#I hesitate to say he's loyal to my parents but he's certainly still got his blinders on abt them at the very least.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Dementor

Words: 982

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Remus couldn’t sleep. Something was wrong. He rolled over, taking in the vast empty space on the other side of the bed. He’d known Sirius for ten years. He could be impulsive, arrogant and sometimes even just mean. What he also was, though, was loyal. To a fault, sometimes. Remus just couldn’t recognise the man that he loved in the accusations lodged against him.

Something was very wrong.

He got out of bed, wincing as his bare feet hit the cold floor. If Sirius had been working for Voldemort, there must be something in their flat to verify that. He started in the spare room, which had originally been Sirius’ room until they realised that he hadn’t slept in there for three months, at which point it became the spare room. It still had a lot of Sirius’ stuff in there, though. In boxes under the bed and the wardrobe. There was a lot to go through.

He started under the bed. He found twelve photo albums, which he couldn’t face looking through, and a box full of very racy-looking romance novels. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, but what was the alternative? Just accept that the man who had kissed him on the forehead and told Remus that he was his whole world two days ago had conspired against them and been responsible for the death of three of their closest friends?

The next box Remus pulled out made him stop. In it was a small black chest with an inscription on the lid.

‘This chest, much like mine, will only open for you, Moons.’

Remus choked back a sob as he lifted the chest onto the bed. He ran his finger across the inscription and heard something click within. He was able to open it. He took a deep breath before looking inside. There were several photos of the two of them that Remus was quite glad that Sirius hadn’t put in a photo album and two envelopes.

He opened the first envelope. It was a contract. A contract that passed the role of secret-keeper from Sirius to Peter, and it was dated four months prior. Remus’ head was spinning. That was Pete’s signature, and he could tell from the paper that it had been magically signed too. He needed to take this to Dumbledore, or the Ministry. Someone who could tell if this was real or not. Then he noted the signature of the witness to the contract. Dumbledore. He knew. This made no sense.

He opened the second envelope, hoping for a miracle.

20th September 1981

Dear Moony,

I assume that if you’re reading this, then it’s likely something has happened to me, or maybe you’re just nosier than I thought you were.

I think Pete is the traitor. He became Prongs and Lily’s secret keeper back in June (see attached contract) because he convinced us all that I would be the obvious choice and Voldemort would never suspect him.

Since then I’ve noticed that anything that Pete knows quickly becomes used against the Order. Pete knew that Marlene and her sister would be with their parents last Friday. Only Pete, Dumbledore and I knew that. I certainly didn’t tell anyone, and it would surprise me if Dumbledore did. So that leaves Peter or a very lucky guess from the Death Eaters.

He’s also been in my ear about you. He’s been saying for months how suspicious it is that we aren’t told about your missions in meetings, and how many meetings you miss. I know you, as I hope you know me, and I know that you would never do this.

I have expressed my worries about this to Dumbledore, who knows that Pete is the secret keeper now. He told me that I was being paranoid and that J, L and H are perfectly safe. I hope that’s still the case when you read this.

If something has happened to me, look into Peter. I don’t think Dumbledore will care, so see if Moody will.

I hope I get to see you again.

I love you.

Padfoot

Remus didn’t hesitate before apparating to the Aurors offices.

Alastor Moody got on well with Remus and when he showed up looking distraught in the middle of his night shift, he leapt into action. He took the information from Remus, verified the magic signatures on the contract as belonging to Sirius, Peter and Dumbledore, and left the room. Remus sat in the offices for what felt like weeks, but the sun hadn’t even risen yet. Kingsley had sat with him for a while, telling him what Moody was working on, but Remus couldn’t take much of it in.

Moody appeared after several more long hours. “Remus. We’ve done magical trace tests on the finger we found at the scene. He did that to himself.”

“What are you saying, Alastor?” Remus asked, not wanting to hope too much.

“I’m saying that your man is being released from Azkaban as we speak. The dementors don’t like it, but it’s not their decision. This never should have happened. Shit. He should have had a trial, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how we missed this.”

Remus shook his head, “Dumbledore knew the whole time.”

Moody nodded, “I know. That’s something I urgently need to look into, but I needed to right the wrong first. He’s only been there for a day and a half, but the dementors…”

“I know. I’ll look after him.” Remus said as the fireplace glowed and two men stepped out. Sirius looked pale and his eyes were unfocused. Remus stumbled to his feet and pulled Sirius to him.

“Moons?” His voice was hoarse.

“I’ve got you. You’re alright.” Remus whispered into his hair. “You’re safe.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“I know, love. I found your letter.” Remus kissed the side of Sirius’ head. “I never believed it was you.”

[straydogged]

reached out to my brother excitedly because I saw through discord that he'd got bg3 and. I kind of wish I hadn't because his replies were very unenthusiastic... I told him that I would love it if he continued to dm me about his run but that was almost a week ago now and he's playing again right now and. why does this hurt so much. I have no right to be hurt here.

[animasola86]

Sebastian Sallow Headcanons (revisited)

I made a similar post a while back, but I think it's time to revisit it.

Sebastian Sallow is a Scorpio (born between Oct 23 and Nov 22).

Typical Scorpio traits include being resourceful, ambitious, brave, (com)passionate, possessive, jealous, loyal, supportive, emotional, intense. I’d say he is all that. Also fits the Slytherin characteristics.

I don't have a particular date in mind for him anymore, but I'd say around Halloween or after would suit him and Anne. (I haven't looked at the actual Astrology aspect of it, leaving that to the experts here!)

He is a nerd and an athlete.

He is the kind of nerd who will hit you with knowledge when you least expect it and never as the know-it-all type, but rather the let-me-share-my-knowledge type. I'm sure he'll be actually fun at parties.

And I see no problem in him being hunched over books for hours on end and being physically fit at the same time. (Yes, he seemed a little unfit at the start of fifth year, being all breathless on the way to Hogsmeade and during a mission up some stairs, but I'll ignore that. He'll grow into it.)

So he's not only fit enough to brave all those stairs in Hogwarts, I also see him on the Quidditch team. I initially had him as a Beater in my head, and I still stand by it, but I do see him as a Seeker as well now, just because how he can show off by catching the Snitch.

(I don't see him as a Chaser, too average a position for him imo, or a Keeper, I think he'd be too hyper to stay in one place all the time, even though his protective trait might play into it, but he can focus on that more when he hits some Bludgers around.)

He is tall.

I also HC that Ominis is taller, but Sebastian is still tall. I put him at 1.80m/180cm (5′11″) initially, but I might even put him taller now. He'll definitely have another growth spurt during his last years at Hogwarts and grow into an even taller adult, so for now, let's settle on him being 1.85m/185cm/6'1" at the end of the game. (Angst can make you grow, yes.)

(And I need him to be tall because my MCs usually are quite short and I just love that size difference dynamic so much!)

He is an extrovert.

He might have his baggage to carry during his fifth year (and beyond), but he still has many extrovert tendencies, especially needing people around to recharge - even if it's just one person (our MC preferably). He is a twin, so being alone was never really an option before Anne got sick.

That's why he hates being alone, he'll certainly have his mind flooded with doubts and dark thoughts if he happens to be alone. That might make him clingy and/or overprotective towards his significant other/friends, but if it helps him sleep at night, he won't hesitate to hog those special people to his advantage.

He is a light sleeper.

And probably has nightmares more than your average boy considering all the stress he puts himself under, with his worries for Anne and the constant abuse from Solomon and his general past (loss of his parents, etc.).

Yet even though he might have trouble falling asleep and sleeping in general, I do think he can sleep anywhere, thinking about the shed in Feldcroft that the fandom considers to be his place to stay when he visits his sister. Also as a twin he was probably used to sharing small spaces and finding sleep wherever he can.

He can't sit still for long.

Call it ADHD, restless legs syndrome or general nerves, he probably can't sit still and has to fidget a lot as well. Might conflict with his ability to absorb himself in books for hours on end, but even when reading, I'd imagine him moving a lot (think back to him pacing in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, or his constant walking cycle through the DADA tower, etc.).

His favorite color is green.

Obvious choice, I just needed something to end this with. So here we go. Green for Slytherin, for nature, and maybe, probably hope? Who knows.

[ 🔞 NSFW Sebastian Sallow Headcanons ]

[unclewaynemunson]

Jeff is one of my favorite characters and I think we should start a post of all our favorite Jeff headcanons. He and Freak get left out in almost every Eddie-centric fic I read, with his "best friend" being either Gareth or Chrissy, and I'm tired of it. Jeff is wonderful. Here's my hc's:

- Jeff and Eddie have been best friends since middle school. They started CC and Hellfire together.

- they went to the Snowball together and rigged the bubble machine to spew bubbles during the slow dance songs. The dance had to end early and Jeff and Eddie never got caught

- Jeff's parents loves Eddie. They used to have sleepovers at each other's place almost every weekend.

- Jeff was the first person Eddie came out to. Jeff tried to be surprised and "that's great, man, thanks for telling me!" But Eddie saw right through that.

- Eddie is afraid of geese and spiders. Jeff thinks this is fucking hilarious.

- post-Vecna, Jeff is the one Eddie reconnects with first. Eddie tells him everything, despite the NDAs and Steve's warnings. Jeff believes him, because he knows there's wacky shit going on in Hawkins, and he's seen Eddie's wounds.

- they have that kind of friendship that nothing can break. Even if they don't see or talk to each other for years, because Life Happens and people lose touch, they'll always have part of themselves carved out for their best friend.

Ok, that's all I got for now, and sorry for the long ask! I just love Jeff so much and he (and Freak, too, because Freak gets ignored because of fatphobia) deserves just as much love and attention as Gareth gets.

What are your Jeff and Eddie headcanons?

I am loving this Jeff love and your headcanons, thank you so much for sending this to me!!! <3

I think with Unnamed Freak things are a bit different bc, yaknow, he doesn't have a name. For me at least that makes me hesitant to write about him so I don't wanna go as far as to say it's all bc he's fat (even though I'm not gonna deny that that probably also plays a part in how popular he is in this fandom urgh). Anyway, yes this fandom certainly does Jeff dirty. I think it's this gross combination of racism and people copying a lot from already existing stories, characterizations and headcanons without much critical thinking of their own (which baffles me, if you're creative enough to write a story please use that creativity for some originality ffs). Anyway, this is gonna turn into a rant again can you tell I'm still annoyed? so let's turn to something more positive now, like my headcanons for our beloved Jeff:

He was the first person in Hawkins (after Wayne obviously) that Eddie got close to. For Jeff it was kinda the same, being a black, nerdy boy in this town had been very isolating for him and Eddie was his first real friend.

Unnamed Freak made their duo into a trio a bit later. All the others in the group (including Gareth) were Eddie's "lost little sheepies" who he sought out to protect. This means that Jeff and Unnamed Freak are the only people who don't borderline worship Eddie but see him (and love him) for who he is including all his flaws. They're also the only ones not afraid to call him out on his bullshit.

Jeff's mom is really cool. Her name is Pauline and she's not like Jeff at all (she was a cheerleader in high school). Despite their differences they love each other a lot. (Jeff's mom is actually heavily featured in one of the fics I wrote so I got her all fleshed out lmao)

He has two little twin sisters. They're friends with Erica, one of them is one of her friends we meet in the mall in s3. He has this typical hate-love relationship with his sisters: they fight a lot, but at the end of the day, he would die for them.

HE'S BISEXUAL

While he can't wait to get out of Hawkins and to a place that'll be more accepting of him, he doesn't want to move too far away from his family.

He's the most loyal friend in the world, 100% a ride-or-die kinda guy

While he does love metal a lot, his guilty pleasure is Tina Turner

Tell me all your Jeff headcanons i wanna hear more about him!

[alanis-altair]

dark hallways and potions | marauders x platonic!reader

summary | Moony, Padfoot and Prongs find their best friend sneaking through the abandoned corridors of Hogwarts at night.

pairings | marauders x platonic!reader, slightly Sirius Black x fem!reader

warnings | it's actually total fluff, but mentions of wounds and bruises, domestic abuse and a little self destruction aaand English isn't my first language as you may have already noticed so I'm sorry for my lame ass writing and every mistake I did (maybe you'll find the name Alanis somewhere instead of y/n because I always write those fics with my name first, I'm sorry if so)

word count | 1910

...

It was far after midnight as the not so tired Sirius Black gave up and opened his gloomy eyes in a deep sigh. He couldn't make it to sleep; nightmares keeping him up, that caused him to turn left and right, desperately trying to find a good sleeping position to make him feel comfy. But all of his attempts didn't work.

So the black haired boy looked around. The moon was gently shining onto his covers, while soft snores came from his three friends. The loudest noise was definitely caused by James, not that it surprised Sirius. Still, the young boy kept quiet, not wanting to wake up Remus, who just had had a rough night.

Sirius started to get bored and glanced at his bedside table. Only two things had managed it onto the table; his squiggly wand and the infamous Marauder's Map. Shortly after, Sirius mumbled a 'Lumos' and illuminated the dorm a little. The spell followed another one, including some of his favourite words: 'I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good' and the Map showed him whole Hogwarts.

With curious eyes the boy watched every step of every person awake, until he stopped at a very certain name. y/n y/l/n. His y/h/c haired best friend was wandering through the abandoned corridors, well aware of the consequences she had to face if she got caught. She moved towards the Tapestry Corridor, near the Dungeons, where the potion storeroom was located.

What the bloody hell was the infuriating girl up to again? And why would she need some potion ingredients? Sirius had no clue. He felt like he didn't have a choice other than waking up James, which is what he simply did.

"Prongs! Prongs!", he screamed in a whisper, making his good looking friend mumbling and turning to the other side of the bed.

"For fuck's sake, wake up, you lad!"

"What is it, Sirius?", James replied in a screaming whisper, too. He didn't sound amused or happy to be woken around 2AM.

"Looks like Mane is doing some mischief without us, can you imagine?", Sirius shortly explained, which caught James' attention.

"Ugh, not again...", the brunette sighed.

"Well, I think we should check on her, now!", Padfoot proposed, earning a brief nod from his best friend.

"'Right...", James said and got up. Both of the Marauder's quickly dressed and grabbed their wands. They were about to leave their dorm as a raspy voice stopped them.

"You're not going anywhere without me", Remus started, "especially not if you're that bad at whispering!", he exclaimed, voice held low to not wake up Peter, too.

Padfoot and Prongs turned around surprised, but remembered Remus' Werwolf senses and that it was impossible to whisper without him hearing every single word. The two boys sighed; Sirius a little mad at himself because he was eager to grant the young wolf some sleep.

The three boys sneaked almost soundless through the Gryffindor Common Room and used some of the secret passages to avoid the open corridors.

"So, what do you think y/n is doing again?", James asked curiously and a little tired. How many times had he and his friends protected the little girl from getting herself killed? He couldn't remember.

"What she's always doing", Moony answered, "hiding something from us or preparing some pranks on Snape."

It sounded simple, but it wasn't. y/n had, similar to Sirius, great problems with her family, who was trying to make a perfect pure blood wife out of her; beating her up badly when she wouldn't listen to what her father told her to do.

The y/e/c eyed girl hid her bruises from the Marauder's every time, not that it would stop them from finding out, though. But still, she was bloody stubborn and determined to keep her problems all to herself, causing the four boys to worry a lot.

She was a loyal part of the Marauder's, too, and never hesitated to sacrifice herself if James, Sirius, Remus or Peter were in any danger. She nursed all of Remus' wounds and scars and helped him to accept his flaws, while y/n practically was Sirius' therapist and James' advisor for everything that had to do with Lily Evans. Even for Wormtail she took her time and put effort in integrating him more into the group, although Peter secretly accepted that the girl with the mane resembled more of the Marauder's spirit than he did.

Knowing that y/n creeped through the black hallways again made not only Sirius uncomfortable. The three Marauder's quickened up their pace, following every of the girl's steps on the map. Some minutes passed, when they were close to the Tapestry Corridor. Three wooden wands were uplifted; enlightening the dimmed corridor and revealing a small back, covered by y/n's hair.

"Mane? Hey! What are you doing here?", Sirius addressed the girl and y/nstartled. Quickly she turned away from the door she was about to open with shaky hands.

"None of your business, Black! Could ask you the same question, couldn't I?", was y/n's rough answer.

"Well, we're not the ones sneaking through the hallways at night!"

"Well, James. In fact, you do. Right here, right now", the y/h/c haired countered.

"What Prongs was trying to say was that we're only here for you. You're the one doing stuff without informing us", Remus caught up, "and I'm sure you're hurt again by the way your hands are shaking."

y/n cursed the tall boy with the freckled face for his gift to read people like a book. He was attentive and good with human behaviour, exposing the unofficial fifth Marauder more often than she would like to.

"Ugh, I hate you. Y'all", y/n commented and catched Sirius' worried look upon her.

"No, you don't. You love us, all of us", James corrected the tiny girl and grinned.

"So, are you going to tell us what you're up to here?", Sirius demanded to know, again.

"Wanted to brew a potion, nothing more...", y/n admitted. But of course this wasn't enough of an answer for Sirius fucking Black.

"For what purpose?"

"As painkiller, certainly. Just look at how her body is all tense", Remus replied instead of y/n herself. The girl sighed resigned and leaned her aching body against the cold of the door behind her.

Almost simultaneously, Sirius tuck his wand into his waistband and stepped forward to lay a hand on y/n's waist and back. She hissed in pain, but relaxed when the warmth of Sirius' body reached her own shivering figure.

y/n leaned into his touch and was secretly more than grateful her friends discovered her; not sure if she would've made it without them. The last encounter with her father wasn't a nice one.

"What about I and James get the ingredients for your potion and brew it, while Sirius puts you to bed, huh?", Moony made a proposal and got a weak nod from the typical strong girl. Her legs started to feel like jelly, as all of the pressure left y/n at the presence of her friends.

Without hesitation, Sirius lifted his best friend into his muscular arms. Immediately y/n curled up and placed her vibrant head against his shoulder; absorbing all of his warmth and smell.

"Hold on a minute...", James suddenly interrupted, "is that Padfoot's joggers with Moony's flannel?"

This thought came into Prong's mind as his wand gleamed onto y/n's body, searching for any outer wounds or bruises. Just the moment he said it, Remus and Sirius laid eyes on the almost sleeping beauty.

"Yeah, that's definitely my joggers! Been searching them for a couple of weeks now!"

"I guess our Mane here felt free to use our closet...but we can't be mad, Padfoot. Just see how good it looks on her", Remus noticed and giggled after.

"You're probably right...", Sirius said before heading towards the boy's dorm again.

Unsure James and Remus were left alone, watching the storeroom door as if it would open just by their gaze. Which it didn't.

"Any idea what we need for the potion?", Prongs questioned and observed Remus and the door.

"Kinda...", Moony whispered, drawing attention to the correct opening spell for the door.

"I mean, we should take her to Madame Pomfrey. Her pain seems bad, so..."

"You know we can't do that", the young werwolf stated, "her parents will know and it'll get worse. I dislike this as much as you do, but look at me. I'm the perfect example that our potions do their work, otherwise I wouldn't be standing here.

Remus' calm voice convinced James and he nodded in agreement. "Fine, then let's open this bloody door."

...

Meanwhile Sirius was carrying a half asleep y/n to his bed. She didn't move on the way back, nor did she talk to him. But his eyes already found some deep blue and purple spots on the skin of her wrists, giving him an answer. He'd absolutely kill her father if it'd stop him from hurting the precious girl in his arms. Just as all of the boys would defend y/n.

James had already thought of asking Mane to move in. With Sirius and so on, so she was safe. But it was something he knew y/n would be too modest to accept; she'd feel bad after, which is why Prongs kept quiet.

"Here you go, little one", Sirius whispered as he tucked y/n into his bed. She let out a content groan because of his smell surrounding her. She snuggled into the soft pillow, looking as cute as hell.

"Hey, y/n, you need something else?", Padfoot asked softly while caressing her cheek.

"Just you", she aspirated tired. Sirius' heart grew warm at the words of her. It meant the world to him that an angel like y/n, put on the hell of earth, still managed to melt his heart and giving him so much love, even though he wasn't sure if he deserved it.

Fulfilling her wish, the boy with the long dark hair laid next to y/n and pulled her into his arms again. She let out a relieved breath and buried her head into Sirius' chest.

He was almost asleep too, when James and Remus returned from getting the ingredients they needed for the healing potion. They eyeballed Sirius and y/n position knowingly, giving Padfoot a certain look, that he decided to ignore.

Moony and Prongs made quick work of the potion, not even waking up Peter, who was sleeping as deep as a stone, while Sirius watched the sleeping girl on top of him.

"Portion's ready. You should wake her up so she can sleep through and feel better tomorrow", Remus mumbled eventually. Sirius did as he was told and started to stroke y/n's hair, in order to carefully wake her up.

"Mane? y/n? C'mon, love. Wake up and take your medicine."

"Huh?", y/n murmured sleepily, not understanding what was happening around her. Remus sat down next to her and Padfoot, holding a small bottle of glass in front of her face.

The y/h/c haired girl thanked the boy with a grateful look and took a sip without squinching up her face at the bitter taste of the liquid.

"Thank you all, boys. For wasting your time to sleep and caring for me...", y/n said with a small grin.

"Always", they responded and smiled before going to bed, this time all of the five Marauders.

...

annotations

Mane is the Marauder name for the reader I came up with because I thought it was fitting (I'm sorry if you don't like it)

[miracle-sham]

Stitch Your Ragged Wings and Hope to Soar.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 5: Fairytales} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] |

| The folk tales always speak of those destined for greatness. Heroes alongside their faithful dragons, fighting the ever turning tides against evil. But they're just that, folk tales. After all, what are the chances a border-town apprentice seamstress like Marinette, would ever be offered a different vocation by the recruitment guild. |

| Word Count: 3,428. |

| Warnings/Tags: Kingdom/Fantasy/No Miraculous/Dragon Riders Au, Minor Lila & Adrien salt, Canon Typical lies and manipulation from Lila, Explicit Language/Swearing, and Some Fluff. |

———

| A/N: First things first, the word 'Dragoon' will be used multiple times in this piece and it is spelled that way on purpose (see end notes for further explanation). Secondly, yep! It's a dragon riding/academy au. This is the first piece of the series, which I'm really excited for because I've spent ages worldbuilding for! And for anyone worried about salt mention, it is addressed in this piece but the tag is there because of canon-typical Lila manipulation and lies, plus no Miraculous means no reason for Adrien with his sheltered upbringing to realise she's lying. |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It's been a few days of tense stagecoach travel. And to be fair to Marinette, even she hadn't expected to be declared in the middle of the town square as showing aptitude for a position within the Justice League's armée volante—specifically the dragoon squadrons—thanks to the recruitment guild no less.

Unfortunately, Adrien and Lila had also shown an aptitude. Which, seeing as they all come from the same border-town of Paris, meant they were all trapped inside the same cramped coach space for the excruciating four days journey to reach Gotham Town; the place where they are being sent to attend the dragoon academy, which is technically outside the bounds of the town proper. Seeing as the Gotham Dragoon Academy and Somerset Dragon Range are on the opposite shores of the Gotham river to the town itself.

There's only another half-day until they reach the Mooney bridge and then the Somerset

Dragon Ranges. And luckily, Adrien and Lila have taken to sitting on the same bench, the one facing forwards. Leaving the opposite bench all for Marinette.

Not that having a whole bench to myself for this time will help with whether I can continue to survive as a captive audience for Lila. Marinette thinks to herself, rather disgruntled about this whole situation she's unwillingly ended up in. She was perfectly happily remaining an apprentice seamstress, sewing commissions for Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and the rest of her famous or otherwise clientele, not that fate seemed to care though. Of course, a part of her stipulation she fought the recruiters for, is that along with her studies she can continue her commissions for current and prior clientele alone. Which is to say, better than being completely unable to continue her main hobby and form of stress relief.

The recruiters had also said that baking and cooking would be no problem to practice, as apparently there'll be free reign to "student kitchens" alongside cooking classes so any use of either skill will be "undoubtedly encouraged". Dangerous words, Marinette muses to herself once more, because if I get claimed by a dragon the first thing I'm doing is baking all the dragon dietary-safe treats I can!

“Marinette! What do you think?” Lila asks, voice as cloying as ever.

Marinette startles and half-heartedly smiles awkwardly across at her, “ah, I'm really sorry Lila! I got distracted wondering what kind all of our dragons might end up being and how they might look!” Not, I'm going to love mine regardless of appearance unlike you.

Smiling faux-sweetly, Lila shakes her head. “Don't worry Marinette, I was only saying how we're just like those local fairytales of your town! Three close-knit friends who become powerful and famous dragoon guardians and save the world from the evil destruction of Hawkmoth and his army of shadow dragons! Out of the three of us, I would be our leader, obviously. Since I'm the only one here descended from a dragoon guardian! My grandmother even gave me a token that once belonged to my dragoon guardian ancestor!”

“Wow, you've said it before but I still can't believe how incredible you are Lila! It's going to be amazing training besides you at the academy!” Adrien gushes, gazing at Lila with adoration.

Lila preens at his words. “Thank you, Adrien! But Marinette, since you mentioned what our dragons will be, did you know my ancestor's dragon was said to be the most beautiful of all the dragons in the Justice League squadrons! My ancestor's dragon had orange scales that glimmered red and yellow like flames, and pearlescent white scales along the underbelly. Oh, and the horns were pearlescent white too! Obviously, the dragon I'll get is sure to be a descendant of that dragon and just as beautiful.”

“Wow, no wonder your ancestor's dragon was the most beautiful, they sound absolutely gorgeous! What kind of dragon do you think I'll get, Lila?” Adrien asks, eyes shining with awe and curiosity.

She puts on a show of holding her chin and humming. “Hmm, probably a golden dragon, with shiny scales as bright as the sun!”

“I hope you're right!” Adrien chuckles, “the fairy tales really would be coming true if we both get the dragons you think we will! One with scales of fire, another with scales of gold!”

“It really would.” Marinette echoes weakly, not really believing in her own words.

Lila laughs, “awww don't sound so worried Marinette, your dragon will probably be a plain and drab dragon with some sort of shade of brown, or maybe even grey. But at least it won't be attention-grabbing. So you won't need to worry about people staring and judging or dragons-forbid trying to hurt you for having a prettier dragon than any nobles!”

Marinette smiles, though it turns out far more grimace-like than intended, whoops. “Yeah… that'd be awful. Haha, I'd be really lucky to get a dragon like you described for me, Lila.”

“Oh, I'm so glad you understand, Marinette! Then again, all three of us are besties so of course you'd understand!” Lila titters, crossing her fingers, “we're just like this!”

Screaming internally, Marinette nods and keeps smiling. Dragons-almighty, I'm at the end of my thread here. Hopefully, I'll be able to leave Lila's "friendship" behind at the academy without fear of mine and my parent's reputations being ruined by Lila's mother.

Her attention is briefly taken by the rolling view outside the stagecoach, unable to help herself she mumbles to herself, “the landscape here is so pretty.”

“It is pretty I guess, but not as pretty as my home country!” Lila pipes up, jumping on the new conversation—like a shadow dragon on a sheep.

Marinette shuts her eyes for a second and breathes deeply, chanting internally. The academy will be my fresh start.

———

The academy is not in fact Marinette's fresh start.

It is well past evenfall by the time their stagecoach passes through the gates of the imposing academy. It rounds a large fountain in the centre of the courtyard with a statue of a person encircled by a large dragon. However, due to the darkness and the movements of the stagecoach, any attempts at recognising whom the statue was dedicated after are thoroughly hampered. They roll to a stop before the great stone staircase—where a figure with a smaller giant rat-like creature beside them, is waiting at the top—which clearly leads to the grand front doors of the academy.

Even with the darkness obscuring the view, it's obvious that the academy is a repurposed castle. High stone walls with crenellations and littered towers, a main keep with a multitude of buildings surrounding the inner courtyard. And the most eye-catching of all, the shadowy draconic gargoyles that seem to cling and lurk upon every building.

It's impressive to say the least, certainly the most well-fortified building Marinette has ever stepped foot in her life. Impressive enough that it has her practically clawing to pull out a sketching journal and start creating. However, she's not stupid enough to do that within Lila's presence. No, that'd undoubtedly lead to honey-coated lies and being forced to listen to her prattle on about her wondrous skills and connections to the most prestigious fashion guild in the country.

Marinette startles as the stagecoach door is opened by a footman. She doesn't fuss as Lila exits first, followed by Adrien. As she steps outside last, she nods and smiles at the footman. Whispering as audibly as she can without the other two hearing, she adds, “thank you, sir.”

The footman simply glances at her attire and nods back stiffly.

In the time it's taken to all leave the stagecoach, the figure from the stairs has walked over—a woman with long blonde hair dressed in a casual black leather riding coat, and a not-dog following behind loyally. “Good evening, you must be the potential students from the town of Paris?”

Marinette hesitates for a second before nodding along with Adrien and Lila.

Lila takes a step forwards, towards the woman. “Yes, we are! I'm Lila Rossi.”

The woman nods slowly, “and the other two must be Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, correct?”

“That's correct!” Adrien responds with a bright smile.

Marinette nods and makes an affirmative squeak instead.

“Great.” The woman says, clapping her hands. “I'm Dinah Lance and I'll be one of your instructors during your attendance here. And this,” She pauses to point to the weird giant not-rat with its yellow flecked greyish-brown fur, “is Drake, he's my Ichneumon. You'll learn all about Ichneumon and why they're used within the dragoon squadron during your time here, so don't worry if you've never heard or seen of them before.”

Drake makes a high pitched trill and takes a few steps forward, sniffing the air in front of the three of them. Before scampering in a circle around Dinah Lance.

She smiles fondly at Drake before continuing. “Unfortunately it's a little late to give you the tour of the grounds now, so we'll cover that tomorrow. Tonight we'll guide you to the dining hall for a late night's meal since it's been a long journey for you three or so I've heard, and you must be starving. Then we'll discuss the main details of your attendance, and afterwards, we will show you to the temporary rooms you will be staying in, to begin with. Any questions?”

Lila rocks on the heels of her boots before shaking her head, “no, we've got no questions!”

Adrien copies with a shake of his head too.

Marinette opens her mouth to protest, were you waiting out in the cold for us long? Will the tour teach us about the different places within the academy? Will it take long? What do you mean by the main details? Why are we staying in temporary rooms to begin with? When do our lessons start? Do we need to purchase any uniforms or schooling supplies? When will we meet our dragons? Questions bubbling in her mind like a kettle over the fire, but closes her mouth just as quickly, as she catches a glare from Lila out of the corner of her eye. With that, she also briefly and nervously shakes her head. “N–no, no questions here either, Mlle Lance.”

Internally, Marinette hopes that display is enough to tide over Lila's irritation for now.

Mlle Lance glances over the three of them, seeming to stare at Marinette a little longer than the other two. “Well then, since there are no questions, let us head to the dining hall. And don't worry about your belongings, the footman will bring them to your lodgings.”

“Oh, Mlle Lance, I'd–uh… I'd rather not hassle the staff here, I can manage bringing my belongings up on my own.” Marinette admits, wringing her hands slightly.

Mlle Lance shakes her head, “that's very polite of you but I'm afraid, as you'll be having dinner and we'll be discussing details, it'll be a little while before you head to your temporary rooms. So it'll be far easier on both you and the staff here, if you allow them to do their job.”

“Okay…” Marinette relents easily, trying to ignore Lila rolling her eyes at her.

“If there are no more further questions, then follow after me please, the academy can be rather labyrinthine for those unfamiliar with its halls.” Mlle Lance instructs, already turning around and walking back towards the great stone staircase, Drake on her heels.

———

The journey through the hallways and various anterooms of the academy takes far longer than Marinette could have anticipated. On more than one occasion, she ends up falling behind due to getting distracted by the sheer amount of luxury, art, and finery everywhere. Forcing her to frantically scurry after Mlle Lance, Lila, and Adrien—all three who seem completely at home and unperturbed or uninterested by the décor, unlike her.

By the time they reach the large and ornately carved wooden doors leading to the dining hall, Marinette is flushed bright red from the embarrassment of having fallen behind so many times.

The heavy doors creak loudly as they slowly swing open at Mlle Lance's push, revealing a large dining hall—far larger than any Marinette has seen—with seemingly hundreds of wooden tables and benches. Startlingly enough, there's a boy already seated at one of the nearer benches—eating away at a trencher of hunter's stew.

No Ichneumon in sight, Marinette notes, a fellow student perhaps?

“Good evening, Jason, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be in here at the moment.” Mlle Lance greeted, nodding her head to him.

Jason squints at Mlle Lance and hunches his shoulders defensively. “B said I could grab food from here whenever I wanted.”

Mlle Lance smiles, “and that's perfectly fine. These are new arrivals, so I was just hoping to let them have some dinner without the usual chaos before going over the main details they'll need to know about attending here.” She paused for a moment. “You don't have to stay and listen if you don't want to, since you've heard this spiel many times now. But equally, feel free to stay, I'm sure it'd be nice for you and the new arrivals to get to know each other before meeting the rest of the class tomorrow.”

Jason slowly eyes Lila, Adrien, and Marinette. He places an arm in front of his trencher. “Might as well stay then I guess.”

Mlle Lance nods at him again before guiding the three of them over to the back of the dining hall where the kitchen was connected to. A few cooks were tending to various meals and pots of hunter's stew, as well as prepping trenchers or cleaning wooden bowls, and wood or horn spoons.

Marinette is still half processing everything so receiving a trencher full of hunter's stew from the cooks barely registers in her mind. And next thing she knows, she is seated next to Lila on the end of the bench and table next to Jason, with Mlle Lance sitting opposite her, Lila, and Adrien. The other two have already started tucking into the food, so cautiously Marinette takes a few sips of the stew broth with a horn spoon.

Mlle Lance clasps her hands together and rests them on the table. “Let's start with what you three already know regarding the dragoon squadrons and this academy.”

Pausing in his eating, Adrien grins. “This is the longest standing dragoon academy, and we'll be taught everything from dragon history, to the language of the dragons, to what is known of Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army!”

“And,” Lila pipes up, “we'll pick our dragons that we'll train alongside and eventually become fully-fledged Dragoon Guardians with.”

Jason snorts, “sorry to break it you two but this isn't some fucking fairytale.”

Before Lila or Adrien could respond, Mlle Lance cleared her throat. “Right well firstly, Dragoon Guardians is somewhat of an archaic term I'm afraid. But you're not too far off with what you know.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason pretends to be suddenly interested in his trencher of stew.

Though, Marinette does catch him briefly glancing up at her with a curious but also disbelieving look in his eyes. She can't help but instinctively curl her shoulders in and make herself as small as possible.

“And Marinette, what do you know about the academy?” Mlle Lance adds.

Marinette hesitates, trembling slightly and licks her lips. “Uh, well I know roughly the same as Lila and Adrien, so nothing that hasn't been said already…”

She catches Jason squinting at her, and she curls up even more.

Mlle Lance nods thoughtfully, “to start with, Adrien, you are correct in that this is the longest standing dragoon academy. You're also correct that we teach our students dragon history—including the history of the dragoons—as well as teaching the language of the dragon. We also do teach regarding Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army. However, that will be taught across multiple different subjects as it isn't quite as simple as it may currently seem to you.”

Adrien beams at having been mostly correct. “My father hoped I would be chosen to attend a dragoon academy so he made sure I was taught a general overview.”

“And that's more than most know to begin with, so well done.” Mlle Lance praises, before continuing. “However, Lila, here students do not pick their dragons. The process of meeting the dragon who will be raised and trained beside you, is not what most people think of when they first hear about dragoon human and dragon pairs meeting.”

Lila's lips twitch downwards in dissatisfaction and narrows her eyes slightly at Mlle Lance.

Before anything else can be said, Mlle Lance furrows her brows, “one moment students, a matter has just arisen that I need to quickly take care of.”

With that, she rises from the bench and strides out of the dining hall, shutting the door behind her as she exits.

As soon as the door shuts, Jason, with a concerned look on his face, gets up as well and walks the few steps over to Marinette's bench. Quietly, he asks, “Hey, you okay?”

Marinette swallows a breath of air thickly, and still visibly trembling, laughs nervously. “W-well I'm a little over-overwhelmed, I suppose… What with every—”

Only to slam her mouth shut as Lila wraps her arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close to her side.

“She's fine thank you,” Lila coos, “just not used to all the displays of wealth in the castle, here, isn't that right, Marinette.”

Marinette pales, eyes widening with panic and frantically nods her head. “Y-yep!”

Jason raises an eyebrow at Lila, unable to keep the slight sneer off his face as he turns ever so slightly to stare at her, “and you are?”

Lila perks up at his attention, flipping her hair back over her shoulder with one hand. “Didn't you hear Mlle Lance there, I'm Lila.” She smiles cloyingly at him and flutters her eyelashes. “I'm the daughter of a very important diplomat and one of my ancestors was an incredibly powerful Dragoon Guardian.”

Jason snorts, and rolls his eyes once more. “Right. Whatever.” He turns his attention back to Marinette and gives her a sharp nod. “What shit has the rich brat got hanging over your head?”

It clearly takes all of Lila's self-control to not immediately switch from her faux sweetness to fury. Her smile turns wooden and her gaze sharpens at Jason. “Excuse me?”

“You're excused,” Jason responds smugly.

“W-what do you mean?” Marinette asks, struggling to process the conversation after the slight cannonball that Jason just casually asked her.

He tilts his head at her, not unlike a bird. “She looks, sounds, and acts exactly like the kinda rich bastards that hold shit above kids who aren't rich, and you're clearly fucking petrified of her. So is she blackmailing you or something?”

Marinette mouths yes at him whilst shaking her head.

Jason raises an eyebrow at her for a second before shrugging with one shoulder, “alright.” He turns on his heel and heads back to his table and bench where his trencher of stew is waiting.

Lila gapes at him.

Adrien rises from his seat and stares at Jason, flabbergasted. “Aren't you going to apologise to Lila, now? You were wrong.”

Lifting his chin, Jason gives Adrien an unimpressed look then flips the bird at him. A few seconds pass before he shrugs and makes a non-committal noise of disinterest, then he starts spooning stew into his mouth.

Lila huffs and scowls at Jason. She turns to glare at Marinette, faux concern practically dripping from her words despite the evident fury on her face. “You should avoid him from now on, wouldn't want the teachers to think you're a delinquent and get kicked out before you even get to meet your dragon.”

Marinette nods slowly and keeps her attention very carefully on her food.

Her patience is rewarded as a few dozen seconds later, Lila loses interest in her and starts eating her trencher of stew whilst starting a new conversation with just Adrien.

Taking her chances, Marinette sneaks a glance up at Jason with a small smile on her lips.

To her surprise, he also happens to be looking over at her. He flashes her a cheeky grin, winks, before going back to eating.

Maybe, she muses to herself as her grin turns giddy, I was wrong about the academy not being my fresh start. Because this definitely feels like a fresh start now, it almost feels like I'm in a fairytale.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| The dragon riders are called Dragoons in reference to the mounted cavalry called Dragoons who used guns/firearms known as Dragons hence the name. And so I decided it only makes sense for these dragon riders to also be called Dragoons. Armée volante means flying army and was what the historical dragoons were sometimes known as, because of how mobile they were. |

| Ichneumon, also known as Echinemon in Medieval Zoology are enemies of dragons (and snakes and crocodiles in some accounts) and defeated them by covering themselves in armour made from mud before attacking. They are also one the only creatures (the other being weasels) that are immune to the Cockatrices' petrifying sight. |

| Fun fact: Trenchers are flat round (often stale) bread "plates" used during the medieval era. They are cut in half and sometimes the fluffy bread innards are scooped out (like pumpkins) so that the loaf's crust forms a bowl instead. Usually the bowls are used to hold stews or soups, though they were also used for non-liquid based food (which is why they later evolved into our modern day plates and cheese boards). |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

[moony-meadow]

Going for Goldie (5)

Pt. 1 / Pt. 2 / Pt. 3 / Pt. 4 / Pt. 5 / Pt. 6

Laying in a heap at the bottom of Mammon’s stomach, I fought the urge to yell at the demon for the less than gentle treatment I’d just been subjected to. Despite the turbulence I’d just experienced, I had managed to pick up on the fact that Lucifer had made an appearance.

I had no desire to make the fact that I’d been swallowed known to a single other person, especially not Lucifer, who would likely punish both Mammon and I for the stunt. For that reason, I remained as still and silent as possible. Lucifer was observant, the slightest move or sound on my part could alert him to my location.

“Were you talking to yourself, Mammon?” I heard the Avatar of Pride’s distant voice ask.

“Huh? Oh yeah just--just talkin’ to myself…” Mammon responded awkwardly. I shook my head. I knew his proficiency with lying to be somewhat spotty. There were rare occasions he could pull off a flawless fib, but most of the time he stumbled through his lies with all the grace of an elephant. This time seemed to be more like the latter.

There was a brief pause in the conversation going on outside. It seemed as though Lucifer was considering whether or not to press his brother further on his unusual behavior. Apparently, he ended up deeming it not worth it as he smoothly switched subjects. “I scoured the entirety of the House of Lamentation and have not managed to locate your credit card,” he announced in his usual icy tone. “Evidently you finally managed to choose a competent hiding place.” The annoyance in the demon’s voice was restrained but still noticeable. Lucifer didn’t like being bested, especially not by his younger brother, whom he insisted was hopelessly idiotic.

Mammon’s stomach shifted slightly. I kept a firm hold on the walls to keep myself steady. “In that case, maybe you should just let me keep Goldie then,” the Avatar of Greed offered hopefully.

Lucifer gave a low, ominous chuckle. “No, I’ve still got one more ace up my sleeve,” he remarked. With my ear pressed against the outer wall of the stomach, I could just barely pick up on the sound of the bedroom door being opened, followed by a new set of footsteps. “You see, I have a theory that you can’t go twelve hours separated from your credit card.” Lucifer continued. “I’m far too busy to spend my time surveilling you, but I thankfully know someone all too willing to help out for the promise of food.”

“He promised me ten large pizzas,” came Beelzebub’s voice, revealing who the newcomer was.

“So, Beel will stay and watch you for the next twelve hours,” Lucifer announced, “If you manage to go that long without going after your ‘Goldie’, then I will allow you to hold onto it for the time being.” A feeling of dread was quickly beginning to come over me. If Beel was going to be watching Mammon like a hawk, there would be no opportunity for him to cough me back up--I’d be stuck in his stomach for the next twelve hours!

“I--uh, is that really necessary?” Mammon questioned nervously. I could feel his muscles tensing up around me.

Lucifer gave another deep chuckle. “See you two tomorrow,” was all he said before his footsteps receded and the door clicked shut behind him.

A long moment of silence stretched out between the two occupants (not including myself) of the room. Mammon clearly didn’t know what to say or do, and Beelzebub had never been the overly talkative type. Just as I thought the quiet would never be broken, Beel finally spoke up. “It smells like Y/N in here.” I smacked a hand to my face. Of all the things for him to say, it had to be that.

“Oh, well um--” Mammon started but was quickly interrupted.

“It smells pretty recent too.” It wasn’t all that surprising that Beel’s sense of smell was so good considering his obsession with food. But the fact that he could detect the freshness of a scent was kind of scary. “Mammon, is Y/N hiding somewhere in here?” Despite being the younger of the two demons, Beel’s voice took on the chastising edge of a parental figure.

I bit my lip. I had no clue how Mammon was going to explain his way out of this one, especially when it was clear he was currently far from the top of his lying game.

There was a moment’s hesitation on Mammon’s part and then, “I’ll only tell ya if you promise to keep it just between us.”

My mouth fell open. “He is not seriously considering telling Beel where I am,” I quietly hissed. This whole situation was already embarrassing enough as it was without someone else getting involved.

“I don’t know about that,” Beel responded, seeming unmoved by Mammon’s pleading tone.

“Aw, come on. If not for me, then at least for Y/N,” Mammon insisted.

A moment of silence, and then, “Alright, fine,” Beel relented.

I massaged the bridge of my nose. All of this nonsense had quickly caused a headache to form. The involvement of a third party in this mess was something I very much did not want. However, it seemed I had little choice in the matter. Big shocker, the person stuck in someone’s stomach was at everyone else’s whim.

I listened silently as Mammon explained the situation. When he finally got to the part about my current location, I heard a sharp intake of breath from Beelzebub. “You ate them?! Are you crazy?!” The concern in the Avatar of Gluttony voice was honestly touching. Despite what his impressive height and rippling muscles might suggest, Beel was actually quite the big softie.

“I told you, our pact makes it perfectly safe. Tell ‘im, Y/N.” I felt one of Mammon’s fingers prod his stomach. I was half tempted to say nothing in order to get him in trouble with Beel, as payback for disclosing my location without my consent and all. However, causing more chaos in a situation that was already such a huge fiasco didn’t seem like the best idea in the long run.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” I called out. “Relatively speaking,” I added with a grumble.

I heard a small commotion outside and then suddenly felt a hand being pressed against the stomach wall. “You’re really in there then,” came Beel’s voice, much closer now.

“Oi, get off of me, would ya?” Mammon exclaimed. I tightened my hold on the walls as everything around me shook with the giant demon’s movements. I could only assume Mammon was shoving Beel away from him.

Once everything settled back down and I felt sure I wouldn’t immediately topple over, I stood up and pressed myself close to the outermost stomach wall. “You’re not going to tell Lucifer, are you?” I shouted out to Beel. The guy was pretty loyal to his oldest brother, I doubted he would feel particularly comfortable having to lie to him.

A low sigh came from the red headed demon. “I guess not, though I’m going to have to figure out what to tell him.”

A grateful smile formed on my face, though I quickly remembered Beel wouldn’t be able to see it and called out a verbal thank you instead. Maybe getting him in on their scheme hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

“Why don’t ya go to town for a lil while and act like ya followed me there?” Mammon suggested. “Then go tell Lucifer ya lost me ‘cause you got distracted by the food in a bakery window or somethin’.” My eyebrows rose. The amount of decent ideas Mammon was having recently was getting a little freaky.

“That does sound like something I would do,” Beel admitted shamelessly. “Fine, I’ll do it. But you might not want to take Y/N out until the twelve hours are up, just in case Lucifer decides to do another search for your card.” That statement was certainly enough to put a frown on my face. Sleeping over in a demon’s stomach was very much not how I wanted my night to go.

“Mmmkay,” Mammon responded, sounding far too chipper for my liking. He was probably happy to keep me in his stomach longer, the jerk.

I could hear Beelzebub’s footsteps retreating towards the bedroom door, but then they stopped. “Oh and Y/N,” he piped up sweetly. “Can I eat you next time?”

Mammon’s barely suppressed chortling shook me. I aimed another elbow jab at the stomach wall. “I am not letting you guys take turns eating me!” I snapped. “So get that idea out of your heads.”

A sound of disappointment came from Beel. “But I bet you taste so good,” he pouted.

“Oh trust me, they do,” Mammon replied. I could practically hear the Cheshire like grin in his voice.

[ccelinewritess]

say love—draco malfoy

pairing - (hufflepuff! reader) draco malfoy x reader, cedric diggory x reader

word count- 4.3k

warnings- cheating? toxic relationships? curse words? my lack of diverse grammar? spelling? not heavily revised? yes this has it allll.

quick note: cho, the reader, and draco are all in the fifth year, cedric is two years older (cause idfc what villain i make this boy out to be he is not dead) anyways ilu and hope you are well. here we go.

-

y/n was sweet, kind, compassionate, gorgeous and smart, so when she caught the eye of cedric diggory a year earlier he made it his personal mission to get her to go out with him, even on one date.

when she finally caved in they went on one date. then a second, a second turned into a third. he asked her out officially, she met his parents, you know how the story goes. well perhaps not, and there was no happily ever after with cedric. certainly not as hot tears ran down her cheeks as she watched her boyfriend of a year, hand caressing her face, kissing cho chang like a moth to a flame, hungry for more. prefects duties my ass- she thought as her pure devastation dragged her away from the scene, her original presence going unnoticed. anger was boiling through her blood and she lost track of where she was going, until she ended up in the library somehow. y/n loved reading and spent countless hours in the room, and she certainly didn’t want to be in the common room when her not-so-loyal boyfriend would be returning shortly enough. so instead she shrunk down, back against a bookcase, knees tucked into arms, and let the sadness and confusion take over. she didn’t even hear the library doors open once again over her sobs.

the last thing draco malfoy expected to see that night in the library while grabbing a book was the friendly hufflepuff girl y/n. and especially not with tear stained cheeks and glossy eyes. draco would never tell her, but he was always captivated by her, she was to kind and trusting for her own good.

“er- im sorry for uh- interrupting” his voice startled her at first.

“no im sorry” she said wiping her tears. “i should be in my common room, not crying like a child in the library.”

when he sat down next to her it was nice, he wasn’t too close but the company was enjoyable, even if it was temporary. “well I know we aren’t friends, like at all, but if you’d like to talk about whatever is making you cry in the library at one in the morning, im not a bad listener”

she wasn’t even considering talking to draco. not in the slightest, but she didn’t have anyone else to talk to. she couldn’t talk to her parents, they would fly out to hogwarts and personally hex the boy. and she had spent so much time hanging out with cedric that she didn’t have any other close friends she could talk to. maybe talking to a stranger would be best. draco found it quite cute that she hadn’t noticed she had zoned out, but before he got to admire her more she looked back up at him “fine”

“you need to understand that i am still confused, completely.” that’s how it started. she told him about how cedric lied about where he was, and how she went to surprise him, and how when she turned the corner she saw him and cho, practically swallowing eachothers faces. at some point in her story draco opened his arms and she fell into them, tears still sliding down from her eyes. she did find this odd at first, of all the reputations draco held, hugger was not one.

by the times she cried all the tears she could, draco walked her back to the common room. as he pulled her back into another hug he whispered in her ear “meet me in the courtyard before breakfast?” she could only muffle a response into his sweater. as they released themselves from eachother a minute later, she watched him walk away down further into the dungeon. it took her mere seconds to fall asleep that night.

-

when she saw the blonde boy the next morning alone in the almost empty courtyard, she made her way over to him, as fast as her legs could carry her without running. he looked happy to see her, but she didn’t wait to get to the point.

“about last night, you haven’t told anyone yet have you? it’s just that id like to hear what happened from cedric before people find out.”

“ofcourse not love. im a slytherin, not an asshole. speaking of cedric you need to break up with him.” he was hesitant with both the nickname and the proposition, considering that before last night they had practically never spoken.

it was now her turn to be hesitant. “but what if she kissed him though, you know, maybe it’s all a big misunderstanding” y/n was always looking for the best in people, but maybe cheating was cedrics best, she hated to think it.

“y/n! you saw him kiss her back didn’t you? there was no denial from cedrics side right? i know you look for the positives but sometimes it’s not a shame to realize not everyone’s perfect. and you deserve someone who values you” it was harsh in a way, but true. he continued to encourage her until she realized if she didn’t now, cedric would continue to go on these midnight strolls, faking prefect duties and kissing other girls.

when she entered the great hall she immediately stormed over to cedric, who was in deep conversation with his friends. when she butted in to ask if she could speak to him the emotions of the night before threatened to arise within her again. dracos words floated in her head. maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, even the hogwarts “it” boy had flaws. he was insecure which led to jealousy, he could sometimes be insensitive, and the newest to the collection, he was a cheater. and he sure as hell wasnt going to admit to it if she asked.

once he finally acknowledged her presence with a smile she began.

“cedric, may i speak to you, alone” she glanced at his friends at the last word.

“just say it aloud, im sure the boys don’t mind” he really didn’t know what was coming.

“im not sure you want me to talk about this with your friend around”

“come on darling”

well here goes nothing.

“if you say so. we’re over. don’t try to defend yourself and act all innocent cause I know a lot more than you think. just a tip in the future if you want to have a successful relationship do not go make out with other girls in the middle of the night in random corridors, or at least breakup with your girlfriend first. asshole” y/n was sweating and cedric was pale and speechless.

y/n’s rant had gathered many eyes from across the room. as she walked back towards draco who was waiting at the end of the aisle he couldn’t help but smile and whisper “you are a baddass, come eat at slytherin, then?” when they got across the room, people were confused but no one would ever say no to draco or his friends. blaise zabani seem unbothered at her presence but kind nonetheless, pansy on the other hand, jealous that dracos eyes were for once not on her.

-

over the next few weeks a friendship began to grow between y/n l/n and draco malfoy. they were sitting together in classes, studying together, eating meals at eachothers tables and all around enjoying eachothers company. little did y/n know that as the seasons changed, so did dracos feelings for her. she was so undeniably amazing in every way imaginable, something draco had never came across in his life.

on this particular evening they were walking around the black lake on the cool evening with the pink and orange sky on the horizon. deep conversations were common between the pair and tonight was no exception. “do you still love him?” the question shocked her at first, and she thought deeply about her answer before responding. “i don’t know honestly, a part of me probably still does. and it’s not like I’ve never had things not work before, but how people leave always stays. i hate to say it, but a part of me wants revenge. i just want him to feel some sort of pain, even just jealousy as dark and twisted as that is.” a comfortable silence fell once again before he broke it after a few minutes. “it’s not as dark as you might think, actually. and if you want him to feel jealous i have an idea that could benefit us both you just need to be open minded.”

draco malfoy wanted her to do what?

“what does fake dating even mean? how do you even do that” she questioned

“i mean just convince people we are dating, cedric will be jealous and it will get pansy of my back for two minutes. all you’d have to do is hold my hand, wear my scarf, come to my quidditch games and parties with me, anything else” he asked

“we could probably go to hogsmeade togther, cedric will be fuming, thank you draco” she said before kissing his cheek making his face go a brilliant red.

yet again draco had her doing things she wouldn’t do in a thousand years, but maybe she needed a change. plus he seemed to have this quite planned out and there was no harm in trying. “if you really think this could work, then fine, I’ll do it.”

draco would never admit it, but he was embarrassingly excited that she agreed.

-

the next morning their hopefully “master” plan would begin, but that night for the first time in a long time, draco couldn’t sleep whatsoever. he tried counting sheep, drinking tea, every sleeping position and yet he couldn’t get y/n out of his mind. she was so pretty, and smart, and kind. he had trouble even imagining what kind of delusional cedric was to let her go. if she was his- and not fake his, he would do everything to keep her happy and never see her like he did in the library only three weeks ago. in the end, she was just a rose in the hands who had no intention of keeping her. after even more attempts, he finally drifted off into a deep, and dreamless sleep.

-

once y/n finally got enough motivation to roll her self out of bed for the last day of classes before the weekend the conversation from the night before entered her brain. was this going to work? everything that could possibly go wrong played over and over again. what if cedric never got jealous? would they be forty and still fake dating? she thankfully got out of her head when she saw draco waiting for her outside the hufflepuff common room. “well good morning love” he said before placing a ginger kiss to her forehead, no one was around to watch, and she didn’t recall that being in the verbal agreement, but to be completely honest, it was nice.

they were both nervous and for different reasons. draco knew better than anyone that if word of this so called relationship to his parents, they would flip. everyone knew the malfoy’s had very strong morals and were extremely racist, and no matter how much he liked her, they would never approve of the halfblood hufflepuff. y/n knew pansy would be up her ass, and there was no guarantee that this would work, she also wasn’t huge on attention, and this was not exactly going to make her any less of a subject around the hogwarts grounds.

speaking of hogwarts, was the walk from hufflepuff to the great hall that long? was her hand sweating or was she imagining it? dracos long fingers were intertwined with hers and they talked about everything and nothing as they made there way to breakfast.

once they arrived, few heads turned, as many were still engaged in conversation, much to the satisfaction of y/n. dracos green eyes immediately made harsh contact with cedrics grey eyes and they made their way to the slytherin table, where pansy’ dirty glares would go unnoticed y/n.

the day trudged along slowly. in the classes with draco they sat together, he picked her up from the rest, walking her to her next. eating lunch and dinner at his table, showing pda at any given time, even when cedric wasn’t anywhere around.

when y/n were dismissed from herbology at the end of the day she wasted no time getting back the hufflepuff common room starting on her potions essay. in a wave of exhilaration the puffs already in the common room rushed out, she was confused but followed them out anyways, unopened books in arms.

-

y/n wasn’t tall, so she struggled to see passed the crowd. finally reaching the inner layer of the circle she saw what was likely destined to happen. cedric was buffing out his chest, trying to close in on draco, despite them not being far in height whatsoever. the boys muttering to eachother went unheard after the shrill voice of professor sprout broke out. “what do you boys think your doing, everyone return to your common rooms” she said before going into a small lecture with the boys more quietly. people filed out of the corridor behind her in every direction. and once the raft of sprout had finished, and cedric had stormed off to god knows where, draco engulfed the girl in a warm hug, almost knocking them over.

that night she did her homework in the slyerthin common room, on the lap of her boyfriend, fake boyfriend- she reminded herself, it was only the first day but it was so easy to be with him.

“he’s lucky sprout showed up, he kept acting as though he was superior to me, the dumbass couldn’t beat me in a duel in a million years, I’ll show him in the quidditch match tomorrow”

“is that tomorrow already?” she sighed before continuing “well I’ll be cheering for you, draco”

“id hope, love, also how do you feel about wearing green?”

-

the green scarf actually complimented her features nicely, much to her surprise. the match started in seven minutes, and if y/n wanted to make it on time she had to leave now.

the last few weeks were cold, yes, but this was the first snowfall of the year, fluffy snow was settling on the ground and castle, like a beautiful painting. the con? the snow was also making it difficult to see, almost guaranteeing a long match. right as she sat down next to some fellow fifth years the whistle blew. dracos green scarve made her stand out in the land of bagders, recieving some questioning.

“your dating him? but he’s a slytherin?”

“and an smart, handsome, kind one at that, so I’m going to get back to the game, if that’s okay with you.”

the game was the most eventful of the year due to the multiple dirty fakeouts between the seekers. this was less a slytherin vs hufflepuff thing to y/n and more of a draco vs cedric. ofcourse she loved her house, but there was no way she wanted cedric to win now, after the cheating and lying. that thought was mutual but unshared between her and draco. and the cold wasn’t making anyone want to stay out there for much longer, despite the excitement. while cedric was trying to trick draco once more draco saw the real snitch, where cedric was only moments before. rushing towards it, arm reached out, he could almost grab it. almost. almost. almost. yes. the small snitch was clutched tightly in his palm, cedric still clueless, zooming around, not noticing his attempts had failed him miserably.

ravenclaws and slyertherins alike were running onto the field, y/n somewhere amongst them. in no time draco was being held in the air, with those around him chanting. normally she would have been pissed that hufflepuff had lost, but the smile plastered on dracos face made it all worth it. after nemurous minutes he was put down, made his way to y/n and kissed her. he actually kissed her. in front of all those people. the chants were replaced with whistles and if anyone didn’t get the message of their “relationship” it was surely out now. his kiss was sweet and soft, and ended much before she was ready to. “honey you look dashing in green”

the party in slyerthin that night was like nothing she had ever been to before. music was blasting, house elves had made food and drinks of all sorts and y/n was cuddled into the arms of draco on the sofa, in his jumper and joggers. occasionally people would come congratulate him, and even pansy had the audacity to come try to flirt with him, that was until he shooed her off.

as the festivities continued into the night, y/n fell asleep right there, in her fake boyfriends arms- who, she would never admit, she was catching feelings for. she didn’t know much, but she did know that she was not ready to get hurt again anytime soon. they had spent the last hours together talking about random deep topics, their biggest fears and insecurities as those around them danced to the rhythm of the music. draco struggled to even think someone as perfect as y/n would have insecurities, but she did. eventually he picked her up bridal style and carried to his dormitory. he couldn’t exactly settle easy, the girl he liked was sleeping in his bed, so once he confirmed that she was infact asleep he let it off his chest.

“in case you didn’t know- im crazy about you, since i found you in the library that night.” he was whispering as soft as he could

“i haven’t told you any of this because i know your still healing but god im in love with you”

he too fell asleep that night, limbs tangled with hers.

the sun hit her face from his window that morning, bright as ever, highlighting her beautiful features and draco couldn’t help but admire her beauty. for numerous minutes he laid there, staring until she woke from her own dreams.

-

cedrics next attemp at payback for draco was just as low as the first. he followed draco towards the dungeons one afternoon when y/n wasn’t in his presenceand tried to fight him right there, outside the slyerthin common room.

“draco what do you even want with her?” he was practically grumbling

“you really don’t know what you had? did you? also she’s my girlfriend now, so what do you want with her?” draco spat back, emphasizing the you.

unlucky for cedric, right after he threw the first punch, which draco dodged successfully, snape came out and gave cedric two weeks detention.

“whatever, ill get her back” cedric said fast before heading towards the hufflepuff common room. draco wasn’t too sure of that, he had fallen desperately for the girl and would do whatever he could to keep her, and keep her away from cedric.

-

they were on there daily evening stroll around the grounds, much like the one that the original idea was pitched during only a handful of weeks ago, fingers intertwined. partially because it is cold, partially because they wanted to. draco could tell that y/n was deep in thought and originally wasn’t going to ask her, but he couldn’t help himself.

“what are you thinking about?” he said quietly but loud enough for her to hear

“im feeling kind of stupid honestly. i mean it was all there, the prefect patrols on days i could have sworn weren’t his. the glances across the hall to her, god even the tutoring in the classes he was doing amazing and needed no help in.”

he could tell this was making her upset and so he racked his brain for the right thing to say, but before he could find anything she started again.

“I’m also quite mad at myself, i mean i know all relationships are flawed but looking back ours was pretty fucked up. i started dating him in our third year, and i was still very insecure and didn’t exactly love myself. i spent a lot of time worrying about things I had no control over, and he wasn’t a help in the slightest. he’d flirt with other girls all the time but one boy would look at me for a second longer than he’d liked and he’d be confronting them. I don’t know if I really loved him, or if i was just in pain but whatever it was it was horrible.” tears were threatening her eyes but not yet approaching them.

“im sorry y/n. you are amazing and beautiful, smart and kind and your sure as hell don’t deserve that, if you want to talk about it ever please ask me” he would add on to that, if they were dating- and for real he wouldn’t treat her any less than the princess he considered her to be. he pulled her into a big hug before they walked back up into the beautiful castle.

-

they hadn’t heard from cedric in weeks, mission accomplished right? well no.

being completely honest, y/n didn’t know how much longer she would be able to participate without feelings boiling over. y/n didn’t even know where it came from, and there was no denying it, she was head over heels for the slytherin prince. she didn’t know when, maybe at the quidditch game? when he gave hugged her after sprout gave cedric punishment after draco stood up for her? she too wasn’t sure.

-

the morning of the hogsmeade trip, snow was falling once again, replacing the already existing layer on the ground. leaving hufflepuff, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw the blonde haired boy by the barrels waiting for her.

walking arm-in-arm to the small village, y/ns teeth almost chattering when draco lended his green scarf to the girl yet again.

“when i said you looked good in green at the match, i wasn’t joking, you should wear it more often”

draco loved the way she looked with her pink tinted nose and cheeks. and before he knew it they were in the three broomsticks drinking butterbeer, talking about god knows what.

that was until draco decided to come clean about his feelings.

“y/n youre probably not ready to hear this, and i will wait as long as you need me to. but i just can’t take it anymore. ive been crazy about you since we started being friends and- whatever this is, three and a half months ago. and if you’d like id love to go out with you- and not as a jealousy scheme”

the cold was no longer able to mask the blush on her cheeks and she told him everything she’d been hiding. thankfully. if she hadn’t he would have lost the best thing in his life. she knew his family wasn’t exactly the lovey dovey type, and his friends could be cold, they had eachother and they didn’t need much more than that.

once they had finished and left the warmth of the building, into the snow in the middle of the street he dragged her towards him ever so lightly using his scarf. cupping her cheeks in his hands, he kissed her as soft as ever. lasting much longer this time, there mouthes seemed to move in sync. he tasted sweet, just like the first time, and undescribable. they would kissed there in the middle of hogsmeade village for hours if their lungs didn’t need so much air. so instead they stood there forheads pressed together. eventually there hands found the others and they made their way back to the school, hearts and smiles as big as ever. 

-

draco saw her room for the first time that day, he had been in the hufflepuff common room twice, but never to her room. it was much brighter and got more sunlight. y/n had shelves full of books and many plants around the room. the wall around the window was lined with poloroids of her and her friends. he sat on her bed and wasted no time pulling her onto it with him. they fell asleep that night wrapped in eachothers arms, kissing the others face once in a while, complete with the fact that they had eachother, and for real.

the next morning they woke up at 10, thankfully they didn’t have classes, but they had still missed breakfast. fortunately y/n was not only friends with the house elves, but extraordinarily good cook. she was currently making pancakes, in dracos green jumper, his chin on her shoulder and hands on her hips.

“I cannot believe almost four months ago i started fake dating you and now your cooking breakfast in my sweater” he said practically mumbling into her cheek before kissing it, and dragging her away from the stove, to dance. right there in the middle of the kitchen, and he was suprisingly amazing at it.

-

the engines of the hogwarts express were rumbling and y/n had settled into the compartment with draco. she had owled her parents informing her she would be going to the malfoy manor for the first weeks of summer, and the nerves were filling her mind.

“what’s wrong darling” he said kindly as she leaned into his shoulder.

“im just nervous, what if they don’t like me?”

“they will, there is nothing about you that isn’t likeable. and even if they don’t like you immediately, it’s not like i could stop loving you, ever”

what? theyd never actually said the “L” word to the other- at least while they were awake. yes they had been dating for six months already but had draco ever said he loved them to anyone? it didn’t matter, she knew how she felt.

“y-you love me?”

he waited another second. “i mean, uh- er, i-i-“

“draco?” he hummed in response, still clearly embarrassed “i love you too”

————

a/n: ive never written anything, so i hope it’s okay. thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! stay tuned for future writing.

[scripts4dreamers]

Just One Drink. pt 3.

Part One, Part Two

AN: Two profilers walk into a bar. Characters: Spencer Reid Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, drinking, NSFW content.

(It’s basically just smut. Plot relevant smut but smut nonetheless!)

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

Spencer was roused from his book by a knock on the door that separated your rooms. He frowned, but stood and opened it up.

“Hey, doc,” you greeted with a slightly nervous smile, “you up for a drink?”

Spencer was stunned silent for a moment. You weren’t wearing your traveling clothes anymore, instead you’d slipped into a black dress that toed the line between classy and provocative. It was nothing crazy but, to Spencer, it was like he was twelve again, standing in front of his first real crush with no idea how to handle himself.

“What?” You asked, looking down at yourself, “Too much?”

“No!” He said quickly, “No-you look...you look really nice. I just wasn’t expecting company.”

For a moment you looked almost crestfallen but, before Spencer could be sure, you’d schooled your face back to neutral.

“Sorry, I’m just going crazy in my room. I thought we could maybe-“ your voice tapered off, “it’s cool, I’ll go on my own. See you in the morning, doc.”

You turned and started to walk away. Something in Spencer’s chest pinched and, instinctively, he reached forward to stop you, grabbing your hand.

“Hey, I didn’t say that,” he said, holding your wrist for a moment longer, “just-just, let me grab my stuff.”

You smiled, confused but happy, “Sure thing.”

He let the door close and, the second you were out of sight, he rushed to the bathroom, frantically combing his hair with his fingers and throwing on a loose tie. Suddenly Spencer wished he'd packed nicer clothing for this trip, not that he had anything remotely as nice as what you were wearing. Still he knew you’d appreciate the effort.

“Ready to go, doc?” You asked when he opened the door again.

Spencer rolled his eyes fondly, “Don’t call me that.”

You laughed and grabbed his arm, dragging him through the door as you set off to the hotel bar together.

————————-

“So what is it about whiskey sours?” Spencer asked.

“Hm?”

“Whiskey sours,” Reid pointed out, gesturing to your drink, “why always them?”

“Are you profiling me again, Agent Reid?” You teased.

A shiver ran down Spencer’s spine at the way your voice dropped and rolled over his name. If you weren’t flirting, it certainly felt like you were.

“So what if I am?” He replied, leaning back, “You said I could, right?”

You smiled, your eyes sparking in the dim light, “I did indeed. You gonna take me up on my offer?”

“Maybe.”

You leaned back in your seat, “Okay then, take your best shot.”

Spencer thought for a moment. You’d been down in the bar for a long while, making your way through drinks and squandering your time talking about nothing in a booth tucked into the corner of the room. By now the alcohol was making Spencer’s head fuzzy. He felt warm and light, and far more confident than he usually would with a beautiful woman, and it was showing in the way he talked and held himself. He was bolder than usual, more upfront, willing to take more risks and infer more from your behavior than normal. So he leaned into it.

“You’re a middle child, grew up in a big city with strict parents,” he started, confidently, “you went to private school but your parents weren’t wealthy, you probably got some sort of scholarship.” You leaned forward, keeping your face blank of anything except the vaguest hint of a smile, and Spencer continued, “You throw yourself into your work because it gives you meaning, it helps you feel like you’re making a difference, the way you never felt like you did in your own home. You’re loyal to a fault, you work hard not just because you like your job, but for us, for the team. You’d do-you’d do anything for us.”

You nodded, “I would.”

“But you don’t value yourself the same way,” Spencer said, leaning closer, “you’d take a bullet for us but you don’t really think we’d do the same for you.” You pressed your lips together slightly, breaking eye contact and looking down into your drink, “But we would, Y/N. I would. You belong here.”

“Here? In a bar with you?” You asked teasingly.

Spencer flushed, “With the BAU.”

“I know,” you said with a soft smile, “not bad, Agent Reid. You should be a profiler or something.”

Spencer laughed, “Really? You think I’m that good?”

“I think you’re more than good,” you replied, “you’re exceptional, you hit the nail right on the head.”

You covered his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, which made Spencer’s heart jump into his throat. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died before he could get them out.

“As for the whiskey sours,” you continued, draining your glass in one, “I drink them because they’re delicious. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

“That’s...disappointing,” Spencer replied. You raised an eyebrow at him, but let the matter drop, “what about me?” He continued, “Got any insights I should know about?”

You sighed and Spencer watched with anticipation as the cogs in your mind started turning. He loved the way you looked when you worked, so focused and sharp that it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Low hanging fruit,” you eventually said, “but I can tell that you’re nervous, that you neatened yourself up before we came down here.”

Spencer flushed again, but he kept his face neutral. You were playing a game now, and Spencer hated to lose.

“You think I did it for you?”

You shrugged, “Maybe. You don’t want me calling you ‘doc’ because it’s too impersonal. The others-Morgan-can use nicknames like that, ‘Pretty Boy’, ‘Boy Wonder’, but not me.” You tilted your head to the side, “It’s different with me.”

“It is different with you, Y/N,” he admitted.

“But different how, I wonder?” You postulated, “I mean, there’s just so many possibilities. Protectiveness, a sense of familial love,” you nudged his leg under the table, “attraction.”

“I don’t see you as a sister,” Spencer interrupted, “I can tell you that for certain.”

“But even if you did feel something for me,” you continued, as if he’d said nothing, “you’d never actually act on it.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows, “Why not?”

“Because you’re scared,” you continued, “of what exactly I’m not sure.”

“I thought that part would be obvious.”

You shrugged, “Not to me.”

Spencer looked down, his heart thrumming like a hummingbird against his fragile rib cage. The line was somewhere behind him now, so far behind him that he couldn’t even begin to think of how to get back behind it.

He looked at you again, letting his eyes scan up and down your body as he thought of what to do. The alcohol in his system made it hard to think, hard to focus on anything except how badly he wanted to kiss you. How badly he wanted to pull you close and touch you, press his lips to every inch of available skin and hear you sigh his name like a prayer. It would be so easy. You were so close, all he’d have to do was lean forward and….

“I’m not scared,” he forced himself to say, his eyes clinging to a fragment of exposed collar bone, “I’m cautious.”

“Is there a difference?”

Spencer nodded, “Yes, there is.”

“So tell me what the difference is, Spence.” You replied, your voice rasping over his name again.

You trailed your fingertips over Spencer’s forearm, sending little shocks of electricity through his body.

“You,” Spencer said.

And, with that, he stopped holding himself back. In one fluid movement Spencer was up and cupping your face with his hand. He moved purposefully, giving you lots of time to pull away but instead you leaned in, closing the little bit of space still left between you and pressing your lips to his.

Fuck. Even through the buzz of alcohol in his system Spencer could tell that this was an incredible kiss, the type that turned his legs to jelly and lit a flame in the pit of his stomach. You sighed against his lips, wrapping your hand around his tie and pulling him blissfully, impossibly closer. He held your face in his hands, drinking in the taste of whiskey and sugar on your lips like it was oxygen to a fire as he nipped at your bottom lip and slid his tongue into your mouth.

You allowed him access willingly, feeding the flame in Spencer’s chest with every little touch. It was too much, you were too much. It’s like his senses were in overdrive. His heart beat too fast in his chest, his skin prickled with static electricity, he could smell your perfume and the shampoo in your hair from the shower you’d just taken, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted you, no he needed you. He needed you closer, he needed to keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, until the sun burned itself out or the sky fell down and crushed you both flat.

Spencer felt like he was high; high on you, high on himself, high on the fact that, after months of pining and waiting and agonizing over your every interaction, it was finally happening. He’d finally kissed you. He broke away for a second, only long enough to move his lips to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then underneath your ear, dragging the tip of his tongue against your soft skin teasingly.

“Spence,” you gasped, sliding your fingers into his hair.

Your voice sent a bolt of lust straight through him. God he loved that voice.

“Mhm,” he hummed, trailing his lips down your neck and across that tantalizing stretch of collarbone.

“Spence, we're in public.” You laughed breathlessly.

Say my name again, he wanted to say, but he was still nervous, still just the littlest bit hesitant.

“You want me to stop?” He asked, sliding his hands down to grip your hips.

You shook your head and Spencer felt something in his chest relax, “I never said that. I just think we should settle the tab and...and head back to the room.”

That made him freeze. He felt his heart jump into his throat, and the blood rush to his groin. Oh. Oh.

“Yeah, yeah okay, Y/N/N.”

—————————-

You felt like your skin was melting, and Spencer’s hand on the small of your back as you tried to calmly make your way back up to your room wasn’t helping.

You knew you probably looked like a wreck, all smudged lipstick and blown out pupils, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You charged the drinks to your room, wondering if the quiver in your voice was as noticeable to the waitress as it was to you, and walked straight out of the bar.

As soon as you were alone in the hallway, you felt a pressure on your hip, and Spencer had you up against the nearest wall. Before you could do much more than glance at one another his lips were on yours again, setting every nerve in your body on fire. He tasted like rum and coke and danger, and his fingers dug into your hip bones like you were a lifeline, anchoring you to one another.

“This far enough away?” Spencer whispered into your ear, his breath sending shivers down the back of your neck as his lips ravaged the soft skin at the base of your ear.

You mewled as the pleasure licked through you, making your eyes roll back in your head. You were so overwhelmed by the sensation of Spencer’s lips on your skin contrasted with the cold wall against your back that your brain felt like it was short circuiting.

“The-“ you breathed, “you want me up against the wall in some random hallway?” You laughed, “Way to be romantic, Spence.”

He chuckled against your neck and then pulled you into another breathtaking kiss that made your knees buckle. Spencer’s arm snaking around your waist was the only thing that kept you from falling apart.

“I want you,” he said between kisses, “anywhere you’ll let me have you. Up against this wall, in the room, back in the bar. Everywhere.”

You felt the ache between your legs growing as your need for closeness grew and grew and grew.

“Everywhere?” You asked.

There was no way this was really happening, the small part of your mind that was still functional whispered. There was no way that Spencer Reid, your Spencer Reid, was pressing you up against a wall in a fancy hotel, promising to fuck you any which way you wanted. Things like this didn’t happen to you, they didn’t happen to anyone.

“Everywhere,” Spencer agreed, his voice quivering with suppressed desire as he sucked the soft patch of skin where your neck met your shoulder.

“Let’s-let’s start at the bedroom then, yeah?” You breathed between the shocks of pleasure.

You felt Spencer nod and, reluctantly, pull away, dragging you down the hall behind him. His cheeks were flushed, his dark eyes burning with something you’d never seen before but, when he looked back over his shoulder at you, he was smiling. You smiled back.

Spencer’s hands were shaking as he slid the room key into the door and, without meaning to, you giggled.

“Here,” you started, reaching around his body and sliding the key in smoothly, “let me.”

Spencer gave you a sheepish smile as he pushed the door open, pulling you in behind him. As soon as you heard the door click shut, you expected to be shoved up against it but, instead, Spencer just looked at you, his eyes dragging up your body slowly.

There was something in his eye that made you feel more exposed than if you were naked, a tenderness so complete and gentle that it brought a rush of heat to your cheeks.

“Spence?” You asked.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” He replied, cupping your face gently with one hand and bringing your lips to his.

This time the kiss was slow, languid, like he had all the time in the world, like he was drinking you in. Spencer’s other hand gripped your waist tight, pulling you flush against his body while your hands rested on the plains of his chest.

The creature in the pit of your stomach responded slowly at first but, as Spencer pressed your lips more firmly to his, the intensity ramped up. You felt Spencer’s tongue trail delicately at the seam between your lips, begging for entrance and, when you opened your mouth obligingly, he groaned. The sound was so sinful, so desperately not like Spencer, that you couldn’t help but react, arching your back and sliding your hands up into his hair.

It was silky soft beneath your fingers and, instinctively, you pulled.

“Fuck,” Spencer growled, bucking his hips up against yours as he trailed his lips down your neck and back up to yours.

This time, when he kissed you, it was rough. His tongue swirled against yours, his hands dug into your hip bones, slamming you up against the door like his life depended on it. You gasped as your back hit the door, but tugged on Spencer’s dark curls to pull him closer, desperate for something you could barely verbalize. The kiss was like whiskey, burning it’s way through every nerve in your body, getting you drunk on the rush of it all.

You wanted more. You needed more.

You let your hands drift to Spencer’s belt buckle, never breaking the kiss as you fumbled with it. Spencer made a sound of surprise against your lips and pulled away, keeping one hand on your jaw while the other reached out to stop you. He was shaking, you noticed, his dark eyes blown wide with a combination of lust and...fear?

“Are you nervous?” You asked.

Spencer froze for a moment, then nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“I-you don’t have to-“ Spencer started breathlessly, “I don’t want you to feel pressured or-“

“Pressured?” You laughed, “I’ve been all over you since the night started.”

Spencer looked unsure for a moment longer and, to help calm his mind, you let your hand drift down to the growing bulge in his pants. His eyes fluttered shut and a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan ripped itself from his throat.

“If you want me, Spencer Reid,” you whispered, “then I’m yours.”

“If I want you,” Spencer repeated with an incredulous laugh, “baby, I can’t think of anything I’ve ever wanted as much as I want you.”

Baby. The nickname made you even more desperate and you physically ached with how badly you wanted Spencer to just take you apart. You slid your thigh in between his legs, pushing against him just enough to make him hiss from the little bit of friction as you leaned forward, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Then take me.”

————————-

Spencer was so beyond wrecked that it was a joke. Your breath was low and raspy and it dragged across his skin like a feather as he chased the friction he so desperately needed.

“Y/N I-“ he wanted to say something, do something to let you know how he was feeling, how badly he wanted to touch you, but the words died in his throat.

“Shh,” you interrupted, detangling your bodies and threading your fingers through his, “come with me.”

You pulled him, by his shaking hands, towards the bed, pushing him down gently onto the mattress and kissing him deeply. From there you stood between his legs and reached behind your back, slowly dragging the zipper keeping your dress fastened down. Spencer watched, in awe, as the slip of black fabric dropped to the floor, leaving more of your skin exposed to him than he’d ever dared to imagine.

He felt the blood rush to his groin so fast he was light headed. By the time his brain had caught up with his body, you’d placed his hand firmly on your lower stomach, and he trailed his thumb along the soft skin beneath your belly button. Spencer traced every curve of your body with his eyes, glancing over every scar, freckle and birthmark, just in case he’d never get the chance to see them again, and making a mental note to kiss each and every one.

Things felt different now, more deliberate. You were both too sober to blame anything that happened next on alcohol induced psychosis but, in that moment, Spencer couldn’t care less about the consequences.

“You alright there, doc?” You asked, worrying at your bottom lip.

Spencer snapped back into the present and tugged you close, “I told you not to call me that.” He teased, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into a kiss.

Fuck tomorrow. Spencer wanted you today.

You collapsed onto his lap, gasping into his mouth as his dick pressed up against your barely covered core. Spencer took the opportunity to slip his tongue back into your mouth, groaning at the taste of your lips against his. You sighed, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, and Spencer felt a lick of confidence shoot through him at the burning desperation he saw in your eyes.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked, dragging his teeth across your collarbone, “tell me what you want me to do.”

“You’re wearing too much,” you explained as the buttons of his shirt came undone one by one, “take this off right now.”

“What, no please?”

“Please, Spencer,” you whined.

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled, shrugging off his shirt.

You traced your fingers over the plains of his chest, feather light, and Spencer’s skin erupted with goosebumps. He shifted you off his lap and onto the bed, laying himself down between your legs and kissing a strip from your lips, down between the valley of your breasts, towards your belly button.

He reached the lace of your underwear and felt his mouth start to water in anticipation. Without really even thinking about it he shifted up so that he was taking up the space between your knees and his face was hovering right above your core, his warm breath dancing across your center.

“Fuck, baby,” he chuckled, running his index finger across your pussy and making you mewl with pleasure, “you’re so wet for me already.”

You nodded, your eyes screwed shut as he traced his fingers back and forth over the soaked strip of fabric and delicious little whimpers and sighs fell from your lips like prayers.

Spencer licked his lips, glancing up at you from his position between your thighs.

“Look at me,” he commanded. Your eyes shot open and Spencer smiled devilishly, “Lift your hips for me baby,” he said more gently.

When you obeyed he slid your underwear down and pressed his lips to your inner thigh, to the crook between your legs and your dripping pussy. You whimpered again, more desperately, as Spencer teased you, trailing his index finger gently between your folds as he kissed all around where you needed him most.

“Spencer,” you gasped, your eyes burning into his like hot coals, “Spencer, please.”

Holy shit, that sent a bolt of desire straight through him, and Spencer couldn’t help but growl, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down towards his mouth. And when you sighed into the cool air he swallowed it right up, drank in the sound of your pleasure like it was sunlight, and tucked it away somewhere in his brain, somewhere he could store the moment forever and never let it go.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first moment I saw you,” he admitted, pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh and meeting your eye again, “I’m gonna make you scream for me, Y/N.”

————————-

And that he did. Before your mind could process much more than: fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so hot, Spencer’s mouth was on you, his tongue sliding between your lips like he was trying to devour you whole. It was embarrassing, really, how quickly he had you falling apart, how quickly he managed to have you moaning and gasping out his name as he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again and again. It was embarrassing because you really should have expected it, you should have known that he’d be every bit as good at this as he was at everything else because he’s Spencer and he’s fucking perfect and-

“Fuck,” you cried, twisting your fingers into his hair as he hitched your thighs over his shoulders, changing the angle ever so slightly and sliding a finger inside you, “Spence! God, yes-yes just like that, Spence, please!”

You tugged on his hair, pulling a moan from the back of his throat that went straight to your core, just making you needier and needier as Spencer continued taking you apart piece by piece. He slid in another finger, stretching you out just enough to make you ache for him and you swore you felt him smirk against your pussy as you choked out strings of broken syllables that could’ve been his name. He stuck to a leisurely pace, timing each pump of his fingers to a flick of his tongue across your clit. Slowly the pace increased, drawing out your ecstasy in measured increments that pushed you further and further towards the edge of a cliff.

“Spence I’m-” you whined, “fuck! Fuck, Spencer I’m close!”

The only indication he heard you was an increase in the pace of his tongue, sending pulses of white hot pleasure shooting through your body like lightning bolts. The pressure just kept building and building, taking you closer to the edge with each pump of his fingers and flick of his tongue. He worked another finger inside of you, curled it up, and almost instantly your muscles clenched, your vision went white and you just–

Shattered.

“Spencer!” You cried out, your back arching as your orgasm rolled over you like a tidal wave of pleasure so powerful that you felt your legs turn to jelly and the world vanished into nothing but pleasure and blinding light and Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.

He carried you through it, so gentle and attentive, lapping up every drop of you and stroking his hands gently over your hips and thighs.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he murmured into your hip bone as he lifted himself up.

You sighed, pulling him up and pressing your lips to his. You were wrecked, but blissfully so and, as you tasted yourself on his lips, you felt a lick of hunger rush through your overstimulated sex.

“You’ve said that already,” you smiled, nipping at his bottom lip.

“Only because it’s true,” Spencer breathed, his voice shaky with the effort of holding himself back.

You looked down at his still clothed legs, the hard line of his dick clear as day where it lay against your thigh. He was trembling with desire, his lips red and raw, his hair ruffled and unkempt, like some sort of portrait of a ruined man.

You licked your lips, “Why’re you still wearing these?” You asked, hooking your finger through Spencer’s belt loops and pulling them down over his hips.

Spencer smiled but, before he could come up with some clever retort, you’d flipped him over and straddled his waist. You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth and frantic breaths, as you shimmied off his boxers and ground yourself against his length.

“Y/N-“ Spencer breathed, his hands flying up to support your waist, “you don’t have to-“

“Shut up,” you interrupted, “I want you inside of me, Spencer.”

“Jesus Christ,” he laughed, somewhere between painfully turned on and painfully strung out, “You’re gonna kill me if you keep talking like that, baby.”

“Keep calling me baby and we’ll see what happens,” you teased back, punctuating your sentence with an intentional shift over his dick.

Spencer’s head fell back against the bed, and the sound wrenching itself from the back of his throat was so incredibly needy that you felt your pussy start to ache again. Spencer ran his hands along your thighs, his cock twitching against his stomach as you sighed into his touch.

“Are-fuck-” Spencer groaned as you moved along his length, “are you-?”

“I’m sure.” you whispered.

In one fluid movement you raised yourself up on your knees, captured his lips in a kiss and reached down between your bodies, lining his cock up with your entrance so that when he hissed at the contact and instinctively bucked his hips up-

“Holy shit,” he moaned as the first inch of his dick disappeared into your body, gripping your hips hard, like he couldn’t decide whether he was trying to stop you or just thrust into your body until he came, “You-oh my god, baby-” he gasped.

And you’re forced to sink down onto him slowly because-fuck-he was bigger than you thought he was, and it hurt, but it was electrifying and you wanted to take him more than anything in the world and and and-

You bottomed out and Spencer physically quivered from the effort of holding still, his hands roaming your body like he wanted to touch you everywhere, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. And his eyes were shot and his hair’s a mess and his bottom lip was red and raw where you bit it and, if he’d been more beautiful than he was in that moment you couldn’t remember so you kissed him. You poured every ounce of desire and tenderness and care into that kiss, like somehow he’d be able to understand, to see how important this felt, how absolutely cataclysmic it felt to have him inside of you.

Slowly, and with your lips still connected, you start to move your hips, setting a punishingly slow pace as the sounds of your bodies moving together started to fill the room. Spencer moaned against your lips, snapping his hips up against your and making you gasp as he filled every inch of you. He wanted to take control, to flip you over and pound into you until you were both tired and spent, but you kept it slow, building the foundations of your pleasure every bit as meticulously as he had.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, Y/N,” he breathed against your lips, chasing you as you pull away, “you feel so fucking good-so-God-so tight for me.”

You nodded, “All for you.”

His answering moan was animalistic as he chased your kiss, pushing himself up so that you were seated in his lap with his one arm around your waist and the other reaching to stroke tight circles around your clit. The change in angle somehow managed to force Spencer deeper inside of you, brushing a patch of skin that made you see stars. Without warning he started to lift you up and slide you back down onto his cock, timing each with a snap of his hips that had you gasping and tugging at his hair like a maniac.

Mania was what it felt like, so intense and all encompassing that the rest of the world had ceased to exist. All that mattered was you and Spencer and the second orgasm you could feel rushing at you with every thrust.

“Spence-” you gasped as the coil in your stomach grew painfully tight, “Spence I’m gonna-I’m so close, please!”

“Come for me, baby,” he grunted, pushing down on your clit as he bottomed out.

Your orgasm was softer this time, less violent and shocking than sweet and deliberate, drawn out to a fine edge and, when you moaned and tossed your head back, losing yourself in the feeling of rightness, you just held him tightly and pulled his hair as the waves of pleasure crashed over you again. His thrusts were getting sloppy now, his breath ragged and desperate but, when you came, he looked into your eyes, and the total bliss in them sent him falling over the edge right behind you.

“Y/N.” he whispered, like it was something sacred, pulling you close as he climaxed, filling you up as his cock pulsed inside of you.

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

Spencer could tell that you were breathless and exhausted but, even so, you held him until the last shocks of his orgasm had subsided, leaving him tired and strung out as you detangled your bodies. You kissed him softly, vanishing into the bathroom to clean yourself up and leaving Spencer to do the same. He watched the bathroom door, listening as you turned the tap on and wondering what his next move should be.

You were colleagues, work friends, what you’d just done had broken about 10 different rules and would almost definitely mean a lot of trouble for you both if it ever came out. But, by the same token, it had felt so good. You’d wanted him, like really wanted him and he’d wanted you right back. It had been...special, important, more than just a poorly thought out hook up in a hotel, it had meant something. Hadn’t it?

When you reappeared from the bathroom with a robe wrapped around your naked body, Spencer physically felt his heart skip a beat. You. Were. Glorious. With your hair all messed up and just the faintest trace of your lipstick still staining your mouth, you were the closest thing to perfection he’d ever seen and, instinctively, he reached for your hand and pulled you back down onto the mattress beside him. You giggled as you fell, collapsing onto his chest with a sweet smile.

“So,” you started.

“So.” Spencer answered.

“Was all that in your profile, Agent Reid?” You asked teasingly, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him, something sweet glimmering in your eyes.

“No,” Spencer laughed, shaking his head emphatically, “no, definitely not.”

“Well, it was in mine,” you joked, laying your head down again, “so you’d better up your game.”

“A more accurate profile would require a more intense level of study at this stage,” Spencer said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

You looked up, “Is that your way of saying you’d like to do this again sometime?”

He shook his head, but then nodded, “No-well, yes, but I was actually thinking something more...socially engaging? Something requiring clothes and conversation?”

“You mean like a date?”

Spencer looked down, meeting your gaze head on. The look on your face was so open, so trusting that it sent a flood of emotions straight into his chest and, for a moment, he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. He could love you, he realized. If he went down this road, he definitely would. He would love you and you would hold your heart in his hand and maybe, just maybe, that could be a good thing. Maybe he wanted to give you his heart. Maybe he wanted you to give him yours.

“Yeah, Y/N,” he answered, “exactly like a date.”

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

Taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes​

[mesmusae]

Severus: Lily

I know what Fandom says and thinks for the most part. And I know what Rowling has said. Both of which I reject. I don’t like this narrative that Severus was stalkery obsessed with Lily. I am disgusted at the “it’s a good thing harry wasn’t a girl who looked just like his mother” discussions. So let’s break down how I view their friendship.

Let’s start with them meeting. A lot of people take him watching Lily and Petunia at the park as creepy but here’s a few reasons why it’s not. 1) People watching. Literally everyone does this some. If you’re in a public place, you’re going to watch the other people there, see what they’re doing. 2) Shyness. Severus is clearly not a social person. He’s very introverted. Plus, we know he and his family are quite the social pariahs in the neighborhood. They’re looked down upon for being poor, and it seems that perhaps their family life isn’t so private either. He’s not just going to feel comfortable or safe approaching two girls who are from a much better off family. 3) Lily was doing magic in a public setting, in broad daylight. On purpose. For Severus, that’s quite impressive. And likely what caught his attention as well as being how he built up the courage to talk to her. He was like her, and it was clear he had answers that her family didn’t.

And that is how their friendship is born. It is born of this mutual thing they have in common. And Severus is getting to tell Lily everything he knows. She listens, she talks with him, asks him questions, everything. This is likely everything he doesn’t get at home. Lily has become a refuge. Which is perhaps unhealthy, but at this stage, she’s his friend. 

Their first obstacle comes at the sorting. It’s clear that Severus wants Slytherin. He is starting to believe the toxic pureblood rhetoric at a young age. But then again, two thirds of his interactions with muggles are extremely negative. You have his father, who resents Severus and Eileen for what they are. He punishes them for it. And then there’s Petunia. Who is envious of Lily (and likely Snape on the magic front if nothing else) and lashes out because of it. There’s also the muggles around him, in which he gets only pity and a blind eye from as well as sneers and jdugement. And he knows he’s more powerful than them. But he can’t do a damn thing with that. So unlike most prejudice against muggles wizards, his prejudice lies in his real life experiences as opposed to people like Draco who are just raised to believe that muggles are scum and wizards are the elite but have likely never even interacted with a muggle. 

He also wants Lily to come with him. Because he thinks she’s different. (Not a healthy mindset at all. But to him, she is the exception to the rule). Slytherin would not be a safe place for Lily (nor the safe place that he is expecting it to be for him). Though, I think if she’d been in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff it would have gone over better to him than Gryffindor. 

The rift here begins, I think for a couple of reasons. 1) James and his group are now trying to interact with lily. With James of course later in the years growing romantically interested as well. And while we know that Lily is rejecting James’ friendship and romantic advances throughout school, Severus has a lot of mental health issues. Thus, I think his issues stem more from jealousy and fear. Fear that Lily will one day decide that he isn’t worth her time. Maybe she’ll think that James and his gang are in fact better. And that would leave him alone again because 2) Slytherin is not the Sanctuary he thought it would be. Slytherin was supposed to be his home away from “home”. He’d be amongst his kind. Except that Slytherin is a pureblood and very rich house. Most of the purebloods come from Old Money. Classism is a massive part of that. So not only is Severus not a pureblood, but his family is poor. He wears hand-me-downs that are often described as feminine blouses, meaning they’re probably coming from his mother. Add to that, his only friend is a muggle-born. Which he is obviously judged and mocked for. But he’s loyal to Lily. To a fault, honestly. 

So he’s not only severely separated from his only friend from the start, but bullied by both the marauders AND his own housemates in Slytherin. And unfortunately, Lily is the cause to some degree on both sides. (that is not to say it is her fault. IT IS NOT HER FAULT. James’s decisions were his own, as well as the actions of those in Slytherin around Severus. And Severus’s actions in response are his own). 

Now at some point, his feelings turned romantic. And unfortunately, Severus did not have many sources to look at for what it really means to love someone. Because his parents certainly aren’t the answer. And everything else would be at a distant. Also, again because he has so little and because of those fears of losing her, he is slightly possessive about that. He sees James as a threat.

And he’s having to find some way to fit in when it comes to Slytherin. And he finds that with potions. A particularly difficult class, but he didn’t struggle. And he was quite adept at defensive magic as well as dark magic, thus starting to give him value to his peers. And he of course starts to fall into the classic “bullies are often people bullied themselves.” He starts to partake in bullying the muggleborns, using the word, mudblood, etc. just to fit in amongst his own peers. And Severus is not stupid. He’s also not blind (well, in some ways he is). He is bound to see that pureblood rhetoric against muggleborns is bullshit. His issues lies with muggles themselves more so. And still a lot of wizards. At this point in his life, he’s become bitter, quick to anger and defense. Anyone who does him the slightest wrong is against him. He’s learned not to really forgive. 

So let’s talk about the event. Snape’s worst memory. Where James is tormenting Severus, yet again. When Lily comes to his defense, and James tried to blackmail Lily into a date by using tormenting Severus, in a moment of weakness he lashed out at her. He used the term mudblood in regards to her. (And was then publically humiliated and shamed for it by James and the group). 

Yes. He waited in the hallway all night for her outside the Dormitory. To apologize. Regardless of anything, he did not want to hurt her. So he apologized. And when she rejected him (Which i think had less to do with him using the word against her and rather the fact that there had been a rift growing for years and this was just he last straw). But he accepted that. I think he knew their friendship was over and had been for quite some time. He left her alone, and thus was completely intergrated into Slytherin and those who were molding him and shaping him.

Now. Just because they stopped being friends, doesn’t mean the caring stopped. They had their childhood memories they formed together. Severus was always going to have those feelings for Lily. It does not make it obsession. And I think of it like this.

I have a friend, who was more the Snape to my Lily. She was kind of an awful person, awful friend, and there came a point we cut each other out. (I’m not saying i’m entirely innocent in the destruction of that friendship. But I do view her actions as far more Severus’s toxic side than my own. But that’s besides the point). I did not stop caring about her altogether. Especially not immediately. Especially not right out of school. I still think of our friendship often. I think that if she came to me needing something, I would likely help her, even if I have a feeling she wouldn’t do the same for me. 

So that is what I view Severus’s feelings towards Lily. Except stronger. Because Lily was the only light in his life. She was the only good thing. The only positive influence he really had. Adults were never on his side. His peers were rarely on his side. So losing Lily, he clung to what little he had. The death eaters who took him in under their wings over the years. Those who were promising him power and control, something he rarely had in his life. 

But that care is what got him. He heard that part of the prophecy, and of course he kept track of his friend. Wizarding circles are small anyway. It probably spread without intent. He was scared for her. So he did his job, reporting the prophecy. But begged for her life. In his fear he didn’t think about James. The man that ruined his life and tormented him every chance he got. And he didn’t think about her child, not born yet. Because his reactions were emotional in knowing that Lily’s life was in danger. 

So he went to Dumbledore to have her protected. And yes. Then her family was brought to his attention. And he did not hesitate to agree to keep them safe too. Listen. If Snape really wanted Lily for himself. If he really didn’t care about her at all, it would have been a fight to protect, at the very least, James. He would have argued against it. He instantly agreed because someone reached to the logic in him. And he agreed to risk his life to be Dumbledore’s spy. He signed on to do that for the rest of his life. He signed on to do whatever it took to protect Lily and her Family. So when it was just Harry left, he did everything he could. (that doesn’t mean he went about it right. But he did do his best to protect Harry). Until his very last breath. If it was just about Lily, he would have stopped the moment she died. 

None of this was about sleeping with her. None of this was about winning her over or having her. He accepted that he fucked those things up. He accepted he had no place in her life. This was about making up for his mistakes. Or at least, trying to feel like he could. I don’t think even if he lived to see Harry win and everything, that he would think he had. But he certainly seemed to be trying to show he knew he was wrong, and trying to do the right thing. Total change was never possible for Severus. But the fact that he was even able to admit he was wrong in joining Voldemort and turn to the right side, is a massive step for him.

[niksixx]

Need You

Requested: Anonymously 

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader 

Description: “The reader is frustrated and kinda stressed out because of her busy schedule, and feeling lonely due to the lack of consolation but she has difficulties in being true to her own feelings so she acts like she’s completely fine despite the situation. But Axl is sure that she needs some loving, which makes her finally admit her thirst is real and he helps her get rid of it? smutty one please”

Warning: Good ol’ smut with some edging!!!

A/N: If you enjoyed this, leave a comment! 

*GIF is not mine. Credit to the owner!*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s TO-DO:

Work

Exercise

Cook dinner

Take car for an oil change.

Delivery groceries to parents.

Walk the dog.

Pick up dry cleaning.

Manage a social life.

Manage a sex life.

Try not to breakdown.

The game of life? Exhausting. There’s so much shit to be done and not enough time in the days of the week to do it all. Your life had become a constant cycle of planning, feeling frustrated when you can’t finish everything, and then the frustration turns to anger, and eventually, you give up.

You’d like to think you don’t burnout easily, but after sobbing your way through your third breakdown in two days, you were contemplating your mental health.

No one in your life would know, though. Hiding your feelings was a skill you mastered.  There was no time to be vulnerable. Put on a front and smile. That’s what you were always told.

Sometimes though, you wanted someone to see through the lies. The “I’m okay’s” and “I swear I’m fine’s” were just part of the wall you built up to keep people out. Didn’t anyone care enough to break it down?

Even your boyfriend, your sweet, sensitive, loyal boyfriend Axl never seemed to catch on to your true feelings. After two years, could he still not read you?

Even if he could, it was easier to keep everything inside. Feelings could get messy and end up making things worse. Axl was busy planning a tour with the rest of his band, a tedious and stressful project. He probably didn’t have time to deal with your feelings anyway. So, you’d stash them away and just smile, smile, smile.

After a long day of tour planning and various spats with his band mates, Axl couldn’t wait to be in the comfort of his home. His brain was fried, his eyes were tired, and he was ready to take the world’s biggest nap.

Pushing open the front door, Axl grinned as he spotted you at the dining room table. As he approached you, ready to tackle you in a hug, he frowned. Your elbows were on the table, head in your hands, and your eyes were closed. Stepping closer, Axl could almost see the gears in your head working overtime. “You okay, angel?”

“Fine.”

There was something off about your tone. It wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t convincing Axl that you were truly fine. You hadn’t even looked at him since he’d stepped foot through the door.

“You don’t look fine,” Axl remarked, kicking himself for his choice in words. His hand went to your neck, gently massaging the sides how you liked. Your muscles relaxed briefly before your body tensed up once more. “What’s going on with you?”

And then out of nowhere, you broke down. It started off as a loud cry as sobs shook your body, and then slowly, you began to cry quietly, no sound escaping your mouth.

“Holy fuck, angel, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t take it anymore, Axl!” You spilled everything. “I have so much shit to do and not enough time to get it all done. I’m always working and my job stresses me out, and then when I come home I have to find time to exercise and cook us dinner and somehow manage a social life on top of everything else. I feel like I have no support from you or any of my family or friends and I’m so tired I can’t think straight most days and to make things worse I’ve been really fucking horny but we’re always so busy that--.”

The rest of your words were cut off as Axl drew you in for a much needed hug. Your tears soaked into his shirt as his hands rubbed up and down your back, his way of comforting you. Letting out a breath, you tried to clear your mind, which was exceptionally difficult as it was running a mile a minute. Finally, you pulled away from Axl, your tear-filled eyes boring into his, which were downcast.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could have helped you. I didn’t realize how overwhelmed you’ve been, baby.”

“I don’t like being vulnerable,” you answered, wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of your shirt. “And I hate that you’re seeing me this way. I know you’ve been busy too with planning a tour and I think it’s wonderful, Axl, I do, but I’ve been feeling upset and alone and stressed the hell out and I just…I don’t know how to handle all the emotions I’m feeling.”

Axl’s heart broke. How could he have been so blind? Fuck the tour. You were supposed to be his number one priority. He could see now that you were obviously in need of some extra love and care, and he vowed that he wouldn’t leave your side for the rest of the evening. “Look at me,” he said, his hands cupping your cheeks. “You’re allowed to be vulnerable, especially around me. We’re partners, remembers? I hate that you’ve been so frustrated and I hate myself even more for not seeing it. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’ve got to be better, I know that now.”

The kiss to your forehead was soft, sweet. It felt good to be held and kissed. While it didn’t alleviate most of your stress, it certainly helped.

“Now,” Axl said, his lips forming a smirk. “What did you say about being horny?”

Your cheeks reddened. “Oh…um…it’s not really a big deal, I just--.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Axl tsked, dragging his forefinger down your cheek, below your bottom lip. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to let me take care of you, okay? If there’s one thing I know about sex,” His lips brushed against your ear. “Is that it’s an incredible stress reliever.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your clothes were strewn all over the dining room as Axl didn’t hesitate in ripping them off your body. He was eager to please you, it was evident in the way his eyes hungrily roamed your body.

He lifted you onto the table with ease, lips sealed against your exposed neck. Your eyes fell shut as his lips devoured your flesh. Axl’s fingers danced across your belly, his cool fingertips providing the perfect contrast against your warm body. His fingers inched lower, lower, until they brushed against your clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips.

“How’s that feel, baby girl?”

His fingers rubbed your clit painstakingly slow in circular, clockwise motions. Axl wanted to take his time with you. He wanted you to feel loved and adored and fulfilled.

His fingers slipped between your folds, the slickness between them aiding as a lubricant, making it easier for his fingers to slid right into your opening. Axl added one finger at first, pumping slowly until you were begging for more. He inserted another finger, and finally a third.

As Axl watched his fingers slide in and out, in and out, you bucked your hips forward, grinding down on his fingers. “That’s my girl,” he praised, leaning over to kiss your lips. “Ride my fingers, baby.”

He withdrew only one finger, continuously pumping two inside of you as his thumb met your clit. Your head was thrown back in pleasure as his delicate fingers explored your pussy. The breath in your throat picked up, becoming fast and labored, and you could feel your orgasm building up. And just when you were ready to cum…

Axl stopped.

“What the fuck?”

“Patience baby girl,” he whispered, dusting a kiss along your temple. His lips trailed the length of your body, licking and sucking at your breasts, your hips, until his head disappeared between your thighs.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you moaned at the feeling of Axl’s warm tongue licking your pussy in different directions, up and down, side to side, in and out. Your hands find his hair and tug, pushing his face deeper to your cunt.

“Axl, please, please, let me cum.” You were full on panting now, lip sucked between your teeth as your thighs squeezed Axl’s head, desperate for a release.

From between your legs Axl glanced up, bulge growing as he watched your face contort in pleasure. When your eyes caught his, he gave you a sly wink before sucking your clit between his lips.

“Axl, please!”

And again, he stopped.

You looked at him, bewildered. “What are you doing? Are you going to let me cum or not?”

Chuckling, Axl gently pinched your clit between his fingers, grinning as you moaned. “Oh baby, you’re going to have the best orgasm of your life. But first,” His lips hovered over yours, eyes dark and sultry. “I want you to taste yourself.”

His lips covered yours, the taste of your pussy on his tongue not pleasant, but tolerable. You’d never tasted yourself before, so there was a first time for everything.

Pulling back, Axl unzipped his jeans, pushing them halfway down his legs. You could see his hard cock hidden beneath the fabric of his boxers and it made your mouth water. Reaching forward, you pulled Axl toward you, palming his length. He groaned deeply, eyes closing briefly before he pulled his boxers down, cock springing to life.

“How do you want it, baby?” Axl asked, twisting his cock in his hand. “Tell me.”

There was only one answer.

“Hard.”

With a smirk, Axl wrapped his hands around the back of your thighs, pulling your body to the edge of the table. The tip of his cock brushed against your clit, and before you could beg Axl to fuck you, he pushed his cock forward, burying himself in your pussy.

Moans and groans filled the room along with creaks from the table shaking. Fisting your hair in one hand, Axl grabbed your hip with the other, pounding into you as your legs went slack. Your slick pussy helped him screw you effortlessly. He’d pull out slowly, and then slam back into you, absorbing your moans into his mouth as he kissed your lips roughly.

“I love this pussy,” Axl groaned, reaching down to rub your clit, never slowing his rhythm. “Feels so good.”

“Harder,” you panted, grasping the back of Axl’s neck. “Fucking harder.”

He obliged, and soon the air started to smell like sex. Your bodies were sweating, breath hot, and neither one of you could hold on much longer.

“Axl, please,” you whined, feeling your legs begin to shake. “God, fuck.”

“Cum for me, angel,” he commanded, thumbing your clit quickly. “Cum all over my cock.”

You exploded at the same time Axl’s cock twitched inside you, spilling his load. Axl covered your mouth as you screamed, not wanting to wake the neighbors. A mixture of fluids dripped down your thighs as you tried to catch your breath.

Leaning forward, Axl captured your lips in a sweet kiss. “I love you. I hope you know that, angel. And I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you lately. I have no excuse, but I promise from here on out, I’m going to be a better boyfriend. I swear to you.”

And you knew he’d keep his promise. You smiled into the kiss, reminiscing about the best orgasm you’ve had in months, all the while forgetting what you were stressed about in the first place.

[caspia-writes]

Summer of Whump #14 — Hand Gagging

Summary: A boy accidentally reports his parents to the police over a piece of chocolate.

A/N: I could definitely be happier with this piece, but after several attempts to figure out how to fix it, I've decided that I've probably just been looking at it too long. Maybe I'm just not used to this much dialogue?

Content warnings: None

It was always interesting to see how the children at the park responded to Theodor’s presence. The ones he knew personally, the ones who called him Onkel Theodormore than anything else, ran over immediately, all clamoring for a piece of chocolate. Naturally the other young ones, old enough to understand the chants of Bitte ein bisschen Schokolade?, were never far behind. After all, why should they let the others have all the treats? Even the older ones would eventually come over, forming a somewhat more orderly mob as they held their hands out and asked if they might have a piece too—before fleeing back to some other corner of the park to eat it and watch him unblinkingly.

But today there was an exception in the form of a young boy who was still shying away, even as the other children were almost climbing over each other to try and get some chocolate. When he didn’t think Theodor was watching, he stared; when he realized he’d been caught, he looked down at the ground in front of him. Almost guilty, except what could a boy of six or seven have possibly done to break the law?

Probably nothing. But Theodor intended to be sure of it.

It didn’t take long for the boy to notice what was happening, but he didn’t run. His face went pale and Theodor could see him almost beginning to hyperventilate, but he stayed right where he was, watching as Theodor got closer. Even at the point when almost anyone with the slightest fear of him would’ve dashed away, the boy simply stood there, stupefied, gazing at Theodor with eyes so wide they barely seemed to fit in their sockets.

Slowly, taking care not to do anything that might startle the child further, Theodor pulled a square of chocolate and held it out to the boy. Instead of taking it, the boy yelped and cowered. Curious. He’d never seen a child afraid of candy before. And in fact, he didn’t think that was the problem—so he took the boy’s arm, pried his fist open, and pressed the chocolate square into his palm anyway.

After a few seconds, the boy opened his eyes and began examining his present. The boy frowned at the chocolate, trying to look at it from every angle and even sniffing at it. Not having accomplished whatever he had set out to do, he shot a half-second glance up and whispered, “Is it poison?”

So that was what he was trying to figure out. The answer was simple enough. “No.”

And now, having found an excuse to eat a piece himself, Theodor reached back into his pocket and began pulling the foil off another square. That seemed proof enough to the boy, who immediately tore the wrapping away and began devouring his chocolate. Which, hopefully, meant that Theodor had built enough rapport to be able to talk to him.

“What’s your name, boy?”

The boy hesitated, making a point of eating the rest of his chocolate before answering. “Florian Quenstedt.”

“Well, there’s a good, proper Sächsischer name.” It seemed Florian took well to the comment. Or perhaps he was just happy to have had chocolate. Either way, he met Theodor’s eyes again and smiled. “So why, Herrlein Quenstedt, were you afraid of me?”

Florian looked away again and began sucking the melted chocolate off his fingers. “My Vati says he hates you because you’re evil and want to kill him.”

Now that captured Theodor’s attention. Many people didn’t particularly like the Staatspolizei—but hate? And openly admit as much to their children? That was unusual.

“Really? And why do you suppose that is?”

Florian frowned. “He said it’s because he’s—um, that he’s a demo... dema...”

“Perhaps he’s a democrat?”

“Yeah, that!” Florian beamed up at Theodor. “My Vati is a democrat! And he says you really hate democrats, and that’s why you’re evil and want to kill him. But I don’t think you’re evil.”

This time his voice must have carried across the park. All of ten seconds later, a woman—his mother?— dashed over, her face pale and sheening with sweat as she almost fell to the ground trying to grab her son by the collar.

“Florian!” she yelped before meeting Theodor’s eyes. “Good evening and—and please don’t listen to him, Herr Reichsminister. I don’t know where he learned that awful word. Or this awful habit of telling lies!”

“But Mutti, I wasn’t telling—!”

The mother slapped her hand over Florian’s mouth before he could finish. As if there was any more evidence Theodor needed to investigate the entire family. Besides, refusing to let the child talk now, after he’d told all, only confirmed that Florian had been accurate, or close enough to it. Not that Theodor intended to let on.

“Well, this is simply how some children are.” Honest, loyal, and entirely willing to sacrifice their family for the good of the nation. Even if most of them didn’t consciously realize the last part. “You never know what they’re going to say or to whom. But surely this is all a misunderstanding of some sort?”

To that, the mother nodded frantically. Of course she did. Criminals always loved any story that made them sound innocent. And what could be more innocent than a child not understanding a word they were using? With her enthusiasm, she may as well have begun to confess right then.

Nonetheless, if Theodor wanted more information, just to be sure, he would need to find a way to drag this out a little longer.

“Now—Florian, wasn’t it?” The boy glanced back at his mother, then nodded at her lack of objection. “Would you like another piece of chocolate?”

“Yes please!” This time he didn’t bother seeing what his mother thought of it. If he had, he would’ve seen her trying to force a grimace into a smile. Frankly, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“All right, you can have one more piece.” Florian’s eyes lit up, then dimmed as Theodor held up a finger. “But only if you can tell me what the National Syndicalist Party slogan is first.”

“Alles zum Wohle der Nation!” Florian immediately yelled, even managing a halfway decent salute.

But der Nation? That was an odd error to make. Every child his age should’ve known it was actually der Großsachsen. And this error in particular sounded suspiciously like the sort of bastardization that a child raised around democratic criminals would make, what with all the talk of ‘self-determination’ and ‘freedom of the individual peoples.’ But all the better for Theodor’s case against the family.

As for the boy and his candy, he’d been close, and it wasn’t his fault his parents were traitors. He had the necessary enthusiasm and national spirit to become a good citizen, that had been clear enough. And his salute had been quite good for a boy his age. Once he was liberated from his parents and learned that it was der Großsachseninstead, he’d be well on his way to becoming a model citizen.

“Well...” Theodor still drew the word out, cupping his hand on his chin. Florian’s entire body deflated and he turned his eyes to the ground before Theodor gave his shoulder a pat and presented him with another wrapped square of chocolate. “I suppose it’s close enough for now. But it’s der Großsachsen, not der Nation. Remember that next time, all right?”

“Don’t worry, Herr Reichsminister, I’m sure he will.” The mother forced her grimace into an even wider smile. It was almost becoming grotesque, how desperate she was to appear pleased with this interaction. “Alles zum Wohle der Großsachsen!”

Theodor smothered a laugh as the woman grabbed Florian’s arm and vanished into the crowd. She wasn’t fooling anybody with that. Or at least not Theodor, and he didn’t need anyone else convinced when it came to these matters. Certainly not after the thorough damning her son had provided.

On that note, Theodor thought he rather liked that Florian boy. For all his parents’ efforts to the contrary, he was still well on his way to becoming a good, loyal, Großsächsisch citizen. Just as he should have been.

Children really were little wonders.

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 2: Twisted (Part 6)

Warnings: death, manipulation, attempt of rape on minor

Author notes: The last part of the second chapter! I hope you’ll like it and see you in the third one!

Later during the day, I supervised the cremation of the subordinates who had lost their life during the mission myself, although I had been advised not to move too much. Indeed, I had gotten a broken rib from the man's assault, in the auction basement, yet, under the effects of morphine, I had not felt a thing. The corpses had been retrieved by the cleaning team and brought to a quiet place in the forest, not without having been dispossessed of the weapons and potential hints about their identity. I wondered if they would even be remembered... I had heard that the person in charge of the records made a remarkable job about the dead mafiosi of the organisation. I sighed slightly and put the barrel of gasoline next to me. Few people had come, friends of the deceased, certainly, and they all glared at me with a sort of resentment. I could understand their feelings, yet could not afford to be distracted. Accidents happened in the Port Mafia, that was not the first, even least the last.

"You were all loyal subordinates." I said, quietly "Until the end, you did a very good job. You will be remembered —"

"Cut it out! That's all because of your recklessness that they died!" Someone shouted at me.

"... You will be remembered..." I finished, throwing a match into the pile of bodies.

Flames erupted and burnt the flesh quickly, soon leaving nothing but a pile of ashes.

"Make sure they are thrown into the sea." I demanded.

I then turned around to make my way toward the car. Dazai-san was coming back in the evening and there were still many things I had to take care of before welcoming him.

"Hypocrite... She couldn't care less about the men..."

"Throwing them into the sea? That's just a way to dispose of them discreetly..."

"Just like her executive..."

I did not pay attention. It did not matter, anyway. I was used to being looked down upon. It did not matter. But I was thankful that the chauffeur let me cry in silence in the back of the car.

It was the second in command, Yamada-san, who welcomed me when I came back to the headquarters, in the morning. He had a pleased face as I got out of the vehicle and did not even ask for permission to pat my back friendly as he congratulated me for the success of the mission. I grabbed his hand, rather curtly.

"I have a broken rib." I stated.

"Oh, I see, I see...! But really, you did such a good job...! Dazai really did well by entrusting you with this task...!" He exclaimed.

I sent him my darkest glare, making him take one step away from me.

"It's Dazai-san." I corrected him "He may be younger, but he is an executive, the best of the organisation. Don't ever think you are superior to him, or I will be the first to crush you."

"S-Sure, Ogawa-kun..." He stuttered.

I felt annoyed. I wanted to be left alone, and the only place where I would not be disturbed was my superior's office. Without a single word, I left Yamada-san in the corridor and slammed the door closed, before throwing myself on a couch. I was tired, and, mostly, my headache had come back despite the amount of pills I took. There was never enough to relieve me... Sighing, I threw the empty box toward the wall in frustration. Although the mission had been a success... I could not help thinking it had been a failure. I had not been able to keep my men alive, what kind of superior was I...? Not that any of the higher ups in the Port Mafia even cared about their cannon fodder, anyway, but I felt responsible for their death. Dazai-san would surely say I was too soft hearted... I simply believed a leader had to preserve his troupes. Or I was truly too soft hearted.

"Ogawa-kun!" Yamada-san barged in the office without even knocking "Dazai-san comes back tonight, do you remember? His paperwork is early, unfortunately, so I'll just leave them on the desk."

"Do as you must..." I groaned.

"Oh, by the way... I did not find time to sort them out. Could you do it before his return? Thanks a lot!" He added before exiting the room in a guff.

He had done such a thing on purpose. The executive never cared about the documents, what was the purpose of bringing them in so soon? I had to resist the urge of ruining the second in command's face the following moment, and calmly walked toward the pile of papers. A week of work to be done, and I was the one supposed to sort those out... I grumbled. A part of me wanted to throw all of the documents on the carpet, but I refrained from doing so, knowing the mess would be much harder to clean. Even so, Dazai-san was never one to be interested by official matters, as important as they were. He would just take the papers, doodle on them or bend them to make planes he would try to toss in the bin. He often acted so childishly, yet on the other side, he was a cruel and merciless man, who beat his own subordinates and sent them to death without a further thought. Perhaps his true nature was one of a teenager looking to have fun, after all... Then did it mean I was the reason he acted so harshly around me? Maybe he could not stand me... Because I was useless... If I proved to be of more use to him, there was a slight chance he would accept me, was there not? I truly did not seem to comprehend him...

Something made me frown; the paperwork had already been taken care of. There was no need to even read them, since they were all ready to be sent to the offices in charge of classifying them. However, among reports and stock inventory, there was a single suspicious document which did not belong to the pile. An order. They would usually be given orally, but a written one did occur as well. They would be sent apart, nonetheless. Someone had put it there on purpose, and the only one who could do such a thing was Yamada-san. What could be his aim for doing such a thing? Slowly, I read the paper. After lines and lines of pointless courtesies, everything suddenly made sense as I fell upon the last few words. Eliminating the Ogawa family. Breathing became more difficult for me as the words looped around my mind, haunting my very thoughts. Did that mean killing them? Surely, carrying out such an order would not imply having tea with them, would it? I felt feverish, curiously excited, a strange rapture which stole the control I had on my limbs and the little sanity I tried to keep while killing people for the organisation. Nervously, I laughed, alone in the office. Was it fate? Hazard? What kind of providence could have made this order fall into my hands?

These questions calmed me down. It was not out of luck that I had stumbled upon this paper. The second in command had willingly put it into the pile of documents. By giving me the order to classify them, he had made sure I would receive the order. What kind of reaction had he expected from me? I paused, lost in thoughts. That kind of behaviour deserved a punishment, or so I judged. Perhaps I could play around with him before going out to effectively killing these people whose name I happened to wear. Wordlessly, I walked toward Yamada-san's office, preparing my act. Despite my work for the Mafia, he still thought of me as a fragile young girl. I would give him the fragile young girl.

"Yamada-san!" I violently opened the door, as though I was panicked "Tell me it is a lie! It can't be true!"

"What couldn't be, Ogawa-kun?" He asked, poised.

He had been expecting me, obviously. I shoved the paper onto his desk, biting my tongue to bring tears to my eyes.

"That! What's this order...?! Killing my parents...? Why?! It can't be..." I sobbed.

"Unfortunately..." He sighed "I had hoped you wouldn't see it..."

Liar. How could he say such a thing when he had requested himself that I took a look at the paperwork?

"But I did...! I can't... I can't let that happen...! Yamada-san... I'd do whatever, but please, talk to Dazai-san about that...!" I cried "I don't want my family to be killed...!"

Despite behaving all mighty and competent, he had not a single clue of what my past could have been. He did not know how much I resented these people, thus could not know I was only deceiving him. So funny...

"I understand... Of course, I'll do what I must." He conceded "Come here..."

He opened his arms, surely expecting me to fall into them in search for comfort. What I did, without hesitation. I had to play his game to stab him better.

"I could do that... But in exchange..."

His hand innocently travelled to the end of my back, and I smirked as he could not see my face. So, that was his ulterior motive. That was the reason...

"What should I do...?"

"Well, you could repay me... With your body."

"I-I don't understand..."

He sat me on his laps and undid the knot of my collar.

"It's very easy... Just let me do... It really does not please me, but that's the only thing you could do for me..."

"Y-You know, Yamada-san..." I played embarrassed.

"Mmh, what is it, Ogawa-kun?"

Brusquely, I wrapped my fingers around his neck and tightened them, relishing in his gasps and vain attempts to breathe in and out.

"I absolutely hate perverted men like you." I husked in his ear, menacingly "I've already killed one, just before entering the Port Mafia... Another wouldn't be too much work...~ Mmh~?"

"W-Wai — Ugh!"

"Eh? I can't hear~ You're groaning like the pig you are, finally~ So disgusting, so gruesome~ Is there something you want to say~?"

I let go of his throat the moment his face started turning blue. As he regained his breath, I tied my ribbon again and readjusted my clothes, without moving my eyes away from him. He was still panting when he stared at me, fear showing on his face.

"Why... Why are you... Doing this...?" He barely managed to say.

"I'm not sure..." I hummed "Why did you try to take advantage of a weakness to get me in your pants? Mmh~?"

He was speechless. Slowly, I reached for the phone and put it in his trembling hands.

"Dial Dazai-san's number and tell him the mistake you made. I actually wonder how he is going to react upon learning I will personally see that the mission is completed..." I snickered "Hurry up! I want to be done by the time he comes back."

"G-Going yourself...? B-But... Shouldn't you oppose to such an order...?" He complied.

"You made a mistake, Yamada-san." I sat on his desk, waiting "I hate my family, and would gladly exterminate them if asked to. Did you think that I would truly throw myself into your arms? Are you an idiot?"

He gave me a pitiful look and brought the phone to his ear. Silence filled the office a moment, then he started speaking, nervous. He admitted, rather frightened, that the order of killing the Ogawa had fallen into my hands and that I insisted to go. After a few minutes, I was handed the device.

"Ogawa-kun?"

His voice was tired, passionless. For the first time, it did not make my heart beat any faster, and I could perfectly keep calm.

"It is me, Dazai-san."

"Tell me, what did Yamada do, again?" He exhaled.

"Well..." I glanced mockingly at the second in command "He thought about using that order as a way to take advantage of me, Dazai-san. I really want to go, nonetheless."

"You can't." He immediately replied "I'm not letting you deal with anything personal, Ogawa-kun."

"But..." I frowned "It was shown to me on purpose... It'd be a wasted opportunity, were I not to go."

"Once I am back, I will deal with Yamada, and I will see that men are sent to the Ogawa mansion, but I refuse you do anything by yourself." He stated.

"... Don't you trust me...?"

"Why are you so desperate to go? You've never even thought about taking revenge before." He questioned without answering my question.

"When something you've never desired before is suddenly offered to you, won't you take it, Dazai-san? It is the same to me... I want to go and kill them." I declared.

"Ogawa-kun... I understand." He sighed "Just... Go. Do what you must. We'll talk about it tonight..."

"Thank you, Dazai-san... I will not disappoint."

"I am not afraid of being disappointed... Do not do anything reckless, that's the only thing I demand."

"Yes, Dazai-san."

After that, he hung up. Triumphantly, I gave the phone back to Yamada-san, who was still as pale as earlier, and opened my box of pills to put a few ones in my mouth.

"See you later." I smirked at him, darkly "I am off to kill my family...~ I hope you will entirely take responsibility for your faults, won't you~?"

"O-Of course..." He seemed on the verge of tears.

Without further words, I exited his office and walked out of the headquarters.

"Gather the squad!" I called on my way "We're going to eliminate some parasites..."

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[dotaccountant]

(LOVIE SIMONE, 23, FEMALE, SHE/HER) ⮕ Hey, isn’t that [DOROTHEA “DOT” HARTLEY]? I heard that they were a part of the crew. According to the wiki it says they’re the [ACCOUNTANT] of the group. Avid fans say that they’re [PRAGMATIC], but that they can also be [MOODY]. Maybe that’s because they’re a [CAPRICORN]. This gossip forum says they joined the group because [SHE NEEDS THE MONEY]. I wonder if that’s true. I also heard they [DO NOT] believe in ghosts. I wonder if their time in arcane inc will change that. (peyton, 23, est.)

mun info.

hey girly! just wanted to let you know i literally cannot handle this right now :)

uhh okay!! my name is peyton, i’m 23, i’m a college senior, i’m a libra, i’ve been rping for [redacted] years. i managed to escape for like two years until quarantine hit so here i am, like a dog going back to its’ vomit. i’m an illiterate roman roy enthusiast lesbian who is just excited to be here. my discord is ilyinichna#9370 (not me outing myself as a russian lit nerd. disgusting). please feel free to add me!!!

some cheeky stats.

full name: dorothea eloise hartley nicknames: dot by the crew, dottie exclusively by her mother, lame ass nerd by me birthdate: december 31st, 1997 occupation: accountant for arcane inc. nationality: american

orientation: bisexual moral alignment: lawful good myers-briggs: infp temperament: melancholic

about.

it snowed the day dot was born, her mother would say fondly as she reminisced of better times for the two. edna hartley always made it a point to say no matter what she was conceived out of love and for awhile, dot believed that. her parents met when her mother was touring europe and she fell for a charming french aspiring writer, louis, who said all of the right things. not long after their summer romance, edna found out she was pregnant and at first louis was thrilled. he proposed on the spot. edna had dreams of becoming a stage actress so the two flew out to a shoebox apartment in new york to start their little family.

except edna never got her big break and louis never even started the next great novel and the bills were piling up. they were getting money from edna’s family, but louis’s pride wouldn’t accept it any longer. he took two jobs while edna stayed home with baby dot. 

she loved dot and dot herself never doubted it, but she was certainly not ready to be a mother. she was immature and treated her only daughter more like a best friend than her child. taking care of a child all day with no escape took a strain on edna and eventually took a strain on her marriage. what started as harsh whispers would soon turn into screaming matches that dot could hear through the thin walls. it was that way for years and dot looked at her parents differently. she had resentment for her father and the feeling was mutual, he blamed them for the fact he never achieved his dream. the older dot grew she soon was the one taking care of edna, who some days couldn’t even get out of bed.

dot comes home from school at fifteen to see her and edna’s bags packed. she says the two of them are going to california and dot goes with her without any hesitation. a new start was what they needed, they could look out for each other.

except it wasn’t. edna and dot both work odd jobs to make ends meet and when dot isn’t at school she’s accompanying her mother to auditions that she doesn’t get called back for. she scores a few commercials which is enough to keep them afloat for a brief amount of time. much of dot’s teen years are spent apartment hopping, couch surfing, and sleeping in motels throughout LA. if she was younger she might have been charmed by their vagabond lifestyle, but dot knew they couldn’t live that way forever.

if anything, dot learned a lot about how money worked when she was young. she always had a knack for numbers and after crunching the numbers to figure out if you could pay your electric bill for the month really gives you an advantage. she learned how to budget because no one else was going to. 

she’s working a job doing data entry when she first hears of arcane inc. one of her coworkers wouldn’t stop talking about them. dot isn’t interested as she’s never though much about the supernatural, chalking up companies like arcane to exploit people’s fears. no thanks. her mother believed in spirits enough for the both of them. (besides if karma was real, she would’ve seen a check from louis for the book deal he got over a year ago).

dot does go down a rabbit hole though when she realizes just how big of a following aracane has. people will really believe anything. the moment she sees that they’re hiring, she sees it as an opportunity. a company with millions of followers has to give their employees a reasonable salary. she didn’t have any real work experience outside of her office job but she was damn good with numbers and she was already used to traveling.

she’s been at arcane inc. for about a year now and still doesn’t really get what all the hype is about but that doesn’t matter. dot makes enough to send money to edna and she’s even started to put money aside to go to college. dot’s never been one to dream big, look at what it did to her parents, so she’s planned out every step without reaching out too far for the stars.

headcanons.

yeah her mom’s a failed theater actress but dot has a really secret love for musicals. you won’t find her ever talking about it though and if anyone found out she’d kill them. not joking don’t text.

her social media presence is little to none. not that she thinks she’s above it but she’s just genuinely bad at keeping up and she doesn’t love being in front of a camera. (her instagram posts are all blurry with bad filters and weird angles, bless her heart).

she’s probably the most stubborn person you will ever meet. i blame it on her being an earth sign i’m just saying a ghost could be right in front of her and she’d go and?

dot’s a really good listener (years of practice) and will take secrets to the grave but she’s pretty bad at giving advice. she doesn’t really know what to do when someone starts crying except give them an awkward pat.

her intuition is pretty good though. she’s good at reading situations she just doesn’t know how to react sometimes.

tw abuse: so while her father was never physically abusive, there was an incident from when she was twelve. he had been drinking and dot got out of bed to get water from the kitchen. he yells at her, as he often did, and throws an empty beer bottle at her. she threw up her arms to defend herself and there are still a few scars from the glass shards.

the way to her heart? anything peppermint which i know is arguably the worst dessert flavor but she can’t get enough of it.

tends to chew on things when she’s working. no pen cap is safe. she usually has candies on her so she has something to munch on.

connection ideas.

i prefer chemistry over anything else!! these are just some ideas to get the ball rolling. (also i am so bad at coming up with connections.)

friends. i mean....yeah jsfdkljfd. as basic as that is she just never had many of those growing up! dot’s kept a few people close but for the first time in her life she’s out of reach from her mother so it’s a good chance to socialize.

more specifically? a best friend. in the same vein but dot would really put this person above everyone else. she’s really loyal and it’d be nice to have such a close bond with someone.

a childhood friend or two too!! she’s moved around quite a bit but she stayed in new york (and she considers when she first moved to la still part of her childhood) for quite a bit, definitely long enough to make a connection!

someone she’s pulling out of trouble maybe. while dot’s not a maternal figure (leave that to the nurturer) she does have a compulsive need to help people out. it’s very frustrating but she can’t stop.

negative nancy. she can be so pessimistic and annoying so she’d appreciate having someone she could just vent to.

exes. it has to be a past relationship because dot is not a hook up person like AT ALL, but she’s human and she likes companionship (sometimes). 

honestly whatever you can think of! cousins, pen pals, unrequited crush (either way), friend crush, enemies, people she avoids, shared interest buddies, good/bad influence!

[fae-redux]

rules of the game: ch. 1 - this was no accident

Story Summary:

The Evergreen and Imagi were never quite in peacetime. Roman’s just trying to figure out how to survive and succeed his mother. Logan wants to live long enough to use his magic however he wants. Patton is coasting while repressing everything, still trying to figure out what feelings are.

Virgil doesn’t want to change the world.

Luckily, it isn’t up to him.

first | ao3

Chapter Summary: Virgil has left the castle before but not this far, and certainly not like this.

Word count: 5812

Pairings: future lamp, platonic anxceit

~|~

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, when the land was still blessed with magic and the fae were both revered and feared in equal measure, there were four boys who lived in a castle.

Now, it’s important to remember that they lived in the castle, but at first, their time never really seemed to line up.

The first one, the one who lived there in the beginning, is named Virgil. He didn’t want to live in the castle, but since he no longer had a family, it made sense to just follow the will of what his parents wanted. The king seemed nice enough anyway, offering Virgil his own room and gifting him with a family portrait that had been painted years ago. Virgil hung it up with the same attitude one would scrape peanut butter off a slice of burnt toast to put back into the jar.

His journey starts with an order from the Queen.

~|~

When Virgil wakes up, he knows exactly what the day ahead looks like. The previous night had been full of fitful unrest, his heart jerking in his chest whenever he closed his eyes, the distinct feeling that he’s forgotten something tugging him out of bed and making him check his bag again and again.

Standing in front of his mirror, Virgil feels out of place. His armor weighs awkwardly unbalanced on his shoulders, the iron pauldrons uncomfortably loose. The pieces are special in their own right, the spares his father left behind on his last mission. It’s an honor, he has to remind himself, to walk the same path, even if it feels like anything but.

The shine of the metal contrasts the shadows under his eyes, dark circles growing darker every minute he keeps looking at himself. Blowing his bangs out of his eyes, he glares at his reflection. If he was his father, he would be able to don a proud smile, something reassuring. Instead, he looks like a poor imitation of a knight, like a child playing pretend.

It sends a roiling bitterness through his stomach.

Sighing, he tucks his blades into the sheaths on his belt. After a moment of hesitation, he tucks the dagger his mother gifted him into his belt. It’s the only one he has that isn’t made of iron, the only one that wouldn’t do damage to a fae creature. The queen mandated almost everything he wore, but this small addition would likely go unnoticed, just another knife on a fully kitted knight.

Almost-knight.

When he swallows, the man, the boy, in the mirror does the same. Seventeen, he thinks, is too young for a mission like this.

The queen had smiled saccharine sweet when she’d pulled him aside. She had come up with the perfect first mission she’d said.

Virgil had tried his best to hide his skeptical thoughts when she brought it up, but her eyes were sharp on his, her scrutinizing gaze looking through his soul. She just smiled like she could hear exactly what he was thinking and then, “My king, I believe it would do Virgil some good to prove himself,” and the king agreed, nodding placatingly, not really listening as the queen continued, “He should go alone.”

He could see the king visibly hesitate before she brushed a curl behind his ear and his eyes went blank. “Of course, my dear,” the royal simpered.

After years of living with her, he knows much better than to protest. No matter what he thought, he held his tongue, and he started his research.

In the days before his mother’s death, she had given him her collection of books on the Evergreen and the fae, and in the privacy of their home, she told him to keep them safe from Adelaide, to never let her see, and he followed her instructions to the letter. The books were safe in his room, unvisited and sequestered from her prying gaze, and gods know did she pry.

It’s like she can hear him when he thinks the slightest doubt, reaching for him even as he cringes away from her hands. When he was younger, she used to say it was affection, a hug from someone who could be considered a parent in the future. Now, she doesn’t sugarcoat it, a disapproving scowl covering her face as she tells him he should be grateful for any guidance she can offer. This journey was probably just another thing on the list for her.

When his father, the venerable Sir Linos, was alive, he loved his knights. They were the king’s knights back then, a group loyal to a man who would do anything for them in return for their service. In perspective, this audition for the queen’s knight’s felt bizarre.

Not only were solo missions for knights who already proved their mettle, this mission seemed more appropriate for knights like Adrien, who had probably sold their souls to be noticed by Adelaide, who would die for her sake.

Virgil is hardly sure he even wants to be a knight. The only reason he stands here today is to follow what his father wished for him back when he had been alive, aspirations to be knights to the same court, a legacy. When his father was alive, Virgil had been all for it, his head full of stories of how they would always ride together, never alone and never wanting for anything, carrying the symbols of the greatest of kingdoms.

The image seems sepia tinted, in retrospect, nostalgia on his father’s part coloring the narrative.

Virgil had done everything to get along with the other knights, and though they spared nothing in training him to fight, he knew they never really liked him. No matter how hard he fought or how good he got, they only ever saw him as the king’s ward, handed his position on a silver platter living a gold gilded life. He never seemed to measure up.

His hands shake as he does up the last knot in his vambraces, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t muster up a smile for the portrait of his parents, their family feeling like a distant memory at this point.

Their image looms overhead, and he barely recognizes the child that he was when the damn thing was painted. The small smile he wore, Virgil wishes he could do that again.

He takes a deep breath. The faster he leaves, the faster he would be able to come back.

As he gathers the last of his supplies, he gives his parents one last nod, he leaves the room.

If he does this right, he’ll be back before the week is up.

~|~

The map he painstakingly spent two nights copying from a book on the outskirts guides his path to a town a little over a day’s ride away from the castle border.

Julep, his horse, is taking her sweet time with the journey, but with how much reluctance Virgil has towards this particular trip, he thinks he can forgive her for it.

Despite his previous determination to get this mission over with as soon as possible, he had found himself dragging his heels his whole march to the stables. He usually loves to go visit the animals, the horses having long since endeared themselves to him.

Julep had come with him as just a pony when he first moved into the castle. As a gesture to him and his father, the king had offered to keep her in the stables until Virgil needed a horse for knightly duties, and he had agreed. She was his first real friend at the manor. The other horses had fallen into his heart when he found himself surrounded by knights ages older than him and no one his age to talk to.

She knows him well enough now that she can probably sense his dread about this town. As it is, the outskirts are pretty much the last border between the kingdom and the land of the fae, and he knows one toe into that territory would be an act of war.

Not only did Adelaide send him here, where she knows knights aren’t generally well received, she probably didn’t care that much if the fae decided he’d edged just a tad too close. Adelaide was known as the kindest queen the kingdom had ever seen only to those who didn’t actually live in the castle.

When King Cromwell had agreed to make him a ward, she had been welcoming, like he was a guest, but with his continued presence, she had maybe gotten too used to him. She treated him like one of the court, like he was a piece to be moved. While he didn’t like it, he figured so long as they tolerated each other, they would be fine.

He doubts the court really knows much about her beyond what she tried to show them, though.

She’s a walking nightmare to anyone who has actually spoken to her for more than a few seconds, outside of court. The sugar sweet tone in her voice is as fake as the company she chooses to keep around. She lays it on so thickly, he finds it hard to listen for long periods of time. The way the queen giggled at courtesan jokes while her own husband barely knew what was going on just didn’t sit right with him.

To make matters worse, creatures with most any kind of magical affinity flinched at the sight of her. Her distaste for the fae was no secret, made obvious by the magical borders she kept, the iron wall a statement of itself. Virgil had shuddered while passing them, and now in the outskirts, he found himself understanding what those walls looked like to those outside of it.

Approaching the town, the wall is just visible over the trees that lead him to a cleared path.

Refocusing on the task at hand, he considers his options for the mission. The creatures of the Evergreen aren’t well documented, to the point where though Virgil had read every book on the topic of them, he hadn’t come across any description of the fiend who was supposedly attacking nearby villages. Most of his mother’s books described creatures of the Evergreen as benevolent for the most part.

Knights didn’t generally go on missions with so many unknowns, guards usually doing at least some reconnaissance.

Still, he continues to ride into the quiet town. From the first second Julep crosses onto the main road, there is something off about the emptiness in the town. In the corner of his eye, he sees something blur past them.

“Hello?” He calls out, his voice quiet enough in the cool evening, but hopefully loud enough for the creature to hear. Dismounting carefully, the anxiety in his chest takes over as another blur catches his vision. His hand rests on his sword as he steps away from Julep, hopefully making himself a more appealing target than her. “Is anyone there?”

These houses don’t appear to be abandoned in any sort of hurry. For a ghost town, it seemed like one out of a painting. Everything had a place, from the ceramic jugs on people’s porches to the cobblestone main street. The discomfort moves to his throat, the silence unsettling.

Out of the woods at the edge of the village, the silence breaks, a faint rumbling sounding out. He squints at the border, taking a few steps forward, but before he can get closer, the creature reveals itself with a shrill scream, sending him scrambling back.

The large green monstrosity makes an entrance, knocking down a tree, landing just a few feet in front of him as it staggers unsteadily. It towers over the buildings in the village, swinging its head around erratically. It chooses it’s steps wildly, one leg stumbling over the other, all four legs hooved and coming down with little regard for the others.

From where the shock sent him to the ground, he can see the panic in the creature’s eyes and the strap high on its neck. It wasn’t attacking the village on purpose.

As much as the frantic thumping in his chest wants him to run, he feels something strange about the creature. Now that he is in front of it, it didn’t feel evil, nothing like the monsters the knights came home to brag about. Instead, it cries and wails like it wants as much to do with the situation as Virgil does.

He can hear Julep’s alarmed noises as he sheds his chestplate and scrambles back behind a building. Her whines sound out even as he shushes her. The creature staggers toward the sound, its eyes turning cloudy and its long pointed ears twitching forward.

“It’s blind,” he says shocked, slamming a hand over his mouth as it swings back toward him. Julep kicks a pot that was left out by the villagers and it moves away again, but she seems to realize just how much noise her hooves make as the creature lunges towards her.

The frantic nature of the attacks make sense now, if it had been able to see at some point, it would be panicking. His first goal is to get the strap off its neck. Maybe freeing it of whatever that thing was would make it calm.

“Keep going!” He calls to Julep and runs out to pull it’s attention back to him. Julep’s stomps draw its attention again and without his armor weighing him down, he takes a running leap at the creature's back.

It lurches it’s head backwards, snapping wildly at him with plant dull teeth, but he’s too fast to be caught. His hands scrape on the green scales, and while he is prepared for a fight, as soon as he reaches the black strap, it goes completely limp, its legs collapsing under itself and head hitting the ground too fast for it to be safe.

He pulls out his dagger and digs the tip under the sludge-like texture of the strap. The creature makes a pitiful noise lifting its head slightly before flopping down again. Julep comes up and noses her snout lightly against its nose. It snuffles at the gesture, like it might have been comforting and Virgil feels his chest swell with gratefulness for her. It takes a good chunk of time before every strand of the substance is released from its scales, especially with Virgil being extra careful to not touch it with his bare hands. He drags the strands away and makes sure they don’t latch on anywhere else.

When the creature is finally free, its eyes blink open and the white film that had been clouding them. It doesn’t try to attack as Virgil stands off its body. Instead, it nuzzles Julep back and extends its head towards Virgil. He takes off the glove on his hand and reaches it out slowly, giving the creature a chance to pull back. It doesn’t. It leans into his touch, closing its eyes and resting down.

Turning, it makes its way back towards the forest, it looks back at the two of them. Virgil leans on Julep, trying to figure out what to do with the slime, but looking up, the creature is standing expectantly, turning from the village to the woods.

“I can’t go in there,” Virgil scrunches up his eyebrows, unsure how to communicate this to something from the Evergreen. Did they even have english in the Evergreen? The creature rounds them easily, surprisingly maneuverable and agile now that the sludge is off. It elegantly nudges them in the direction of the border. “It’s not safe or legal for me to go there.”

It makes an urgent noise and pushes him further. Julep trots easily following the directions of the creature.

A noise that doesn’t come from any of them sounds out and the ground shakes again as the creature hits the ground behind them again. Virgil jerks away at the sight of a large wooden pole sticking up from between the creature’s scales. It had been so docile just moments ago, but now he can see the frantic look in its eyes as blood begins to leak from the side of its body. It makes the urgent noise again and tilts its head towards the forests.

At the end of the street, a house catches fire and calls sound out like signals, and he’s suddenly surrounded.

A man stands atop a nearby house and slides down the slates of the roof, landing in front of him. “Buddy, your orders said to kill the beast, huh? We just did your job for you,” His hair is greasy, slicked back, and his breaded, salacious grin makes him take a step back. “Looks like you owe us.”

Virgil desperately wants to go to the creature, but he can see the light draining out of it as it attempts to keep its eyes open. “We can talk about this,” He edges to the side with his hands out placatingly. “Just let me treat the creature. It doesn’t deserve to suffer. My orders were to take care of the beast, and that’s what I’m doing.”

He snorts, kicking the chestplate at his feet, Virgil’s armor, away from him as he backs up. “Uh huh. You’ve got quite the bounty on your head, royal. Hurry it up.” He lets him approach the creature.

“Hey, you’ve got to stay awake,” Virgil presses his fingers gently at its scales, flinching when the creature lets out an ear piercing shriek. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to help,” The blood is staining his hands red too quickly for the creature to make it through this.

He can feel the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, but he blinks them away in favor of leaning his head down to comfort the creature just as Julep had. If the man knows he is a royal, there isn’t a great chance either of them are coming out of this unscathed.

“It’s okay, you can rest. I’ll get you where you need to go.” The creature’s wounds glow as it closes its eyes, its blood slowing as flecks of white emerge from where it once bled. Virgil can feel the tension drain out from the creature and his eyes blur as the flecks coat his hands.

“Well, you definitely didn’t get that one right,” The man sneers. “And you won’t be going anywhere.” The blade cutting through his side is a shock to his system as he staggers up.

“What...” He rattles out, falling after a few steps as the blow really registers. “What have you done?” The cry that comes from his throat sounds nothing like himself, too gutted. Just like you, his brain interjects as he tries to clear his head enough to get up. He makes it to his knees before a blow to his shoulder puts him on his ass.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees another man taking aim at Julep, and all hope of escape leaves him. He whistles as loud as he can, Julep coming right towards him. Using his last remaining strength, he slings himself onto her back and holds a hand up to stop the arrow launched towards them. It shatters as it hits his still glowing palm, and he stares at it in shock. As Julep carries them into the Evergreen, he meets the eyes of the head honcho who killed the creature. In an act of defiance, he sticks up a glowing middle finger, and the trees block them all from view as a volley of arrows follow them.

~|~

He doesn’t know how long they ride when they stop. The sounds of a barrage of men following them stopped a while ago, and the whole time, Julep has been riding as steadily as she can as to not harm him more than he already is. The only reason she slows down is this clearing. There’s a stream with water, and a large open space to maybe treat the wounds he acquired.

He blinks his eyes open as she jostles them. It takes longer than maybe either of them wanted for him to get off her back. As soon as his feet touch the ground, his knees give, and if it weren’t for Julep, he would have collapsed.

Together, they approach the water, and just as he goes to dip in a hand, he sees the movement of a little creature swimming around. She curiously breeches the water at his small wave.

“Hi,” He swallows, struggling to make words as his pain overwhelms him momentarily, “Can I use this water to clean myself? I need to treat my wounds, but I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.”

His arms weaken and he can’t keep holding onto Julep. His whole body aches and he can’t see her anymore, but the little creature frantically pats his face with her water like hands.

“It’s okay,” he tries to reassure her gently. There’s probably not a chance he will live that long with injuries like this. It might be better at this point if he just didn’t accidentally harm her environment on top of that. “Hey, you can relax. Your water’s safe.”

Instead, he takes a moment to assess the glowing substance covering his hands. No longer pressing on his wound, the glow begins to leave them, the white dots flying into the air of the Evergreen, leaving him alone with the naiad.

He doesn’t notice his eyes have closed until she pulls on his hair and presses down on his eyelids until he blinks them open again. A chattering noise fills his ears as she summons some of the water from the stream to wrap around his middle.

“Thank you,” He smiles at her and she smiles back, but that look quickly changes as she dives back into the water, taking her water with her. Julep startles back behind him as well.

Out of the water on the other side of him, a large yellow snake has slithered in their direction. It slithers over his feet, sliding over the ground to study his wounds. Virgil can’t even manage a hand up to push it away. Instead, he lets the snake rest on his neck easily. The anxiety that should be welling up just isn’t there and even though he can feel his heartbeat rising, his head is clear, his thoughts still in the hopes that the snake doesn’t bite down.

He blinks, and where the snake was, a man stands and presses two fingers to his pulse.

“Weak enough, perhaps.” The mystery man frowns. “Who are you?” He asks. Virgil tries to focus on his face, but he can’t make out anything other than some blurriness in regards to the left side of his face.

“I’m,” He hesitates. He is in the Evergreen. This man might not be a man. Well, obvious, he was just a snake a moment ago. “You may call me Vee. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the border.”

The fae crouches next to him and shines and places a hand over his eyes. “Do you want to be saved?”

Virgil can’t figure out what was happening. If the books in the library were to be believed, fae were evil tricksters who would kill him in an instant. But here is a fae who had him dead to rights, and he wanted to know if he wanted to be saved? He’s confused, “Do you want to save me?”

The fae makes a frustrated noise at the question. “Can you answer the question?”

He really doesn’t have anything to lose. “I just want to make it out of this alive.”

There’s a pause, “That won’t do,” then the man pulls him up onto Julep and leads them away.

Virgil hopes he didn’t sign both of their death warrants.

~|~

He wakes up in short flashes at a time. Cataloging all his aches takes more brain power than he has to give at the moment, and he can’t quite open his eyes.

The first time he tries to sit up, tugging painfully at his wounds. He yelps and someone pushes him back down making shushing noises. They place a towel on his forehead and he goes easily with their direction. He absorbs approximately nothing about his surroundings.

The second time, he’s still out of it and someone’s at his side in the room.

“Are you awake?” His mind wrenches painfully at fully formed memories of a cold towel on his head and his father in the chair next to his bed. “Do you need anything, Vee?”

“Dad?” It’s out of his mouth before he really registers anything solidly.

“Quite.” The voice is familiar, amused, but not at the same time. It fades as he slips back under.

The third time, he wakes up slowly enough that opening his eyes doesn’t hurt. The memory of the slash in his side keeps him from moving too much, but he still looks around at what he can see from the safety of the bed.

The fae who found him must be really interested in books, he thinks, someone after his own heart, at the several dozens of books embedded in the shelf walls. It’s a beautiful set up, and from what titles he can see, they’re all about different types of magic and history. Virgil is just running a finger over the spine of one when the fae walks into the room.

“Are you actually awake this time?” he asks, studying him under a scrutinizing gaze.

Virgil takes in how he feels. His eyes, for once, are not fighting to close again and his body is holding him propped a little further up from laying down. “I’m awake, I think.”

The fae, upon further inspection appears to have little yellow scales that take up the right side of his face. His ears are pointed and his short brown hair is pinned back revealing a singular snake eye, slitted and yellow in the socket. He has a cape on even though they are indoors and there is no need. The longer he stares the more his memory starts to fill in.

“You’re the snake who saved me.”

Yellow scales shift in the light as he considers the statement and nods, “Can you read?”

“What’s with all the questions?” Virgil doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, but there’s a slew of things wrong with this situation. The first being that he can feel the muscles in his spine tightening from the discomfort of not knowing who the snake in front of him is and if the situation was bad enough to warrant panicking. He didn’t intend to die on this mission, but he didn’t dismiss the possibility either. He could be a new prisoner of war, if the queen was to be believed about the fae.

“I can’t lie.” The snake looks frustrated. “I can only say what I’m trying to say.” He makes an angry noise and makes a flipping motion with his hands. “Can you understand this?”

Virgil watches for a moment and it hits him that the hand sign for opposite looks extremely similar to the kingdom’s version of the hand sign. “You can only say the opposite of what you mean out loud?”

He nods with a sigh of relief. “Glad that hasn’t been sorted out. How do you feel?”

Taking a moment to take stock of his body, he can’t feel the wounds in his side at all. None of the skin where he knew he was hurt even seems to be pulling or irritated. “Strangely well,” he narrows his eyes at the fae standing in the doorway. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t have one of my friends come to take a look at it. You didn’t make a deal to help it along.” He smiles at him, and the part of him that has learned common sense says he should be feeling at least unnerved, but the part of him that made a deal with a fae says impulse control is the last of his issues recently.

“A deal?” He asks, to make certain.

“I didn’t complete the deal with your consent, but you didn’t want to live and so I made you a little bit like me.” His eyes furrow for a moment. “A little bit like me. That isn’t odd, I didn’t mean to say something else.”

Pulling up his shirt, he runs a hand over his smooth skin. There wasn’t even a scar leftover from the attack. No magic that looks like this comes without a price.  “What was the catch?”

“To undo what I did, you must not find true love’s kiss. Until you receive it, you will not be immortal like me.”

Why true love’s kiss? What made him make the deal? He knows he was on death’s doorstep before waking up here, so there must be something. What did the fae gain? The fae didn’t make deals that didn’t benefit themselves, if the queen’s books were accurate. His mother’s collection didn’t include much on human appearing fae, just creatures.

He can see a knot on his pinky, the same one he wore his family crest on and looking down the cord of his first deal, a feeling of something like fondness entered him.

“Why did you help me?”

The fae pauses for a long moment. “What do you mean?”

“Why ask if I wanted to be saved? I remember being nearly saved by that water fae before you stumbled along. Why not just leave?” And the crux of the situation is, Virgil has been alone for a long time. He fended for himself since the queen started sending his father away on long, grueling missions. After his mother passed, he kept all of his more politically charged opinions a secret so as to not collect enemies. This fae, this random fae, had taken the time to help when not even humans would have approached him.

“I didn’t see what you did for Nellie,” The fae swallows. “We couldn’t touch her. The witch came by the other day and didn’t put that thing on her neck while she slept. It was…” He trails off. “You didn’t care.”

Good things don’t happen to him, though and he did what anyone else would do.

Like he can see it on his face, the fae continues, “Everyone would have done what you did. Storming a green-backed strider with only a dagger and a sword, not to kill it, but to help it isn’t anything special. Besides, the universe didn’t link us in some capacity because you weren’t going to be important to me.”

“Is that what this is?” Virgil studies the yellow yarn-like bond, thin and fragile on his hand.

“Yes,” the fae doesn’t elaborate, just smiles serenely. He clears his throat, “You may not call me Dee. You weren’t that out of it when I brought the two of you back, and I know how much you remember.”

Just like that, he realizes he forgot about Julep, the fool he was. His heart sets in his throat, “Is my horse okay?”

Dee snorts, “She’s not living in luxury, if you must know. It’s like she’s seen billions of sugar cubes in her life.”

Virgil finally relaxes into the sheets again. Julep is safe. He’s going to live forever, but that sounds like a tomorrow problem to his tired mind, his eyes blinking closed and his eyelids feeling heavier by the second.

“I won’t let you rest. We can’t talk more tomorrow.” Dee runs a hand over his head, the same way his father used to when he was ill, and walks out. Virgil tries to store as much of their conversation in his memory as possible before he sleeps, but it is lights out before he can save much of anything.

~|~

Healing hurts way more than he thinks it should. Frequent visits from the fae that Dee invited over, Kai, makes it so that the process is much faster than it would have been if he was alone.

Kai is snappy and funny and doesn’t know he’s a knight, and Virgil finds a way to joke a little with him every time he flinches and Kai looks like he wants to scream.

Dee sometimes checks on him and hums in approval. The only thing Virgil knows is it’s going much different than he’d imagined dying next to that river.

Bedridden as he is, he has too much time to think. Dee keeps him company when he panics, sometimes reaching a hand out where he can see it to get permission to rub his back. Sometimes they just sign back and forth, Virgil’s hands steady even when his chest shudders and his ribs ache, until he can relax enough to breath on his own.

Dee takes the times he’s conscious and sane to tell him stories about the Evergreen, even some about the creatures that Virgil had only seen drawn from his mother’s perspective, soft and unassuming, or in Adelaide’s books, their teeth too sharp and too hostile. In reality, there are cats in the Evergreen that curl up easily at his feet, normal teeth and all, their tails curling to flick happily when he has the energy to offer pets.

Large creatures like the one he saved in the abandoned town lean a head through the window and nudge at him, nice as the one who had tried to warn him. One of the smaller ones licks at him and huffs against him, Dee ushering it out the door as it playfully tries to evade him and get at Virgil. It’s cute. They’re all pretty cute actually.

It’s three days before his wounds close. Getting up is a freedom he doesn’t know he missed until he’s on his own two feet, shaky and smiling the whole time. Dee helps him take his first few steps around the room, letting the cats trot next to his ankles. When he gets the hang of it, he lets go and he does pretty okay, if he says so himself. It’s bittersweet.

He feels better in the Evergreen than he ever felt in the castle. It feels almost as if his energy is finally up after a long drought, like his heartbeat is steady for the first time. Even breathing feels easier here.

Dee laughs when he tells him that, saying it’s the way magic works in the Evergreen. It’s part of everyone and being near fae brings it to the surface, especially when humans made deals. That sits wrong with him, but he lets it be.

The next day, he says goodbye to all the creatures and Dee, setting back off towards the castle.

[separatist-apologist]

Speak Now

I can't justify this at all.

I am not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion. But you are not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl.

“Elain,” Vassa hissed from behind a heavy velvet curtain. “If Ianthe sees you—”

“I know, I know,” Elain whispered back, letting Vassa use her body like a shield. “I just need to see Lucien.”

Vassa smoothed out the skirt of her hunter green dress. “Jurien is back there…I could send him a text?”

Elain nodded, her eyes sweeping through the room. She’d picked the worst possible moment to lay her feelings on the line. She’d had yearsto do it, to just come clean and tell Lucien she was in love with him, but every time she tried, she got tripped up. The words got lost in her throat. Elain had hoped Lucien might tell her, but he never had. She’d thought, for a time, that he might love her back, might want to be with her the way she wanted to be with him.

They’d kissed one summer right before Tamlin introduced Lucien to Ianthe. Elain couldn’t see Ianthe, hidden behind the curtain at the very back of the massive church, but she didn’t need to. Ianthe was everything Elain was not; tall, a society woman, and someone who could move through the same circles as the Vanserra’s. Elain was the girl who’d accidentally met Lucien at school while on scholarship. Her family didn’t have money; no one was impressed by the last name Archeron.

Elain assumed Ianthe and Lucien would burn out but Lucien proposed and now Elain was skulking through a church so she might beg him to reconsider. She was terrified he’d tell Elain it was too late, and he loved Ianthe now, the simpering, stupid blonde that didn’t love Lucien in return. She loved his money, his family name, and the thought of someday raising future Senators. If Ianthe found out Elain was here, she’d probably kill her.

The people sitting in pews were a veritable who’s who not just of the state but of the country itself. Elain slid out of the church back into the vestibule where Vassa was waiting. Vassa shouldn’t have been allowed either despite also having money and status. Vassa and Ianthe hated each other. Vassa was loyal to a fault and Elain would forever be grateful for her friendship. Vassa was also dating one of Lucien’s best men, Jurien.

“I texted Jurian but he’s not responding,” Vassa muttered, grabbing Elain by the arm and pulling her through the vestibule and up the stairs. “You should hide up here in the balcony until I can figure out how to sneak you past Ianthe and her bridesmaids.”

Elain nodded, her shoes clacking loudly on the marble steps. Vassa took one last look at Elain with pity in her wide, blue eyes.

“You just text him too, you know,” Vassa offered but Elain shook her head no. What if he didn’t see it until after he said his vows? It had to be now, and it had to be in person.

Vassa vanished through an archway, leaving Elain a phantom overlooking the ceremony. She caught sight of her sister Feyre, mulling about and talking to people Elain only vaguely recognized, her husband Rhysand by her side. She spotted who she assumed must be Ianthe’s family, judging by their pale skin and blonde hair, dressed in shades of pastel that washed them out. Lucien’s family, on the other side, easy to see with all that red hair. Beron seemed pleased enough in his tux, but Lucien’s mother’s face was unreadable. Elain imagined she didn’t approve, though it was possible she was just bored of waiting.

Elain was, too. As quietly as she could, Elain slipped back down the stairs into the vestibule and then down a hall where the bridal party was finishing up. Elain could hear Ianthe, her voice raised.

“We agreed to heeled Manolo Blahniks so why are youin flats that look like they came from Target?!”

“Ianthe, I’m pregnant, my feet are swollen—”

“How is that my problem? You look disgusting and I’d make you leave if it wouldn’t throw off the balance of the ceremony—” Elain slid past the half open door, catching sight of Ianthe as she did so. Ianthe was in a huge tulle grown that Elain supposed Ianthe thought made her look like a princess. It made her look like a cream puff. The thought gave Elain some small measure of joy, knowing that for all the money Ianthe had spent on this monstrosity of a wedding, Ianthe still couldn’t buy herself any taste.

Elain slipped into the room that should have belonged to Lucien only to find it empty. His regular clothes were sitting on a chair, marking that he’d been here at some point. Elain slid into the hard piece of furniture, pulling off the jacket hanging off the back and pressing it into her face. This was her fault. She’d been a coward, too afraid to tell the man she loved how she felt and now he was waiting on another woman. She took a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of chestnuts and warm apples. Lucien somehow always smelled like a crisp, fall day. Elain took a breath and looked up in the mirror. She looked plain compared to Ianthe, even if Ianthe was more pastry than woman. Brown hair cascaded down bare shoulders and her dress, while long, was hardly the right dress for begging a man to reconsider his whole life. Off shoulder and dusty rose, it was the dress he’d kissed her in the summer before everything went to shit. One drunk kiss, a kiss he’d hastily told her the next morning meant nothing.

It meant everything to her.

Elain stood and replaced his jacket so she could make her way back to the curtain she’d been hiding behind. She wanted to see him, at least. Just one last time before he was lost to her forever. She’d leave, then and let him have happiness.

It was surprisingly easy to slip back behind the curtain and take one last look around. Lucien looked magnificent in his tux. He stood just off center, broad hands clasped in front of him, his russet eyes far away. He hadn’t cut his long, ruby hair though he had tied it off his face. He was every inch the prince she’d always imagined him to be, even as a gangly, awkward fourteen-year-old girl moving through the same private school as him. Lucien had always seen her, even when she couldn’t see herself.

Elain turned to leave when the music began. She froze, equal parts horrified and terrified as people began to stream down the red carpeted aisle one at a time. His parents and then Ianthe’s, followed by a long stream of groomsmen and bridesmaids, all in ugly, unflattering pale blue gowns. Elain caught sight of the pregnant one, her eyes red and face puffy, arms linked with Jurien. If that’s how Ianthe treated her maid of honor, how would she treat Lucien?

An adorable copper haired flower girl began tossing red petals on the floor to general awws, while a stoic, blonde boy marched to the front of the room with a little pillow.

Walk away. Don’t watch this, her brain screamed at her, but Elain couldn’t stop herself. Everyone stood, all eyes on Ianthe when Ianthe appeared, her arm linked with her father. She was floating somehow, like she was some sort of pageant queen. Elain turned her head to see Lucien. She didn’t know what she thought she’d find when she looked in his face. A smile, certainly. Tears, even. Some show of emotion that would let her finallyleave.

His face was unmoved, stone in the face of his soon to be wife. Lucien looked miserable. She was tempted to try and convince herself that was how he expressed himself, how he showed emotion, but she knew better. If he’d been overcome, she would be able to see it. She knew him better than that.

At least Ianthe’s face was hidden beneath a veil that trailed for miles behind her. Her pregnant maid of honor crouched to rearrange it when Ianthe made it to Lucien, her face a grimace. Elain took a look around at the ornate church, her eyes lingering on the stained glass and the marble arches. Had Lucien wanted this? Had he picked any aspect of it out? Lucien, the man who spent days camping with nothing but a pop-up tent and the same blue sleeping bag he’d been using since he was sixteen?

The preacher began speaking words of love, commitment, and forever. Elain kept her eyes on Lucien’s face, begging him for even a hintof emotion. Her hands shook violently, her throat dry. She had never meant to watch him get married. She’d just wanted to tell him how she felt. Lucien’s face didn’t move, betrayed nothing. He didn’t shift his weight from one foot to the other, didn’t itch, didn’t do anything. It was as if he’d grown roots right there on the dais.

“If anyone has any reason these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Elain willed herself to stay put. To say nothing. Silence filled the church and a few people looked around as though they expected an outburst.

Elain stepped out of the curtain, a ghost to the room. No one was looking at her except the preacher, who hesitated when he saw her quietly begin to walk forward. Vassa turned first, her red curls easy to spot in the middle of the crowd.

Lucien turned next. Their eyes met though his face was exactly as it had been a moment earlier.

“I object,” Elain said, her voice wavering.

“Oh thank God,” Rhysand muttered from somewhere close by.

“I uh…I’m not the girl who just…objects to a wedding, but they said speak now…Lucien, if you marry her, you’ll be marrying the wrong girl. It should be us. I love you, Lucien. I’ll…I’ll wait outside for you if you want to change your mind.”

“Get her out of here!” Ianthe screamed. Elain took one last look at Lucien’s face. His eyes shifted, the ice vanishing into something warm. Soft, even. She wasn’t sure if she imagined it; perhaps she only wanted to see emotion.

Vassa rushed forward, her dress swishing around her softly. She looped her arm through Elain’s and walked her out. Neither of them said a word until the warm sun hit their skin. Elain nearly collapsed onto the pavement in the parking lot.

“That took guts,” Vassa told her, walking her quickly towards the back of the church where Elain had come in.

Elain couldn’t speak. She sat on the edge of a concrete step and shook out her hands. “I shouldn’t have done that; I should have just let him marry her.”

Vassa shook her head. “Don’t torture yourself. You made a grand gesture and even if it didn’t work out, at least you tried.”

Elain exhaled. “I should go. I am going to go. I…I don’t want to see them walk out together.”

Vassa nodded. Elain stood, steadier this time and let Vassa hug her tightly. “I’m proud you tried. Plus, you made that wedding fun for the first time.”

Elain nodded, tears pricking at her eyes. She took off, walking through the parking lot quickly until she hit the sidewalk. She’d walked seven blocks from her apartment to get here; it wasn’t far. Elain tried to think of what she thought he’d say. She hadn’t planned it out, had never gotten that far. She supposed she always knew, deep down, that Lucien would never walk away. He’d proposed, hadn’t he?

Elain pushed the button at the streetlight, wondering absently if those buttons made the walk sign come faster or if they were a placebo when she heard a voice scream her name.

“Elain!”

Elain turned, expecting to see Vassa again. It was Lucien, in jeans and the jacket that had been hanging from the chair, running towards her. Elain took two stumbling steps, half certain she’d had a mental break, and this was all a very vivid hallucination.

On the third, Lucien caught her, arms around her body as he lifted her off her feet. His mouth crashed against hers before she could say a single word, warm and inviting just like she remembered.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling the hair tie from his hair. Lucien broke the kiss, eyes shining setting her back to her feet. He looked perfect, his hair framing his beautiful face, his eyes sparkling, and lips swollen from the bruising kiss he’d just given her. He reached for her face, holding it between his broad hands. “I didn’t say my vows,” he told her breathlessly, as if he felt as dazed as she did. “I…I love you too. I never thought you cared, I…thank God you said something.”

He kissed her again, softer this time. Elain was shaking. This wasn’t real, couldn’t be real.

“Say it again,” she whispered.

“I love you,” he repeated as though she’d asked something as simple as his name. “Since the first time we met and if I’d been smart, I would have told you that day. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want to lose you. It was better to be your friend than to not have you at all but Elain, God, I love you. I love you so much it makes me feel crazy, and right before you came out of that curtain, I was standing up there pretending it was you. Wishing it was you.”

Elain swallowed and then she laughed, unable to stop herself. Lucien grinned.

“Come on, let’s run away before Ianthe comes looking for us.”

“Where will we go?” She asked, taking his hand, and jogging back towards the intersection.

“Anywhere we want.”