to worsen when two redheaded twins start to take notice too...

This Chapter: As Halloween draws near, you receive news from your uncle about your parents and the ministry. You try burying yourself in your studies to keep your mind off things when Professor Lupin only seems to make it worse...

PART 1 // PART 2

Pairing(s): Cedric Diggory x Reader, (Eventual) George Weasley x Reader, (Platonic) Fred Weasley x Reader, (Platonic) Oliver Wood x Reader

Word Count: 2,398

Warnings: None, Angst

You sat at breakfast beside Wood and Angelina, the Weasley twins opposite. 

“Looks like you’ve really caught his eye there, (y/n).” Fred piped up from across you. 

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows at the boy as you finished a spoonful of cereal.

“He’s looked this way about 7 times since sitting down.” George muttered, 

“Not to mention the other 6 when he walked in.” Fred added. 

You peaked over your shoulder to see Cedric sat with his usual group of Hufflepuffs. 

“You two are obsessed.” You rolled your eyes at the boys as you forced yourself not to turn and look again. 

“Mails here.” Wood announces as if the sudden eruption of wings and squawks didn’t alert everyone enough. 

You were surprised to see your owl fly into the great hall with a letter in its mouth. The only person who you ever sent mail or received mail from was your uncle. 

You reached up and grabbed the letter as he fell from the birds beak. 

You could see from the handwriting on the outside of the envelope that it was definitely from your uncle. 

It wasn’t completely strange to receive a letter from him during term time but it wasn’t a usual occurrence. 

“Who’s it from?” Oliver asked, 

“My uncle.” You admitted, contemplating whether to open it there or later in private. 

“Prob’ly asking whether you’re gonna come home for Christmas break or stay here.” Oliver said as he bit into an apple. 

“I already told him I’d be staying here as it’s your last Christmas at Hogwarts, I thought we’d stay here and celebrate together.” You stated, deciding to open the letter now.

“Get a broom closet you two.” Fred teased you. You retaliated by wrapping your arms around Oliver and resting your head on his shoulder, batting your eyelashes at the twins. Oliver just shook his head at you. 

You retracted your arms from Oliver and picked your letter back up to read it. 

(Y/n), 

The Ministry finally agreed to speak to me. They’ve claimed that the security in Azkaban has been double, tripled and that no other prisoners will be escaping. They specified that since Lorelei and Mikael are high threat that they will be watched consistently but Sirius Black was high threat too and look where he is now.

I feel they aren’t telling me the full picture. It was hard enough getting them to discuss Lorelei and Mikael at all. They just like to pretend Death Eaters don’t even exist anymore. Lock them behind bars and forget about them. 

I know we are all anxious about the idea of them escaping like Black did but I am keeping my ear to the wall. If anything is spoken about them or a possible escape then I should be the first to know. I won’t let them leave that godforsaken place without a fight. You should focus on your studies, try not to worry about your parents. Hogwarts is surrounded by dementors, I hear, so they will protect you for now. 

- Demetrius 

“What did he say?” Oliver asked as you closed the letter. 

“Just something about the Ministry.” You sent him a look that said you would tell him later as you felt it was too crowded to discuss your parents right now.

“What do you have?” You changed the topic by asking Oliver what he was doing this morning as you picked up your book bag.

“Defence against the dark arts then divination.” He told you as he rose from the table. 

“I have some study periods this morning so I think I’m going to go to the library. I’ll see you later.” You parted ways outside the great hall as you headed towards the library. You then tucked the letter into your bag and reminded yourself to show Oliver later. 

You found an empty table tucked away in a corner beween two book shelves, before finding a few books to help you with your study of Ancient Runes homework. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” A voice you were starting to know well tore you away from your parchment and you glanced up to see Cedric stood with his hand wrap around the strap of his backpack. 

“Will I actually be able to study if you sit with me or are you going to distract me?” You narrowed your eyes at the boy with a light humour. 

“I swear not to distract you.” He held his hands up in defence and you smiled, nodding your head to signal for him to sit. 

“What are you studying?” Cedric asked as he sat. 

“Distracting.” You announced, sending him a side glance. “Ancient Runes.” You caved and answered after the following few seconds of silence. 

“Ah.” Cedric nodded, taking his own parchment and books out. 

You both sat quietly, the only sounds being the turning of pages and the scratching of your quills but, after a short while, you found yourself sneaking secret glances towards the boy.

You watched his brow crease in concentration and his eyes flicker across the pages he was reading. A few locks of his soft brown hair fell forward and his lips parted slightly as he focused. 

Cedric caught you looking at one point, raising his head and smiling widely at you. 

“Distracting?” He asked, 

“Just making sure you are actually working and not writing down some quidditch strategy like Oliver does.” You were quick to come up with an excuse but Cedric wasn’t stupid. 

“What do you have next? I can walk you to your next class.” Cedric suggested. 

“Charms.” You told him, “If you walk me, you’ll probably be late to your own class.” 

“Why are you so worried about being seen with me?” Cedric leaned towards you, folding his arms on the chair in between you both with a curious look on his face. 

“I’m not worried.” You objected, “I just said you’d be late for your own class.”

“(Y/n), I’m no Ravenclaw but I can figure out when someone keeps saying no. I also see you looking around at everyone whenever I come up to you.” 

“Cedric.” You sighed, “Things are complicated in my life.” 

“And me walking you to your next class will somehow make it more complicated?” Cedric rose an eyebrow at you which made you sighed once again. 

“You can walk me to my next class.” You wanted to say that it would but you didn’t know how to explain why. 

Cedric stood up from his seat and packed his things away, you did the same before you both left the library. 

“I saw your owl this morning.” Cedric mentioned the letter from before and you felt your chest tighten a little. 

“Yeah. It was from my uncle. Asking whether I’d be home for Christmas.” You lied pretty effortlessly as the said-letter was lying at the bottom of your bag. 

“Your uncle?” Cedric hadn’t thought about who you lived with after your parents were sent to Azkaban. 

“Yeah.”  You nodded, “Demetrius. He took me in after my parents were, you know... He never saw what they saw in you know who. He didn’t have the same beliefs. Not like he didn’t suffer for it. They tortured him for a long time but he survived. He’s a good man, not very paternal but it's better than nothing.” You almost found it funny how unaffectionate and distant your uncle could be with you but you knew he still cared about you, he just couldn’t show it in the way normal families could. 

“Is it just you two?” He asked, seemingly genuinely interested. 

“Yeah. Demetrius isn’t very old. He was only 20 when he took me in. He never got a girlfriend after that so has never married or anything. I think he believes that if he had someone else to  care about, they could be used against him. He saw a lot of what my parents did, you see. He worries about my parents; about them escaping like Black did.”

“Are you worried?” Cedric stopped as you reached your class. 

“I’d be stupid if I wasn’t.” You confessed. 

“We can talk more about it later if you like?” Cedric gestured to the classroom door and you bit down on your cheek and nodded.

“Hey!” You called as he started to walk away. “Thanks for walking me.” 

Cedric smiled at you before you entered the classroom. 

“Saw pretty boy Diggory walk you to Charms this morning.” Fred and George trapped you as they came up to you side by side. 

“Like I said... Obsessed.” You looked up at the twins as they walked either side of you. 

“You reckon Lupin’s got that surprise for us today?” Fred asked you and George.

“Hope so, Freddie.” 

“I hope it’s a potion that stops people from spying on you.” You retorted, making both the boys crack up.

“Welcome class! If you’ll follow me, I have the special treat I promised for you all today.” Professor Lupin announced as you entered the classroom for DADA. 

The class did as they was told and followed Lupin up to a larger room where an old wardrobe stood in towards the far side.

You couldn’t help but smile with excitement as you watched the wardrobe shake from something inside. 

“Would anyone like to venture a guess as to what is inside?” Lupin asked as the wardrobe trembled again. 

"Is it a boggart, sir?” One of the Ravenclaw girls, Samantha Penny, answered. 

“Yes, Miss. Penny. Now, can anybody tell me what a boggart looks like?” 

“No one knows. Boggarts are shape-shifters.” You answered as Lupin pointed his wand at you. 

“Very good. Now, can someone tell me what they do?”

“They can take the shape of whatever a person fears the most.” Samantha answered again.

“Well done! Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a boggart. Let's practice it now. Without wands, please.” Remus lowered his wand as he spoke, “After me. Riddikulus!”

“Riddikulus!” The class repeated. 

“Very good. A little louder and very clear. Listen: Riddikulus!” Lupin corrected any who made a mistake.

“Riddikulus!” You all repeated once more before Lupin selected an unlucky volunteer.

“Samatha, since you know so much, why don’t you give it a try?” Lupin encouraged her forward. “Now, what are you most afraid of?” 

“Snakes, sir.” She said rather nervously. 

“Snakes. Okay. Easy enough to change. You see, the incantation alone is not enough.  What really finishes a boggart is laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing.” Lupin paced a few steps as he spoke. 

“Now, Miss Penny. I want you to think of something funny. The funniest thing you can think of and when you come face to face with the snake, I want you to imagine its turning into that funny thing, do you understand?” Lupin asked the Ravenclaw girl. She nodded and raised her wand. 

As the doors burst open, a large thick black snake appeared slithering towards Samantha. It rose upwards and hissed as it’s dark eyes fixed on the quivering girl. 

“R-Riddikulus!” She hesitated but soon cast the spell, turning the snake into a baby monkey in a dress.

“Brilliant, Miss Penny! On your first try too!” Lupin praised her as he laughed at the monkey falling over.  “Alright! Who’s next! Form a line!” 

The class rushed into a line with excitement and nerves filling the room. 

You watched a few students ahead of you try and succeed in turning the boggart from their fear to something funny and soon it was your turn. 

“I bet her worse fear is seeing Wood naked.” Fred whispered to you and his twin as he stood behind you. 

“Actually, it’s having to spend the rest of the year with you two.” You mumbled back with a smirk as you stepped forward. 

“Ouch, Seyler, ouch.” Fred clutched his chest above his heart and you rolled your eyes. 

Suddenly, coming face to face with the boggart, your amusement was gone. 

You shifted on your feet as you thought of all the possible things the boggart could turn into like a giant spider or a clown or....

Your eyes went wide as the boggart twitched and span around and transformed into a face you had only seen in your memories and pictures. 

Your mother stood in front of you. 

The whole class erupted with whispers and murmurs as you froze. 

Her dark eyes met yours, the small mole above her lip rising as her wicked smile grew.

“Come on, (y/n), don’t let the shape distract you. Say the words and she’ll be gone.” Lupin saw the shock on your face as he tried to encourage you.

Your mother stepped forward, holding her hand out towards you, her dark mark visible on her arm as she reached towards you. 

“Don’t touch me!” You shrieked as she came close to connecting with your skin. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from fleeing the class as your emotions over took you. 

You pushed past the Weasley twins as you darted to the door. 

“Miss Seyler!” Lupins voice carried down the corridor you were running down.

Tears blurred your vision as your chest tightened and breathing became much  harder. 

“Miss Seyler!” You heard Lupin call after you again. 

You threw yourself against an arched doorway, trying to slow your breathing as your mothers eyes flashed through your head. Her evil smile, the dark mark clear on her arm. 

You felt yourself slide down the doorway until you hit the cold floor. 

“Miss Seyler.” Lupin had found you. “Miss Seyler, breathe.” He knelt down as you failed to control your panic attack. 

“(Y/n). It was just a boggart. It wasn’t really your mother.” Lupin told hold of your shoulders as he tried to get you to look at him. “Your mother is locked up on Azkaban. She can’t hurt you.” 

“I’m sorry.” You finally looked up at him and he felt his heart squeeze at the sight of your red eyes. 

“Don’t be sorry. It’s quite alright.” Lupin helped you stand, slowly bringing you back to your feet. 

“What about the class?” You asked, looking up from where you had come from. 

“Class is dismissed. Come on, let’s go for a chat.” Lupin guided you to his office, his arm comfortingly wrapped around you still. 

(PART 4)

[angellissy]

Chapter one:  Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

A/N: Hi guys, I am so happy that so many are excited for this series. Burning Desires sparked my creativity again and I am so happy for it. Just a side note, I just started working again so my updates might be slow but I promise I will continue this series. i love you all. thanks to all my supportive friends you all know who you are and i adore you guys. but if you don’t know who you are here is a quick shoutout, you all have helped me so much @pogue-writings​ @downbytheouterbanks​ @drewstarkey​ @outrbanks​ @myjjbaby​ @adoreyoudrews​ and so so so many more thank you

Her mother’s smile was big, teeth and all. Her crimson red lipstick made her skin look even paler, there was not a hint of color to be seen on her cheeks. Her mother had spent minutes in front of the mirror, pressing white powder on her cheeks. She believed a fairer look would make her appear younger, in her daughter’s eyes it just made her look terrifying. But that was also the reason behind her smile, it had to be big in order to cover all the lies that lied beneath the facade.

“Don’t feel pressured to start crying too, I doubt anyone is looking.” With her black hair, rosy cheeks, and bright green eyes, Ophelia Lancaster was nothing like her mother. Except for the fact that they both shared the same cold and icy tone while talking to each other. Her mother scoffed at Ophelia, but still, let her eyes flicker between the masses of people crowding the platform. Mrs. Seraphine Lancaster thrived of attention, therefore it suited her that the Lancaster family was one of the most well known in the wizarding world. 

“Come on now girls, no fighting.” Like every other time, her father tried to calm them, his soothing voice, and the way he placed one of his hands on either of their shoulders, was his way of creating peace. Though it only worked sometimes, and that was usually in situations like this, when there were people everywhere. 

“Is that the Cameron’s I see?” Her mother asked, slightly squinting her dark eyes. Her father followed her lead and adjusted his glasses to try and get a better look. “My dear, I believe it is.” Her mother clasped her hands together in delight, her heels made the most awful sound against the hard concrete as she started walking towards them. Her husband soon followed her lead, but stopped and turned around when he noticed that his daughter was not going with them.

“Uh yeah, I think I am gonna skip saying hi to them this time, I have to get a good seat.” Ophelia gave him the sweetest smile she could muster, her father looked between her and his wife. It was obvious that he was debating what he should say, he would either get the wrath from his wife or the disappointed looks from his only child. 

“Oh okay then, have fun darling. Do not forget to write to us!” Ophelia rolled her eyes at that, during her five years at Hogwarts she had not forgotten to write even once. Every Sunday she would sit down in her bed, feather quill in one hand and a paper in the other. She would retell her whole week, leaving out minor details of course. She was not about to tell her parents about the parties she had been too or the dates she had gone on, some things could be left out with a guilt-free consciousness. 

“I won’t, tell mom I said goodbye.” Her father opened his mouth to say something but when he did Ophelia was already gone, trudging through the masses of wizards and witches to try and finally get on the train. She passed countless students, some she recognized more than others.

“John B I don’t want to carry your-” The boy in front of her paused, looked at the owl in the cage he was holding with two fingers. And Ophelia could not really see, but from the way his body shivered, she assumed he was making a disgusted face. 

“It’s a bird JJ, thank you very much.” The other boy snatched the cage from the boy standing in Ophelia’s way, muttering something about how this JJ always had to be so dramatic. 

Ophelia pushed past them too, she just wanted to get on the train and find a good seat before all of them were taken by some snotty first years. But unfortunately for her, most of the good compartments were already filled by something worse, third-year students. They had gone past the phase of being terrified by the elder students, and they had also started to get to know how things worked at Hogwarts. So naturally, they had decided that they were superior. This was not true, they were just cocky because they were gonna start reading Defence Against the Dark Arts. As she watched them chatter and whisper through the glass, a small sigh escaped her lips. The third-year at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry had been Ophelia’s best, she had aced all her classes and done that with friends by her side. But they had soon wandered a path she did not want to be a part of, therefore she now found herself sitting alone in an empty compartment that smelt like old feet. She did not necessarily miss her old friends, especially not when she saw what they were up to in the common room or how they jinxed people in the halls. No, Ophelia simply missed the laughs they had shared, the ones that make you clutch your stomach and gasp for air. She missed how they used to sneak out after curfew to discover more of Hogwarts, she sometimes found herself missing how Rafe Cameron had grasped her hand when they had been walking through a really badly lit corridor. But whenever those thoughts and memories resurfaced, she quickly did everything in her power to push them away. 

With delicate fingers, she opened the leather bag that had been gifted to her from her late grandmother. It was one of her most prized possessions, her grandmother had been the only person in the Lancaster family that ever seemed to actually see Ophelia. And with her gone, Ophelia could only trace the embroidery on the bag and long for the day someone would once again, see her. She pulled out Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart from the bag, the man himself might have been a bit of a fool but his books were still entertaining. Therefore a content sigh left her lips as she turned over the first page, but before she could even read the first sentence, loud voices interrupted her. 

“There is not one seat left, that’s what we get for JJ trying to flirt with some girl.” You recognized the voice, but without a face, it was difficult to figure out who it belonged too. But you had heard that name before, on the platform, and said boy also received complaints at that time. 

“So what? I am just trying to have some fun.” This sentence resulted in a bunch of protests from whoever was standing outside the door, saying that girls were not just there for some “fun” as he had put it. Ophelia continued to watch the door, curious to see what faces would appear in the glass window. She was a bit taken aback when she locked eye contact with Sarah Cameron, not expecting her to be among those loud voices. Sarah quickly lit up, and a bright smile spread on her lips as she slid the door open.

“Ophelia, would you mind if we all sat here?” The blonde girl that Ophelia used to share all her secrets with when she was younger, gestured to the abundance of new yet familiar faces that stood behind her. She recognized the girl with curly brown hair, she was the Hufflepuff girl that put up posters and loudly argued for house-elves freedom. Next to her stood her trusty companion, the dark-skinned Ravenclaw whose hand was always reaching towards the ceiling when questions were asked during class. 

Sarah grabbed one of the two lighter haired boys by the hand and dragged him towards a seat. “This is John B, you know the guy I always used to have a crush on in the first year?” Ophelia did know, Sarah used to gush about the boy with the long hair and freckled skin every time they saw each other. A lot had happened since, but apparently they had managed to find their way to each other. 

“Yeah, I remember.” She answered, a little unsure of what to say, because what do you say to someone that you have not spoken to in ages? The sofa she was sitting on rocked a tiny bit when the other blonde-haired boy threw himself down next to her. His red-tinted robes were a bit messy like he had just thrown them on in a hurry, not at all caring that his tie was all crooked.

“Sarah, you gonna introduce me to this beautiful girl or what?” He flashed Ophelia a cheeky grin while she just rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be a Gryffindor?” She asked while tilting her head to look at him.

“Yeah, why?” A small smile spread on her lips as she watched him furrow his brows in confusion. “Well, I thought they were supposed to be brave, and you are asking your friend to introduce us.” His friends snickered at that, watching and waiting for what he would answer. But he just looked at her, and then he leaned closer to her ear and whispered his name, JJ of course, he was the only one left. His voice was warm and it made her skin tingle, so naturally, she placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back.

“Was that brave enough for you, Ophelia Lancaster?” He made sure to emphasize every syllable in her name, proving that he had not needed an introduction after all. Once again she rolled her eyes at him and leaned back into the seat, this was definitely going to be a long ride. 

[bbyx]

in your dreams - part one

Summary: Remus Lupin is head over heels for Narcissa, but she’s not allowed to date until her sister (y/n) has a boyfriend. As a solution, Remus enlists Sirius to become (y/n)’s boyfriend.                                                                        Pairings: reader x sirius, remus x narcissa, lucius x narcissa, james x lily Disclaimer: This is basically harry potter universe x 10 things i hate about you. You DON’T need to have seen the movie to understand bc this is basically a retelling of the story. Also some of the dialogue has been taken straight from the movie. ALSO in this story Narcissa and Bellatrix are NOT Sirius’s cousins.

Hogwarts. It was beautiful, breathtaking even from the train window. The great castle looms into view, and (y/n) Knightley gets slightly tearful at the fact that this is the beginning of her last year at Hogwarts. A year from now you would hopefully begin your training as a healer at St.Mungos. That is if your father didn’t marry you off before that. 

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by the compartment door sliding open. A group of giggling girls pop their heads in, blasting a horrendously high pitched song from a portable cassette player.

“Hi we’re the Promenade ball committee! Make sure to buy a ticket. It’ll be a night to remember!” One of them says in a sugar sweet voice, handing you a purple flyer. You simply roll your eyes as an answer and the girls leave, mumbling to themselves. You manage to hear a what a bitch through the high pitched singing. You glance down at the paper. It reads:

Promenade ball! Hogwarts class of 1978

May 22nd - 8:00 to 12:00

Tickets : 10 galleons each

You scrunch the paper into a ball and throw it out the open window. 

Balls were stupid anyways.

Remus walked into Professor Myriads office, the head of Gryffindor house. He’s missed Hogwarts. Spending one year abroad at Ilvermorny was a great experience but it couldn't compete with the beauty of Hogwarts. In one year, so much had changed yet it still felt the same way it had in his first year. Strange but familiar.

“Remus Lupin. Welcome back! I hope you enjoyed your stay in America. Now I know you remember this school like the back of your hand but it is a Hogwarts rule that any returning students must be shown around the premises again. I’ve assigned Peter Pettigrew to be your guide for today.” She says motioning to Peter standing outside, waving excitedly. “You may go to class now.” The silver haired woman said, dismissing him quickly. Remus reached down for his bookbag when a shadow stood leaning in the doorway. 

“Padfoot!”

“Moony! Missed you mate.” Sirius and Remus embraced each other tightly, Professor Myriad cleared her throat. 

“Sirius Black. I see we're making our visits a weekly ritual. You better not get in trouble this year if you want to graduate.” She gave him a disapproving glance. He answered with a charming smile.

“Only so we can have these moments together. Should I, uh, get the lights?”

“Oh very clever Mr. Black. That’ll be ten points from Gryffindor.”

“Remus! Oh we’ve missed you so much. Tell me how it was. How were the states? Good god, so many things have changed in the past year.” Peter said, spitting out more questions than Remus could handle.

“It was nice, Ilvermorny was very laid back. They study native magic and lots of non verbal spells. I’ll tell you more at dinner.”

“Allright, let me give you the breakdown, even though you know most of this stuff.” Peter said.

They begin to walk around the grounds.

“Over there you’ve still got your basic beautiful people.” He motions to a group of students sitting under a tree. “To the left we have the coffee kids. A new developpement since Dippet allowed a coffee machine in the Great Hall.”

“Interesting.” Remus said, looking at the students who couldn’t seem to sit still.

One of them knocked over his cup, filled with rich brown liquid, onto the other’s lap. “Whoa”

“That was a Costa Rican, asshole!”

“Very edgy.  Don’t make any sudden moves around them.” Peter added. 

They now approached a few students dressed in large hats and leather boots.

 “These guys…” Peter started.

“Wait wait.  Let me guess.  Cowboys?”

“Yeah, ever since that muggle movie Grayeagle came out.”

“Who would have thought that I would see more cowboys back at Hogwarts than the US.”

They now neared a group of students sitting on the grass, scribbling on parchment furiously.                

“These are your future Ministers. Hey guys.  How ya doin’?” Peter waved to the group. They rolled their eyes at him and went back to they’re books.

“Yesterday I was their god.” Peter said wistfully.

Remus chuckled, he had missed this atmosphere. “What happened.”

“Bogie Levenstein started a rumor that I...that I used an enchanted quill on my OWL’s.”

“Did you?” Remus asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not the point.” Muttered Peter.

“So they kicked you out?” Remus continued.

“Hostile takeover.  But don’t worry.  They’ll pay.  Now over here…”

“Merlin’s sake.” Remus whispered as a beautiful, creamy skinned dark haired girl walked by.

 “What group is she in?”

“The “don’t even think about it” group. That’s Narcissa Knightley.  Fifth year.” Peter said, shaking his head at his friend. Remus' mouth was still agape as she walked past him with her friend.

“Yup, see, there’s a difference between “like” and “love”.  Because I like my wand, but I love my Snakeskin backpack.” Narcissa explained to the other girl.

“But I love my wand.” Her friend says clutching her wand to her chest.

“That’s because you don’t have a snakeskin backpack.” Narcissa said, like it was the most obvious thing. Her friend looks enamoured by her wisdom.

“Oohhh.”

“Listen. Forget her.  Incredibly uptight father, and it’s a widely known fact that the Knightley sisters aren’t allowed to date.” Peter said, shaking his Remus's shoulder.

“Uh huh...yeah.”

At dinner later that night, Remus couldn’t keep his gaze off the enchanting girl at the Slytherin table.

“Earth to Moony!” James said between mouthfuls.

“Mate, we haven’t seen you in months. Talk. Or would you rather go join the Slytherins.” Sirius says, glaring at the green robed students.

“He has a thing for Narcissa Knightley.” Remus gave Peter a death glare.

“She’s pretty, but not as pretty as Lily Evans.” James sighed, looking at the auburn haired girl.

“Prongs, you're still running after her? It’s been, what, three years of her constantly rejecting you.” Remus chuckled.

“At least Lily’s allowed to date.” James retorted.

“You guys are pathetic.” Sirius said, grinning cockily, knowing he could get any girl at Hogwarts easily.

“Okay then.  What did everyone think of the Tales of the Wizard-Goblin war?” Professor Binns, Hogwarts only ghost professor, asked.

“I loved it. The part with Ginnamora was soooo romantic.” A clueless girl sighed.

“Romantic?  Buckthorn?!  He was an abusive alcoholic misogynist who squandered half his life hanging around Giraf Abbott trying to nail his leftovers.” (y/n) said to the girl, earning eyerolls from the other students. 

Lucius Malfoy chuckles cockily. “As opposed to a bitter self-righteous hag who has no friends?”

Giggles erupt through the room. (y/n) doesn’t turn around to face him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d pissed her off.

“I guess in this society being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time.”

Just then, a dark haired boy strolls confidently inside the classroom.

“What’d I miss?” Sirius asked.

“The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education.” You answered, gritting your teeth furiously.

“Good.” He turned around and went back out of the room.

“Hey, hey!” The ghost professor looked like he was about to go after him but decided to stay put.

“Uh,Professor.  Is there any chance we could get (y/n) to take her calming drought before she comes to class?” Lucius said, high fiving his fellow slytherins.

“Mr.Malfoy, someday you’re gonna get hexed and I’m not gonna do a thing to stop it.  And Miss. Knightley.  I want to thank you for your point of view.” Professor Binns stated. (y/n) smiled to herself.

Take that Malfoy.

“I know how difficult it must be for you to overcome all those years of pureblood oppression.  It must be tough.” Professor Binns' words wiped the grin right off her face. (y/n) thanks Merlin that Lucius Malfoy, with his inflated ego, couldn’t see her face. Professor Binns continues.

“But the next time you storm around the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures crusading for better house elves, or whatever it is you wealthy purebloods complain about, ask them why they can’t buy a book written by a ghost!”

 His normally monotone voice was now strident. Never in your six years at Hogwarts had you ever heard Professor Binns get so riled up. The whole class was taken about by his sudden burst of emotion. You quickly recover from your slight shock.

“Anything else?”

“Ten points from Gryffindor.  Go to your head of house.” Professor Binns stated, sounding a little brittle.

“What?!  Professor Binns!” You plead but he’s already started scribbling on the chalkboard. (y/n) storms out, making sure to hit Lucius Malfoy with her bag on the way.

Professor Myriad was scribbling a letter when you reached her office, knocking on the doorway to make your presence known. The silver haired woman lowered her glasses as you sat down in a crimson chair.

“So I hear you were terrorizing Professor Binns‘s class.  Again.”

“With all due respect expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action.” You say, picking at your nails.

“The way you expressed your opinion to Richard Crabbe? By the way, his testicle retrieval operation went quite well, in case you're interested.” She remarqued, mentioning a particularly nasty quidditch fight between (y/n) and that idiot Crabbe.

“I still maintain that his broom malfunctioned and he kicked himself in the balls.” You answer cooly, trying your hardest not to let any emotion seep through your face.

Professor Myriad fumbled. “The point is (y/n)...People perceive you as somewhat …” 

“Tempestuous?”

“"Heinous bitch" is the term used most often.” She states simply.

How flattering, Professor.

“You might want to work on that. Try being more like your sister.” 

You raised your eyebrows at her comment because the woman clearly had no idea what she was getting into.

“Tell me Professor, which sister are we talking about? Bellatrix? Who was married off to some greasy pureblood the day after she graduated. Andromeda? Who followed her heart but was shunned from the family. Or Narcissa? Who at sixteen still, for the love of god, cannot tie her shoelaces.” 

(y/n) rises from her chair and says, in her most sarcastic tone  “As always, thank you for your excellent guidance.” before strolling out of the tiny office.

Lucius and his friends were sprawled in their usual spots under a tree. Someone in the group mumbles “Virgin alert” as Narcissa and Josie walk past. Lucius’s attention is immediately fixed on the innocent looking brunette. The girls notice him and wave shyly.

“Looking good ladies.”

“They’re outta reach, even for you.” Simon Nott  said in a sing-song voice.

“No one’s out of reach for me.” Lucius says, sizing his friend up.

“You wanna put money on that?” Simon questions, leaning back against the tree. Lucius glances at Narcissa who’s laughing with a group of fifth year students,

“Money I’ve got.  This I’m going to do for fun.”

From across the courtyard, Remus, James and Peter observe the way Lucius Malfoy is eyeing Narcissa, like a tiger watching his prey. Remus feels strangely protective of her, wanting to protect her from Lucius’s slimy paws. He gazed at her as she giggled, her dimples showing.

“Mate, look at her.” He said in a voice soft with affection.

James is clearly unimpressed. “Is she always so...vapid?”

“How can you say that?  She’s totally…”

“Conceited?”Peter leered.

“What are you talking about Wormtail?  There’s more to her than you think. I mean, look... look at the way she smiles. And look at her eyes, man.  She’s totally pure.  I mean, you’re missing what’s there.”

“No, Moony.  No. What’s there is a snotty little Princess creating a strategically planned appearance to make guys like us realize we can never touch her, and guys like, uh…” Peter fumbled, looking across the courtyard. “...Lucis, realize they want to. She, my friend, is what we’ll spend the rest of our lives not having. Move on.”

“No.” Remus pouted stubbornly.

“Move on.” James quipped, repeating Peter’s words.

“No! You’re wrong about her.  You’re so wrong.” Remus grumbled back.

“Alright.  I’m wrong?  You wanna take a shot?  Be my guest. She’s actually looking for a Mermish tutor.”

Remus’s eyes light up. “Are you serious?  That’s perfect!”

“Do you even speak Mermish?” James questioned. Remus flashed his bright teeth.

“Well no.  But I will.”

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 3

Hello, and once again, welcome to the exciting world of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

Eda easily slipped through the crowd, one of the benefits of being a skilled pickpocket, scanning the faces around her. Her eyes brightened when she finally spotted the girl she was looking for. “Luz!” She called out, signalling the girl over. As Luz spotted Eda in turn, she grinned, sauntering over.

“Hey Eda! How’d your conversation go?” Luz asked casually, hands tucked in her pockets.

Eda gave a confident smirk, expertly holding in the awkwardness she knew was trying to peek through. “Eh, as well as it was gonna go. Still, I think me and Gwen are gonna be fine.” She replied, giving an easy shrug. Things between her and her mother may still be rough, but they now had a starting point to build something healthy. Together.

Luz gave a wistful smile. “Man, that must be nice.” She said, an almost dreamy look to her face, much to Eda’s confusion. Shaking her head, Luz cleared her thoughts. “Anyway, I got to ask something.”

“Fire away.” Eda prompted.

Luz smirked, laughing lightly. “I overheard some kids talking, do you know what this whole Moonlight Conjuring thing is?” She asked, slightly cocking her head.

“Moonlight Conjuring? Pfft! It’s some baby magic ceremony where kids hold hands and try to use the power of the moon to bring something to life.” Eda said dismissively. She had honestly forgotten that it was around that time of year for it. Ugh. She raised an eyebrow at the look of shock Luz had. “What’s with the look?”

“Are you saying that parents WILLINGLY let their kids attempt a Lunar Ritual!? Annually!?” She demanded, a wild look in her eyes.

Eda reeled back at the intensity. “Whoa, kid! You’re gonna have to explain a little. What’s the big deal, the ritual never works!” She should know, all those times she and… anway, all those times she’d tried to do it as a kid, and it never worked, not even once!

“I can think of a few reasons why if my hunch is right.” Luz dryly stated, though Eda was mostly certain that wasn’t a jab at her. This time at least. Luz grew serious. “Eda, this is big stuff. Lunar Rituals, even minor ones, are insanely powerful, and can cause all kinds of chaos!” She huffed. “Man, this job just got tougher.”

That instantly caught Eda’s attention. “What job?” She asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. If this was a trap…

Luz snorted. “That Blight girl from the Covention is holding a Conjuring for her and some of her friends, and asked me to run Bodyguard duty so that they feel safe.” She shrugged. “I mean, usually I’m the one getting PAST bodyguards, not acting as one, but it seemed like something to do, you know?”

Eda paused, mulling it over. She knew the Blights, the parents that is, and she didn’t trust either of them, not really. Al was deceptively absent-minded, but was brilliant when it came to playing the game and getting the best results for him and his, whereas Dolly was… an experience in patience testing, even by Eda’s lofty standards of weaponized annoyance. Still, if it came from the kid, it probably wasn’t a trap. “Eh, I got no problem with it.” She finally said. “Just keep your eyes peeled around her parents. Al and Dolly aren’t the kind of people you should trust. Like, at all.” She finished, voice growing grave.

Luz lightly bit her lip, softly kicking at the ground. “Yeah, I understand.” She was intimately familiar with adults of those types. Eyes brightening, she added, “But hey, it’s still a party, right? I bet I can sneak out some snacks for you, King and Hooty after I’m done!” She winked, a cheeky grin on her face. Eda laughed at that. Chuckling, the two made their way home, Eda chugging the potion before she forgot about it again. When they got back, they encountered the honestly hilarious sight of King tied up to a pole over a pile of leaves, Hooty reading off a list of charges before a court of stuffed animals. After they finished laughing, and King stopped screaming in embarrassment, the group went inside, gathering supplies.

“I don’t care what you say, I AM GOING WITH YOU TO THE NIGHT MARKET!!” King shouted, stomping his foot. It almost looked bratty, were it not for the fact he was also stuffing supplies into a fanny pack from Eda’s junk piles. For all his attitude, he was serious about going with her.

“Ugh! Fine, fine! Just settle down already!” Eda groaned, relenting to his (annoying) insistence. She looked sideways at Luz’s chuckle. “Oh, like you’d be able to stand up to him when he’s like this, either!” She retorted.

Luz snorted. “Aw heck no! I am well aware when to fold’em, but that’s not gonna stop me from finding this hilarious!” She laughed, her stuff packed and ready for the trip. She calmed down, focusing. “But for real, this should be a good way to relax, you know?” She said, a soft smile on her face, one that Kind and Eda returned. A sharp knocking sounded at the door. “Coming!” Luz called out. As she walked up to the door, she was unsurprised to see Willow and Gus standing before her, wearing a mix of formal and casual clothing. What did surprise her, however, was their expressions. Willow had a look of stoic control, as if she was about to do something she really didn’t want to, but was resigned to it. Gus seemed to be oscillating between barely contained panic, and unfettered excitement.

“Uuuhh… you guys okay?” Luz hesitantly asked. She knew that they didn’t have the best history with Blight, but wasn’t this reaction a little much?

“Who, us!? Yeah! Totally fine! Definitely not panicking over going to the most popular girl in school’s Conjuring after she sent us a message over Penstagram and are totally freaking out over the idea of it being a horrible, awful, evil prank to humiliate and degrade us!! Nope, we are totally fine!” Gus rambled, eyes flicking around the area, visibly sweating. Luz cocked an eyebrow.

“Let’s just get this over with, can we?” Willow stoically stated, already moving to leave, and motioning for them to follow. Gus quickly followed suit. With a shrug, Luz gave one last wave goodbye to Eda and King, and followed them.

“The guard I acquired to supervise the safety of myself and my guests for the conjuring, along with the first of my guests, will be arriving shortly.” Amity informed her parents. Alador was still working on his latest Abomination experiment, almost obsessed with it ever since he had examined Willow’s from the incident as Amity thought of it. Her mother, Odalia, was frantically pacing, sipping at a cup of tea to try and settle her nerves. Amity admittedly derived some level of almost sadistic enjoyment from her mother’s current discomfort. For reasons unknown, Odalia had been in something of a tizzy all day, her normal paranoia kicked up a few notches.

“I don’t like it!” Odalia announced, stopping in front of Amity. “This entire venture is far too risky, with too little benefit! While a boost to public morale and that of the social links you’ve formed would most definitely be beneficial, we have no idea if those Oroboros Cravens would attempt to attack us! We ARE the Boiling Isles premiere source of Home Security equipment, after all!” She turned to Alador. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“I believe so.” Alador added his absent-minded consideration to the conversation. “If I recall correctly, the guests should all be currently in transit, and if Amity’s preparations are accurate, our first two guests and her mysterious guard should be arriving at any moment.” He concluded, never once glancing up from the Abomination before him, his arms buried deep in its inner workings.

“Curses!” Odalia bit out, glancing at the clock in frustration. Ultimately, she sighed. “Ugh, very well, I suppose this nonsensical event can continue.” Amity tacitly held her tongue on the fact that Odalia was the one who regularly encouraged her to hold them at all.

“Thank you, mother.” Amity said diplomatically. The doorbell screamed, signalling someone’s arrival. “I believe that would be my guard and two of the guests. Would you like to accompany me in greeting them?” She asked, internally begging for her mother not to, to make up some bull excuse about it being beneath her, that she had work to do, anything!

“Hmm, very well, I suppose.” Odalia replied, dashing Amity’s hopes. As the two walked toward the door, she once again internally begged, pleaded, for her mother not to make a scene, to just accept Amity’s decisions. Surprisingly, her hopes were answered! ...Though, the reason was in itself rather chilling.

Outside the door stood three figures, Willow, Augustus, and Luz, all ready for the night to begin. Seeing who was at the door, Amity expected a few different reactions from her mother: Shouting, summoning Abominations, derogatory remarks, and a few others. What she got was, in itself, surprising. A wide, intimately familiar smile appeared across Odalia’s face, the look she got when she made a highly advantageous deal. “Welcome, honored guests!” Odalia cried, ushering the bewildered group inside. “It is my pleasure, as Matriarch of the Blight Family, to welcome you to our humble home for my darling daughter’s Moonlight Conjuring!” Humble, right. Amity felt like scoffing at her mother’s hammy antics, but held her tongue, both to maintain her image, and to see why her mother was reacting as anticipated.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to be here, Miss Blight.” Luz cordially stated, a neutral look on her face.

“Oh, call me Odalia dear! You played quite the role in protecting my darling Mittens from harm!” She all but gushed, ruffling Amity’s hair, much to her frustration. She could see the three silently mouthing her nickname. Oh no. Odalia’s eyes sharpened, focusing on Luz’s face. “Judging by your presence here, I believe it’s safe to assume you are the guard my daughter acquired, is it not?”

“Uh, yeah.” Luz nodded, a little baffled at Odalia’s antics at the moment. “Pardon my confusion, but you are taking me being here a lot better than I expected.”

“Hmm? Oh, you mean about your association with those ruffians, don’t you?” Odalia rhetorically stated, chuckling lightly. “My dear, you swore an Unbreakable Vow on a live broadcast, someone would have to be a fool to find you suspect after that, you even pledged to fight against Oroboros while under it for Titan’s sake! No, you being here eliminates most of my worries about how this night will turn out.” She said, a pleased look on her face.

“Oh! Well, thank you, ma’am.” Luz said, a faint blush on her face at the praise. Amity resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. While that was certainly a revelation as to her mother’s motives, in part, it still didn’t answer the biggest question as to why she hasn’t blown her top.

“And who might you be?” Odalia cordially stated, turning to Augustus.

“OH, uh, Augustus Porter, Miss Odalia Blight, Ma’am!! I’m in the same year as your daughter, in the Illusion Track at Hexside!” He quickly stated, standing stock still in nervousness. Amity almost face-palmed at his antics. “Most people call me Gus.” He rapidly added.

“Hmm, Gus Porter, son of Perry Porter, conductor of the interview and one of the Boiling Isles most acclaimed reporters, holding a great deal of public sway due to his accuracy, honesty, and minimal bias in his field.” Odalia rattled off, as if by memory. Amity assumed it was, as her mother did enjoy memorizing details of people with influence, even if only peripherally, like Mr. Porter. “Going by your age, I find it intriguing that you’re in the same year as my daughter. Did you skip a grade?” She mused.

“Uh, two actually.” Gus said, bashfully rubbing his shoulder.

“Well, well, well! Aren’t you the accomplished little intellectual!” She said enthusiastically. “My boy, if you ever desire, I believe I could find you quite a lucrative position at Blight Industries upon your graduation.” She said, pulling out one of her business cards, handing it to the now star-struck boy.

“Oh, wow! Uh, thank you?” He said, both excited and confused at the offer, tucking the card into his pocket.

“Oh, think nothing of it.” Odalia dismissed, turning to Willow, an assessing look in her eyes. “And you?”

“Willow Park, ma’am.” Willow said, her face a careful mask of iron-clad politeness.

“Willow Park, recent transfer to Hexside’s Plant Track, considered their rising star, and possessing a level of power and skill typically found only in adults.” Odalia once again rattled off, a calculating look in her eyes. “Miss Park, I daresay I owe you an apology for my daughter’s conduct.” Amity and Willow both went very still at that, certain theories sliding into place in both their minds.

“While I am unaware as to why, exactly, my daughter felt the need to distract herself with something as gauche as bullying of all things, I am pleased to inform you that she was appropriately reprimanded for her conduct.” Odalia continued, blissfully unaware of the thoughts raging through the minds of the two involved. “If you ever feel the need for further discussion on this topic, or if my daughter slips back into such… unsavory habits, feel free to contact me. But for the moment, I must bid the three of you farewell.” And with that, she turned on her heel, swiftly making her way back to her husband, hoping he was either finished… or hadn’t killed himself.

Amity felt sick. Her mind could only find one simple conclusion as to why, exactly, that had occurred, and by the look of mixed disgust and near-volcanic rage on Willow’s face, she had reached it as well. “She didn’t even remember me.” Willow breathed out, burning heat coloring her voice. “She didn’t even know who I was!”

Unbeknownst to the group, a figure was watching from the shadows outside, a group arrayed protectively around her. “I never expected to see you here, LuLu.” A childish voice giggled, a small pointed object glinting in their hands.

[musicanddancingthroughlife]

Necromancer - Shklance

Dudessss. If ya’ll are still here for stories, you’re literally the best humans. I think it’s been months, what with mental health issues followed by the corona (because of course I would be “essential personnel” and of course they increased our weekly hours to over 50) followed by the start of the semester, but I’ve been working on this off and on for a few weeks now, as well as some original stuff. So if you guys are interested in my original works, lemme know and I’ll post some of it. Who knows maybe it’ll motivate me to actually finish one of my books.

Also, this is super rough, so be nice to me. I’m playing around with some ideas here, so feedback is appreciated, and let me know if you want more of this au cause I haven’t decided anything with it yet.

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

           Here’s the thing. The gods are real. Or at least someone’s gods. Or maybe they’re just god-like? Anyway, some clarification. Everyone agrees that these aren’t like any of the gods we recognize. They don’t quite match any of our religions (and boy did that infuriate Lance’s grandmother), and they weren’t like Zeus, or Anubis, or Odin, or any others we know of from legends. In fact, they’re more like the monsters of myths.

             And even further, they’re absolute dicks.

             With all their incredible power, they thought it would be prudent to impart some of their stupid gifts to us mere mortals, and in the process, they ruined Lance’s life.

             See, only a small percentage of humans were given a gift. Most of them were young adults, some teenagers. Supposedly some children will manifest as they mature, but the short of it was, Lance was the only one in his family to get one. Most of his family tried to be understanding and sympathetic about it, but some were jealous, others wary, and all of them were making Lance feel more alone than ever before.

              At least his best friend kinda understood. He’d been blessed by the shifter-god (as in god-who-can-shift, not god-that-shifters-worship). A fairly common gift by now, but still a useful one. Not to mention how cool it was. But, Hunk’s girlfriend Shay had been blessed, too, and was currently in attendance at the new Supernatural school with Hunk and Lance. Since the first day, the perfect couple had easily been able to make friends with the other students in their sections, even their dorms. Most still startled around Lance, but he was becoming used to that. One of these exceptions was a girl named Pidge. Well, her name was actually Katie, but she preferred to go by Pidge. She and her brother were geniuses, so they were great with Hunk and Shay, and tolerant of Lance, but he’d take what he could get.

              Besides, Pidge and her brother Matt – technopaths – were almost impossible to mock, because they were actually childhood – best – friends with Lance’s roommates, the hotshot vampire powerhouse couple of the school. Usually, students were grouped by their gift; in the dorm, they were for their comfort and safety. So far, the three of them were the exception. Of course, because the gods apparently hated Lance, he was one of those, because he was one of the only non-vamps in the dorms. Due to the nature of their existence, people naturally sough to avoid vampires, and they responded by forming their own nests, once again, carefully excluding Lance. Because even at a school of freaks, weirdos, and the powerful, Lance was of the worst.

              Lance was a necromancer.

              A surprise to his family and to Hunk, because they always referred to him as a sunshine boy, always commented on his happy, goofy nature and attitude. Even with the dark nature of the gift, Lance remained his cheerful self – for the most part – for the first few months, but the constant abuse and isolation was starting to wear on him, and Lance knew it. He just couldn’t tell if he cared. No one else did, right? His old friends were having the time of their lives. Even Hunk had yet to see past the mask Lance had taken on. All the other students were content to ignore or mock him, and even Lotor, the only other necromancer at the school, was enjoying the process of crushing Lance, both in the classroom and out. Lance was barely surviving.

              And honestly, he probably wouldn’t be if it weren’t for his roommates. As fuckin’ weird as they were, even for vampires they had been kinder and more aware of Lance and his challenges than anyone else lately. When Lance was too drained physically and emotionally to go down for dinner, Keith brough t tray of food up to him, full of only human food and none of the blood the vampires included in their meals. And Lance hadn’t missed how Shiro sometimes was there to help Lance to and from classes, cheerfully carrying on a very one-sided conversation and effectively ensuring that Lance didn’t feel alone all the time. And even when they were alone in their dorm room studying, both of them did their level best to keep Lance included in their discussions. They refused to let him hide in his bedroom, which he had all to himself, as the previously assigned roommate refused to live with a necromancer. Instead, they dragged him out to the common room to study and then watch movies with them. Literally, Keith dragged him kicking and screaming that first time.

              Sometimes, Lance wished that they weren’t so determined to draw him out and be his friend. Like now, for example.

Sometimes, Shiro will announce a mandatory movie night and sleepover – seriously, having primarily nocturnal roommates was weird – and Lance always tried to duck into his room. Or sneak back out once they were wholly engaged in whatever movie they chose.

“Lance,” Shiro spoke with utter calm, but Lance froze as if he’d been threatened. While Shiro didn’t look up from his movie, Keith did, making direct contact with Lance, who bit his lip and glanced at the den and then looked back at Keith. Keith raised an eyebrow. “Bat got your tongue, Lance?”

              It took him a minute, but Lance found his voice. Not that it was gonna do him any good. “Ummm… I just… have some homework to finish, so…”

              “That would mean that when you said you were done at dinner, you lied,” Keith observed. Shiro reached for the remote. “Pull it out here, then, I have some reading I could do, too.”

              Lance looked horrified at the thought of ruining their plans. He floundered, “No! Uh, you don’t have to do that! I can study on my own, it’s fine!” But Shiro was grabbing their books now, Keith watching Lance carefully. “Okay! Fine! I don’t have any homework!”

              Shiro brightened immediately. “Good! Then c’mere so we can finish the movie; I wanna see how it ends!” How the hell could this giant, terrifying creature of the night be such a pup???

              Lance managed a weak smile at the sight, “Well, I’ve already seen it, so I’ll probably just go to bed, but you guys should definitely stay and watch!” He shot a wary look at Keith, who was shaking his head.

              “Lance, you’re just as nocturnal as we are. Nearly all your classes are at night. And you’re a night owl, anyway. So what’s the big deal?”

              “Don’t you guys ever get sick of it?” Lance finally burst out.

              Shiro and Keith looked at him cautiously. “What are you talking about, Lance?”

              “Come on, Shiro, look at me! The Reaper and all that bull, there’s no way you guys actually want to spend time with me! And even if you did, don’t you ever want just some time with Keith? Well, I’m trying to give that to you, except you guys won’t let me just leave so that I can leave you to it, and oh my God you probably hate me so much for taking up so much of your time, and I can’t believe I did this to you I’m so sorry, I-I just, I can’t, ugh, just let me—” But before Lance could dart for the door, Keith caught hold of his wrist, his own abilities coming in handy to keep ahold of Lance, even as the pictures on the walls and lamps rattled dangerously as Lance’s own powers spiked, black fog seeping out from beneath him. Lance’s eyes were tightly squeezed shut, and Shiro was careful as he approached and put a hand on Lance’s arm.

              “Lance. We like spending time with you, promise.”

              But Lance just shook his head, sobs now wracking his whole body. Keith let out a soft noise, drawing Lance close enough that he could wrap him up in a hug. Shiro enveloped them both, wrapping his arms around Keith’s back, and protecting Lance’s back as he did so. This close, Shiro didn’t need heightened senses to hear Keith whispering reassurances in Lance’s ear, and Shiro let himself join, knowing from past experience that the way his chest “rumbled” would help to soothe Lance further, and soon enough, Lance was swaying as his exhaustion hit him. Keith and Shiro worked together to maneuver Lance down the hall and into their own bed. They knew that this wasn’t going to solve all of their problems, but at least they could be there for their brilliant, bright boy tonight.

[sweetenthislittlehand]

drarry fic recs

since i read so much fanfiction, and most of it drarry, i decided to make a rec list specifically for all my favorite drarry fics. because what else are you gonna do when you’re under quarantine? and i’ve got a lot of recs, so get comfortable.

first off, lemme just say that if you haven’t read any Saras_Girl fics, you absolutely should. she’s my favorite fic author of all time, really only ever writes drarry (although a lot of her fics feature background romione), and she’s still an active writer. there’ll be a lot of her stuff on this list, so if you don’t know where to start, just keep reading.

Reparations by Saras_Girl  [87k, E]

Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.

this is my favorite fic of all time, okay? harry is a healer trainee at st. mungo’s, and all the trainees go through rotations in different departments of the hospital. harry’s first rotation is in the chemical dependency department, where he discovers he’ll be working under none other than our illustrious draco malfoy. this is so well written, and the characterization is so spot on, and it’s the perfect slowburn. i’ve read it so many times. i practically consider it canon at this point. (it’s also part of a series — Foundations!verse — and i love the sequel just as much.)

Talk To Me by Saras_Girl  [15k, T]

When the usual channels of communication are shut down, the most surprising people can find a way in. A strange little love story.

probably my favorite one-shot. it’s an eighth year fic, but honestly, the year isn’t important to the story. harry gets hit more-or-less accidentally by a spell that renders him blind and deaf, and a *mysterious person* comes to his rescue. it’s the absolute sweetest thing i have ever read in my life. without the means to communicate normally, draco writes the words with his finger on the palm of harry’s hand. the characterization, again, is perfect. and harry figuring things out and reconciling apparently conflicting ideas of what he knows of draco left me squealing.

Building It Together by digthewriter  [27k, E]

Forced proximity can only lead to bad things, right? Right.

this is such an original fic, and the concept is so intriguing. grimmauld place is tearing itself apart because harry’s been avoiding the house and its memories, and it finally breaks its magical ties to him. and sirius’ nearest blood relative is none other than draco malfoy. to save the house from itself and restore it to harry, draco has to move in, and with sections of the house disappearing... there’s only one bed. also let me just say that draco’s job is the most original thing i’ve ever seen, and it’s so fascinating and magical, and i love it. this is such a good fic.

Feel You In These Walls by alpha_exodus  [6k, E]

Just this once, Harry thinks. Just this once, they'll kiss, they'll have sex, and then it'll be over. Draco hadn't expected more than that either. But then it happens again, again, and neither of them had anticipated having feelings involved - but then they've never been able to keep anything casual, have they?

i don’t usually read fics that are smut-centric, cause, y’know... asexual. but i really like this one. it’s beautifully written, and the dynamic is just. so great. also, asexual or no, i am not immune to tension. (i’ll take or leave the smut — in fact i’d mostly rather leave it — but unresolved tension? heck yeah.)

Salt on the Western Wind by Saras_Girl  [60k, M]

When the war isn’t quite as over as it first appears, a guilt-ridden Harry is sent to a mysterious safe-house. Among sandwiches, insomnia, and Mills & Boon, he discovers something quite unexpected.

in the face of the dangers of the remaining deatheaters who have not been apprehended, mcgonagall sends harry, ron, and hermione to a safe-house. narcissa malfoy, having saved harry’s life asks one thing of him: to take draco with him into hiding. things take an unexpected turn when draco accidentally fouls up a spell and binds harry’s wrist to his by a silver thread that will only break when the people bonded ‘have reached a point of mutual understanding, confidence, and accord’. it’s so well-written, and i love the setting, and everything a lot. it’s wonderful.

Stealing Sweaters by DorthyAnn  [12k, T]

It's their eighth and final year and over the course of several months, Harry and Draco have managed to become close friends. Their friends are entirely certain that they ought to be much, much more. So they just decide to... help things along.

this is so sweet, so fluffy. i die. harry and draco’s relationship in this is to live for. there’s platonic cuddling and hugging and sweater stealing, and then comes the realization that it’s maybe not as platonic as they thought. the idea behind this one is that harry and draco’s friends think they know what they need, and decide to meddle, and really all they’ve done is mess everything up.

Rainfall by Saras_Girl  [4k, T]

So what if Draco has a rain kink? Everyone likes something weird.

literally the only thing you need to know about this fic is that draco has a rain kink. it’s bloody fantastic. i think you’ll find this is as much about draco as it is about drarry, and if you’re as obsessed with draco as i am, you’re gonna love that. (and by that, i mean draco absolutely soaked and with his face tipped up into the falling rain. it’s a beautiful mental picture.)

On a Clear Day by Saras_Girl  [41k, M]

Draco Malfoy is waiting for his real life to begin, and it appears that he’s not the only one. Coffee, charity, and the wisdom of the elderly.

draco works for a charity, and his boss is very insistent that he get harry potter to attend their next event. except that harry potter doesn’t attend events at all, and he hasn’t responded to any of draco’s owls, and draco’s just about had it. this is a marvelous fic. it deals with draco feeling the pressure of restoring his family’s good name, it deals with harry’s trauma, how his past experiences have affected him after the war, it deals with the relationship between them in a really important way. because it’s a ‘no i actually hate you, you were a bastard’ and there’s no ‘wait, is that sexual tension’ and ‘well, maybe it’s okay because he was a child at the time’. not that those aren’t valid and really good things to read about in fics, but it’s nice to see it from this ‘i’m a mature adult, so i’m not gonna be petty about this, but i do actually hate you’ angle. i like it a lot.

Time and Again by manixzen  [64k, E]               work in progress

Harry's absolutely sure it's Malfoy's fault that they are stuck reliving the same day over and over. Harry is good at his job. He's professional, has an excellent closure rate, and is a well-respected Auror. Malfoy's the unprofessional one with his snark and his judgemental eyebrows and his far too-posh-for-work robes. If Malfoy could have managed to refrain from being a pain in the arse, everything would have been just fine. They wouldn’t have gotten in yet another argument, Harry wouldn’t have been distracted, and Harry certainly wouldn’t have accidentally set off a powerful artifact at their crime scene. And if Malfoy would just get out of his way now, Harry's sure he can quickly fix this so they can get back to their comfortable professional dislike of one another.

so, it is a work in progress, and i know a lot of people don’t like reading those (myself included), but it’s being regularly updated, and there’s only one chapter left. so i’d definitely recommend it! it’s a pretty great fic, and worth a read.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop  [70k, E]

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always. At first, though, the time loop seems liberating. For the first time in his life, he can do anything, say anything, be anything, without consequence. But the more Draco repeats the day, the more he realises the uncomfortable truth: he's falling head over heels for the speccy git. And suddenly, the time loop feels like a trap. For how can he ever get Harry to love him back when time is, quite literally, against him?

just in case one time loop fic isn’t enough for you, why not have two? this one’s also really enjoyable, and i think you should give it a go. if you only have the attention span for a single time loop fic, i would probably suggest Time and Again over this one, but that’s a personal preference. this one has some pretty great moments all its own, and they’re both good reads.

All Life Is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl  [114k, M]

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

alright, i realize that this is the length of an actual novel, and that i probably should not have read this as many times as i have, but when you find a fic as good as this one, you can’t just ignore it. this fic is beauty itself, it’s the essence of life, it’s mandatory for everything. you want to go to college? they ask about this fic on your application. you want to get married? there are things you need to know beforehand, like ‘stanley the beetle doesn’t like transfigured mint leaves as much as the real ones’. that’s essential. i don’t know if i like this fic so much because of how good it is, or just because of pet beetle owner solidarity.

Good To Me (And I’d Be So Good to You) by AWickedMemory (TeddyLaCroix)  [8k, G]

Everyone returns to Hogwarts after the war, but nothing is quite the same. Harry's groupies are creepier than ever, Ron and Hermione are snogging all over the place, and the once-proud Draco is shuffling around like a kicked puppy. But that's okay: Harry's got a plan.

this fic is pure fluff, and if that’s not your thing i get that, but the premise of this is just so cute. because harry’s got a mental catalog of facts about draco malfoy and a) that’s hilarious and adorable, and b) they’re actually really interesting and insightful for draco’s characterization. also the end reveal is !!!

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by DorthyAnn  [5k, T]

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

because this trope never gets old, and this is really nice. there’s so much cuddling, and so many blurred lines between friendship and romance, and i love it. i’m a firm advocate of cuddling in every fanfiction ever. no fic is complete without it.

Helix by Saras_Girl  [92k, E]

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again.

it’s about snails. in an effort to get harry and draco to get along a little better, mcgonagall assigns them to overseeing the care of some very delicate snails for hagrid. there’s lots of heartfelt conversations, and struggles, and they’re very in love, so that’s nice. there’s also some really well-handled snape content, which i actually appreciate a lot, despite not really liking snape. it sets snape as draco’s godfather (which is a headcanon i love), and there’s a lot of contrast between draco’s relationship with snape and his relationship with his actual father, and i appreciate that a lot.

[gabrielllas]

you talked about rio and johnny being twins a few days ago and i cannot get the idea out of my head. beth running into johnny when he's all bundled up and she can't see he's not tattooed, him being confused until he puts it together that she thinks he's rio, him goading rio about it, beth and johnny ganging up on rio when the truth gets out?!! i need someone else to write the fic pls i'm desperate

Omg i love this!! I actually had something different in mind so i loved reading a different take! Here’s mine (this got way out of hand omg im sorry lets ignore the many mistakes i defo missed):

Johnny & Rio grew up in Long Beach with their mother&father&little sister. Rio’s always been quiet, not shy, just quiet. Johnny is loud and is always making conversation with people and has a certain charm. (Rio also has that charm but is quieter with it.)

When their father dies due to a crime related activity (he was an innocent bystander) Johnny & Rio deal with his death in different ways. Johnny signs up to the force and wants justice that way, wants to make a difference to Long Beach forever. Rio however, believes that if the police actually did their jobs correctly, his father would still be alive, so he takes a different route.

Rio joins the gang and starts climbing up the ladder, Johnny isn’t aware as he’s focused on his training and okay, his twin is a good liar when he calls to check in.

Rio eventually gets justice for his father but Long Beach isn’t the same to him, he grows to hate it and wants change.

Johnny joins the force and does well. He tells his brother of the arrests he makes, of his progress with the local gangs because he wants Rio to be proud of the work he’s doing. Wants his brother to know he’s doing it for his father, but Rio doesn’t see it that way. Every time Johnny calls him it causes more heat for Rio and all of sudden it’s just too much for him. Rio wants out, needs out, he hates Long Beach and he can’t get further in the crime world without fucking his own brother over.

His best friend, Mick, tells him of a player in Detroit whose slowly falling down the ladder and it’s the perfect in for Rio. Detroit is close to the boarder, good for business, and far away from Long Beach. Far away from the haunting memories.

Rio manages to convince his ma and little sister to come with him, he knows the in’s and out’s of the gangs all around Long Beach and he can’t protect them from them if he’s in Detroit. It’s easier than he thought it would be, Long Beach lost it’s meaning to them too without his father around.

Johnny is furious when he finds out, he ain’t one to throw the first punch usually but how could his own twin do to him? Convince their ma to leave their home, to leave him, when Johnny is trying to make Long Beach a better place. For all of them.

When they’re arguing Rio tells Johnny he isn’t changing shit, that he did more change than him and no matter how high up Johnny is, Rio would still have done more.

It all comes out then what Rio’s job actually is, what he actually does and Johnny just feels so many things. Confused, betrayed, angry, dumb.

Dumb how he missed this, betrayed that Rio would go against the system, angry that Rio thinks his job amounts to nothing, confused as to why his brother wouldn’t tell him.

Johnny doesn’t even know who his brother is anymore, he died along with his father. He tries to plead with his mother to stay, stay in Long Beach but even his own words sound weak to him. Rio’s words ring in his ear how he isn’t changing shit, and the violent images of the cases he’s on run through his mind. His family leave Long Beach and Johnny’s determined to prove his brother wrong, will shove it in his face when he’s done it but until then, they don’t speak.

Rio gets set up in Detroit and slowly creates his own empire, his ma&sister believe he owns a few bars and he keeps it that way. His mother tries to understand why him and Johnny aren’t talking anymore but they both don’t tell her why. For holidays his ma&sister go back to Long Beach to spend it with Johnny, Rio doesn’t go.

A few years past and Rio has Marcus with Rhea, the pregnancy surprising both of them cause they just broke up. They try and make it work but it ain’t for them so they settle into co-parenting.

Johnny works his way into Graceland and finally starts making change with his undercover work.

His ma tells him that Rio had a kid, he gets wasted that night trying to decide if he should call. He does call in the end but Rio doesn’t pick up.

When Marcus is 5, Elizabeth steals her way into Rio’s life. It’s a messy road and Rio thinks it comes to an end when Elizabeth tells him she blocked his number, but then she calls him and they make it work.

While Rio tries to navigate this whole new thing with Elizabeth, Johnny slowly falls off his own path.

Graceland gives him a new family, a new place to call home in Long Beach but it slowly starts to fall apart. Graceland isn’t what he thought it was and it becomes corrupt. The whole system becomes so corrupt to him and he feels so lost, his whole purpose in life just dies.

When Graceland falls through he goes to Detroit, needs to see his ma&sister and his brother.

Johnny surprises them by coming home on their birthday, his ma throwing Rio a party despite him hating birthday parties his whole life. When his ma answers the door she’s so happy to see him and for the first time in a long time, he feels home again.

When Rio sees Johnny at the door he doesn’t even know how to react, what to say, what to do and then Marcus&Elizabeth are shocked as well because they didn’t know about Johnny.

His ma directs everyone outside so they can talk, Rio can hear her praying as she past walks him and Elizabeth gives him that look and he ain’t looking forward to that conversation later.

Johnny can’t help but ask first why Marcus doesn’t know about him. Rio tells him no point confusing the kid with an uncle who ain’t around.

Rio asks Johnny why he’s here, wanting all this over and done with. Johnny crashes down onto the couch and tells him everything about Graceland and what’s happened to him in past few years.

Rio just stands and listens to him. Eventually Johnny tells him that he knows what Rio’s does, knows the intel they have on him.

“They know about your girl too. Didn’t think she was your type to be honest. Suits you though.”

“Lucia was your type, knew that was coming a mile away.”

“You kept tabs on me?” He ain’t angry, just curious.

“Had to know you weren’t gonna try and come for me.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Rio just hums and sits next to him.

Then they just sit in silence together.

“Why’d you get an owl for a throat tat?”

Rio tackles him to the floor.

The next few weeks they slowly start to become brothers again, Johnny trying to find a new purpose in life and Rio slowly starting to open up about his life. It’s a long progress but they’re happy to be brothers again.

[closer-stars]

Purple Skies, Pained Things

Member: Jongho Word Count: ~5k Requested: No Genre: Angst. A lot of Heavy things. A little hope in the end. Content: Allusions to depression, suicide ideation, low self worth, a bit of existentialism. This really is just a product of my own thoughts and dips. This kind of came to me while i was listening to christian yu’s album and his ig live that explained his creative process and decisions into making MITO. In a sense this is my mito? lol. I don’t know why I had Jongho in this too but it happened. I kind of compared my struggle with mental health to paintings and skies, colors and the like. So Yes. If this is a little weird, I apologize. It was a little tricky to write this since I had to be in a certain mood/headspace to write this. lol.  Note: This is heavy. If you can’t stomach something regarding mental struggles, issues, I suggest you don’t read this.  This went in directions I didn’t think it would go but it went where it went. Like Strength, I won’t put the atzff tags on this since this is a personal piece lmao. I won’t do my usual tag list on this since..well it’s personal? if you see it when it’s up, cool. if you don’t well.. you don’t lol. Gut Feeling and other reqs are in the works! Just gonna take Time. Jongho wonders how you manage on your own. Well he knows you’re independent, always treasuring your alone time whenever you can. But he’s not sure of how you manage when you have these dips. He’s actually not sure if that’s the right question, should he ask why instead? Why do you make yourself go through it on your own? Of course, he has his guesses regarding the reasons but it still runs in his mind.

He watches you from across the room, sitting near a corner. To anyone else, it would look like you were just watching the skyline; watching the sky turn from a bright blue to a myriad of colors before settling into a deep blue sprinkled with stars and bright lights. The sky was always pretty at this hour.

The complete opposite of your mind. 

The two of you knew better when you looked like that; you weren’t looking at anything. Your eyes aren’t focused on anything but your mind is. Your mind focuses on thoughts that make you spiral down. When your head spirals, you close yourself from everyone. Your mind is like the night sky: it can bring comfort and solace in a time of quiet but it is also dark and vast, seemingly never ending. The night sky can also bring the terrors of the unknown, the unseen, the lack of control that the day brings. Your mind now is just that without the comfort the night brings, but the numbing fear of what’s beyond. 

You feel like a tiny speck of dust. that doesn’t really have much use in a world that keeps moving. Maybe a better comparison would be something like a stormy sky; filled with heavy clouds that would spill forth heavy rain showers. The sudden sheets of water makes everyone hide away. Or rather, a sky tinged with the smoke from pollution; unbearable and frustrating. Just like what you’re doing right now, hiding away from everyone because you think that these days you have will bring nothing but frustration to those near you. 

So, what is Jongho doing in your apartment? He had his reasons. For starters, it’s been radio silence from your end.  He knows nothing of what has happened to you. Neither do your friends-- well to a degree, they don’t. It’s why he’s here, to check on you. He figured you’d be at home. He knows you well enough, just like how he can tell if the weather will be fine just by a glance at the sky. From what he’s seeing, it’s the calm before the storm.

He knows you don’t sleep much either, or rather, you stay up late into the night only to sleep when the sun’s peeking through the horizon. The deep blues slowly turning into a soft lilacs and blues streaked with bright yellows that bring the safety of a new day: a peaceful slumber. You told him in the past that you’re really just a night owl, a habit formed to cope with the hectic pace of life. A way for you to have some sort of grip on your life. He bought the words for a while, but the more he spends time with you. He’s not quite sure. He doesn’t understand why you shut yourself out from everyone when you need them the most. He does understand how hard it can be to ask for help. Carefully, he approaches your unmoving figure.

“Hey.” He murmurs, settling quietly in front of you. Your eyes flutter to his direction. You see him but the fact he’s sitting in front of you isn’t registering in your head. Maybe your mind’s playing tricks on you, your vivid imagination was always one of your assets. It could also be your downfall. 

“Go away..” your voice comes out like a sigh. Just as your mind is like the sky, your mind is just as vivid as paintings of years past. But, just like those paintings, it fades, it gets discolored as time passes by. Small cracks appear on layers of painting, no matter how much protection and preservation you put it through: the wear and tear can and will be inevitable. You assume this is just another way for your mind to make you think worse of yourself. Thoughts reflecting itself onto reality. Whatever reality is supposed to be.  With that, you look away from the figure in front of you, staring out the window. The sky has shifted into a deep purple, the lights from the neighboring buildings are flickering on, one by one. The purples gradually turning into artificial shades of yellow and white. 

He should’ve expected that, being alone with your own thoughts can get tiring. Even if you preferred your own company, these dips can take a toll on you. Slowly, he takes your hand in his. Something flashes in your eyes, dimmed only by the darkening sky above the two of you. “What are you doing here?” You ask. He notices how dry your voice sounds. How long has it been since you drank water? 

He has a feeling rain will come tonight. 

The sound of consciousness from you makes him quirk the corner of his lips in relief. “I wanted to check on you.” 

A sigh slips out of your lips, your eyes fluttering to a close. Your eyes feel dry. You don’t pull away your hand from his hold. You stay like that, unmoving in your spot, and for a moment you look peaceful, but the impending approach of a storm is warned through the marks under your eyes. Jongho wonders how you’ve been sleeping the past few days. He looks at the time. By now, you should be eating.

“Hey, you need to get some food in you.” Jongho gently reminds you, his voice mirrored by how he squeezes your hand to wake you up. 

“I don’t have an appetite…” You reason, despite your excuse you slowly move from your spot.

“At least get something in your stomach? Even some fruits will do.” Jongho returns. “Come, I can make you some food.” He lets you settle down on the chair. You let him move around your place, he’s been here so many times that he might as well have lived with you. 

“Have you eaten?” You speak up softly, watching him with heavy eyes. This really doesn’t surprise him anymore, how you’re able to put others before you, even when you can barely do so for yourself. 

It takes a while for him to reply to the question. If he gives a clear cut answer, it can make your attention shift to him when the main subject here is you. He runs a few strawberries and an orange through water. “I’ll eat with you.” He returns after a moment of thought. 

You shrug even if he can’t see you do so. “Help yourself to whatever I have I guess.” So that’s how the night goes, he eats a meal while you nibble on a few fruit slices that he had freely drizzled with honey. It was quiet as the two of you ate. He doesn’t push you to talk about what’s on your mind, not because he didn’t care but he knows you hate it when people push you to tell them your thoughts, no matter how depressing they can get, you hated being forced. Even if you don’t want him to be here, you have no energy to tell him to leave. 

You prod a half eaten strawberry with your fork. Even in the mess of your mind, you wanted to know why he’s doing this. He’s seeing a side of you that you’ve tried so hard to hide from him. As much as you want to cover this from him, it seems too late. Your body can’t get itself to stand up and push him out. What happens instead is a question. “Why are you doing this? You can literally do anything else right now, but you’re here wasting time.” 

Jongho stays quiet through your tirade of self deprecating comments. On your normal days, these were covered with your dry humor. You always had a knack at being able to throw a few witty comments at the boys and at yourself. Now, he’s seeing it in its rawest form. He doesn’t like how this is how you see yourself: a shame, wasted potential, lost, the list goes on as you talk. What was once a question becomes an exhausted rant of how you find yourself in this fast paced life. At one point, you ask yourself if the choices you made were the right ones. All your decisions have been based on trying to break out of the chains of expectations. You wanted freedom, to explore the world as yourself.

Now, you didn’t really have a proper avenue to release these thoughts nowadays; you can’t really go out. Your usual coping mechanisms aren’t an option now. You’re just stuck at home. Compared to your peers, they’re able to make the most out of the situation. Those who made your life horrible are prospering now. Those who followed what was expected of them are doing well. You? Hell if you know what to make of yourself now. 

He would’ve rebutted all these points you’ve raised but he figures that you need to let them out before letting anyone or yourself fix the issues. You’ve always been like that, thinking out loud until you somehow manage to find a solution. That’s why he just listens, replying when needed but letting you know that he’s giving you his full attention. What he didn't expect was a rumbling thunder.

The storm comes earlier than expected. The two of you can hear the downpour outside your apartment. When you notice the heavy downpour, you shift the topic. “You really don’t need to listen to all of that.” You say as you eat your fruits. It’s a little tricky to try and put your upbeat voice back to use after days of being shut in. 

Being able to air out your frustrations should make you feel lighter, but it doesn’t. What it just does to you is feel heavier, fearing that he’ll look at you in a not so nice light because of how different you are now. 

That’s how it usually goes. 

His meal is long done now but he stays in his seat. “It’s okay.” He says. Those two words make you look at him. “You’ve carried it for so long to yourself. I don’t mind helping you...” He continues. He notices how your eyes sparkle a little brighter under the warm lights in your home. It’s not the curious sparkle that the stars bring on a clear night. It’s a sparkle that carries the burden of a pain that’s been carried for years. A star that’s just near the edge of falling through the sky. Your coping mechanisms were really just there to numb the pain, never to address it, you never knew how to address it until recently. Even then, the process was painful. “Have you showered?” He asks you. At his question, you realize you haven’t. “Go shower? I can take care of these dishes.” 

There’s something in his words that pushes you to say something. “Can you stay a little longer?” You’re scared of what could be next, him leaving you alone in your thoughts again. You’ve tried to hide your dips from him, but now that he’s seen it, you doubt there’s any turning back now. You just don’t want to be alone, for tonight at least.

“I’ll stay.” 

You ease yourself against the downpour of the hot water. It’s a little shock for your body: the cool air outside the shower against the hot water on your skin. Eventually you relax into it, breathing slowly as you hope that the water washes away the thoughts in your head. The constant sound of water hitting the tiled floor and the sight of water running down your body or dripping down the walls numb your mind from dimming your thoughts. The feeling puts you in a trance of sorts, standing under the shower head unmoving for who knows how long. 

“Hey, are you still there?” Jongho’s voice comes from the opposite side of the door. The knocking snaps you awake and you clear your voice, grabbing the soap. 

“Yeah, I’m doing fine.” You swear it’s not a lie. You try to make it sound not like a lie despite your racing heart. You stand there as you wash yourself up quickly. You didn’t want him to worry about you. Do you really deserve these worries? Clearly, he has other things to worry about. Why did you ask him to stay longer? He has a life beyond you, so why linger here? What if you’re just hindering him from his schedule and free time with your selfish need for company? These thoughts rise up to the surface as you dry yourself up. He can leave if he has to, you’re not gonna stop him. 

You step out of your bathroom in a change of clothes, water dripping from your hair onto the towel on your shoulders. You catch your reflection on the mirror; you’ve lost weight, you look tired, your skin hasn’t been at its best, and before your thoughts spiral you tear your gaze away from the reflective reality on your wall.

The place is quiet. A quiet sigh leaves your lips, of course you’re back on your own. What were you thinking? You’ve managed to deal with these episodes on your own, what makes this any different? What were you hoping for exactly? 

“Oh hey, you’re finally out of the shower.” His voice makes you jump in your spot, holding yourself up against the wall as you try to slow down your racing heart. He observes your shocked visage with slight guilt. He notes how raw your skin looks, wondering just how hot you made your water to be. It’s not much but it’s something. These episodes were never as quick as a simple shower. It’ll take time and he’s willing to sit through it with you. Just like the paintings on your walls, those took time to be properly cared for, before its original luster shined through. 

“If you have to go elsewhere, it’s okay.” You speak up, your voice is a little clearer now. “I forgot how busy you get…” You trail off, berating yourself for being so selfish. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He says afterwards. “I made sure my schedule was free.” He adds, he approaches you carefully, taking the towel off your shoulders. He lets you follow him to the couch. 

You look at him, shoulders dropping as more things blur your mind. Why was he doing this? “Why?” There’s something in your voice that reminds him he can’t leave you like this. You follow him like a lost puppy, too tired to think anymore. The sky looks a lot dimmer now, the still constant downpour of rain dimming the bright lights from the streets. 

“I want to check on you.”  He sits behind you, drying your hair as he lets you look out the sky. It’s the one thing you would do even in your better days. He’s gotten the habit of thinking of you because of the sky. 

It’s the blank look on your face that hurts him too. It’s a look that tries to survive and prove itself worthy of independence. It’s a look that reminds him of artworks that look so breathtaking until you learn of the backstory behind the work. How many people have bought this as you just shooting a deadpan look, as if you didn’t need anyone else? “I’m sorry.” A tired sigh escapes you as you turn your head away from his gaze. You were about to reach for the towel that has slowed down from drying your hair, when Jongho taps your hands gently. 

“Drying your hair’s my thing.” He reminds you, a distant inside joke from years past. 

The reference makes you smile a little but it doesn’t bring you the comfort you badly need. The pain teeters just at the corners of your eyes and you wonder why your vision blurs, mixing the purples with the yellows, with the whites. The greys have hints of purples and yellows. Everything looked so blurry yet so clear. It’s an unflattering color, it’s rare that you look away from the sky. 

It’s when you feel two drops of water against your arm that it clicks. You didn’t want him to see you in tears. How easy it was for him to look past your facade. You’ve put up enough walls, saying it was just you being used to being an only child who could only depend on yourself at the end of the day. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve said lies to stop people from getting too close to you at your weakest. How many times has life tried to take advantage of it?

“Come here.” His voice takes on a tenderness rarely heard from him. It takes a few small shifts from you before you face him. You want to tell him that you’re fine, that it’s not a lie. You’re genuinely doing fine, you want to tell yourself that. But the truth is, you aren’t. Admitting the truth has always been nerve wracking for you. Especially the truth that you carry in your head and heart.  There, his arms wrap around you carefully, knowing that at any moment you’ll break. “I care about you, that’s why I do this.” He lets you babble words against his shoulder, truthfully, he couldn’t make sense of the words that tumble out of your lips mostly due to the towel that muffles you and because of how they’re all slurred by your overwhelming emotions and tears. He lets you spill everything though. It could help you once you storm through this downpour, he thinks. 

On the other hand, you hate how weak you’ve become, your hands grip to him as if he’s some sort of protection from the darkness that swirls in your head. There’s no shade of purple that can mimic how terrifying the darkness is in your head. Not even pictures can give it justice. It just is. 

You don’t like how you’ve become, yet you have no heart to end everything. It’s why you had a terrible phobia of high places. Imagination can only bring you so much but reality was still terrifying in its own right. Life was practically in limbo: wanting escape but not doing it, wanting something better but not being able to acquire it. You see your own life like an unfinished painting, all scribbles, patches of paint but never quite forming an image or a sky that always warns of a storm that never comes. 

He feels guilty to have left you alone to deal with this burden in the past but he tries not to dwell in it as he lets you cry. “Do you want to go to bed?” He whispers softly into your hair. You shake your head, not trusting how your voice could shake should you speak up.  Receiving nothing but a timid nod, he carefully pulls his arms away from your figure, it’s then that he realizes that you covered your face with your towel. The damp feeling on his skin and shirt were from your hair. Even in your current state, you still find shame in showing your own tears. 

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he guides you towards your bed. Now that the two of you are settled down, he made sure that you’re in his arms again. He tries not to force you to look at him. Being at your weakest in front of someone was already a draining experience in itself, but to be in a situation where it’s not being shamed or pushed away was a new experience for you. He hears words come from your covered face and he keeps quiet to strain his ears to understand what you were saying. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

Two words, repeated over and over. He looks at your curled figure, how your arm strains to keep itself from shaking as your fingers press against where your eyes are to stop the tears. This hasn’t been your lowest, but it is one of your lowest moments. He shushes you gently, as if consoling a lost animal shivering under the rain. “I got you. It’s okay.” Admittedly, he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t know what else to do except hold you through this. He’ll hold you through the storms and the darkness.  Until you come to surface, he’ll hold you through it. No matter how long it takes, he’ll be here.

You wake up with your blanket up to your shoulders. You try to remember what happened yesterday as you lie awake. What time is it? What day is it? Your thick curtains hinder the sunlight from blinding you. When you blink, you feel how dry and sore your eyes are which only further your confusion of what happened yesterday.Your hand pats one side of your bed: your phone isn’t there. You pat the other side: that’s not a phone. That’s a chest, it’s only then that you realize that’s another person next to you that you realize the weight of an arm on your waist. A spark of fear runs through you, unaware of who could be here, so you look over to your side with caution. 

Jongho.

He lies asleep next to you. You wonder what he’s doing here but you have no heart to wake this guy up. Everything’s still murky to you. Quite frankly, you don’t really know how much time has passed. All you know now is day and night. Things still feel floaty, like you’re on a cloud but you shouldn’t be there. The thought alone makes your hands clammy. It makes your chest tighten with thoughts you can’t control, that your hands repeatedly clench and unclench as you try to fight to control your head from going under. 

A hand slowly laces with yours and you look over at the owner. He’s awake, sleep still weighing down his eyes but he’s awake. “I got you.” He says, voice raspy with slumber that still clings to his mind and it rings you of the previous day’s happening. A shiver of horror goes through you. He shouldn’t have seen you like that. Nobody should’ve seen you like that. 

“I thought you would’ve gone home.” You say as you push yourself up from bed, pulling your hand away. You run your hands through your bed riddled hair, a poor excuse to keep him from holding your hands again. It’s not that you don’t like it, it’s just, you’re scared. He’s seen your worst, and you fear for the worst result.

His now free hand rests beneath his bed riddled hair. He’s never been one to push your boundaries. “I don’t think I can go home knowing how you needed someone last night.” He says this without any of his dry nature. “I can’t go home with a peaceful mind until I know you’re alright..” He trails off, because as much as he wants to stay with you for the next few days. He doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries. You never responded nicely to people who pushed your limits more than they should.

“You didn’t have to..”

“But I wanted to.” He says immediately. Mornings were never his best time either. He looks up at you, no remnants of sleep are on his eyes. Rather, his soft protective nature is there. “We worry for you too. At least, let me care for you the way you’ve cared for me?” He asks. Once he pulls the repayment card, you relent. It’s a small step but it’s a step.  

Silence draws over the two of you for a few moments. His words float around your mind. ‘I wanted to… let me care for you…’ It’s an odd feeling to have someone care for you. His words make you wonder if people will worry if you did disappear without a trace. 

Jongho reaches for his phone beneath your pillow to check the time. It’s already noon time. “Do you wanna eat? I can make some food for us or we can just order something.” 

The power to choose was a heavy responsibility for you. You still weren’t in the mental capacity to choose for yourself but you had enough strength to let Jongho stay for the time being. He notices how you’re still not quite here yet, so he opts to cook something up. He knows your favorites but he can only hope you have enough appetite to eat something.

You peek past your curtains. The sky’s clear now. There’s not a cloud in sight, just a vast expanse of bright blue and sunlight. The streaks of sunlight slip past you and into your room, lighting up the rather dim room.  “Why are you doing this? I can survive on my own eventually.” You ask from your side of the bed. 

Jongho was already out of bed, making himself look presentable or at least awake. “Yeah eventually, but you don’t have to do this on your own.” He returns. He tries not to look over at you too often when he spouts words like this. You never were the type to look at someone when you say something vulnerable. But he sees how you look from the mirror: looking at your hands, mindlessly scratching at your fingers. “Go freshen up while I make up something to eat.”

You didn’t know how to say it, now with some semblance of control in you as compared to the night before. You just knew how scared you were of wasting yourself away, no matter how tempting it was to press Stop on your own life, it was scary. You were scared he’d leave you too after this. Not everyone has the capacity to care for someone like you, you didn’t even have the resources for professional help. Yet, Jongho’s here in your home. Things didn’t make sense and you weren’t really sure of how to make sense of it all. Will he stay with you through it all?

“I will.” Jongho’s voice cuts through your stormy eyes. They spark a little brighter at his voice, only to darken a little in confusion. He watches you for a moment as the gears in your head work. That’s when you realize you were thinking out loud. “I don’t know what lies ahead of you.” He starts, turning to face you but leaning against the dresser. “I do know that you have what it takes to get through this. It’s going to take a lot of time but you’ll get there.” He flashes a small smile, rare were the times that he’s this raw with you or anyone. “We’ll make do with what we got.” He ends it there before heading to the kitchen. 

You slip out of your bed, slightly light headed from the lack of food in your system. Shit, okay maybe you need to get some food in you. You look through your closet for something to wear, noticing the laundry you need to do in the process. 

Once you got out of the shower, you’re greeted by the smell of-- were those pancakes? You approach the kitchen, confused but also a little excited to have something in your stomach. You didn’t expect that he’d make your comfort food: pancakes with blueberries. He lets himself indulge as well with some pork belly. Go figure. He even got your cold brew out of the refrigerator with his ever loyal iced americano. “You made all of these?” You ask. 

He looks over at you, surprised to have you out of the shower already. In that instance, he takes the chance to look at you closely: the heavy shoulders weren’t as apparent as they were last night, there’s a little spark in your eyes too. “Yeah.” He simply says before returning his attention to the still cooking pancake. 

It’s only then that you think of preparing the table as the two of you wait for the food to cook. 

You eat slowly and carefully. The splash of flavor reminds you of how hungry you are but you remind yourself to not rush. It’s been so long since you ate properly after all. When he sees you drink your coffee, he feels a little relief. Baby steps. It’s small talk for the rest of the meal, just Jongho filling you in on what he’s been up to: the acting, the performing, the competing. It’s all tiring, but he doesn’t mind. Last night was exhausting for you so you didn’t really mind him carrying the conversation for once. 

By the time you ate two pieces of the pancakes, you had a little bit of vigor in you though still muted by the hangover that crying gives you. That’s when you came clean with your own thoughts, though still pessimistic and anxious in its roots, it was a little more coherent than last night. If he looked a little closer into the words you say, you left room for a little hope, a little objectivity. Objectivity, in his eyes, was harder to rebut, to be fought against by the small voice in your head that says otherwise. Still, he listens. He listens to everything that you’ve been keeping to yourself with no judgement. He finds it hard to believe how you’ve been able to keep all these to yourself but at the same time, this is you who he’s talking to. 

But you’re sharing the worries now, and that’s what matters. There’s a ghost of a smile on your lips. No malice and pain in it but something else. Something a little softer. 

Seeing you like this reassured him. You were at your lowest last night and seeing you slowly crawl out of it gives him relief.  He can only do so much to help you, to reassure you, to get you to where you were meant to be in life. It really is just one small step after one small step even after tripping, as long as you take a step afterwards, that’s all that matters. 

He glances outside your window, the sky still continues to be bright without a cloud hindering the sunlight. Truthfully, he doesn’t know if the next few days will continue to be on a good note but what matters is now. Just like a painting that has gone through so much damage, it’s still possible to bring it back to its original luster. It will take time and effort from not just one person but it’s possible. 

As long as you’re able to walk at your own pace, he’ll be with you.

[who-gave-atlas-a-pencil]

find rest for your souls

A/N: If anybody has prompts for these two idiots especially please let me know. I fell in love with Undeadwood by accident and Friday suddenly feels a very long way away so I’d love to write more.

Read on AO3 for notes.

Summary: Clayton takes watch while the others sleep. The Reverend joins him.

(Initially started as a Whumptober fic, evolved into gay pining. Enjoy.)

The Reverend isn’t sleeping.

None of them are, really, not well anyway. Miss Whitlock’s got a blanket clutched to her chest like one of those warding symbols she seems so fond of, her brow creased even in sleep with trepidation and a hint of disdain. She’s not used to sleeping rough, Clayton expects, not with that fortune she sits on. Aly is doing better, flat on his back with his face to the sky like he’s trying to make the best out of the situation, and even Miriam has found a way to make herself comfortable somehow. With Clayton taking the first watch under the cold glare of the desert moon, they’ve all found a way to make do with the situation.

All of them but the Reverend, that is. Amidst the quiet, even breathing of the others’ attempts at sleep, Clayton can hear him murmuring to himself, quiet and low. Across the fire, the other man is shifting restlessly from one side to another, arms wrapped around himself like a vice. Bad dreams, Clayton reckons, and is considering nudging him awake when the Reverend sits up straight like he’s been shocked to it.

Clayton can’t help it. His hand flies to his gun with years of instinct and it’s halfway drawn before he stops himself and watches instead as the Reverend’s chest heaves with several deep, shaky breaths. The man looks around wildly a moment like he’s expecting to be jumped. Then his gaze falls on Clayton and he stills, eyes widening even further. “Is there trouble?”

Too late, Clayton realises he’s still got a hand on his gun and lets it fall. “No. You startled me.”

“My apologies.” The Reverend’s shoulders sag, and he tilts his head back, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. “I’m afraid I rather startled myself as well.”

“Hadn’t noticed.” Clayton’s no stranger to nightmares. Nobody really is in this town, except maybe Swearingen, sleeping snug in the top floor of his saloon atop whatever ill-built empire he’s made for himself in this place. Even so, he’s never been inclined to talking someone through their bad dreams. He settles back, expecting the Reverend to do the same in a minute or two. It’s another solid hour at least before the watch is supposed to change to Aloysius, and another three hours after that before the Reverend’s turn. He’s got plenty of time.

But he doesn’t go back to sleep. Across the fire, the Reverend shifts to a properly vertical position and pulls out a rosary from a pocket of the leather duster Clayton had bought him to keep his collar clean. It’s not done much good on that front, but it has proven to be a solid indicator of when the other man is nervous. Now, for example. He probably doesn’t know he does it, but the Reverend tugs at the edges of the jacket almost obsessively, pulling it tighter and tighter around himself like he’s chilled down to the bone. He grips his rosary tight, saying nothing as he stares into the fire, and Clayton looks away.

It’s silent for a time. The fire crackles amiably. It’s a clear, cool night, the moon high and bright above them, scattering light through the branches of the copse of trees they’ve landed themselves in. As nights on the road go, he’s had worse ones. All the same, there’s something about the stillness that he doesn’t like. It’s been two hours on watch and all he’s heard or seen is a solitary barn owl that had landed on a nearby branch and given two long, mournful hoots before sailing off into the dark again. It ain’t natural by a long shot, and while he’s not surprised he’s far from appreciative.

“Can I ask you something, Mister Sharpe?” The Reverend’s voice is low in the freshly shattered silence.  Clayton almost says no, not if you’re gonna try evangelizing me again, but then he looks over and the Reverend’s hands are shaking and the quip dies in his mouth.

He goes for something softer. “I’d say you just did.”

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Just did that too.”

The Reverend flushes, ducking his head. “Never mind, then. My apologies.” His gaze flicks back to his rosary, and Clayton bites back a sigh.

He’s not terribly fond of men of the cloth, or anybody else that seems convinced they know better than the rest of the world about what’s supposed to be good or not. Even so, the Reverend’s been more tolerable than most holy men seem to be, and he’s got a lion’s heart even if he’s got the sense of a squirrel. Clayton doesn’t quite feel guilty about being sarcastic with him, but he does feel obligated to throw the man a bone. “What is it, Father?”

The silence that follows makes him think for a moment that it’s too late for an olive branch. Then the Reverend sighs. “Do you…believe in life after death?”

Clayton frowns. “If you’re talking about rising again on the last day to wave off this sinful earth next time it goes to hell, I can’t say as though I do. Think once someone goes in the ground, they stay there.” He’s put enough people in the dirt to be sure of that, or at least to hope like hell it’s true. If people can rise up from the grave, he’ll have more than the living to look out for.

“Not literally. I mean…spiritually. The idea that someone can be born again from a past life. That they can be redeemed.”

Clayton squints, studying the Reverend for a long moment. If the other man notices, he doesn’t seem to care. No matter.  “That’s a pretty loaded question, Reverend, if you don’t mind my sayin’. There a reason you’re askin’ me?”

“No.” The answer comes quick, too quick. The Reverend’s gaze shoots up and suddenly Clayton finds himself looking him dead in the eyes. They’re dark brown, almost black in the dark, the reflection of the flames dancing wildly in their depths. Like hellfire, Clayton thinks, and he stiffens but doesn’t dare look away. “No,” the Reverend repeats. “I don’t mean to imply anything untoward. You’re just…You’re awake at the moment, and I’m curious, and- I meant nothing by it. Forgive me.”

He asks forgiveness an awful lot for a man who’s supposed to be preaching it instead. “I didn’t mean nothin’ either. Just a question.” Clayton tears his eyes away to look at the branches overhead. That barn owl still hasn’t come back, and the shadows are still. Silent, like they’re waiting. He runs his tongue over his teeth and thinks for a long moment how to answer. There’s a lot of blood in his past, the kind no water’s ever going to wash clean. He’s buried too many people to get that dirt out from under his nails. Some of them he’s sorry for. Most of them, he’s not. He’s always looked out for himself because nobody else would, and he won’t beg forgiveness for that.

As for redemption, well.  Redemption’s a heavy word in his mouth. It’s always tasted like lead.

“I don’t think you ever leave your life behind,” he says eventually. “Reckon that’s one of those shadows that sticks to you, whether you like it or not. As for bein’ reborn and forgiven, I don’t think that’s in anyone’s hands but yours. Plenty of places to go change your name and start over if that’s what you’re after.”

“Do you think it’s as simple as that? Changing a name and starting over?”

Clayton shrugs. He thinks of home, and a mob, and a six-shot revolver hot at his side. “If you’re lucky. Most people aren’t. Change your name all you like. There’s always gonna be someone who still knows your face.”

There’s no response. Clayton listens without looking and hears a sound like fabric moving, then silence again, dead silence interrupted only by the periodic popping of the fire. The good Reverend’s gone back to sleep then, salvaging what’s left of his night’s sleep. It’s a strange thing, to leave the end of a conversation he’d started hanging like that, but Clayton’s seen stranger and doesn’t bother commenting.

Overhead, the moon is arcing slowly, silently through the sky. It’s almost full now, just a sliver of dark still remaining on the left side. Clayton doesn’t consider himself a superstitious man, but he can’t deny the way the hair on the back of his neck raises when he thinks of all the hellish things they’ve seen these past few days, the even more hellish ones he’s sure are soon to come. They’ll have to lean mighty hard on each other if they’re to get through all this with a pulse. It’s not a thought he likes.

The wind picks up, kicking dust into his eyes. Clayton scowls and mutters a low oath under his breath, flicking open his battered pocket watch. It’s not even midnight yet. There’s a long ways to go before he can swap with Aloysius to squeeze a few hours rest out of the night. He sighs and turns to stoke the fire. Then he freezes.

The Reverend isn’t sleeping. He’s kneeling before the fire, head bowed low, eyes clamped shut, that same old rosary clasped so tightly between his hands that the knuckles have gone white. He’s praying, praying like Clayton’s never seen anybody pray before, like the words are the only thing keeping the darkness at the edge of camp from getting any closer.

Clayton’s not a superstitious man, and he sure as hell isn’t a religious one. He’s not sure what it is that leaves him dead in his tracks and staring. All the same, he finds himself standing there motionless as he watches the shadows dance across the Reverend’s face while prayer after desperate prayer falls soundlessly from his lips. It’s a strange thing, seeing that sort of conviction in a place like this. He’s not convinced it’s a good one.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts. He’s long last track of time when the Reverend finally relaxes just slightly and opens his eyes, still deep and dark and desperate in the light of the fire. He spies Clayton immediately and flinches. “Mister Sharpe, my apologies. Did you need something?”

Clayton blinks, then shakes his head. When he speaks, his voice is rougher than it has any right to be. “You always pray like that, Father?”

The Reverend looks taken aback. Then a smile twitches across his face, faint and bashful. “No. No, I’m afraid not.”

“There some special occasion tonight then?”

“No,” the Reverend says again. “Only that I’m frightened, and I’m hoping to find courage.”

Most people would try looking in the bottom of a bottle, Clayton doesn’t say. Talking about drinking is only going to make him wish for a shot he knows he won’t be able to take for a good long while. Instead, he gives a short nod and looks away, settling back by the fire and prodding it with a large stick, tossing more wood on top of it. “You should get some rest, Father. Gonna be a long day tomorrow. We’ll need you and whatever protection you got to offer on top of things.”

“I feel that is true of all of us, Mister Sharpe.”

“Clayton,” he says without thinking, and feels the Reverend’s eyes fall to him instantly with a keen interest and no small amount of confusion. He shrugs as if there’s nothing strange to it and meets the Reverend’s gaze. “I’d say formalities seem a bit pointless when we’re obviously gonna have to keep saving each other’s necks.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” comes the reply, fast and almost nervous. “Your point is sound. I was simply surprised by it. You, of course, can refer to me as Matthew, if you would like.”

The idea of being on a first name basis with a preacher sets funny in Clayton’s mouth, but he sees no easy way around it and gives a brief nod. “Matthew, then. As I said, you should get some rest.”

“Actually, I thought I might take Aloysius’s shift in exchange for my own,” the Reverend admits, scratching the back of his head. “It seems pointless to wake him when I am already awake. You could rest early too, if you would like. I don’t mind an extra hour or so watching over everyone.”

Clayton bristles for a moment, inherently suspicious of anyone offering to do a good turn. He opens his mouth to reject the offer, then stops. The Reverend is staring at him with those deep dark eyes again, far too genuine and kind for this place. Kindness like that gets people killed.

He clamps his mouth shut and swallows the thought back. After a moment’s contemplation, he nods once in acknowledgment. “Much obliged, Father.”

“Matthew,” he corrects.

“Matthew,” Clayton repeats, and settles down near his pack. It still smells a bit like blood from the dead Irishman, but he’s used to that. “Make sure you don’t forget to wake up Mister Fogg here in a few hours. I meant what I said about needing you sharp.”

“I thought you were Sharpe?” the Reverend says, and Clayton struggles, not for the first time, with the question as to if he should simply run into the desert and put himself out of his misery or if he should endure in hopes that this job doesn’t end up with four corpses and another town he can’t return to.

“I’m gonna do you a favour and not dignify that with a response,” he says flatly and lays back, pulling his hat low over his eyes. “As a man of God, you ought to be ashamed of stoopin’ that low.”

The Reverend – Matthew – laughs softly, a low and beautiful thing. “Rest assured, I shall keep that in mind.” There is a pause. Then, quieter, he adds, “Good night, Clayton.”

“Night.” There is a part of him that wants to sit up, that wants to ask what a man of God is doing in a place like this, where he really got those scars. He wants to know what the Reverend cares for life after death, where he finds his faith, why he asks about redemption like it’s a deep and holy thing. But tonight those are another day’s questions. Tonight, he turns on his side, and as he drifts off hears a soft humming that follows him into his dreams, where he stands in a church at his mother’s side, a young boy with bruised knuckles as a preacher stands in the pulpit and says come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

[vmheadquarters]

We’re going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then “toss” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter Three of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @saoirsekonstantin​

And stayed tuned next week for Ch.4 from @chikabiddy​ -tag, you’re it!

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CHAPTER THREE by @saoirsekonstantin​

The sleet changed over to lacy flakes of fluffy snow that drifted from the sky, further covering everything in a thick blanket of white as far as the eye could see, while the owl flew overhead.  It did a cautious circuit over the house before deciding it wasn’t safe there anymore.  Flying to the left, it grew tinier in the stormy night sky until it moved out of sight, but Veronica didn’t notice; instead she raced around the back of the house toward Gia’s scream.

Logan and Wallace ran right beside her through a foot of snow, and all three came to a screeching halt when the light of their flashlights found a male body covered, in part, by snow.  Blood stained the snow surrounding him, turning it a muted maroon color.  A tree branch almost as long as Logan’s arm protruded from the man’s chest.

Tucked between two fingers, and sticking up out of the cup of his palm, was a photo of two men being intimate.  It reminded her of the image she’d seen of ‘Joe the Boss’ Masseria with the playing card in his hand, in her favorite vintage crime scene photo.  An overzealous crime scene photographer staged the infamous picture of him lying dead on the floor of a Coney Island restaurant, with the blood-spattered Ace of Spades posed resting between two fingers of his bloody hand.

She suspected a similar, if not more sinister, scenario here.  There was no way a body that big had fallen without the impact dislodging whatever was in his hand.  Despite the ever-deepening snow surrounding the body, from her spot a few feet away she saw cuts and abrasions on his hands, implying he fought back; so that would make him holding onto a photo even less likely.

About five yards straight ahead, past a few longer tufts of dead grass breaking through the snow, the red soles and three-inch heels of Gia’s ‘cute’ but useless boots stuck out of a shadowy snow bank.

Veronica stepped over to the snow-covered male body and crouched down.  After removing her glove with her teeth again, she brought her fingers to the man’s wrist, which was protruding out of the snow.  While trying in vain to find a pulse, she took a deep inhale of the crisp, snow-filled air and called out, “Gia, Can you hear me?  Are you okay?”

The gusting wind caused the branches of a nearby tree to shift, and snow cascaded down on both bodies. Gia gave no response to her voice, or to the heavy snow falling onto her.

Veronica glanced up at Logan and Wallace when she still found no pulse on the guy, she shook her head before rising and stepping around the body.

Her foot hit a slick spot, and she slipped, almost falling—except Logan was right beside her, and reached out, grabbing her. “I got you.”

With a soft up tilt of her lips she admitted, “You always do.”

He grinned at her.  “For better or for worse, I always will.”

She glanced away, and they resumed taking cautious steps towards Gia.  They reached her lying in the snowbank and discovered that when she fell, her face had turned just enough to keep her from suffocating.  Veronica reached towards her, and Logan helped her roll Gia over.  With Gia’s eyes closed and the lack of worry lines, she could have been fast asleep.

Veronica watched while Wallace reached down and touched Gia’s wrist.  She crossed her fingers and offered a prayer to whoever would listen, ‘Please let her be alive,’ while waiting for him to say Gia had a pulse beating against his fingers.

He let out a heavy gust of air.  “She’s alive.”  He leaned down and peered at her chest.  “And she’s breathing.”

Veronica gave a single jerk of her head.  “Good, now let’s look at the dead body real quick. Take a few pictures before getting Gia out of the cold.”

Logan held out his arm for Veronica, who grabbed hold of it before taking the few steps back to the body.  She took out her phone, and snapped pictures from every angle of everything she thought the police might want, even zooming in on the branch sticking out of the dead guy’s chest and the photo in his hand.

She took a deep breath of the crisp night air and furrowed her brows, uncertain whether the metallic tang in her mouth was from the snow in the air or the blood on the ground.

When she took the last photo, she leaned in closer to the guy’s snow-covered face.  After hoping the police would forgive her for touching the body, she brushed the snow from his face before gasping.  “Crap! Logan, it’s Norris Clayton.”

Dick and company chose that moment to come clamoring over through the snow drifts.  “We heard a scream.  Who’d you kill now, Ms. Black Widow?  Shit! I was kidding but isn’t that the guy who had a crush on you in school?  See, Logan, I was right.  She’s a spider waiting to eat you alive when you let your guard down.”  He affected a high-pitched voice. “Come into my parlor, so I can devour you.”

With a frown, she shook her head, ignoring Dick. “Dad said, Norris is a Deputy Sheriff now; so we’ve got a dead Deputy and a dead P.I. who used to be a deputy.”

Dick wandered over, trudging through the foot of deep snow, and after leaning closer to the body he grabbed the photo.  “Hey, what’s this?”

Veronica reached for it, but it was too late, Dick was already getting his wet fingers all over it.

Dick cackled.  “Dude, Luke, what the hell?  You prefer dudes over chicks?”

Luke snatched the photo out of Dick’s hand, and without more than a quick glance at it, moved to tear it in half; but Veronica swiped it out of his grasp.  “I don’t care who you like or what gender you prefer.  However, I also don’t care how embarrassing you find a piece of evidence, or how much you want to keep something a secret.  You destroy evidence and I’ll make sure the authorities hear about it; and you’ll need to explain publicly why you tore up a photo of you and Conner Larkin in flagrante, which I can describe with perfect clarity. And now everyone here knows it, so think twice before you go touching my evidence again.”

While she pocketed the picture for safekeeping and took her taser out of her messenger bag, Luke scowled. “Your evidence? Listen here, you little know-it-all bit—”

Logan interrupted. “I’d watch what you say if I were you and show a little respect.”

With a raised eyebrow, Luke asked, “Why, you going to beat me up?”

Logan, chuckled, and shook his head.  “Won’t have to.  She’ll splay you out in the snow with a jolt from Mr. Sparky, which is already in her hand.”  She waved her taser at him with a smirk, while Logan continued. “Make no mistake, I might make a habit of jumping in and protecting Veronica, but she can take care of herself, especially against the likes of a pretty, pampered, rich boy like you.”

Luke scoffed.  “Oh, like you’re not just as pampered and rich as I am?”

With a low, bitter laugh, Logan said, “I’ve got way more money than you could ever hope to have, but no one ever pampered me. Daddy Dearest made sure of that.  I can take care of myself.”

Veronica smirked.  “You’re also prettier than he is by a long shot.  Those arms, hubba-hubba.”

Logan laughed. “Why, Mars, are you objectifying me?”

She smirked but didn’t answer. Dick leaned over Gia’s prone form, and while he glared, asked, “So, did you kill Gia, too?”

Veronica crossed her arms over her chest.  “I didn’t kill anyone, and Gia’s still alive. Which brings us to the matter at hand; which of you strong strapping men will carry Gia into the caretaker’s house?”

Cole took a step back. “Not me. Can’t we just leave her here until she wakes up?”

Veronica rolled her eyes and articulated each syllable with crisp clarity. “And not only leave her unprotected, but let her die of hypothermia instead?”

Logan took a step forward. “I’ll do it.”

With a shake of her head, Veronica said, “No, you and Wallace are at my back and sides since you’re the only ones I’m certain aren’t killing people.  It’s got to be someone else who carries her, or…”

She marched back over to Gia, slipping, and landing in Logan’s arms.  While he righted her, she said, “See, I need you watching my six.”

He chuckled and helped her over to Gia. She leaned down and slapped Gia a few times, with increasing force.  “Come on Gia, nobody has time for you to be lying around while bodies are dropping like it’s going out of style.”

On the fourth slap, Gia moaned.  “Ugh, stop already.  I told you, Veronica Mars, they do not make these boots for hiking through snow.  What’d I trip over, anyway?  I would have been fine, but I hit ice.”

Dick leaned closer.  “Another of Ronnie’s victims… sorry, boy-toys. Norris somebody.”

Veronica stood back up and faced Dick.  “He and I hardly knew each other.  I cleared his name when a dirty ATF agent tried to frame him, but I spent all of an hour talking to him in my time in Neptune. And I didn’t kill anyone.”

With a smirk, Dick crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking her. “And I didn’t say you did.  I said he was another victim of yours, as in you broke his heart, just like that Leo guy and Piz, and Troy, and Logan.”  Wagging a finger at her, he said, “If you get my boy killed, I’m gonna be pissed. You already got my dad and my brother killed.  Logan dies because of you and I’m gonna go ninja on you.”

When she began raising her arm with Mr. Sparky in it, Logan grabbed it. “Don’t, he’s not worth the trouble of explaining why you tasered him after this is all over.  And if you taser him now, we’ll have someone much heavier to carry than Gia, since he won’t be able to walk.  And to make matters worse, he’d play that card for as long as possible.”

He turned and faced Dick, eyes hard, his voice steel. “And for the record Dick, I’m tired of you always blaming Veronica for every little thing that goes wrong in your life.  Your dad was a crook who died in prison, because even at rock bottom, he couldn’t dial back the elitist bullshit.  And your brother was a rapist and murderer, who took a stroll off the roof of a building all on his own because he was too much of a coward to face the consequences of his own actions.  Both were their own people, who made their own choices and paid the price for them.  Veronica had nothing to do with either of their deaths, even if Cassidy twisted the knife a little deeper by forcing Veronica and I to bear witness to his end.”

Dick took two steps closer to Logan and snarled. “But if she had minded her own business, no one would have figured out what Dad was doing. And Cassidy was a victim, too.”

Logan shook his head. “They would have figured it out; only he would have had time to add even more victims to his list of innocents, who lost their life savings because of him.  Kendall was talking to the authorities.  And Veronica was Cassidy’s victim, not the other way around. Yes, he was Woody’s victim; however, you don’t see me or Veronica using our status as the victims of grown men misbehaving as an excuse to blow up a bus full of kids, do you?  Your brother may have still been a kid, but he made grownup decisions and hurt people.”

Dick threw up his hands and stomped off through the ever-deepening snow, while calling over his shoulder, “Whatever, dude. When you become another casualty of hers, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  The surrounding snow dampened his voice and it faded on the increasing wind with his every step away from the group.

Logan took a step towards him, but stopped and glanced at everyone who was staring between him and Dick’s retreating form. “I’ll let him cool off.”

Gia pouted. “Did you have to bring up my dad?”

He shook his head.  “Just stating the facts.  What your dad did wasn’t your fault, but I’m not going to pussy-foot around the fact he took advantage of and hurt innocent kids for his own pleasure. I’m hoping he and my dad are roasting in hell together.”

Veronica took his hand in hers and squeezed.  “If there’s any justice they are.  Now, we need to look inside the caretaker’s home. There might be a phone, or something else that might prove useful.”

Susan frowned, her arms akimbo.  “And how are we going to do that?  We checked, both doors are locked.”

With a smirk, Veronica rifled through her messenger bag and pulled out her lock-picking kit.  “Do you think a locked door has ever stopped me?”

Logan chuckled. “I know for a fact that not even an armed security system has stopped you.  Though I still maintain you just wanted to see me in nothing but a towel.”

She batted her lashes at him and brought her free hand up to her chest. “Moi?”

He nodded, and she tilted her head and gave him a once-over before returning the nod. “With those arms, the way they are now? I might pay good money for that, just to see what else has improved with time.”

He gave her his patented smirk and said in a sing-song voice, “You think I’m hot.”

She giggled before slapping her hand over her mouth, and saying though her fingers, “That never happened.”  He smirked but didn't contradict her, so after lowering her hand, she eyed him again. “And you know how good you look, with or without clothes.”

Wallace scowled.  “Hey, you think the two of you can stop flirting long enough to figure out a way off of this death trap of an island?  I may not have been the next victim, but statistically, as the only Black man here, my number is coming.”

She grinned.  “Don’t worry, Papa Bear, I’m not letting you or Logan out of my sight, so neither of you will shuffle off this mortal coil anytime soon.”

After turning, she led them back through the snow drifts to the front door of the caretaker’s house; and after handing her flashlight to Wallace he pointed it at the lock, while she took off her gloves and went to work unlocking the door.

Within a minute she pushed the door open and took back her light before stepping through the doorway. She turned and flashed the light on the wall by the door.  “Dammit.  Nobody touch anything.  I think there is blood by the light switch.”

With a shaky hand tucked inside her jacket sleeve to keep both the blood from her hand and her prints from the bloody light switch, she reached out flipped it on, confirming her suspicions.  Blood smears covered the wall, as if someone had dragged a bloody hand along the wall while trying to support him or herself.

After turning and facing the rest of the room, she narrowed her eyes and picked her way through the wreckage of overturned furniture and living-room debris, including a smashed flower vase with the wilting flowers covered by the shards of blue glass and several magazines thrown into the air, and allowed to land where they would.  She reached the satellite phone on one of the few upright pieces of furniture beside the couch in the room.  She pushed the on button but nothing happened.  After picking it up, she turned it over. “Everyone keep your eyes out for the battery.”

Wallace used his boot to move some magazines. “Like the one over here smashed to smithereens?”

She skirted around the large triple blood pools on the floor.  One of them had drag marks leading up the staircase.  For the time being she ignored that and leaned closer to the shattered rechargeable battery on the floor.  “Yeah, like that.”

Logan stood inside the door. “Is it just me, or is there one blood pool too many for the number of bodies we have?  And what can I do to stop you from following the trail of blood up the stairs?”

Her lips turned up at the corners.  “Not a thing.  I will turn over every stone, look through every closet,”  She picked her way around the room, her eyes scanning everything while she continued talking. “And, hello, rifle through every backpack hiding in plain view behind an overturned chair.  I won’t miss any clues if I can help it.  Your life and Wallace’s may depend on it.  And I’ll be damned if I get either of you hurt.”

Logan dropped his voice an octave, to that tender voice he reserved for Veronica.  “You know, you don’t have to save everybody.”

With a shake of her head, she said, “Not trying to save everybody, just those who matter to me, those I love and would be nothing without.  Those who are the air that keeps me breathing.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, straightening up. “Are we doing this now?”

She gave him a shrug while she crouched and unzipped the backpack. “It’s as good a time as any, and I need you to know I still need you and I miss you.  I—I still love you, always have.  Even if you don’t take me back, I need to say it to your face at least once.  You deserve that much from me, after everything I’ve put you through.  I need to pull on my big-girl panties and admit, to your face, that you’re the only man I’ve ever truly loved; and the only one who not only gets me, but has always supported me, even when you thought I was being stupid and reckless.”

He shifted on his feet and took a step closer to her.  “What changed?  You’ve never admitted to any of this before, not in so many words, at least.”

She flashed the light into the bag, and after making brief eye contact with him, glanced into the backpack. “Life without you in it sucks. I hate it and want to go back to the world I had where you were always there.  And I’m tired of fighting my feelings; somewhere along the way, I realized that the fact you scared me with all your feelings meant I felt something worth experiencing.  Living safe is boring and never taking emotional risks makes me stagnant.  If I can take risks in every other aspect of my life, why shouldn’t I be just as brave in this instance and take the one risk that matters most?  If I’m right, and my life is a shallow empty shell without you in it, imagine what my—our—lives, together, can be... if I grow up, and act like a mature grown adult who isn’t too scared to commit, or even say I love you.”  She made eye contact again. “I do, ya know?  I love you so much.”  After glancing back at the almost empty bag, she continued, “It hurts when we’re apart, and that’s what scared me.  That you’re so vital to my happiness.  Sue says,—”

“Wait, who’s Sue?”

With heat rising in her cheeks she ducked her head. “Sue is my therapist.  Anyway, she said my fear of feeling emotions so much is a product of everything that happened to me—to us—and it amazes me you went the other way and feel so much.  But I want to experience that.  I want to be free of all the baggage, and I want to be free with you if you’ll have me.”

He stood there staring at her for a solid minute, his eyes flickering over every inch of her face, as if memorizing each curve. Then with a smirk he put her out of her misery.  “I’m not saying no, but how do you plan to work around the fact you go to Stanford while I go to Hearst?  What about the distance?”

Veronica shrugged, her gaze staying down, but her voice lowered.  “Wallace already drives up every weekend, so it’s a doable weekend trip.  We could switch off weekends, back and forth.  Or if that doesn’t work, you could transfer or I could transfer, either is a possibility.”

Without waiting a beat, he shook his head. “Stanford is your dream.  You always wanted to go there.  You’re not allowed to transfer because of me now that you’re there.”

Her lips turned up a little.  “I will ignore that ‘allowed’ part, because I’m sure you don't mean it in a controlling or bad way, and I don't want to start a fight over something so petty as a word.  But, for the record, I would.  I would switch out of my dream school, if it meant being with you for the rest of my life. I would give up Stanford and anything else that might get in the way.  You shouldn’t be the only one in this relationship making sacrifices and personal changes to compromise and make this work.”

She finished that statement by taking two ID’s out of the bag and standing.  “I choose you, Logan, now and always if you’ll have me.  And I choose to be your partner in this, a fifty-fifty–”  She paused. “No that's not right.  I want a one hundred-one hundred partnership.  No more lopsided relationship where you put in all the effort and make all the compromises, with me just taking from you without reciprocating.”

He took the five steps to her and pulled her into his arms before crushing his lips to hers.  They stayed like that until he pulled back, gasping for air. “I got into San Jose State University  It’s half an hour away from Stanford.”

She beamed before her lips turned down.  “Why did you apply to transfer there?”

With a smirk he said, “You’re not the only one who felt empty and stagnant.  I was hoping to convince you to give us a try one more time.  Our story is epic…”

She giggled again.  “Spanning years and continents.  Lives ruined, bloodshed…”

“Epic.”

Her eyes darted to the pools of blood. “Well, we’ve got bloodshed, and lives ruined in spades today; and, now, I’m even more determined to get you and Wallace out of here in one piece.  We’ve got a future to work on, together.”

He leaned in and gave her a tender kiss, and they stood there amid the destroyed living room, enjoying being on the same page, before a scream ripped through the small house.  They pulled apart and took each other’s hand before turning towards the scream.

Wallace smiled at them.  “I hope it works out for you guys.  You suck apart, both of you bellyaching about not being with the other. Do a brother a favor and stay together, so I can focus on my love life instead of yours.”

They laughed before the three of them climbed the stairs, stepping on the edges of the steps to avoid trekking through the bloody drag marks.  When they reached the top, everyone else clustered around a doorway. The girls all cried, clinging to each other, and Cole and Luke both bent over and threw up in the hallway.

The three friends pushed their way through the crowded hall and entered the bedroom before looking around the room; bed against the wall, a desk in the corner, bureau standing against the wall the door was in.  It appeared normal, except for the bloody drag marks leading to the only other door in the room.

Veronica let go of Logan’s hand, strode to it, and opened it, before staggering back and slamming her hand over her mouth.  After fighting her own gag reflex for a minute, she said, “Duncan!  What the hell?”

She turned towards Logan, blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay.  The last thing she wanted was to shed tears in front of the other oh-niners.  She’d save them and share them with Logan, the other remaining member of the Fab Four, later.  For now, she said, “Maybe I am the Black Widow.  Perhaps Dick is right for the first time in history and you should get as far away from me as you can.”

Duncan Kane’s bloodied face and lifeless eyes stared out of the closet at them.  With quick steps, Logan moved behind her and gathered her into his arms, holding her tight. “Not a chance, Bobcat, wild horses won’t drag me from you now.”

Her lips turned upward before she glanced at the two IDs still in her hand and she lost her smile after she did a double take. She pulled back from Logan enough to hand them to him, but still stay in the circle of his arms, before asking, “Recognize these two jokers with a penchant for hurting people?”

He took the cards with one hand, the other holding her to him tighter and stared at them.  “Who are Adam Rodriguez and Peter Hanson?”

After shaking her head, she said, “No idea who the names belong to but look at the pictures.  Their names aren’t Adam and Peter.”

He peered at the top card. “Dylan, Dylan Goran, the ass who hurt Trina and got a beat-down from Dear Ole Dad.”

She inclined her head, so he shuffled the cards so the second one was on top and sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Gory Sorokin.  Crap!  What are these doing on this island, out in the middle of nowhere?  You don’t suppose the assholes are here, do you?”

She took the cards back from him and examined them, even holding them up to the light.  “These are top quality fake IDs, Logan.  They paid good money for these.  If these cards are here, I’d bet my college scholarship and your trust fund that Dylan and Gory are here somewhere, too—lurking in the shadows, and possibly killing people associated with me or both of us.  Remember, Leo first stole and then sold you Lilly’s sex tapes, and while not directly connected to Clayton, you led ‘the torment Veronica’ campaign at school that he tried to intervene in, or you could even get to him through the ATF agent. You gave Ben a beat-down while he was setting Clayton up for terrorism.  And Duncan, he was your ex-best friend and while he was also my ex-boyfriend, Sue showed me that what he did was rape.”

She took a deep breath and released it even while she gripped his arm tight.  “He raped me. Somehow, I made what he did okay in my mind, because I couldn't face the fact that my former best friend hurt me like that.  And then—then I dated him. Logan—I'm so sorry that I fell for his good boy, perfect choir boy routine.  I'm so sorry I ran from you and my feelings for you.”

He pulled her back into his arms. “I forgave you for that a long time ago.”

She sniffled into his chest before pulling back. “Thank you.  I’m not sure I deserve that but thank you.”

He kissed the tip of her nose.  “I’m not sweeping it under the rug or forgetting about it.  However, I’m seeing a therapist too, Jane.  We’ve been working together on my forgiving those who have hurt me and myself, too.  So, I forgive you, because I believe you’re sorry, and Jane has helped me see how much you’ve been hurting, how confused you must have been trying to deal with everything that happened to you, including me turning the school against you.”

He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry for that, and, now, you’re sorry for the things you did in our relationship, too.  Jane taught me that holding onto that hurt and anger will only hurt us both.  So I propose we both work on letting go of the pain and rage and heal together.  You and I have always been better together.  The problems between us always crop up when one of us forgets that and I want us to work this time 'Ronica.  It won't always be easy, but you're it for me, my one true love, and I'm willing to work for us if you are.”

She fell into him more and, damn the consequences, she sobbed all over him even with the oh-niners looking on.

A few minutes later that seemed like a lifetime, a weight lifted off her shoulders and she straightened, and kissed his chin, before she pulled back, straightening her shirt.  “Thank you.  We’ll talk later about all this when we don’t have more pressing matters to deal with… like bodies piling up.”

With another glance at Duncan’s body, she said, “So, Duncan’s connected to both of us, too.  Clayton is, I admit, a stretch, but the other two aren’t and if we include Troy and Piz, we’re both connected to them as well.  Troy dated me and stole the steroids after visiting Mexico with you and Luke, and you gave Piz a beat-down when you understandably thought it was him who recorded and distributed the video of him and me making out.”

The door downstairs creaked while it opened before it slammed shut and Veronica did a head count. Everyone but Dick was in the hallway; she waited a moment for him to come upstairs, but he never did.  She gave a heavy sigh.  “We need to go see who came in.”

Logan’s eyebrow rose.  “You don’t think it’s Dick?”

With a shake of her head, she said, “Wouldn’t he already be up here mouthing off?”

“Crap, you make a fair point.”

She turned in his arms and hugged him before pulling back.  “This time we all need to stay together for real,” she said, before leading the group back down the stairs.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

My Little Secret part 2

Summary: Something happened last night, and your brain is foggy on the details. You run into someone familiar when taking a fun little trip to Saint Denis.

Warnings: Alcohol mention and use, mention and use of weed (well, vaping)

With the sun shining through the blinds of your bedroom window, you woke up from a sound sleep. Although, you couldn’t remember exactly when you got home and how, it felt more like a dream anything. Did you hit your head or something?

Thinking back, you vaguely remembered getting into your car…being helped, actually. Someone had helped you, though your brain was too fogged to remember who exactly.

Either way, you’d gotten home without any issues.

The bright and sunny sky showed promise, a beautiful Saturday to enjoy. That is until you saw the mountain of textbooks resting upon your desk, and you groaned. Guess the day would be spent doing homework.

You spent a couple of hours around the house, cooking yourself breakfast and cleaning up the miniscule space you had in your apartment. You showered, treating yourself to a personal spa day. Eventually you’d run out of tasks to do, and you eventually had to turn to those textbooks.

It wasn’t exactly hard, yet there was a vast amount. Grad school for pharmacology, you read drug names a hundred times over. You knew human anatomy like the back of your hand, all of the effects and contraindications of different drugs. With all the information you’d crammed into your head for these past five years, it was a miracle your brain hadn’t shut down by now.

As an hour passed, your focus began to wander back to last night. Nothing seemed to add up, and you couldn’t remember why you needed help. Maybe you’d passed out somehow? You could recall leaving the building, and then between that and the car…nothing.

You thought harder, trying to fight past the fog that clouded your memory. You could recall…a voice…

The sound of your phone ringing snapped you from your train of thought. Grabbing it, the caller ID flashed with your friend’s name.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey girl!” your friend, Sam, responded. “What’re you doing at this moment?”

“Eh, homework,” you sighed. “Feels like I barely made a dent.”

Sam made a noise of sympathy. “Well, you wanna take a break? Some of us are heading to Saint Denis today.”

“What for?” you asked.

“To have fun, of course!” Sam exclaimed. “Do a little shopping in the daytime, bar hop at night!”

Tempting. You thought about it for a moment, but you had to at least finish your homework. “I don’t know, Sam. This homework isn’t gonna finish itself.”

“Do it tomorrow,” she answered quickly. “Come on, it’s been a while since we all got to enjoy ourselves. And Saint Denis is the perfect place to do so!”

She had a point. The last time you’d truly had a fun night out was after midterms, in celebration of you passing all of them. Plus, you did like Saint Denis. The French charm that laced the city never got old. “Alright, you.ve convinced me.” You finally gave in.

You could practically see the grin on her face on the other end of the line. “Sweet. We’ll swing by and get you then.”

—-

You’d been ready to go within the hour, your friends swinging by in a large SUV to pick you up. Within two hours, you were in the intricate city of Saint Denis. You’d stopped at a diner for some lunch before hitting the streets to have a little bit of fun.

Saint Denis was a beautiful city with its French inspired architecture and culture. You’ve only been here a few times, yet you were always lost in its grandeur. High end restaurants and clubs lined the busier streets, while cute boutiques and hobby shops were confined to smaller streets and alleyways. Theaters and galleries were popular amongst natives and tourists alike.

You’d wandered in and out of smaller shops, collecting a couple of souvenirs as you went. Munching on snacks here and there, or just viewing items you wish you had the money to spend on. Clothes that would take a week’s worth of pay to purchase.

There was always something for you to do here, and each visit unveiled a new experience for you. This time your group had gone into a new museum of local history that had opened, a small building on the corner towards the center of the city.

Being a history buff, it definitely interested you more than your friends did. You spent a little more time than you’d like to admit while going through the exhibits, learning about how the city seemed to be a hot spot for outlaws in the late 19th century, even displaying a gun of a fallen gang member from a huge bank heist.

After your friends bugging you to leave, you wandered back out into the humid air. The sun was fairly low in the sky by then, a late afternoon beginning to be touched by twilight in the horizon. The need for alcohol was becoming apparent, and the daygoers were soon returning to their homes as the young night owls were appearing.

Your group eventually came across an old bar that wasn’t very packed yet. It was saloon style, a different setting from the club that you worked at. It wasn’t crowded yet, though a good amount of people moved amongst the space. Music played overhead, the clank of pool balls slamming together occasionally rang out from the corner.

With the first round of drinks, your group sat at a table, drinking happily and chatting about everything you hadn’t covered earlier today. As time wore on and the sky outside darkened, and more patrons entered. The music slowly began to pick up the pace, and a few bodies were beginning to dance.

At some point you’d moved over to the pool table, dividing yourselves into two teams of three. It started out fun, giggling at the awkward taps and misses and cheering whenever someone got a ball into one of the holes. Over time though you began to get bored, your idle eyes slowly scanning the ever growing crowd as you sipped on another drink.

It was more diverse than the club back at home, at least for a Saturday night. Sure, there were many people around your age, as well as older patrons swarming around the bar and buying pitchers of beer.

The sky had completed darkened now, from what you’ve noticed as the door occasionally opened, bringing a gust of humidity amongst the crowd. Gazing aimlessly, lost in a small daze as your friends continued the pool game.

But wait-

You looked toward a shadowed spot again. Towards the back of the bar, a figure stood, casually leaning against the wall with his arms folded. His head was tilted down, hidden behind what looked like a cowboy hat.

The brim lifted, immediately uncovering a pair of intense blue eyes. Somehow, they seemed familiar…

“Y/N!” Sam called to you. “Your turn!”

You blinked and turned towards the table again, noting the expectant looks on your friends’ faces. You sighed and grabbed a cue, lining up your shot for the eight ball.

---

Some time had passed after finishing the pool game, and you wandered back over to the bar for another drink. Squeezing in between others to reach the slightly sticky surface, you placed your empty glass upon it and waited for the bartender to get your attention. It always felt slightly strange to be on the paying side of the bar, knowing you could easily make your own drinks if you were that determined.

Both of the bartenders were busy dealing with others on the far side, not that you minded. You understood that rush all too well. Zoning out once again, you didn’t notice when another person took the empty spot beside you.

It wasn’t until his arm accidentally brushed against yours did you snap out of your daydream. Skin as cold as ice, you glanced toward him. The man from earlier.

It only now occurred where you’d seen him before: the previous night at your own bar. The guy who had a weird, predatory gaze but promised he wouldn’t act as such anymore. And somehow, you remembered him helping you to your car…

“You sure have a thing for starin’, don’t ya?” his voice startled you, not realizing you’d gave him a look longer than just a fraction of a second.

You bit on your bottom lip as you shied away from his gaze. Damn it, he caught you again. This time it wasn’t even intentional. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to remember where I saw you. You were at the club I worked at last night.”

“Yeah, I know I got an ugly mug. Easy to remember.”

Your head snapped up to look at him again. In no way was this guy ugly. From his piercing blue eyes to the built cheekbones and his strong jaw that had a decent amount of stubble, decorated with faint wrinkles and…scars? A rugged sense of handsomeness that touched his features. You never really looked at men much older than you were, yet you had to appreciate this one. “You…aren’t ugly, if that’s why you think I was staring again,” you said with a slight hint of bewilderment. “But…I think…didn’t you help me…or something? Unless I was dreaming.”

“Ah,” he sat up straight. “You tripped n’ fell at some point. Hit your head against them trash cans. I was nearby when I heard it. Came on over wonderin’ if there was a scuffle or somethin’. Saw you layin’, I waited till you came to, then made sure you were okay enough to go home.”

Tripping and hitting your head? You certainly didn’t remember that, yet it would explain the fogginess on what else had happened that night. “Well, I appreciate it, Mr…”

“Arthur,” he finished for you, giving you a small smile. “It’s not a problem, Miss Y/N.”

Wait. “How’d you know my name?” you asked suspiciously.

“You told me, I asked you some questions as you were gettin’ up.” Arthur explained.

Another memory that seemed to have slipped your mind. Maybe you hit your head harder than you’d realized. “Well…good thing you were there to save the day.”

“Or night.” He added.

You half smiled at his response. “So, isn’t it a little odd that we run into each other twice in a row? Saint Denis is a bit of a drive from Rhodes.”

“’Spose you could say that,” Arthur shrugged lightly. “But I came here for some business. Hate the city really, but this bar just happens to be a favorite of mine.”

“Why is that?”

Before answering, Arthur gazed up at the ceiling, staring into the dimness past the low golden lights. “The charm…I guess. This is the oldest bar in Saint Denis, and ain’t much changed. At least so I’ve heard.”

“I thought you said you don’t drink,” you pointed out. “What’s the point of coming here?”

“Fond memories.” His answer was short and quick.

“So, are you from here?” you asked.

Arthur shook his head, his nose wrinkling in slight disgust. “Nah, just have a lot o’ history here, personally. No matter how much I try to escape, somethin’ always drags me back.”

“Sounds like you put yourself in that cycle, Arthur.” you pointed out with slight amusement.

He shrugged again. “Don’t matter that much. Gotta work somehow.”

You hummed a response, understanding that plight all too well. You remembered the job you had in your first years of college. Wasn’t ideal, set in a place that you’d never want to step foot in again. “So what do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

His focus shifted to you again. “I’m an outlaw. I go around robbin’ banks and killin’ folk that need killin’.”

You stared at him. With his nonchalant tone, you weren’t sure if he were joking or not. After a few seconds of silence of contemplating, you snorted into laughter. “Sounds like one hell of a job!” you giggled, and he chuckled himself.

Before you could do anything else, you heard your name being called once again. Turning around, Sam was standing just a few feet away. She held up a vape pen, raising her eyebrows in invitation. You nodded in understanding, and turned toward Arthur again.

And then you realized you forgot to grab another drink. “Shoot, I wanted to order something else.”

“Go on with your friend, I’ll order for ya.” He said.

You frowned slightly, giving him an odd look. You hardly knew him, yet he was offering you to buy a drink?

“Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna spike it,” He said earnestly. “Just think of it as a gift for a nice conversation.”

This guy was strange, yet had a charm to him that you couldn’t place. “Okay, but if you try anything, my friends will gang up on you.” You warned, adding in your drink order and moving through the crowd to join Sam.

---

“Who’s that man you were talking to, Y/N?” Sam asked, her voice rough after taking a drag from the pen and handing it to you.

You two stood outside the bar, off from the main crowd as they entered and existed the building. Taking a drag yourself, you exhaled, coughing slightly at the end before responding. “Some guy I met at my bar last night. Helped me out after I hurt myself.”

“You hurt yourself?” Sam repeated, her eyes wide.

“Yeah, don’t really remember it. He said I fell and hit my head.” You explained.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Sam exasperated. “You’re gonna be a pharmacologist, you can’t go off killing all your brain cells!”

“As if this doesn’t?” you joked, gesturing to the pen.

“Hey, I was high during most of midterms. I passed just fine.” Sam responded as-a-matter-of-factly, swiping it back.

“And I suppose copying my notes had nothing to do with it?” you lightly shot back, unable to hide the grin on your face.

Sam coughed a “shut up” in mid-exhale, leaving both of you giggling to yourselves. As the amusement died down, someone had approached you.

It was Arthur, sidling up to you with a drink in his hand. You blinked in surprise, realizing he was absolutely serious about that drink.

“Here ya are,” he said, holding the glass out to you. “Unspiked n’ all.”

You took it. “Thanks, Arthur,” you glanced at Sam staring at you expectantly. “Oh, Sam, this is Arthur. The guy I just told you about.”

“Ma’am.” Arthur greeted, tilting his head to her.

“Hi! Thanks for helping out Y/N, she told me of your heroic act,” Sam responded, and leaned closer to peer at him from under the hat. “Hey…you look familiar, do you work in Gaskill Hall?”

Arthur stepped back slightly, but shook his head. “Sorry, got me confused with someone else.”

“You’re too high,” You stated with a laugh. “Sorry, Arthur. Sam can be…over the top sometimes.”

Arthur waved the statement off. “That’s alright, I’ve met quite a few like her over the years. Anyway, I’ll leave ya to it, then. I’ll be headin’ off. Enjoy your night, ladies.”

You bid your goodbyes to him, and once again thanked him for the drink. As he sauntered off, you peered into the glass. The fruity smell of the juice masked the stronger smell of the alcohol, the straw bobbing slightly with your movement. It puzzled you as to why he offered to buy your drink..

“Ya know, he’s pretty handsome,” Sam mentioned, breaking your train of thought. “In like a hot professor type of way.”

“What, you think he teaches at the school? Is that why he seems familiar to you?” You asked.

Sam shrugged before taking a short drag of her pen. “I dunno, but I think I’ve seen him before…somewhere. Just can’t really place it.”

You didn’t respond, idly sipping the drink. It tasted just as you expected, nothing gave off an indication that he might have altered it. You had to give him the benefit of the doubt, though. He seemed genuinely kind, giving a different air than any other guy you’d met.

Maybe you’ll run into him again at some point.