#and that was the last teacher any of the teachers would’ve expected. my art teacher. he could be the nicest guy ever but also he was soooo

[miguelhugger2099]

The Best Thing

Summary: Miguel O'Hara, star Quarter back of the Nueva York Spiders, lives lavishly with all he could want. What he didn't want is a little girl popping up at his doorstep claiming to be his daughter. The Game Plan AU. <<Prev Next>> Football Player!Miguel x Ballet Teacher!Reader, Gabriella is Miguel's daughter, No warnings Art: rusticfurnace on twt and ethiobirds on tumblr!

Miguel sits in front of Gabriella, leaning on his knees with his elbows. Gabriella stares back at him with wide eyes. She tries to give him a weak smile but it drops when Miguel takes a deep sigh, his leg shaking. Then in a hysterical chuckle, he shakes his head. “No, no. No!” Miguel’s gaze hardened at the little girl. “Tempest and I never had a kid.” His jaw clenches. Gabriella stands up and walks over to him, her hand rummaging through the big pink tote bag at her side. She pulls out a white envelope. “She wrote you a note.” She says plainly before walking past him to take a better look around his penthouse. Miguel snatches the envelope with a dry chuckle and tears it open without a care. “A note,” He chuckles again. His deep maroon eyes read the printed letters, his ex-wife's signature at the bottom. “Miggy, I know this is a surprise but Gabriella is your daughter. I need you to watch her for a month as it’s an emergency. I’ll explain when I get back….Tempest.” Miguel reads aloud, his tone softening and he sighs at the end.

Gabriella stares at all the pictures of Miguel plastered over the shelves and walls. She tries copying some expressions, frowning in some and pouting in others. Her attention is snatched back to Miguel when he calls out to her. He waves the envelope in the air. “You expect me to believe Tempest wrote this? That this automatically makes you my kid? Anyone could’ve written this!”

Gabreilla sighs again, reaching into her tote bag. “Here’s my birth certificate.” She hands him a sealed yellow packet and walks away again. “And your name is on it.” Miguel can only chuckle again. “My name? On your–there’s no way.” He slips the paper out of the packet and sees the fine print. For a moment, he prays Gabriella is dyslexic and confused his name with someone else. Gabriella Monroe. Father: Miguel O’Hara His leg shakes anxiously as he takes his cell phone and calls up his most trusted confidant. “Get here. Now.”

– A woman with bobbed brown hair and thick pink sunglasses bursts through his doors. Her white heels clack on the tile floor as he keeps one hand in her fluffy white trench coat and the other holding her phone. Her unamused eyes meet Miguel’s panicked ones as soon as she steps inside. Miguel gulps. “Fix this, Lyla.” He steps away to show Gabriella sitting at his kitchen island, delicately brushing her doll's hair. Lyla gasps and nearly drops her phone, covering her mouth in shock which prompts Gabriella to jump as well. Lyla drags Miguel to the side, her manicured nails digging into his bicep. “It would’ve been nice to know this early on.” She hisses as low as possible so the child in the room doesn’t hear. “I didn’t know!” Miguel hisses back and Lyla resists the urge to roll her eyes. “You didn’t know you had an ex-wife?”

Miguel waves his hand, dismissing her sarcasm. “It was a long time ago–we were young and stupid. We thought we were in love but it-it didn’t last for a year! And we never had a baby.” He emphasizes the last part of his sentence, brows furrowing and voice oozing with conviction. Lyla smiles tightly, not believing him for a moment. With Miguel’s rep, she’s more surprised there haven't been more baby scares. “Okay, Migs.” She chuckles, taking a deep breath, her hands clasping together. “Is there just any possibility–even the tiniest ones– where she could be yours?” She asks. She sees Miguel about to answer. “Really think about it.” Miguel looks up, digging through his brain in a panic. “I-I don’t know! We went through the papers, the divorce was final. She-she came by to pick up some of her things at my place and she-we-we…” Miguel falters, brows relaxing as the memories rush back. His eyes widen slightly–her lips, her voice, the anger and frustration and love that needed to be released for one last time. Miguel chuckles and pats his stomach, looking towards Gabriella and pointing at her. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” He walks over to the fridge but Lylas accusing tone stops him from opening it. “I’m sorry, when did that ‘she-we-we’ happen?” She follows behind him and watches as Miguel bonks his head on the fridge door before grunting and facing Lyla again. “Like nine or ten years ago.” He whispers. Lyla turns to Gabriella with a smile. “How old are you, sweetheart?” Gabreilla perks up. “Nine.” Both Lyla and Miguel deflate. “Congrats, Migs.” Lyla says monotonically.

“Oh, God–” Miguel groans and rubs his face with frustration as he walks away to pace in the living room. Meanwhile, Lyla tries some damage control. She approaches Gabriella on the other side of the island, leaning her elbows on the marble counter and placing her chin in between her laced fingers. “Hi, sweetpea, let’s talk. So, the letter says your mom isn’t coming back for a month. Did she just decide to leave you here?” She asks, her smile tight. “She’s helping the starving kids–” Gabriella starts but Lyla cuts her off. “I’m not trying to hear that.” She says flatly. “Did she just decide to leave you here?” “I begged her.” Gabriella swings her feet as she sits in the high chair. “I said ‘Well, why don’t I stay with my father?’ and she said ‘Well, baby, he doesn’t know about you ye–” Lyla interrupts her with a groan, her hands waving in the air with a hint of annoyance. “I get it, I get it, whatever. Then who else can you stay with?” She sighs. Miguel claps his hands from the living room, approaching the two with a smug laugh. “I got it! Haha, Tempest has her mom..uh..Keke…Alicia…” Miguel lists off names, trying to remember the name of his ex-mother-in-law. “Amelia!”

Gabriella inches an eyebrow up, a shadow of annoyance. “Cecelia.” She corrects. “Cecelia!” Miguel laughs, shaking little Gabriella’s shoulder. “Same thing.” He mutters under his breath with a smile. “What about her?” Gabriella looks down, her fingers nervously wringing together. “She’s, um…she’s dead.” Lyla scoffs, resting her hands on her hips and stretching her lower back. “That’s convenient.” Both Miguel and Gabriella look up towards her, silently judging. Lyla pouts, flicking her bangs away from her face. “What?” She whines before staring back at Gabriella. “Does your mom have a phone? Email?” Gabriella shakes her head. “They don’t have internet there.” Lyla pokes her cheek with her tongue and crosses her arms. “How did you get here again?” “We flew to Nueva York here together and then she put me in a cab.” Gabriella recites her story for the billionth time. “And the cab just somehow dropped you off at some man’s house?” “Not some man! My father!” The little girl insists. Lyla points at her as if catching her in a lie. “So you say!” Gabriella frowns, her bushy eyebrows furrowing and her nose scrunching up. “Want a paternity test?” Miguel chimes in, oblivious. “That’s a great idea! Let’s do that.” Lyla meets Miguel’s eyes in a panic, shaking her head. She tilts her head to talk a little away from Gabriella. “As long as they don’t have needles, I’m–heh–I’m not good with those.”

Lyla grabs his arm again, dragging him close as she whispers to him. “Not in the middle of negotiating with our Patrick’s Burgers deal. If you take the test there’s a high chance it’ll get out to the press and the public will hate you for ditching your kid–if it turns out to be true–and all of our money will go down the drain.” Lyla sighs, bringing her hands up to rub her temples. “Lyla. Lyla-” Miguel turns to take Gabriella’s seat, spinning her to face Lyla and they both look at the incredibly stressed woman. “We don’t even look alike.” Miguel smiles his pearly whites, Gabriella looking at him for a glance before looking at Lyla again. She matches Miguel’s smile lines, the plump lips, and shiny gleam in her big brown eyes–a missing tooth in her grin. “Oh no,” Lyla draws out with sarcasm. “Not at all.”

The world still spins, with Miguel having practice to go to until it was so rudely interrupted by a 4 foot girl. He walks out of his apartment building, the doorman that had called Miguel about Gabriella in the first place standing outside. Miguel huffs in annoyance, his daughter behind him and now in his care. “Thanks for the heads up, Larry.” Larry barks a laugh, whistling for the other doorman to bring in Miguel’s car. “Told ya she was cute.” He cackles. Miguel’s car pulls up, the driver door being lifted up and Miguel gets in. He opens the passenger door for Gabriella, tsking. He ushers her to hurry inside. “C’mon, let's go.” He snaps. Gabriella looks inside the car and shakes her head. “No backseat.” “So what?” His face contorts, irritated. “If we get in an accident, the airbag will hurt me.” She clings to her tote bag strap tightly to her chest. Miguel bangs his head back. “I don’t have time for this, please.” Still, Gabriella crosses her arms, stubborn and planting her feet in the ground. Miguel settles for putting his football helmet on top of her head and it flops forward, covering her eyes. On the way to practice, Miguel is asked questions by Gabriella. “I’ve got four weeks to make up for eight years, mkay?” She pulls out a binder from her tote bag, flipping open the book to a page of messy handwritten questions. “It’s simple: I ask, you answer.” She lifts the helmet on her head up so she can see what she’s writing.

“So for example, if you asked me my favorite thing to do, I’d answer with ballet. Now, what’s yours?” “Football.” He grunts, honking his horn and shouting at the traffic while she writes in her binder. “And if you could only save one thing in a fire, what would it be?” “My Heisman.” Before Gabriella could write it down, Miguel interrupts her. “No, no, no, wait.” He lifts a finger and smiles. “My limited edition Miguel O’Hara Spider Sneakers.” Gabriella rolls her eyes. For the remainder of the ride, Gabriella continues to ask questions and they feel endless. Miguel gets tired of it, telling her no more but she insists. “Just one more question.” She perks up, shuffling in her seat and lifting the helmet up slightly to look up at him. “What’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” Miguel sighs, kissing his teeth and can’t shake off the feeling he’s had for a hot minute. “Hey, I got a question for you. Why didn’t your mom just bring you here herself?” Gabriella’s smile drops and she looks down in her lap. Her eyes cast towards her tote bag and she smiles again. Her hand digs inside and she pulls out a tupperware box of cookies and presents it to him. “Want a cookie?” She squeaks. Miguel tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “No, I don’t want a cookie and stop avoiding the question.” “But you said you were hungry.” She frowns and lifts the box higher after popping the top open. “And I made them special for you.” “Ugh, fine, fine. Gimme that..” Miguel shoves his hand to grab a cookie, taking a giant bite out of it. “Your mom.” He reminds her, mouth full of cookie. “I told you it was last minute..” She fiddles with a crumb.

“I just can’t believe Tempest would do something like that. Letting her daughter just appear all alone–it doesn’t sound like her.” He mutters out loud to himself. He coughs after taking another bite of Gabriella’s cookie, scratching his tongue with teeth. Does it feel a little swollen? Still, he speaks his mind. “I know what happened.” Gabriella winces, peeking meekly through the front guard of the helmet. “You do?” Miguel coughs. “She screwed up her hair again, didn’t she? Hiding away in embarrassment?” “No.” She grimaces. “All that bleach and dye finally destroyed her curls, didn’t it?” Miguel checks his mouth, feeling strange but he still ends up finishing his cookie. By the time Miguel changed into his uniform, his mouth had gotten worse, his tongue swollen and giving him a lisp. They both enter the field house, Miguel’s tongue still bothering him while Gabriella walks behind him, her head swiveling around to soak in the place. Miguel annoyingly looks behind him, to see her lingering behind. “Let’s go!” He slurs and her little legs hurry to stand beside him. “What do you think, you can just roam around safely or something? Stay close, little lady.” He speaks, his lisp becoming more apparent.

“Are you okay?” Gabriella frowns, tilting her head. “Do I sound okay?” Miguel snaps, bending down to her height. “What’d you put in those cookies?” He jabs a finger to her tiny bag. “Milk, flour, eggs and cinnamon-” “Cinnamon?! Cinna–I’m allergic to cinnamon!” He hisses through his lisp. Gabriella’s face falls, genuine remorse crossing her face but Miguel is too peeved to notice or even care. “Oh, I’m sorry…” “Oh, ‘I’m sorry’? All you gotta say is ‘I’m sorry’? I sound like this and you’re ‘sorry’?” He stands up straighter, glaring down at her and shaking his head before walking away. Gabriella watches his back as he walks away. “I’m allergic to nuts!” She calls out, hoping that information would help him feel better–or at least be a little useful. It seems to fall flat.

Taglist: <3: @maiyart @aphinthestars @byjessicalotufo @mochi73 @peachey-pie @beezusvreeland @scorpihoooe @having-a-time @slut4oscarissac23 @iamperson12280 @planetxella @fandomtrash5092 @miguelsfavwife @juneonhoth

[elliemarchetti]

Habit Rouge

If I recall well, this is my first Halloween themed fic. Not that spooky, I know, but I suppose some of you might enjoy.

Plot: Nesta finds the perfect dress for a last-minute party with her best friend.

Words: 2325

Next

Gwyn's invitation had come unexpectedly, just a couple of days earlier.

Would you like to come to a Halloween party with me?

A simple message, straight to the point, exactly like the young witch she took under her wing some decades ago. It had been years since Nesta had real friends. She had a few lovers, a couple acquaintances with whom she liked to spend her time, but after Claire’s death she’d preferred to keep her distance, scared she would suffer again because of the mortality that wasn’t granted to her. Not that she’d expected the enormous powers she’d acquired since being initiated into the path of sorcery to come without offering anything in return.

She was born in 1837, in a now forgotten village that would currently have been in Poland. Her mother was a stern woman, and her absent father a wealthy merchant, who barely remembered he had three daughters at home. When his wife died of influenza, together with his mother-in-law, the girls were left in the lurch, but what really took a toll was the loss of their fortune. Gambling, drinking and a nasty spending habit nearly threw them on the streets, and since Nesta was the oldest, she felt the need to do something.

The woman in the woods, a middle-aged lady who lived in a stone hut surrounded by trees and shrubs of all sorts, had seemed a solution as good as any other. It mattered little that many feared her, and that her name sounded like it came from times now forgotten. Nesta had knocked on her door when the moon shone bright in the sky, and had returned home the next morning as something different, no longer just a desperate girl, but the pupil of one of the most powerful witches in Europe.

It hadn’t taken long for the student to outdo the teacher, and so Nesta had taken her place, initiated her sisters, and begun to age so slowly that staying in the village, even though the hunt for her kind was long over, became dangerous. She’d said the only goodbye worth saying on a dreary winter evening, Claire wrapped in a heavy shawl, her now grey hair tied in a bun at the base of her neck. She received a letter the following year from her daughter.

Mom passed away peacefully, please don't come back.

Few words, but they made her understand how little she was welcome in the place she once called home. Within a couple of minutes, the paper had become a pile of crunching ash in the fireplace, all evidence of hatred destroyed before her sisters could see it. For nearly fifty years it had been only the three of them, but over time they’d understood that a bond as strong as theirs didn’t require constant closeness, so each had taken their own path. The first to leave was Elain, although, to be fair, it was Nesta and Feyre who left her behind. Their warnings had been of no avail: she had chosen to marry a human, and it mattered little if after about ten years, fifteen at most, she would be forced to leave him, she loved the guy and wanted to be his dutiful wife. They were in Provence at the time, and the wedding had been so lovely that Nesta had almost managed to ignore the burning sensation she felt at being in a church. Feyre had been the second to meet who she thought was the love of her life, the head sorcerer of a French coven located on the northern border with Spain. Nesta let her go reluctantly, but the liaison didn’t last long, and in 1940, shortly before the outbreak of the war, they all fled to America.

New York had been Feyre’s favourite place. Despite the dark period, it was teeming with art, with new and experimental painting techniques the youngest of them couldn’t wait to try. Elain was the one who had struggled the most the adapt, so Nesta was left to act as a bridge between them, even though what she would’ve most wanted was to go somewhere warm and read the novels of her era, those she’d set aside in favour of grimoires and religious dissertations. She’d never worried much about what would be of her soul, but she feared for those of her sisters, so she’d tried to understand if Catholicism and the Bible were really to be taken so literally. After the end of the war, she told herself that if a God existed, he couldn’t be so benevolent.

From the 50s onwards, change had been so rapid that Nesta had struggled to keep up with it. Technology and globalization made slow life and superstitions die, but at least they allowed her to move freely from place to place without too many questions being asked.

She had already resided in half the states of America when she met Eris Vanserra, and for a brief moment, she thought Massachusetts was a place where she could grow roots and finally rest. She was in Boston, doing some research on the actual existence of the Túatha Dé Danann, to whom Feyre's new boyfriend seemed to be related, when she decided to take an evening walk in the Public Garden. Somehow, the place exuded magic, so she wasn’t surprised when a vampire tried to seduce her, probably in an attempt to drink her blood and then throw her body into the Atlantic. Being a witch, Nesta hadn’t fallen prey of his spell and he’d begun to court her with flowers, jewels, and hard-to-find editions of her favourite books. When she finally gave in, long games of chess and slow dances in the moonlight became the norm, until he told her le loved her. It was 1968, just after the preview of Promises, Promises at the Colonial Theatre. Truth be told, he said he loved her laugh, but something had shone in his eyes, so Nesta run away the next morning, leaving behind most of her things and a short apology note. Feyre had hosted her in New York for a while, and there she’d met Cassian, a werewolf who’d made her forget the way her heart fluttered when she was in Eris’s arms, at least for a dozen years. Upon hearing the news of their reunion, Elain also returned to New York, but after a brief fling with a friend of Rhysand and Cassian, she left again to join a traveling circus as a seer. Nesta had attended one of their shows, but one of the acrobats had reminded her too much of her immortal lover to bear the entire performance.

She met Gwyn on that occasion, the skinny girl struggling in a vain attempt to escape the grasp of a guy twice her size. He’d dragged her in the darkness behind the colourful circus tent, convinced that his wickedness would go unpunished if he’d chosen a novice as his victim. Nesta had made him change his mind, and Gwyneth Berdara had abandoned her pious life to learn how to defend herself with the most unorthodox means she could find. Her powers had proved less destructive than Nesta’s, more based on life than death, but for the duration of the 80’s they’d formed a duo worthy of a couple of newspaper articles. They’d told themselves they’d made the world a better place, for what little they could, and it was on the day they met Emerie they received the long-awaited confirmation. She was a werewolf, young enough she managed to survive alone after she left her pack to look for the witches who killed her father. Nesta never thought she would receive gratitude for the murder of a relative, and although she was relieved, from that moment on they’d dedicated themselves to helping the victims rather than prosecuting the perpetrators.

The Valkyries, the association they’d opened with proceeds obtained in a not entirely legal way, helped women who no longer wanted to hide what the violence of patriarchy had done to them to find a voice and a support system. Emerie had found her calling in running it, and although she once used to transform often to stay young, she no longer did so. Last time she saw her, her once perfect skin had begun to shrivel and her joints started to ache as well as her back. Nesta, who had faced that kind of suffering before, had stuck around to help however she could, but Gwyn, who had only endured the consequences of mortality when she was mortal herself, had walked away, choosing to travel for a while further north. She hadn’t notified anyone of her return, nor did Nesta knew how to take her invitation. Had she continued to practice magic like her or had she aged like Elain did in Provence? Would they still look almost the same age, or would Nesta have to hide her face with a mask?

I don’t know if I have anything suitable to wear, she replied, casting a wary glance at her immense wardrobe. Thirty years of fashion and memories, plus some memorabilia she wouldn’t have worn to a costume party even if someone threatened to torture her, were all she had left.

No problem, Gwyn had replied, so quickly that Nesta wondered if she hadn't been glued to the phone the whole time, waiting for her attentions, we can always go shopping!

So Nesta found herself in a thrift store more similar to an antique shop, surrounded by old oil lamps and countless replicas of the most disparate items.

“Were you alive when they used these things?” asked Gwyn, who hadn’t changed a bit, waving some obsolete electric hair rollers under her nose. A smile spread across Nesta’s face, and although she was very amused that her friend didn’t seem to have the slightest idea of how different things were when she was born, she simply nodded. In all honesty, she had never styled her hair much, preferring the thick braids of the Polish tradition to frizzy bangs and ringlets, but Elain loved them and was the first to try a perm when it boomed.

It was one of the things she liked most about her sisters, how each of them had their own personality, well-defined interest, and unmistakable sense of style, yet they still supported each other no matter what. If someone spending so much time together could lead outsiders to not understand where one person began and the other ended, the differences between them were so clear there was no doubt even whether a dress belong to one of the other. Maybe that was why Nesta recognized the gown as soon as she saw it, because nobody else would’ve liked it as much as she did. The velvet was a little dusty, and the golden chain on the back had been removed, but the design, the draped bodice, and the flowy gown, were still the same. It was one of the few lavish things she’d managed to bring with her from Europe, a piece that earned her many compliments in the twenties for how it accentuated her straight shoulders and slim figure.

“I think it will suit you,” Gwyn said, once she reached her at the end of the aisle. “Maybe it needs a bit of readjustments, but you’d make a great entrance.”

Nesta knew for a fact that the dress would fit her perfectly, but since she wasn’t ready to share its story, she didn’t contradict her and asked the owner how much he charged for it.

“When I got it they told me it was a one-of-a-kind piece, but from that day on no one gave it a second glance,” the old man admitted, and although Nesta was sure he was right, after all it was custom made, she still gave him less than a hundred dollars. Being a witch undoubtedly had its benefits, but she wasn’t able to make money appear from thin air, and as long as she didn’t turn to theft, or decided to abandon the Valkyries to find a real job, she couldn’t splurge.

“You should add a pair of fake canines,” joked Gwyn on their way home, but Nesta had put the idea aside, determined to relive one of the balls Eris used to bring her to.

A quick glance at the fabric neatly folded inside the unassuming paper bag made her relive a sea of moments she had relegated in the depths of her mind. Feyre’s laughter as she dragged her to on the French dance floors, the chatter with Elain as they ran arm in arm through the narrow streets of Paris, and Eris’s long, thin fingers, caressing her bare skin in the privacy of their apartment.

“You still haven’t told me why you care so much about this party,” she teased, if only to chase away the melancholy. It was normal to stumble when you’ve lived so long, yet Nesta was determined to compartmentalize and not let the mistakes of the past ruin her present. Boston was an error, she knew it now and probably already knew back then, but life went on, and judging by where she’d found one of the dresses she’d left there after her hasty departure, Eris did it too.

“I made a few friends on my road trip,” Gwyn replied, vague enough to spark her curiosity. “I would go alone, really, but I thought that after all this time among humans, a celebration open only to supernatural beings might be stimulating for you too.” “You had a wonderful idea,” Nesta lied, forcing a smile as she took her friend’s arm. Under no circumstances she intended to disappoint the lively redhead, but between witches, vampires, and werewolves there must’ve been at most a hundred of them in the entire United States, and if her sixth sense wasn’t deceiving her, she would soon see many faces she would rather forget.

[the-weirdos-mind]

New Kid

I’m brain rotting Metal Family so I wrote something with my OC

Emilia groaned as the alarm on her phone went off. She grabbed the device after listening to the opening notes of the song she set as the alarm. She wasn’t looking forward to the day, as it’s her first day at a new school. Her family moved to the new town a couple of weeks ago but, her parents let her settle in for a week before throwing her into a new school. They knew that moving somewhere new can add a lot of stress to a teenager and immediately having them start a new school can add to it. Unfortunately for her, that week is up and she has to start a new school.

She threw the blanket off her body, put her glasses on and went to brush her teeth. She went back to room and changed from her pajamas into the outfit that she picked out last night. A black t-shirt with the art of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge album, black jeans, black stud earrings, a black choker with a bat charm, a black necklace with a rose charm on a silver chain, and the black hoodie in case the classroom grew cold. She noticed the red and black striped arm warmers peaking on from her drawer and shrugged. She grabbed them and slipped them on. She brushed her hair and looked herself over in the mirror. ‘Of course there’s fur on me.’ She thought. She grabbed the lint roller and rolled it until there was no more white fur.

She grabbed her black backpack that was decorated with pins of her interests. Anime, bands, video games, movies, whatever she liked there was a least one pin. She went downstairs, stopping a moment to pet her cat before stepping into the kitchen. “Good morning.” Her mother, Kathrine said.

“Morning.” Emilia said, grabbing an empty plate and putting the pancakes that had already been made. She sat down at the bar in kitchen and started eating.

“Your sister will be driving you to school but you’ll have to walk back home.”

“That’s fine.”

Soon, she finished her breakfast and grabbed her backpack. She bid her mother a goodbye before meeting her sister, Ora at her car. The two girls talked on the way to her school. “Relax, you’ll be fine.” Ora said, noticing how silent her sister was staring at the place. “If any weirdo can survive it’s you.”

“Rude.” Emilia said before getting out. The rest of the day had gone by just as she expected it. She was practically alone, some kids whispered about her being a freak (which she wears as a badge of honor) and other nonsense that comes from school. She was so relieved when the final bell rang. She stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. As she walked out, she noticed a purple notebook on a desk. She remembered it belonged to a goth girl in her class, as the teacher got onto her for drawing in class.

She looked out in the hallway to see the girl walking down the hallway. She quickly grabbed the notebook and went to catch up to her. “Hey!” She said as she ran. The girl looked around in confusion until she looked around. Emilia held the notebook out to her when she caught up. “Is this yours? I think you left it behind.”

“Yeah, thanks. I would’ve had to listen to another lecture about drawing in class if I went back.” She said as she took it and shoved it in her bag. “You’re the new girl aren’t you? I’m Lif, and you are?”

“Emilia.”

“Nice name, hey do you wanna meet a couple of my friends? I think they’d like you.”

“Sure.”

Emilia followed Lif to the front of the building and saw two boys standing by the stairs. One a redhead that was complaining about something and a blonde that was scrolling through his phone. “Finally, we’ve been waiting forever.” The redhead when he saw the girls. “Whoa, who’s this? Hey Dee, she even likes your pop.”

“Pop yourself.” Dee said, shutting off his phone.

“She’s the new kid in my class.” Lif said. “These are my friends, Dee and Heavy.”

“Hey.” Emilia said with a wave.

“Nice to meetcha.” Heavy said with a wave of own. Dee just nodded at her. Emilia was about to walk home when she noticed the three walking in the direction she was supposed to go. “Do you live down this street?”

“Yeah.”

The rest of the walk consisted of Lif and Heavy talking about random stuff while Emilia and Dee listened to them talk. Occasionally, either Lif or Heavy would talk to her to get her thoughts on a conversation. When she wasn’t talking she had an earbud in, listening to music. She turned the volume up when she heard Don’t You Dare Forget the Sun start. Pretty soon, they came to her house. “This is my place.” Emilia said, walking to the door.

Heavy groaned. “But I was gonna tell you about fighting zombies.” He said.

“She wouldn’t fight zombies.” Dee said. Emilia rolled her eyes.

“Maybe I would, maybe I won’t.” She said.

“See you tomorrow.” Lif said as they walked away. Emilia waved before walking into her house. She was surprised that she managed to talk to people on her first day at a new school.

[digital-dhampirs]

a somewhat coherent breakdown of VnC 55 (part 2)

I can and will spend the whole of Christmas Eve thinking about Vanitas no Carte.

prerequisite post warning: this post contains massive spoilers for vnc chapter 55 (and will probably not make much sense if you haven’t already read the chapter). also i will be referring to the teacher as both “the teacher” and “Comte” depending on my mood while writing a given sentence (ostensibly to honor the spirit of the character, in reality just because I’m too lazy to choose one and stick with it). With that, on with the metatheoryrambling!

Vanitas no Carte 55 is a wild ride and I absolutely love it. If you’re here and you haven’t already read it, here’s a link to part 1 of this theory analysis breakdown descent into madness. Some of the theories/ analysis I go into in this post will rely on theories and analysis from part 1, and may not make a lot of sense without it.

But! Just in case you don’t want to read multiple long posts in a row, here’s a very basic TLDR:

The Teacher (who is probably Murr) is currently named the Comte de Saint Germain, after a real life historical weirdo/ alchemist/ adventurer/ philosopher whose true name and identity remains a mystery. The Teacher has a Thing for names, refusing to use any name someone else gave him, in stark contrast to his narrative foil Luna, who seems to have accepted any name anyone else used for them. Comte is a Luna simp (aka a Lunatic, thank you to that one vnc confessions anon for making this the official name of the Luna fanclub).

With that, let’s jump straight into the rest of this chapter! I will try my hardest to make this post less incoherent and rambley than the previous one but……

….yeah, no promises.

Noé.

Noé got to relax for approximately ten seconds last chapter, when we see him finally drop his guard a little bit and start running to Dominique. Mochijun decided that those ten seconds were way too much relaxation, and followed the end of 54.5 up with a chapter that shows Noé’s brain absolutely breaking apart.

Noé’s first reaction to the Teacher’s appearance seems to be surprise and confusion. He’s taken aback, but unlike the rest of the cast, he isn’t frightened. We see his eyes, and they’re completely normal. When he asks Teacher why he’s there, he just looks… blankly curious.

But then Noé starts to piece together what’s going on. We see his eyes shift from their normal purple to red as he processes it in real time, realizing what this means. If the Teacher answers the questions Noé is asking in the affirmative, he’s the reason all of this happened. He’s the reason Mikhail kidnapped Dominique, he’s the reason Mikhail forced Noé and Vanitas into a fight, he’s the reason Vanitas almost died.

(as a side note, the things Noé remembers when he asks “was that you, Teacher?” are pretty much all centered around Vanitas. I would’ve expected him to remember Dominique falling from the Ferris wheel, but he doesn’t— instead he sees Mikhail, Vanitas’s fury over Mikhail’s attempt to revive Luna, Vanitas attacking Noé, and the two of them slumped on the ground after the fight. idk what this means but it’s definitely interesting to say the least)

The Teacher cheerfully replies that he’s “guilty as charged”. And Noé just freezes. Vanitas yells at the Teacher, the Teacher introduces himself with his current name, the Teacher threatens Vanitas… and I don’t think Noé really registers any of it. He doesn’t move a muscle until the Teacher starts to leave. He tries to dash after him, but the Teacher knocks him away with a world formula alteration (that looks suspiciously similar to Ruthven’s black flames, my brain says, winking. shut up brain, now is not the time, I reply). Noé, seeing a memory of his first meeting with the Teacher, blacks out.

Noé… in this chapter… Psychological turmoil would be putting it pretty lightly. The Teacher just told Noé, straight up, that he’s the reason this situation happened, and he does not regret it. It’s definitely possible Noé has some sort of distaste for or even fear of the Teacher buried in his subconscious, but it’s clear that in this moment he’s absolutely thrown for a loop. His mentor, someone he seems to admire, just told Noé that he’s the reason why the people most precious to Noé have been suffering and on the verge of death for the past several hours. It was all him.

Tldr, Noé.exe has stopped working.

Jeanne and Dominique (and the de Sades in general)

With our usual narrator Noé mentally out of the picture for most of this chapter, Jeanne reprises her role from 54.5, stepping in and taking over as our narrator. Jeanne is the least emotionally and mentally exhausted of our protagonists at the moment, as well as the main character with the least ties to the Shapeless One, so she’s a perfect narrator for the chapter officially introducing this eldritch horror to the audience.

Jeanne doesn’t play a particularly active role this chapter, but her narration is absolutely invaluable in adding to the complete and total horror that is Comte’s introduction. I actually kinda love Narrator Jeanne [and it’s lowkey making me headcanon that she miraculously survives everything that goes down over the course of the manga and is now working with Noé on the case study in the Real Present] and hope to see more of her in the future..!

Dominique also plays a background role throughout VnC 55, albeit without the narration we get to see from Jeanne. NGL, her main role throughout the chapter is providing contrast with Noé— Domi, unlike Noé, is very much freaked out by the Teacher’s sudden appearance. She isn’t quite as terrified as Jeanne or Vanitas, at least not at first, but she’s absolutely not as used to Comte randomly showing up out of nowhere as Noé is.

There’s these two panels of Domi I really really like this chapter— when Comte threatens Vanitas, telling him to make sure to use the right name next time, she starts to raise her sword in front of Vani, putting herself between Vanitas and the Teacher. Comte drops his current face for a moment, showing his true power, and in the next panel we see of Dominique she has this almost guilty, nervous expression on her face. She wants to protect her friends, but she’s scared too. Just like her father, Count de Sade, she knows she’s unable to defy the Teacher.

Dominique just got this massive boost of confidence. She was able to look herself in the eye, able to start to accept the guilt and self hatred she’s buried for so long, able to save Noé and Vanitas and stop Mikhail. And now the Teacher has come along and crushed that without even trying.

I’m kinda starting to see where the abuse in the de Sade family stems from, and it’s running from the top down.

Looking at Antoine’s demeanor and comparing it to the Teacher’s, it’s preeeetty clear that Comte and his grandson are very similar. They’re not biologically related, but given how similarly they behave you wouldn’t think it— they have the same cheerful smile, the same ability to manipulate those around them, the same blank- looking eyes. The only thing Antoine is missing is the intimidation factor, and I’d imagine that’s because he hasn’t taken his mask off yet.

If this is how the whole de Sade family operates, if this is the sort of thing Comte taught his son and grandson, is it any wonder why Dominique was so completely stifled by the family? It makes complete sense for her to be terrified of her father— just like Count de Sade cannot question the Teacher, it’s likely that the children of the family cannot question Count de Sade. Comte is solipsistic and seems to see others as beneath him, and we see that he’s passed those traits on to his grandchildren— Veronica and Antoine see Dominique as beneath them, and treat her as such.

Dominique, meanwhile, likely didn’t receive this sort of training from the Teacher or Count de Sade. The Teacher likely wanted her to maintain a positive impression of him (along with a naive worldview) so she would continue to bond with Louis, ultimately so he could use her during the conclusion of Louis’s experiment. And while this likely made her life with the rest of her family a living hell, it’s also made Dominique into the kindest and most genuinely good member of her family.

Turns out I had a lot more to say about Domi than I thought I did.

Jeanne and Dominique have a minimal presence in VnC 55, but the few moments they have speak absolute volumes and I love mochijun for it. I really hope to see more of these two in the aftermath of the evening. I think if I saw a scene where they reconcile and are gfs after the fight I’d cry. please mochijun please give us more Jeanne and Domi content I love these two so much

Vanitas

Oh boy.

Vanitas manages to gather his thoughts after Mikhail’s screaming sends him for a PTSD- induced loop, demanding to know where Comte has met him before.

Despite framing this as a question, the intensity Vanitas asks it with makes me think he’s not looking for an answer, but a confirmation of something he already suspects. I’m not sure what this suspicion could be— maybe he thinks he met Comte at some point in the past? During his Chasseur training? In Moreau’s lab? At some point before or after that? Has he realized Comte’s eyes are suspiciously similar to Murr’s?

Speaking of the past, the whole of chapter 55 reads as a parallel to Vanitas and Luna’s first introduction.

The events of the chapter all seem to follow a twisted version of chapter 48. Comte/ Luna arrives on scene, Mikhail demands they take him with them, Comte/Luna picks Mikhail up and speaks to Vanitas, Vanitas gets that look, Vanitas chases after Comte/Luna.

Beyond further establishing Luna and Comte as foils, what does this m e a n?

Frankly, I have no idea. Vanitas’s expression when Comte calls him “human heir to ‘blue’, the most beautiful creature in this world” is particularly confusing to me— he seems angry, but there’s this light in his eyes I can’t explain. If I didn’t know any better I think I’d even call it hope.

It kinda looks like Vanitas has understood something, like Comte’s response to his question has confirmed whatever suspicions Vani had before. Vanitas desperately tries to chase after Comte, mirroring his running towards Luna as a child, but Comte knocks him aside and it seems like the force is enough to knock the already exhausted Vanitas out.

I’m not quite sure what Vanitas realized at the end there, but I definitely feel like he realized something important. Hopefully we’ll get to find out in an upcoming chapter, which provides us with a nice segue into the next section….

predictions, questions, and other assorted thoughts

After an absolute ton of words and writing, I think we’ve finally worked through chapter 55 pretty well. I’m 100% sure there’s a lot of stuff I missed, but I think I’m starting to reach the limit of what my brain can absorb from this 17 page chapter in less than 12 hours. So!! What’s going to happen n e x t?

First and foremost…. I think we’re really really extremely due for a break. Mikhail is out of commission, the Teacher has left, and the chapter’s even titled “Après la pluie” (after the rain)— the gang’s confrontation at the fair is finally over.

The next chapter will probably either be a flashback or a breather chapter, possibly both. I’d really like to see Domi, Jeanne, and possibly the onlooking (and very terrified) dhams drag their boys back to the hotel and everyone start to get patched up. The ending of Chapter 55 seems to hint that we might be following Noé into a dream/ flashback sequence showing us another (likely much less idealized) version of his childhood with the Teacher— we see a few panels of the flashback we saw back in chapter 6, but this time Noé is looking up at the Teacher rather than down.

Another lil hint we get about the next chapter comes with VnC 55’s English title— “his wish (part 1)”. It’s unclear who this is talking about, but I’m pretty sure we’ll find out next chapter. The title kinda feels like it’s about the Teacher, could it indicate more Teacher content next chapter ///eyes emoji/?

Other predictions! I’m not quite sure how Mochijun is gonna gift us some canon levity after the darkness that was the previous 9 chapters of VnC, but I think she’s gonna pull it off somehow. I’m so incredibly ready to see casual interactions between the four main characters, and can’t wait to see how their dynamic is gonna shift after everything they’ve just been through together. I’m hoping to see some of them (looking at you Vanitas and Noé / Noé and Domi / Domi and Jeanne) sit down and actually talk about their feelings. But mainly I just hope they get to relax for more than ten seconds.

Chapter 55 has left me with an absolute ton of questions about the future of VnC, but the main one that’s stuck in my brain at the moment is… I’m not sure whether this is the end of the Exposition Universalle Arc or not.

This one rainy night at the fair has taken up 9 chapters. This is nowhere near the current longest arc of the manga, Return of the Beast (sitting at 19 or 21, depending on how you count 22 and 43), but is already longer than some of the previous arcs we’ve had— Hunters of the Dark was a mere 6 to 8 chapters (again, this depends on how you count intermediaries like 12 and 19), and the Parisian Excursion and Bal Masqué arcs combined only make up 11 to 13 chapters. It feels like we’re nowhere near the end of the Exposition arc— Mikhail is still out there, the Teacher just revealed his place as a major player on the board, we’ve only gotten a lot more questions and no answers.

But at the same time, I can’t help but kinda feel like the Exposition Universalle arc is over. Comte’s parting words to the kids— “Inevitably, there will come a time when you must wake and face reality. When it comes, let’s meet again, mes chatons. And you as well… human heir to ‘Blue’…”— make it sound like he’s planning on not seeing them again for a considerable amount of time. Notably and very suspiciously, he excludes Jeanne from his invitation.

Even though the core story feels far from over, I feel like we may be reaching the end of the Exposition Universalle arc. The overarching story about Comte and Luna will absolutely continue, but I kinda feel like we’re going to get some sort of intermediary arc (or possibly even multiple arcs) where we return to the rest of the story for a little while before launching into what I will temporarily dub Exposition Universalle Act 2.

Of course, I could absolutely be wrong about this, and the Exposition Universalle/ Mikhail/ Comte Arc could just be getting started. Whatever the case may be, I’m pretty sure we’ll get some indication of where the plot will go from here in the next few chapters.

I think we’ve finally, finally reached

the end (for now)

I love vnc chapter 55.

Thank you so much for reading this analysis/ meta/ breakdown/ theory thing! As always, this is 100% just my interpretation of the manga so far and I am probably very very wrong about all of this…. so please take everything here with a heart-unhealthy dose of salt. I will be back for more vnc content tomorrow, but since this is [probably] the last big meta thing I’ll post in 2021, thanks so much for reading my various slow descents into insanity this year. I can’t wait to see what Mochijun has in store for us in 2022.

[coalitiongirl]

Fic Recs (under 300 edition)

So I wanted to get back to reading Swan Queen fic regularly, and I asked people to rec longfic that they'd read (not written) and loved that had fewer than 300 kudos! I haven’t read most of these, but I’ve collected them here so y’all can go through the list and discover some new fics with me! Please try to kudos and review every fic that you read! It means the world to the writers and will keep em writing, and then we all win. 😁

Atonement by SgtMac (M): With Regina's magical heart failing thanks to years of previous evil, Emma and Regina and Henry (and Granny!) set out to save her life by traveling to the Enchanted Forest and requesting help from ancient magical beings known as the Guardians. Given a mission as simple as it is impossible - to achieve atonement by creating peace - the ladies find themselves joining a rebellion and fighting for the very soul of the Enchanted Forest all while trying to help Regina to understand that the self-loathing and guilt which have driven most of her actions don't have to doom her chance for a new beginning or even, a chance to live and love again. A S4(ish) SQ love story set against the turmoil of war and the chaotic savagery of the old world.

Blood and Sand by cheshire6845 (E): A/U The Savior is a slave forced into the role of fighting as a gladiator for the House of Hearts. The odds are against her survival as she will have to win in the arena, navigate Cora's schemes, outlast a general's vengeance, and not be killed out of spite by the current House of Hearts Champion - Regina the Undefeated. This story follows the major plot points of Starz Spartacus with some twists along the way.

But what if there was no time by KizuRai (M): When she wakes up, it's dark. She can't move, she can't see, she can't feel and she can't hear. Where am I? She feels a forceful oppression, pressing her down, draining her of her energy and she's powerless to stop it. How did I get here? The question of here is relative, she's not even sure where here is. What happened? There must be some reason for being stuck here but her memory is fuzzy, like all her thoughts are being sifted through a filter. Who am I? She's not sure if she actually exists or she suddenly became sentient in the darkness.She hears a voice reverberating in the distance, it's distorted and quiet but she hears it all the same. It breaks the monotony of the silence. Someone's coming for her, they will get her out. She's just not sure she wants them to as the price might be too great.

Finding Home by evl_rgl (T): “I wanted to remember you so badly that I pulled back your cursed town just so that the memories would make sense. I needed you so badly that even when I had no memory of you, I still tried to find you.” Regina gave Emma and Henry memories of a happy life together before they fled Pan’s curse, leaving them with no memories of their lives in Storybrooke. However, when the memory spell shows signs of failing, threatening to rip apart the minds of both Emma and Henry, Regina makes a drastic choice to go back and fix it, understanding that it will mean living alone in a world where her son doesn’t know her. Was the spell really faulty, though? (swanqueen)

Five Flames by MariaComet (U): In the past, Emma Nolan disconnected from her peers in high school, preferring to keep to herself. In her sophomore year of high school, she decided to try and join the boy’s wrestling team because she was bored. She didn’t expect herself to become the champion of the most bullied kid in school or the secret best friend of the school queen. She also didn’t expect to join a club that would change her life. In the present, Emma is trying to cope with a humiliating loss in her martial arts career. She claims to be “training” but is stuck in limbo between wanting to retire and try again. She is isolated from her former best friend, Regina Mills, a local celebrity chef and the rest of her old friends. When one of them calls her with an idea to honor their deceased teacher, she is confronted with unresolved feelings and questions about how powerful love truly is.

A Glamour of Truth by PrincessCharming (T): After 2x10, Regina uses magic to show Emma the obvious truth. A tentative trust forms between them amid hilarious bickering. With Emma's help, Regina struggles to regain a place in her son's life... until Cora arrives, wanting her daughter back. Pieces of Regina's past emerge showing that the board was set long before the game started. The final battle begins soon.

His Dark Materials 'verse by MoonlitMidnight (M): A modern Alternate Universe in which Dæmons (the external physical manifestation of a person's 'inner self' that takes the form of an animal) are present. In which Emma and Regina have led slightly different lives and they make slightly different choices.

How Many Miles to Avalon? (WIP) by RavenOutlander (E): Regina would do anything to save Emma from the darkness and bring her back home safe and sound. Even put up with the two idiots, Captain Guyliner and a bunch of dwarves she decidedly wanted to drop off at the nearest exit. But in their search for Emma, they find that she might not need that much saving after all. Caught up in a search for the infamous Philosopher Stone, an all out war between DunBroch and Camelot, and ghosts from the past to haunt her every waking moment, Regina finds herself scrambling to keep her and her family's happy endings from falling apart.

The Hyperion by FrankenSpine (M): After wishing upon what she believes is a shooting star, Emma Swan finds herself aboard the Hyperion, the royal starship of an alien Queen from a faraway galaxy. She quickly learns of the tensions between the Queen's people and her own, but the Queen takes an interest in her and agrees to take her away from Earth forever. Adventure awaits. *(Loosely based on Guardians of the Galaxy with just a hint of Farscape)*

If Wishes Came True (It Would've Been You) by Angeii_K (M): After Regina films a guest appearance on her friend Neal’s popular show, he invites her to spend the weekend with him and his girlfriend. What she never expected was to actually like the woman. Sparks fly between the two, which results in them questioning everything and making choices they will later regret. 4 years later, they meet again in the most unexpected of ways. Now co-stars on the same show, they are forced to work through the emotions from their last encounter. What will happen next? Only time will tell.

The King Doesn’t Have To Know (WIP) by highheelsandchocolate (M): The White Knight had never seen anyone like her before: the Queen was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her possessive yet neglectful husband, however, was another thing entirely.

The Lich by Dangereaux (M): Gay disaster Emma, exasperated Regina, and a monster. A Halloween special.

Maybe if We Close Our Eyes we Can Reach the Stars by wellthizizdeprezzing (T): Emma is a lonely astronaut. Regina is an adventuring alien. Their paths cross leading them onto a journey of new discovery. Between galaxies and many miles of cold black space, despite not speaking the same language, they manage to fall for each other. An out of this world love story.

A prisoner long forgotten by sugarsweet_19 (M): ‘I wish I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood and as black as the wood of the window-frame. Soon after she had a little girl, who was as white as snow, with lips as red as blood and with her hair as black as the ebony of the window-frame. She was therefore called Snow-white.” This is how our story starts but how will it end?The evil queen as been locked up in a tower and forgotten that is until princess Emma looks for a place to hid from her parents after they tell her she has to marry Neal the son of the dark one.

Revenge of the Three Little Pigs by mskyo (M): Regina and Emma find themselves alone and looking for the rest of their party. The Evil Queen must face the consequences of her past actions. Will Emma come to her aid, or understand that justice must be served... *Some chapters have fairly graphic sex, and violence*

Things I Almost Remember by cheshire6845 (T): A/U Despite an oncoming war between the Dark and the Light, Emma and Regina are best friends growing up in the Enchanted Forest. When war does come, they find themselves on opposite sides. Regina will have to defy her mother to save Emma. Will Emma be able to save Regina when Cora curses her daughter to live in the Land without Magic?

What We Make (WIP) by DiazTuna (M): “My mother.” He says calmly. He’d known all along, she’s aware. But he’d known that today would be the day that would get this going. She wants to ask what it was like, to have woken up this morning, laced up his boots and walked into hell just knowing. “It’s programmed the cyborg to kill her. Before I have a chance to be born.” -In which the leader of the future sends his best soldier back to the past to save his mother from a killer cyborg. Terminator AU.

The Wrong Way by pcworth (M): Takes place right after Zelena steals Regina's heart. Zelena offers Regina a chance to go back in time with her and change both of their lives for the better. But what will be the price of that decision. Slow-burn to SwanQueen

zombie trash by 13pens (T): Zelena could have her brain and eat it, too. Fic operates on three premises 1. this takes place in any universe where zelena is a reformed asshole 2. zombies are a thing and exist iZombie style 3. i have NO chill

[mandareeboo]

ok now im curious what your most petty thing is (regarding the dp post)

Oooh boy, here we go! Buckle up fuckers this is gonna be a longer one.

My senior year of high school, I took a creative writing class. Partially because I needed to fill the slot, mostly because I wanted to improve my writing (spoiler: I did not). Now, my high school was a three floor building- first was mostly gym, second was general, and the third was senior lockers and art classes. I spent a good chunk of my schedule senior year on the second and third floor, going between an art class to my earth science (I took that one entirely as filler, but also bc I like science) to my locker and so on.

Creative writing? Creative writing was in the fucking basement. Go to the first floor, go to a corner generally used for health and development classes, to another corner, follow a ramp and some stairs, and boom there it is kind of basement. (Side note but this teacher was REALLY into attendance and would get you in trouble if you were late which was really annoying since basically no other class was in that part of the building).

My creative writing teacher wasn't bad, per se. I've had worse teachers. I had an algebra teacher who delighted in making freshman girls cry and mocking them for it. I had a journalism teacher who would use her class time reporting how Hilary was secretly ill during the election. I had a history teacher say trans people weren't real to an openly gender nonconforming student (I didn't know them well enough to ask for specifics on their alignment, but they were using they/them at that point) and set up assignments just to mock students on the take they were told to make. It was more that she was uncreative and took it out on the kids doing creative writing.

She gave us two books to read. Basically “how I write” by published authors. I don’t remember the first one well enough and I donated it ages ago, but the second was Stephen King’s “On Writing”. It was 3/4′s personal stories about his life and 1/4′s “also write a bit every day”.  I mostly remember the first author bc she had those fake dreadlocks white people do when they destroy their hair and she gleefully told a story about making her son have a meltdown at a party or wedding or something bc he got overwhelmed and she wanted him to learn that “sometimes you don’t get what you want”. So. You know. Not much there.

She also instructed us to write in a journal every day, which she would check every few months or so. It had to be at least half a page. She would leave little comments in every one else’s journals when she checked them, but not mine- I realized pretty quickly she was a bit uncomfortable with LGBT+ content, so I made it my mission to make every journal drabble as gay as possible bc I was bored and she couldn’t mark them WRONG when she just stated we needed to write.

But it doesn’t end there! Through the entire class, we got exactly five writing projects. Stories that follow very specific guidelines that we would then read in front of the class, group proofread, and then have the teacher give final grades for. These things were approximately like a thousand words a piece, and I was writing out my 10,000 word “It Starts off Small” story in class when I got bored, so it wasn’t difficult. 

Our first project was a character going through a difficult decision. Or... something? I honestly forget the criteria. Anyway, I was HYPE. I’d had this idea for a long time now a human choosing between peaceful death or reincarnation, and this gave me the push to write it! I had a whole thing planned with death being a deer and reincarnation being a wolpertinger (bc reincarnation leads to many possibilities, ed boy, so a Frankenstein bunny made sense to me). Anyway I poured my heart and soul into this bastard and, bright eyed and bushy tailed, handed it in. My classmates all thought it was pretty good. Not to toot m’own horn, but there was some pretty bad ones going in, so I thought I’d get a solid B or something.

I got a D. I guess the struggle was too metaphorical, or it didn’t perfectly fit her criteria. I was devastated. Then I was mad. Bc I was a bored senior who thought they’d made something pretty decent for this completely optional class and her refusal to see that really hurt me at sixteen (I was always a year younger than my other classmates, so despite being a senior I didn’t turn eighteen until almost a year after graduation)

Well, fuck it, I decided. I’m going to parody the shit out of this class.

Our next project was a fantasy story. I was bitter and grumpy. The other fantasy stories read aloud were stuff like “yeah this dude fought a wizard and got a girl, then they went home and banged” (this was not hyperbole, he would’ve written and read the smut if allowed, I knew him personally) and “this girl that NO ONE UNDERSTOOD was called CRAZY but this S@!$ cheerleader who Stole Her Boyfriend so she killed them all” (fun fact: the girl who wrote that was my age and a sort of half-friend from middle school. She was a yaoi fangirl who didn’t mind lesbians as long as they, you know, didn’t FLIRT with her or something.) 

So I get up there. It’s the last day of presentations. And I present with a polite cheer. My story is about two magical shepherd type figures who are called Sister Brighten and Brother Dick as they chase down a werewolf who was drunk off his ass and accidentally bit someone else. They then revealed they were basically supernatural designated drivers for the whole town. I made Brighten mention that Dick’s name wasn’t even Richard. I titled it “His Favorite Brand is Grayhound”. It fit every single criteria. I got an A. I could tell she didn’t want to, because there was no comments or anything like everyone else’s, but she had to follow her own criteria.

Our third was a conjoined effort thing so I didn’t pull any fuckery there, but the fourth one was about common myths and spinning them into real or fake. One girl did the hook-handed door handle thing and the boyfriend ended up above his truck hanging (somehow???). I think someone did the age-old adage of a haunted wedding dress? I kind of read through those presentations. 

Now, I’m salty-salty at this point. I wasn’t expecting His Favorite Brand is Grayhound to get me a good grade. I half-assed a lot of it. I am in full Not Happy Teenager at this point. I grab a daddy long leg and settle in.

My fourth story of the year is “Paperskin.”

Paperskin is about a boy named Billy with the thinnest skin membrane ever. Just full on body horror. You could see his teeth behind his lips. Billy gets bored one day and wanders out of his house, tries to kick a soccer ball, and breaks a leg. As he’s laying in the grass a daddy long leg bites him- and his skin is so flimsy the fangs sink in and he dies. I’m actually still pretty proud of Paperskin. It’s a horrifying, Edgar Allen Poe of a monstrosity, but it made people squirm, which was the point. The teacher is clearly a bit unnerved at this point, but she gives me another A. 

I wrote a more “normal” story after that of a contentious objector forced to house kids going to see if any confirmed soldier deaths were any of their parents as my final one and I could feel her spite as she gave me a B.

So, yeah. That’s the story of when I tormented my creative writing teacher with The Gays and my weird ass sense of humor after she called one of my best works at that age a piece of shit.

 Here’s a google drive of these bad boys, because yes I do still have these things. I turned these fuckers in for grades, people.

[harryspet]

good girl. bad habits. [2] peter parker

[Warnings] alpha!peter parker x omega!reader, omegaverse, boarding school au, dystopian au, soultmate au, suppressant pills, misogyny, hella angst, heat, intense sexual content (wear a condom kiddos)

A/N: this took way toooo long but overall im happy with how it turned out!

part one

In which Alpha Peter is persistent and you tried to hold onto your power. 

word count: 4.5k

taglist:  @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @yanderepeterparker @ttqueen05 @belleknows @write-from-the-heart @sad-ed-noise @quaksonhehe  @halparkebitchb @bangtaninyourareaxox @blondesforlife​

Wanda was lucky it was Sunday. It was easier to skip Sunday service than regular classes and her severe hangover told you that she wasn’t getting out of bed anytime soon. You walked over to her twin bed and, although you had your own right across from her, you snuggled into her bed. 

“Ugh,” Wanda groaned. 

“That better not be for me,” You frowned.

“It is for you,” As you laid down, she wrapped her arm around you, resting her head on your shoulder, “You’re the one who gave me the booze.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t handle your liquor,” A small smile tugged at your lips until Wanda’s next words met your ears. 

“Goddess, you smell like Alpha.”

“And what do you think you smell like? Is your virtue even still intact?”

“A lady never tells,” Wanda giggled but you scoffed, “I can’t believe that you of all people landed yourself an Alpha. A rich and powerful one too.”

You wish you could react like Wanda. You wished that you could switch a flip and you could see the world through rose-colored glasses, “I wouldn’t say I landed him. He was just acting like a territorial jerk like the rest of them. Who knows, maybe he has a thing for lots of girls. Being a council member's nephew … I’m sure he’s popular.”

“I don’t think so,” You could tell she was smiling by the way she was talking, “Peter didn’t dance with any other girl at the Ball. You’re like Cinderella and he’s your prince charming. Just promise you won’t forget me when you’re royalty.”

“I hope you know I’d rather swallow a knife than be associated with that family.”

Wanda didn’t listen to you as she continued, “Maybe it is true that opposites attract.”

+

Word spread fast around the Stark School and every question someone asked you was about Peter and whether or not you were mates. You denied any connection that you had with him and you made sure to have a scowl on your face when you did. This whole situation was hurting your reputation and making you appear weak. Before the ball, girls didn’t dare approach you out of fear that you’d poison their precious minds.

You preferred when people were scared of you. 

To make matters worst, you woke up thinking about you-know-who and almost all your thoughts were starting to revolve around him. That was enough to drive you insane. 

You decided that for the next few weeks you’d be on your worst behavior. You managed to break your previous record for your number of infractions within a single week. Every teacher that tried to scold you for misbehaving, you snapped back at. Your skirt got shorter and your makeup became even more extravagant. 

Today, you finally managed to get back at the girl who always kicked your shins when you played soccer in physical education. Once she shoved past you, you reached back to grab a fistful of her hair. She cried out as she fell back and you heard the screaming of a whistle though you ignored it. 

It was like all the frustration of your life had reached its boiling point. You hated everything about how your life had turned out. You knew the world wasn’t fair but now it just felt cruel. 

Wanda had to pull you off of her to keep you from punching her, “Y/L/N, off the field now!” You heard your teacher say. Wanda was saying something, trying to calm you down, but you shrugged her off. You were already walking away from the field and towards the bleachers. 

You figured you’d walk all the way back to dorms to let yourself blow off steam but you found a familiar face waiting behind the bleachers. 

Your face fell and you thought your knees might give in. Clad in his uniform, his red tie, and a blazer that held the Asgard symbol completed the look. He looked put together unlike you. Your knees were bruised, your hair a mess, and your gym clothes were now covered in grass stains.

“What … What are you doing here?” You asked the young Alpha and, as he looked you over, he almost seemed concerned.

He stepped closer, his eyes burning holes into your skin, “I came to watch you play but … I don't think you’re making the team anytime soon.”

“Don’t you have your own life to worry about? I don’t know, maybe school? Or does your uncle have too much influence for you to have to worry about pesky things like grades?” Peter opened his mouth to retort but you interrupted him. His lips pressed into a thin line of frustration as he let you finish, “You know what, Alpha-boy? I really can’t do this right now.”

You gritted your teeth as you turned to walk away, only for a strong hand to wrap around your wrist. You turned to last out but, like a candle blown out by the wind, you felt your anger melt away. The calm settled on the features of your face and then it traveled through the rest of your body. 

You looked down at his hand touching your skin, realizing that he was the source, “I meant what I said last time,” He spoke calmly but you could hear the seriousness in his tone, “You’re mine, Y/N.”

“How did you do that?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowed. Your voice was small once again and it made you wonder how long you had been raising your voice. 

“Do what?” Peter smirked and, as much as you wanted to scowl, you couldn’t, “Isn’t this better? Having a moment where you’re not so angry at the world? If you’d just give me a chance, I could help you.”

“And what’s in it for you?” You already knew the answer. There was a part of him deep inside that craved the intimacy you could give him. He wanted someone to care for and to protect but he also wanted territory that he could claim and heirs to carry his name. As Peter searched your face, he could tell you already knew his answer, “I’m never going to want to be someone’s property, no matter what magic you try to work on me.”

“It’s not magic,” Peter insisted, “It’s a mate bond. I think … I think our souls are somehow connected.”

You couldn’t deny that you thought it was true. You could resist him but not the connection you were feeling, “Then we’ll break it-” Your mouth shut as if your body was mad at you for even letting those words escape your lips. 

His eyes turned black, “Give me time with you. I’ll convince you otherwise.”

You finally pulled your arm away from him as a group of girls walked past, heading back towards the school. Some stared in awe and others whispered to each other, “I can’t believe this,” You whispered, letting the anger seep back in, “There will be no us time because you’re not even supposed to be here.”

“Winter Break,” He spoke simply, not paying the girls any mind, “You’ll come stay with my family. My Aunt May wants to meet you and Pepper thought it would be inappropriate to ask you herself …”

You blinked, wondering why the hell he wanted you, of all people, to meet his family, “The answer would’ve been no … I have to shower before Calculus.”

You turned away, your arms crossed but he called for you as you walked away again, “Where will you go then?”

“I don’t know, I’ll have Christmas with the nuns and the groundskeepers or something.”

You looked back to see he wasn’t chasing you. He only took a deep breath and stuffed his hands into his back pockets, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

+

Peter was used to quiet dinners with his Aunt and Uncle. Usually, when he talked, Tony would respond with something snappy and condescending. Peter had learned over the years not to shake things up but that only led to anger and frustration being built up within. Peter was an Alpha but Tony was an Alpha of Alphas. 

“You’ve been skipping school,” Tony didn’t meet Peter’s eyes as he brought a piece of steak to his mouth. Peter tried not to freeze or show any hint of guilt on his face. 

Peter had come to visit you multiple times after the situation on the soccer field. As he expected, you rejected him with every chance you got but that didn’t stop him from trying to get to know you. His friends teased him for falling head over heels for someone he barely knew. Alphas were supposed to be above that and let the Omegas crawl to them but Peter enjoyed chasing you. 

“Who told you that?” Peter asked casually. 

“You don’t think I have eyes everywhere, genius?” Peter's lips pressed into a thin line as he gripped his fork tightly, poking at his food. 

“Pepper finally confessed. She’s been going behind my back in order to help you,” He felt cornered and the fact that Pepper wasn’t here to defend him only made him more uneasy, “All this for a rebel sympathizer?”

Peter often disagreed with the man who sat upon his golden throne. Within the walls of his million-dollar home, Peter doubted there was a way Stark could possibly even understand the grievances of the people below him. 

“She’s … she’s my mate,” Tony paused and shot Peter a hard glance. 

“I’m sorry, she’s what?”

“I have a feeling, sir.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “A mate? My nephew has a mate …” Tony spoke to himself, “If I want you to be anything like me, Peter, then I should allow you your independence. However, I won’t have her embarrassing this family, so whatever you have to do to correct her behavior, you’ll do it.”

Peter instantly nodded, “I will, I promise.” Peter felt a glimmer of happiness at his Uncle’s acceptance.

“Who knows, maybe converting her will be good for my image. Our image, Peter.” It didn’t surprise Peter in the slightest that Tony’s mind was now working to see how it would benefit him. 

The quiet dinner continued until Pepper arrived with news that would surely steal any light Peter felt in his own heart. 

You had finally escaped the Stark School.

+

The city was cold but the people were colder. The harsh winter and the busy, holiday season left people tired and caused their words to be terse. It was why you preferred the hustling and bustling city of New York. The rankings existed but it seemed everyone was rude to one another. It was nice to see. 

Besides that, in a city of millions of people, you were invincible. With the suppressants you were now on, no one could outwardly tell your ranking and, as long as you kept your head down, no officers asked for your identification. 

The first couple of weeks were stressful but everything seemed to fall in place. You moved your way in and out of shelters, picking up jobs that paid under the table in order to earn money in order to buy more suppressants. 

Omegas were almost as rare as true Alphas. Most people were middle ranking which meant the council controlled them but they were at least treated like human beings. If anyone found out, the council was the least of your worries. 

That’s why when you thought you were having an allergic reaction to them, you stormed down the alleyway where you usually met your dealer, fire in your eyes, “You gave me a botched pills,” You pressed the bag of pills into Loki’s chest. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” He pushed you back with ease, causing you to stumble backwards as he casually stuck his hands back into the pockets of his black jacket. He looked around, trying to seem inconspicuous. 

It was freezing outside but your body was overheating and your anger was boiling over, “Look at me,” You spoke with gritted teeth, “Do I look okay to you?”

“No, you should probably see a Doctor, darling,” His lips turned up into a smirk, “If you don’t mind, I have other matters to attend to.”

As he stepped around your body, you felt a weight on your shoulders. You tried to take a deep breath as you realized how much you were panicking, “Please,” You called after him, grabbing a hold of his arm, “I just need pills. Real pills. I’ll give you the rest of the money that I have.”

Loki looked over his shoulder and down at you, “Council is cracking down on suppressant sellers. They raided a ship carrying them a few nights ago so I wouldn’t expect anymore for a while.”

The man who called himself Loki searched your face, noting the look of desperation in your eyes, “What am I supposed to do then, huh?”

If he cared for your situation in any way, he didn’t show it.

Your hands balled into fist as he walked away but, in doing that, you realized how much your muscles were aching, “Don’t, please,” You walked after him, wincing in pain with every step. He didn’t seem to slow down for you as you tried to catch up to him on the sidewalk. Pain shot through your body and fire surged through your veins. 

As your vision began to blur, you lost him in the crowd of people. Snow fell around you but that didn’t ease any of the burning pain. You tried to push yourself further, somehow find shelter, but with each step you felt even more helpless. When your knees finally gave in and you bit down on your own lip so hard that you tasted blood, no one paid you any mind. To them you were a simple bump in the road. 

+

The place you woke up was the opposite of the buzzing city. The quietness was serene and the cool white light shining down on you was calming. You turned your aching head, wondering what new mess you had gotten yourself into. You found yourself staring out a window, the city outside but it was clear that you were on one of the highest floors of the hospital. 

As someone cleared their throat, your head snapped in the other direction, as you lifted yourself up in the hospital bed. With wide eyes, you stared back at Tony Stark who was comfortably sitting at the chair beside your bed. As you moved, you realized that there was metal keeping you chained to the bed. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Your head began to pound again, most likely because of how fast you had sat up. You knew you weren’t anyone’s favorite but you never thought your deviancy warranted a visit from one of the most powerful men in society … but then you remembered Peter, “... from what I’ve heard, you’re not known for being quiet.”

You shut your eyes tight as you tried to clear your racing thoughts, “Are you here to personally escort me to prison?”

“Sadly, no,” He said, folding his hands as he looked over you, “None of the council members know I’m here and no one knows you’re here either.”

“... so then you’re killing me yourself?”

Tony grinned, “No, sweetheart. Why do you think I had someone patch you up? That poison was making you malnourished and then your heat was draining you even more.”

You froze, “My what?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “I’m guessing this is your first one but I’m sure you’ve read up on it in your studies. They say meeting your soulmate can trigger it …” It looked like he was connecting the dots in his own mind, “There were a lot of things you didn’t consider, Y/N.”

“He’s not …” The words burned as you tried to let them out. 

“Or maybe you ran because you knew the bond was real. Your body, naturally, probably didn’t like the fact that you were rejecting him. Did you consider what it would do to him?”

Something pulled at your heartstrings as you finally thought about how Peter reacted when he found out you’d ran away, “... did something happen?”

Tony cocked his head to the side, “No damages big enough that I couldn’t pay for … am I sensing remorse?”

“I’m not sure how you could when it’s something you’ve never felt,” Tears stung your eyes, the reality of your world settling in, but you still held your head high, “If you’re here to preach, I don’t want to listen. And you’re not getting any gratitude from me.”

He could end your life with the snap of his finger yet that didn’t stop the venom on your tongue. 

With a hard glare, he stood from his seat and took a step towards the bed, “I already agreed with Peter that he will be the one to take care of your … attitude. I truly hope that the next time we see each other you’ll be worthy enough for my nephew. You’re a pretty thing, this anger doesn’t suit you ....may the Goddess with you.”

+

The black car traveled down the gravel road surrounded by evergreen trees. Snow fell lightly and dropped onto the window glass and you watched it melt away as you neared your destination. 

You were expecting doom and gloom as you pulled into the driveway. You didn’t expect the cabin to actually look like a home where happy people could live. Calling it a log cabin wouldn’t be fair to the money that probably went into building the luxury home. You could practically smell the expensiveness as you exited the car, not bothering to let the driver open the door for you. 

You spun in a circle, your boots crushing the ice beneath your feet, as you took in the sight. You saw rolling hills of snow, tall mountains, and a blue-purple sunset that painted the sky. 

When you saw him this time it was different. So much had happened since that night at the Halloween Ball and you didn’t expect him forgive you for being so cold to you but-

He called for you and, as you turned to face him, arms were tightly wrapped around you, “You could’ve died,” Were the first words that left his mouth. You didn’t embrace him back, you weren’t sure how, but your body instantly relaxed against him. It was the same feeling you got at the soccer field. 

You were still speechless when he finally pulled away. His hands were still grabbing your arms as he looked you over for wounds. You were sure that your only flaw was the bags around your eyes from the lack of sleep you’d had over the last few days.

“Do you understand that? Someone could’ve taken you or you could’ve killed yourself.”

“I know-” He smashed his lips against yours, taking the words from your mouth. You pressed your hands against his chest but you didn’t push him away. The kiss was long and deep and, for a moment, the earth stopped spinning on its axis, “I don’t know how to do this, Peter.”

Your foreheads pressed together and his heavy breath fanning against your skin, the two of you tried to catch your breath, “Y/N, it’s okay,” Your name on his tongue was heaven, “This is real and I know you’re scared but it’s okay to accept this. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Do you promise?” You asked, weaker than you’ve ever been. As much as you wanted to blame it on the raging hormones of your heat, you knew what you wanted deep down. 

“Yes,” Peter breathed, “And I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you.”

Peter led you into the warm home, helping you out of your coat, and keeping his hand on the small of your back. Your meeting with Pepper and May was brief. They sat in the kitchen sipping their hot cocos and they only gave you kind glances as Peter informed them that he’d take you up to your room. He could sense that you didn’t want an audience to your pain. 

There were photos on every wall and sentimental ornaments. You had a feeling that by the end of winter break you’d know the story of each item.

“This is where you grew up?” You asked, your eyes wandering your new room. It was more spacious then any place you’d ever lived and the heat from the fireplace only added to the coziness the room provided. 

“We spend every winter here. My Uncle Ben built this place,” Peter spoke succinctly.

“It’s straight out of one of those lifestyle magazines,” You felt Peter’s eyes on you as you slowly walked around the room, “... how did he die?”

“Someone shot him,” His gaze seemed to darken at the memory.

“I’m sorry,” You meant your words but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu. 

“Don’t be,” He shrugged, “I mean, it was a long time ago … I guess I’ll leave you to settle in.”

You sensed he was trying to avoid a touchy conversation and you were more than willing to let him. Just being in his presence was calming but extremely overwhelming. The smallest things he did would cause your thoughts to race and, lately, those thoughts hadn’t been pure. Your mind had been replaying that kiss a million times in your head in the past twenty minutes. 

As his hand gripped the door handle, a sudden wave of heat traveled beneath your skin, “Ah,” You rested your hands against the bed as you bit down on your lip to keep from crying out. It was the same overwhelming fire that you felt that day with Loki. 

“Y/N,” You looked up, realizing that he hadn’t left. He walked towards you hesitantly, “.. you should take off those clothes.”

Your eyes widened, “What? No. I’m fine-” You winced as another wave passed through you, “I’m fine!”

“You’re overheating!” Peter exclaimed and it seemed it was taking everything within him not to do it himself. 

“Peter, I’m fine,” You spoke through gritted teeth, “I can handle it on my own.”

“No, you can’t,” Peter stated nervously, “Sit down on the bed. Let me help you.”

“No,” You said again as you panicked, “I don’t need your stupid Alpha hormones messing up mine. You’re making it worse!”

“I said sit down,” He didn’t raise his voice but there was something different in his tone. Powerful. Your body moved like it never did before. Your body, against your will, sat down on the bed obediently. 

You were left speechless for a moment and Peter seemed to stare at your abnormal behavior but not for long. He kneeled down and began to pull off your shoes and socks, “Peter-” You clutched your side. 

He tossed the clothing to the side before standing. He leaned over you, pulling off your sweater and undershirt. When he finally made it to your belt, your eyes connected, “Don’t say no to me, Omega. I don’t like it, ” Again, your body moved before your mind and you nodded. 

Stupid Alpha hormones.

Without the clothes, you instantly felt better but there was still burning in your veins, “Lay down,” Peter’s hand connected with your shoulder and you felt a coolness soothe the area as he pushed you down. Your back pressed against the soft mattress as you felt your jeans being undone, “There you go.”

“It hurts, Peter,” As the words left your mouth, you felt a kiss against your stomach. Your senses were completely out of whack and the simple touch sent waves of pleasure through your body. He kissed down your stomach to where he was pulling down your jeans. He pulled them down the length of your legs before deciding to rid himself his own clothes. You sat up on your elbows as you watched him reveal himself. 

His body was perfectly crafted, the sight of him causing your core to ache for him. You moved up on your elbows as he stalked closer once again, “Bare your throat to me,” He demanded, lust in his eyes. Your heart began to race and you slowly moved further and further back on the bed as he followed you, “You want me to quell that fire inside, don’t you? I can take that pain away …”

It wasn't a command. He wanted you to go against every standard you’d set for yourself and  willingly show him the ultimate sign of submission. He grabbed your hands, moving them so they were pinned above your head, as he settled between your legs. You felt his growing member pressed against your crotch, teasing you. 

“Please don’t,” You begged and you watched his lips tug into a small smile. He leaned down closer, holding your smaller hand in his tightly, and you couldn’t run from that feeling anymore, “Peter, I can’t-”

“But you want to, Omega. You want to be tamed. You want me to be by my side, protected and loved for the rest of your days,” Peter grunted, pressing himself further into you. All you wanted was his lips on you again, “Now be a good girl for me.”

Your eyes shut tight as you turned your head, exposing your neck to the Alpha that called you his soulmate. He took the sign of submission as a green light to ravish your body. He pressed his lips against the skin of your neck, leaving rough bites along your skin, and you thought you might go deaf from how loud you were screaming in pleasure. 

Peter kissed every inch of your body and you found yourself desperately trying to taste him as well. You realized that a switch had flipped inside of you a long time ago and you weren’t sure how you managed to resist it for long. Like a predator who finally captured his prey, Peter devoured you. 

Your first times were nothing like the movie. You didn’t feel any sort of pain and your bodies were so synced that you felt anything but awkward. You felt like you knew him completely in this life and your past lives before, 

“Please, please, please.”

He sunk deep inside of you, rocking the furniture and destroying the room, “You take me so good,” You nodded eagerly, the sound of his wanting voice driving you insane, “Fuck, get on top of me.” He smacked your bottom and your lips tugged into a tired smile. 

After taking you in missionary, you switched positions, and you rode him until your second climax. Your arms wrapped around each other as you moved your hips. When he finally came he was deep inside you, his moans were enough to send you over the edge for the third time, “Peter, I’m gonna--again!” Your arms wrapped around his neck, you kissed passionately as he filled you with his warmth. 

“You were fucking made for me,” Peter breathed against your lips, “Thank the Goddess.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks but Peter brushed them away with his thumb. You hadn’t realized the love you’d been lacking until now. You didn’t know a stranger's love could be so unconditional but it seemed he wasn’t a stranger at all. Whatever consequences came from this, you thanked the Goddess that you could feel again. 

+

i might write a part three to this but i left it on a happy ending in case it takes me awhile to get to it!

[writing-in-april]

The Big Bluff

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer goes up against a professional poker player.

A/N: This is almost a purely self indulgent fic, once I had this idea I really really wanted to write it for myself. I wrote all of this today while sick so I’m proud of myself lmao. Also ‘the woman’ Is definitely inspired by Irene Adler. Thanks for letting me have the third person today @zhuzhubii (inside joke thanks to)and thanks to @imagining-in-the-margins who helped me figure out where the story was gonna go. Last day of my 500 follower celebration!! I did 7 fics in 7 days!! Thanks y’all so much for supporting me!!

Warnings: Smut, Fighting for dominance, Hand job, Spitting, Fingering, Choking - uhh should be it.

Masterlist Word count: 2.3k

The casino lights were bright as she walked in through the main entrance of the casino that was dripping in finery. She was a vision in red, dressed to the nines in a red dress that left little to the imagination. She was here to blow off some steam, though not in the way people would assume. The woman in red was a professional poker player, normally playing high stakes games that were also televised for people’s enjoyment. Usually people would try to escape what they did at work on the weekends, but not her as she rather enjoyed the adrenaline that pumped through her veins just as she was about to win.

A man sat across from her at the table she chose with fluffy brown hair that curled slightly and wearing clothes that didn’t fit with the overall aesthetic of everyone else there. She would have assumed normally that he was an amateur player, only here to blow off steam (Plus his money) for the weekend by playing poker and laying in bed with someone. There was something about his demeanor however the way he acted just subtly arrogant as he waited for the dealer to start, that told her that he was the one to watch during the game.

Sure enough after the first round he had won, the woman lost nothing in the hand as she had folded right when she realized she’d gotten a bad hand. Worry still had creeped up on her as she gazed at the man who looked more like a teacher’s assistant rather than a poker player, she couldn’t be seen to lose even if this wasn’t a high stakes game, she had a reputation to uphold. She could’ve left the table, gone to find some easier people to swindle, but the challenge to bring the mystery man down was too hard to ignore.

During the next round her eyes almost never left the stranger only looking down every so often at the cards she had been dealt. It got to the point in the game where everyone had folded besides her and the man, she had been raising the stakes too high for everyone else to be comfortable with participating even if they thought they had a good hand. The whole table sucked in a breath as she went all in with her bet, no one at the table seemed to be able to get a read on her, including the man who thought he was unbeatable.

“I fold.” A triumphant smirk came across her face while taking a celebratory gulp of the wine she had ordered as the man had finally admitted defeat, this was exactly the kind of adrenaline rush she had been searching for. The look on his face was pure rage, she got the sense that he hardly got angry probably because he hardly lost.

She raked in all the chips she had earned, but then decided to not show her winning hand. It was far more satisfying to her to see the frustration on everyone’s faces, to see them try to figure out her game. Was she bluffing or not?

Once she had cashed them in she left to go to her hotel in a cab that she had called until she saw the man waiting by the entrance waiting and stopped. He looked like he was waiting for someone rather impatiently by the way he was tapping his foot.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah you.” He remarked rather simply, his foot still tapped impatiently clearly fed up with her even though the amount of words they had spoken to each other could be counted on two hands.

“Why are you looking for me?” She played the part of a coy woman perfectly, she knew exactly why he was looking for her. His cocky demeanor at the table had quickly given away to her that he rarely lost any hand that he was dealt, whether it was a bad one or not.

“How did you win? Were you bluffing? You must have been bluffing...Or you just got lucky...” His ranting would’ve been cute in any other circumstance, the fact that he had assumed what had gone down, that she was in fact only lucky or bluffing made her blood boil.

“How did you get away with card counting?” She countered back a little irritated that he had assumed that the only way she could win was if she was bluffing or getting lucky. He seemed caught off guard by her question, unable to comprehend how someone had caught him after mastering the subtle art of card counting over the years. Though she was irritated at him, she still wanted to know more about the man who looked more like a teacher's assistant than a poker player, even if she had beaten him it was still obvious that he was good at the game. “What’s your name?”

“Spencer.” His impatience was even worse now looking almost frantic at her slow pace in the conversation, he was more focused on her skills rather than her name.

“Well- Spencer it was nice to meet you, but I have to get going, better luck next time.” She wasn’t dumb, she knew he was going to follow her out to her cab, her real aim was to hopefully get him to come back to the hotel with her. She may have been looking for a poker game to release some tension, that had somewhat worked, however this game seemed far more fun.

“Please- I need to know.” His shouted out words had attracted the attention of a few casino goers who were not happy with the fact that a man was yelling right outside the doors of the casino. The little wave he gave as an apology before sprinting a little to get closer to her was cute, deepening her desire to take the man for a ride, maybe he wasn’t as much of a hot arrogant asshole that she thought.

“Why don’t you come with me if you want to find out.” She flashed him a coy smirk before ducking into the cab. The man she now knew as Spencer may be arrogant when it comes to his poker skills, but underneath it all she could tell there was a man that was intriguing. She wanted to get to know him beyond his card counting skills and possibly jump his bones. The fact that he was gorgeous did nothing but stoke the fire that he ignited during their heated conversation.

Spencer did take up her offer and got into the back seat with her. Though, whether he had caught onto the other game that they had started to play was still a mystery to her.

They had made it up to her room in the swanky hotel on the strip, being a professional did bring her in big money. The look in his eyes as he stood waiting near the door told her that he had definitely caught onto the game she had carefully set up for them. There was still a way to back out, to exit through the door where he came from, there was no chance in hell he was backing away from the woman he found infuriating but extremely gorgeous.

“You still haven’t given me your name.” The one thing that was holding him back, the fact that he still didn’t know her name. The name fell from her lips dripping with seduction, she was irresistible to him almost nothing could make him leave the room.

He surged forward to capture her lips with his own, he expected to gain dominance over the kiss swiftly though it was more difficult than he first expected. He was met with a pair of lips that wouldn’t let him gain access that he wanted, he tried to slip his tongue into her mouth but was quickly barred from entering.

She would not be giving up dominance easily.

“Condom?” He said breathlessly into my lips while she worked on the buttons of his shirt after I had hastily pushed his cardigan off and tossed it somewhere in the room.

“In my purse.” She released him to rummage through the purse that had dropped onto the floor in their haste. Once she had found what she was looking for she stood up to find Spencer sitting at the edge of the bed, belt now discarded with his slacks undone.

She moved to stand just slightly in front of him then pulled the straps of her red dress down until it pooled onto the floor. Their eyes were both blown with lust only focused on each other. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath besides a lace red thong to match the dress. Spencer was practically salivating at the sight of her only in heels and a thong, he was so distracted by it that he was caught off guard when she moved to straddle him while also pushing him to lay flat on his back.

Pulling his boxers down just enough she pulled his cock out, he was half hard at this point, she was already impressed with his size though she masked it with her practiced poker face.

“Now you’re going to sit back and look pretty while I have my way with you.” The anger on his face was prevalent in response to her words, the fight was taken away from him when she spit into her hand and started to jerk his length. Her hand moved up and down in a teasing manner not getting him even close to the edge, his moans caught up in his throat though one did escape in frustration after she had almost completely pulled away from him. Finally he had enough of her teasing, batting away her hand and flipping her over.

“Now it’s your turn to look pretty.” He pinned both of her hands above her head holding them together with one hand while the other dipped down to the apex of her thighs. At first he didn’t let her have anything she wanted, only running his fingers on her inner thighs and dancing his fingers right above her hole that was now absolutely dripping.

“Beg.” His voice was now harsh and biting, that did little to intimidate her and all it did was make her even wetter. She fought his grip with vigor not wanting to give into his demand.

“No, I won’t beg.” She said through gritted teeth, it had become much harder to finish her sentence when Spencer had unexpectedly curled his fingers inside of her, finding that perfect spot inside her faster than she had expected.

“You don’t want to beg fine, but don’t expect to cum.” The growl in frustration that came from her made Spencer pause just a little, long enough that she could retake control and flip him back over. A squeak fell from him clearly not expecting her to be able to take back control again and another noise came out from him, this time a broken moan, after she quickly put the condom down and she sunk down onto his length.

“I don’t beg for anyone.” She started at a rough pace, her anger came out in her movements as she undulated her hips with fury that Spencer had never experienced before in the bedroom. The moans falling from each of their lips would surely get her a complaint from her neighbors, neither of them could really care less as they both chased their release.

Spencer may have been on the bottom at this point, but he still had not submitted completely to her. His hands sat firmly on her hips, tight enough to create finger shaped bruises that she hoped would remain for the days after this tryst while he also thrusted with the same vigor as her bounces.

She wrapped her hands around his jaw pulling him up slightly to envelope him into a kiss full of teeth and tongue. As her hand slowly pulled away from him it made contact with the hollow of his throat, his breath hitched at the light contact and he gripped her hips a little harder. She hesitantly moved her hand to connect with his throat to lightly choke him, she may have wanted to dominate him, but she didn’t want to scare him off. He gave an approving grunt at her actions, starting to meet her thrusts even harder than he had before and moved his thumb to rub circles into her clit.

“Cum.” She ordered as soon as she sensed their coming releases. He wanted to fight her on the order, not wanting to give up what little dominance he still held, but his release was so close that he didn’t want to give it up. Their releases washed over them, Spencer first and then her not long after being shoved over the ledge after seeing how pretty he looked while cumming. She fell on top of him, limbs quite tired from her vigorous work.

As soon as she had caught her breath she enveloped Spencer in a long languid kiss that was much slower than any of their previous ones then getting up to meander with shaky legs her way to the bathroom in her hotel room to clean up. She slipped into a pair of her sexier pajamas, just in case Spencer was going to stay the night like she wanted.

“So will you tell me now if you were bluffing?” He quickly pounced the question onto me as soon as I emerged from the bathroom, he did seem a little less frustrated about the fact that he had lost, more like he genuinely wanted to know my process.

“Guess you’ll never know. It could take a long time to figure out our tells.” She feigned exhaustion with a sigh though the smirk on her face told Spencer what she really wanted. He was an expert on behavior after all.

“I've got time.”

[decennia]

i give u free reign to infodump ab all of the knights and the og army bc i am vv intrigued agjgssgsh

THERE IS SO MUCH HERE OMFG MORAL OF THIS STORY NEVER ASK ME TO INFO DUMP BECAUSE I WILL TAKE FULL ADVANTAGE OF IT—

I've separated it into sections:

The Knights of Walpurgis, and the motivations for their assigned sins.

Dumbledore's First Resistance, and the motivations for their assigned virtues.

The dynamics between the opposing contenders.

Given the sheer volume of information, I've included a cut. Please enjoy this manip that I am still very proud of.

THE KNIGHTS OF WALPURGIS (later known as Death Eaters) Tom Riddle (Pride)

Pride and arrogance were very large contributing factors to Tom Riddle's downfall in the end, and honestly, the whole idea for the gifset came from Florence + The Machines' Seven Devils playing while casually thinking of Dagrim and Tom, and then about how perfectly Tom would fit as Lucifer.

Dagrim Patil (Avarice)

When questioned about what she wants, and what Riddle promised her in exchange for her unwavering loyalty, her response is, quite simply: everything. Dagrim grew up starved not for affection, but recognition. And what she was denied in childhood, she would take in adulthood by force. Her philosophy is that if something is worth wanting, it is worth taking.

Cantankerous Nott IV (Lust)

We know so little about Theodore Nott's father from the source material, other than he was elderly, and he raised Theo himself. And that he was a Death Eater, of course. His name is an ode to his ancestor, the Cantankerous Nott who created the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood directory. I assigned him "lust" purely for the events leading to the conception of his son (sis, it gets messy).

Abraxas Malfoy (Envy)

Abraxas Malfoy envied Tom Riddle to the point of a half attempted mutiny. He was quickly put in his place, his co-conspirators made examples of, and spared only for his close friendship with Dagrim, who pleaded for his life. Riddle, who trusted Dagrim to a fault for all she'd done to earn it, conceded. Abraxas would later prove himself to Riddle again, regaining his seat among Riddle's favoured generals. He was the one who taught Lucius to never disobey the Dark Lord, and he was not a kind teacher.

Ulysses Mulciber (Gluttony)

Indulgence and excess, spoiled rotten and filthy rich. The Mulcibers were the richest of the Sacred at one point in their lives, rivalled only by the Malfoys. Ulysses never knew the meaning of "enough," and was a glutton not only in all manners of vice, but also for cruelty, dealing it out carelessly with little to no regard for the repercussions he was well protected from by his noble standing and wealth. He was one of Riddle's greatest allies and sponsors, and instrumental in his rise to power.

Carmilla Avery (Wrath)

Carmilla was in the year above Riddle, and was quick to anger and slow to calm. Her temper was legendary, and even her younger brothers – also admitted into the Death Eater ranks – feared her. She had an untempered fury, a rage at the world for no reason at all. She developed an unhealthy codependency with Abraxas Malfoy, who served to have a soothing presence over her. People seldom survive crossing her, as her reputation dictates.

Serafine Lestrange (Sloth)

Serafine is not lazy (as the sin "sloth" would suggest), she just lacks the motivations to pursue the goals that are expected of her. A particularly bright witch, and a wealthy one too, she never applied herself at school for she didn't see the need. Instead, she fell into a fascination of the Dark Arts, where she met Riddle, perusing the Restricted Section. She is rather discontented with life, disillusioned from already such a young age. She initially joins Riddle's gang for the excitement of it all.

DUMBLEDORE'S FIRST RESISTANCE (later known as the Order of the Phoenix in its official conception in 1970)

Albus Dumbledore (Patience)

Name a man more patient than Dumbledore, I'll wait. Better yet, he'll wait, because he's patient as hell. So patient, in fact, he waited until after Harry's supposed death to come to him as a hallucination and tell him about how he was a Horcrux.

Rathin Patil (Temperance)

Temperance is abstinence, and I wanted to explore the kind of toll having his sister so far gone into the dark would have on any man, let alone one who really cared for her and wanted to do right by her. Rathin is not a perfect man, he is still fallible, and unfortunately, he develops a dependent comfort in inebriation when Dagrim disappears with Riddle. He pulls himself back together, especially when he becomes Isaiah Moody's partner at the Ministry, and he begins to pursue Miraya.

Miraya Varma (Diligence)

Methodical and persistent, Miraya Varma earned herself a position at the Ministry immediately out of Hogwarts where she would later go on to form her own task force within the Ministry specifically designed for the interrogation and recommended sentencing of dark wizards and witches. She has been known to put her duty first, up until the birth of her son, Divyansh Patil, father to Padma and Parvati.

Isaiah Moody (Humility)

For a very long time, people seldom knew the Moody name, and that was the way Isaiah liked it. He believed that his line of work would endanger his loved ones (in spite of his wife being in the same profession) and so he never took credit for the numerous arrests he made. It was Isaiah who suspected something was strange about Morfin Gaunt's arrest while investigating the Riddle Massacre, and consulted Dumbledore about it. Once his identity was discovered and he was viewed as a threat by Riddle, an attack was made on his heavily pregnant wife, jeopardizing her and his unborn boy's (Alastor) life.

Minerva McGonagall (Chastity)

Mini Minnie is seventeen, my dudes. But not only that, Minerva grew up with a religious father (he was canonically a reverend), who probably taught her his values. Also given the fact that Minerva was the first of the younger generation to participate and involve herself in the war (she sought out Dumbledore and enlisted herself into his Resistance, fearing her family would be made into another statistic if she didn't at least do something to intervene), she really didn't have much time to think about something as arbitrary as the concept of virginity. Also, it's the 1950s.

Corinne Scamander (Kindness)

Corrine is honestly the greatest. She has all of the tenacity of Tina, and the best qualities of Newt. It was Dumbledore's previous bond with Newt that encouraged him to recruit her, and she willingly accepted, because of course she would. She'd always been the soft spoken girl with a tender touch and a love for life, and she was often the advocate for hope in the resistance. She was adept in a few healing charms she'd learned from her father, and was something of a specialist in magical beings, proving herself to be highly valuable while Riddle was expanding his ranks with all manner of dark creatures.

Declan Diggory (Charity)

Sacrifice is in the Diggory blood, and Cedric's grandfather, Declan, was not the first to prove it. He also, unfortunately, wasn't the last, but he sure was one of the best. Selfless to a fault, Declan would willingly get hypothermia if it meant someone else would have warmth. Diggory's contributions to the war effort consisted of offering sanctuary and shelter to muggleborns who received death threats, and orchestrating the evacuations of targeted muggle residences. He was the leader of a small faction of the resistance, including, but not limited to: Fleamont Potter, Enoch Longbottom, Wilhelm Shacklebolt, and Ramona McKinnon.

DYNAMICS (just the contenders for now because this is hella long)

Albus Dumbledore vs. Tom Riddle

Adversaries, a fair deal of mistrust and guilt from Dumbledore's side (upon reflection, he'd been the one to introduce Tom to the wizarding world; even though he knows that if Riddle had been left unchecked, the risk of him becoming an Obscurus would've resulted in catastrophe all the same). Riddle sees Dumbledore as nothing more than a foolish old man, a pest, and an obstacle to overcome at first, but learns to begrudgingly respect Dumbledore's strength and mastery of magic (after all, Riddle only knew him as the Transfiguration teacher before, and thought the accounts of Dumbledore's victory over Grindelwald had been exaggerated to great effect). Riddle's hubris was believing he could defeat Dumbledore on his own, thinking himself already stronger than Grindelwald ever hoped to be.

Rathin Patil vs. Dagrim Patil

Rathin had always been very protective of Dagrim, and loved her dearly, although his acts of affection were often misinterpreted as pity and condescension. This only served to push them further apart. When Dagrim turned to the Dark Arts and found solace in Riddle, it revolted Rathin, as he was hugely against the corruption the Dark Arts has on the performing witch or wizard, and wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. He still very much loves her, and it hurts him to fight her. Dagrim, on the other hand, finds catharsis in duelling her brother, believing it to be justice for the way her parents treated her and the little he did to dissuade them.

Miraya Varma vs. Cantankerous Nott

A mutual respect and an academic rivalry, Cantankerous and Miraya were not friends by any means, but not enemies, either. Cantankerous even went as far as to warn Miraya of an impending attack, allowing her to evacuate the building. But although he knows she's clever, he also knows that she's incredibly stubborn, and displayed little surprise to find her awaiting him in the now vacant building. They are equally matched, and their unique relationship spans several decades, even into Cantankerous' failed run at Minister for Magic, and Theodore and the Patil twins' time at Hogwarts. She was present at his trial following the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, and watched as he was sentenced to life in Azkaban for his crimes as a Death Eater.

Isaiah Moody vs. Abraxas Malfoy

Given his profession, Isaiah has a lot of enemies on the Sacred Twenty-Eight who are loyal to the Dark Lord. One such enemy is Abraxas Malfoy. When Tom gets word of Moody's involvement in solving the Riddle Massacre, he sends Malfoy and a newer Death Eater, Evangeline Rosier, to hinder the investigation. Abraxas and Evangeline were responsible for the attack on Isaiah's heavily pregnant wife, who, if she hadn't been an Auror herself, would've never survived. Alastor Moody was prematurely born at St. Mungo's following the attack, and all of Isaiah's efforts were turned on exacting vengeance on those responsible. Malfoy went into hiding, but Isaiah, ruthless, managed to hunt down Rosier. She died under questioning, setting in motion a vicious cycle of vengeance between the Moodys and Rosiers. Once Isaiah had been killed by Evangeline's brother (Evan [who was named after her] Rosier's father), Abraxas deemed it safe to rejoin society.

Minerva McGonagall vs. Ulysses Mulciber

On the list of things Ulysses loathes, he would put half-bloods above muggleborns (although he turns a blind eye to his Dark Lord's blood status when it conveniences him). Half-bloods only serve as a reminder of the lowest and weakest of his kind; the unworthy muggleborns, the lecherous blood traitors, the vermin muggles. Mulciber prides himself as something of a "purifier," and finds great enjoyment in pruning family trees that have been poisoned by muggle blood into purity once more. He takes a great interest in Minerva McGonagall, given that she is an incredibly powerful witch at such a young age, and he wonders how glorious she would've been had she been a pureblood (a twisted and untrue belief among the Sacred Twenty-Eight during that time). Minerva, the threat of Mulciber weighing heavily on her, places her family under Dumbledore's protection. She vows to stop Mulciber and his perverse idea of justice.

Corinne Scamander vs. Carmilla Avery

It didn't take much to enrage Carmilla Avery, and Corinne had been caught in the tempest Carmilla's fury since the day they'd met. Carmilla, who took great pleasure in picking on people she deemed lesser, made a target out of Corinne, perceiving her kindness for weakness. During their time at Hogwarts, Corinne had gained the attention of Avery for being a blood traitor and a muggle sympathizer, which only strengthened Carmilla's vindication. Corinne, who had been friends with Rubeus Hagrid prior to his expulsion, and who had almost fallen prey to the basilisk when she had heard Myrtle Warren's cries from the bathroom, never lowered herself to Carmilla's level nor did she rise to any of the challenges. This hurt Avery's ego, as she thought this was Corinne's way of claiming herself better than her. It wasn't until after Hogwarts that Carmilla's growing resentment came to a head, and, without the protection the school offered Corinne, Carmilla was looking to finally put an end to the blood traitor line of Scamander.

Declan Diggory vs. Serafine Lestrange

Declan and Serafine were childhood friends who drifted apart during their time at Hogwarts, particularly when she fell in with Riddle's crowd. She is viewed by Dumbledore as having the power to sway the entire outcome of the war, for if Serafine could be persuaded into leaving Riddle, her cousins (one of whom is the father of Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange) would surely comply, and the families who held the Lestranges in high regard would be inclined to follow. This makes Declan and Serafine key pieces in Dumbledore's game of strategy. However, Serafine was disowned long before she defected from the Death Eaters, leaving the Lestranges firmly in Riddle's grasp. Although Serafine claimed to feel nothing for Diggory, she still refused to deal any real harm to him when they duel, in spite of having ample opportunity to do so; something which Riddle picked up on. She was later forced to torture Declan in front of him to prove her loyalty to the Dark Lord, something which Declan permitted her to do, knowing she had very little choice in the matter. He was left for dead, but Serafine would later secretly return with Corinne to get him medical attention. She gives her son, Francis, "Declan" as a middle name.

[cuquitalocita]

smile and lie- feysand

AN: no, this isn’t a part three to kids and car rides (BUT IT IS IN PROGRESS)-  i just had a dream about it and had to write it- hope you like it :)

~~

“So we meet again.” 

Rhys grinned at the annoyed-looking redhead across from him. There was no doubt in his mind that the man wanted to strangle him every time he saw him and Rhys wasn’t sure if he could blame him. 

Folding his hands behind his head, Rhys leaned back in the uncomfortable office chair and gazed at his principal. 

“How’ve you been Mr. Vanserra?”

“Worse and worse every time I see you, Rhysand. Worse and worse.” His principal pushed his chair away from his desk; Rhys tracked the movement with his eyes in silence. 

“Not that I don’t love our weekly chats, Mr. Vanserra- because I do. I absolutely adore them.” The man rolled his eyes as Vice-Principal Helion walked through the doors and sat in the seat next to him, both now facing Rhys. He should’ve shrunk under their gazes. His grin only grew. “But why am I here? Again?” 

Helion sighed, his head falling into his hands and running over his face in blatant frustration. 

“Tell me this, Mr. Knight. You are aware that there are other students at this school, correct?” Rhys raised his brows. 

“This is news to me.” Helion ignored him, continuing forward. 

“And because of this, I and other faculty members have other students- other issues to worry about, than you acting up.” Rhys grinned as Mr. Vanserra nodded his agreement. “From the first day of your freshman year, Rhysand, you have been nothing more than a menace to the faculty and teachers in this institution.” 

Rhys felt kind of offended. He knew Mr. Tarquin liked him- even if he pretended not to. And he didn’t consistently try to make life any harder for them than they had to be. Sort of. 

“Being a distraction in class, using the fragile and- might I add- expensive lab equipment to perform practical jokes-” Rhys snorted at the mention of his and Cassian’s joke sophomore year. In his defense, the sulfur wasn’t supposed to react that much. “...disrespecting your teachers, trying the patience of your coach, and now vandalism.” 

Rhys kept his face impassive. He swore the principal had some sort of grudge against him. Any minor inconvenience and bam- Rhysand Knight was to blame. To be fair, he was to blame for this. But vandalism was a harsh term for it. He and Mor had gotten bored after school the day prior and had found a few half-empty spray paint bottles.  

It had been a short Baudelaire quote, not a threat of murder, and the white paint had been barely visible with its awful quality. Rhys held back the roll of his eyes- of course Vanserra would rail him for this. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, his leather jacket stretching uncomfortably, and eyed his superiors with thinly veiled disinterest. He opened his mouth to respond. 

“Look-” Whatever bullshit he was going to spew about his innocence came to a halt as the door to the office breezed open, revealing an out-of-breath girl. The men in front of him turned their attention to her as well, and Rhys breathed a silent sigh of relief from the momentary break. 

He gazed silently at the girl in the doorway, sporting clunky combat boots and a denim jacket, both splattered with a variety of paint colors. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest was heaving as if she had literally sprinted to the office, and her blue-grey eyes immediately pinned him in place. 

She was pretty- beautiful, even. But she was a complete stranger to him. 

Rhys was sure her confused frown mirrored his own and the girl narrowed her eyes as Vanserra stood, folding his hands in front of him and clearing his throat. 

“Miss Archeron,” he greeted, tone cold. “Thank you for joining us.” 

She arched a brow, taking the seat next to Rhys’s own. She mimicked his own posture, crossing her arms in front of her and leaning back in her chair. Her boot tapped against the ground in a quiet rhythm. 

“My pleasure,” she replied, her tone holding more snark than it should, considering who was across from her. The only person Rhys was aware of who had the guts to speak like that to their superiors was him. 

But her voice was honey-sweet- it suited her. 

Still- he had no idea who she was. He tried not to turn to her as her lilac scent enveloped him and instead stared at the principal. 

“Now that we’re all here,” Helion took a deep breath and locked his gaze on the Archeron girl. “The two of you were caught vandalizing school property yesterday between the hours of three and four PM, using spray paint.”

If Rhys had water in his mouth he would’ve spewed it all over his principal as the words left his mouth. Yes, he had vandalized school property. Yes, it had been after school. And yes, he had used spray paint. But the girl sitting next to him had nothing to do with that. He hadn’t even seen her before now. 

It seemed she was thinking the same thing as she shot him a look from the corner of her eye, both of their gazes meeting in an amused, ‘can you believe this?’ Rhys was actually surprised the girl wasn’t glaring daggers at him for somehow dragging her into a mess she had no part in. 

Instead, she just watched the two men in front of her, her lips slightly parted as if in a silent laugh. Rhys noticed a small twinkle in her eye- a twinkle of amusement. 

Vanserra, however, did not find the entire situation amusing and slammed his palm flat down on the desk in front of them. Neither one of them flinched, instead meeting gazes again with intense eyes before turning back to the men in front of them. 

“I don’t know how things worked at your last school, Feyre. But here we don’t tolerate vandalism. It’s rude, destructive, and not to mention a federal crime. I’m not sure how you ended getting mixed up with Mr. Knight here, but it may be the biggest mistake you’ve made since coming to this school.” Rhys would have been offended if it hadn’t been the truth. 

The girl- Feyre, merely raised her brows until they scrunched together as he kept talking. 

“The two of you would be better off admitting to it now before we get the authorities involved. I’m sure the Velaris University of Arts would appreciate knowing exactly who they’re giving a scholarship to. Don’t you, Feyre?”

Whatever response he had expected to get out of her was rewarded with nothing more than the slight stiffening of her shoulders, which only Rhys could feel from beside her. 

What an ass. 

Clearly bringing up something that was important to her- and threatening to take it away for something she had nothing to do with. It must’ve been her hair, he realized. Although Mor was a bright blonde, the shitty camera quality could easily have painted her color darker, making it a golden brown like Feyre’s. 

Rhys was amazed at Feyre’s strong will. She simply stared back at Vanserra in silence, as if daring him to threaten her again. Helion finally sighed, looking at the teenagers with something like pity. 

“Look, you two. I understand that you’re young. And when you’re young, you start to make choices that seem fun because other people are doing it.” 

A sharp laugh shot out of Feyre beside him and she disguised it as a cough. Rhys found his own lips tilting into a smile. He placed his hand over his mouth to cover it as he caught Feyre’s eye once more, her blue-gray eyes glistened with knowing humor- his reflected the same thing. She had a beautiful laugh, and it had his heart flipping uncomfortably in his chest. 

Across from them, Helion cleared his throat. Vanserra was glaring daggers at the two of them and before he could open his mouth to say anything, Feyre’s hand flew to Rhys’s knee. She placed her hand there casually as if they were friends- or even something more- and did it all the time. He attempted not to jerk forward with the electric shock her touch sent through his body. 

What are you doing? Rhys asked her with his eyes.

Just trust me. She seemed to respond in a flash of gray eyes before turning back to the principal and fixing him with a disinterested gaze. 

“Look, you’ve got the wrong girl. I don’t know what time you have us allegedly vandalizing the wall, but I was at work all afternoon yesterday.” Now Rhys felt bad. He had accidentally dragged an innocent girl into this mess with him- and she even had an alibi. 

There was no way Vanserra would believe her, which only left Rhys feeling even more guilty. 

“Yesterday was my first day and I accidentally got lost walking by the football field. Rhysand saw me and skipped practice to walk me to work- that’s why he wasn’t there.” Rhys startled as the lie slipped easily through her lips. He had definitely not walked her to work yesterday. But she was covering for him, so he kept his face impassive. 

Vanserra’s eyes narrowed but Feyre looked unaffected. 

“You can check with my boss if you want. Rhysand was with me from three to… at least four forty-five. There’s no way he was the one you saw in the video. I’m not either, by the way. But again, you’re more than welcome to call my boss and confirm it with her. I’m sure she’d be delighted with your interruption.” 

Feyre’s fingers tapped a calm rhythm on his knee and Vanserra turned the color of his hair under her cool gaze. Rhys had to bite his tongue to keep from letting out a laugh. 

“Well, Miss Archeron, since you seem so inclined to prove your own- and Mr. Knight’s innocence, I may do just that.” Helion grabbed a pen and paper as the principal sneered at the two of them. “Her name?” 

Feyre grinned, her teeth glistening pearly white under the office lights. 

“Amren Cauldron.” 

Every bit of air seemed to be sucked out of the room as Helion’s pen stilled in his hand and Rhys swore his principal flinched. Rhys himself felt his own throat go dry and he attempted to keep his eyes from widening. 

Amren Cauldron was one of- if not the most terrifying woman in Prythian. She was practically a myth since Rhys was a child. The woman- or in most stories- the witch that lived in the corner of town-owned a small book store complete with strange spices and old relics along with books holding languages long since faded. 

A witch she might not have been. But scary and intimidating, not to mention mean? 

That she was. 

Rhys had seen her around town, her old age doing absolutely nothing to alter her terrifying exterior. She was unwrinkled and wicked, with her slits for eyes and cruel smile. 

She’ll eat you with those teeth, Cassian had told him one night when they were eight, hiding under the covers and telling scary stories. But there was no story to be told about Amren Cauldron. She was real, and she was scary, alright. Rhys still heard horror stories about her circling around school from time to time. He had even heard one last week. 

Rhys couldn’t think of a time he had heard a kind word out of her mouth, let alone heard her speak to anyone in town as a friend. Everyone he spoke to chose to keep their distance. Probably the smartest thing to do if he was being honest. 

But here Feyre was, working for her. And through all the myths of Amren eating children, Rhys gazed at Feyre Archeron and decided that he too could easily have a soft spot for the brunette. 

Feyre’s mouth tilted up to the side and she arched a brow. 

“Well? Do you need her phone number?” Feyre turned toward her backpack and began shuffling through it, one of her hands still burning a hole in his knee. “I know I have it here some-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Helion interrupted, his voice higher than it had moments before. Vanserra looked pale and cleared his throat, twisting his fingers on the desk in front of him. 

Rhys and Feyre shared an amused glance, an exhilarated blush dusting her cheeks. 

“We wouldn’t want to interrupt Ms. Cauldron at work,” Vanserra stated, glaring at the teenagers in front of him. 

The principals exchanged a silent conversation before turning back to them and sighing. 

“The two of you are free to go. Now that we think about it, the video was fairly blurry. It could’ve been anyone considering both people had hoodies on. For this reason- and for this reason, only, you’re off the hook.” 

Rhys and Feyre let out a collected sigh of relief. 

“But don’t think,” Vanserra interrupted. “That I won’t be watching the two of you. Vandalism is still a crime. Rhysand, I expect to see you at football practice every day this week.”

Rhys nodded his silent agreement. 

“And my scholarship?” Feyre pressed sharply. Rhys could tell Vanserra was holding back a roll of his eyes as Feyre’s gaze locked onto him. 

“The University will not be informed of this mishap. Your scholarship will remain fully intact.” Feyre smiled, falling back into her seat with a pleased nod.

“Well?” he snapped. “Out of my office.” 

The two teenagers needed no further encouragement as they grabbed their bags and practically booked it out of the office, only letting their grins show after they had turned their backs to the principals. 

By the time the door shut behind them, Rhys had managed to still his incredulity for the girl beside him. He still had no idea how he had never seen her before this encounter, and he knew he would have a hard time if he never saw her again

There was something about Feyre Archeron that intrigued him, and he knew- from the bottom of his soul, that she was something else. 

The two of them walked in silence through the empty halls, everyone still in the middle of their fifth period, leaving the hallways empty and eerie. But Rhys had always liked the silence- liked the solidarity in the middle of ongoing classes. 

He wouldn’t go back to class today. But he would show up for practice- just like he had promised. In the silence of the hallway, Rhys glanced at the girl next to him. 

Feyre’s hair was tied up in a ponytail and if Rhys looked close enough, he was able to see a small splatter of neon green paint by her hair tie. He hid his small smile. Who was this girl? 

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he finally said when the silence became too much. He had a feeling Feyre Archeron wasn’t the type to appreciate a ‘thank you for saving my ass.’

Her gaze snapped to his, gray eyes meeting violet before she gave him a small smile that almost had him floored. 

“You wouldn’t have. I’m new.” Rhys nodded. There was no way he wouldn’t have noticed her in years prior. He wondered just how long she had been walking the halls a stranger to him.

“Well maybe I’ll see you around,” he couldn’t keep himself from saying as Feyre stopped in front of a locker-her locker, and rolled in the combination, opening it to reveal a hot mess of clearly unfinished art projects. She took something out of her backpack and shoved it into the locker. 

“Not if you keep getting caught, you won’t.” 

“Excuse me?” Feyre shut her locker, the sound ringing through the empty hallway, and fixed him with a knowing look. 

“Never mind.” Feyre turned to walk down the opposite hallway but paused before reaching the threshold, turning back with a sly smile. Rhys ignored the pounding of his heart. “Nice pants, by the way.” 

He frowned, confused and unable to resist looking down at his pants. 

His jaw dropped. 

Rhys was an idiot. He hadn’t even bothered to check what jeans he had thrown on earlier that morning and had coincidentally chosen the same ones he had worn the day prior. The same jeans sporting splatters of white spray paint on the right knee. 

Rhys exhaled as he realized the explanation of Feyre’s earlier hand placement. She had been covering up the stain. Saving his ass- again.

He turned back to Feyre only to be faced with the back of her denim jacket as she walked down the hallway, leaving him in the dust. 

“Wait!” Rhys called out, hating how hopeful he sounded. What was he doing? He had never been this fascinated by a girl before. Feyre’s head whipped back around, her ponytail flicking her shoulder with the movement as she pinned him with a curious gaze. “What are your shift hours at Amren’s?” Whether or not he would actually have the guts to walk through the door was another story entirely. 

The smirk that curled on her lips could have been described as nothing less than purely wicked. 

“How should I know? I’ve never even seen the place.”

~~

yeah i think i’m only capable of writing high school feysand... 

@emikadreams​ (hope i did that right idk how tags work)​

[has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong]

Learning how to use the runes with Caster Cu (FGO)

I spent 6 hrs writing the most shamelessly self-indulgent headcanons ever Here, Caster will teach the FGO master the basics of the runes. Follow the master as they learn a bit about their origins, face rigorous testing, make their own set of runes; and use them for the very first time!

*Disclaimer: These headcanons will focus on the use of the Elder Futhark runes. (In fgo, they use both elder and younger futhark) As I’ve only been researching the Nordic runes for around 9 months, please take these headcanons with a pinch of salt! (also, fgo master will be gender neutral! Please enjoy.)

As soon as you broach the topic to him, Caster Cu’s face pales considerably; as images of Odin hanging upside down on the world tree for 9 days permeate his mind. Hopefully you weren’t asking him if you could do that... you weren't, right?

‘Shit...I knew this day would come.’ Awkwardly lowering his hood over his face (so then he can avoid looking at your expectant expression); Caster sighs. “Ah, yeah...Rune magic. Sure, I’ll teach you later...yeah, later.”

Hoping that his bluff is successful, he tries to dematerialize away as fast as possible. However, once you latch onto his pale blue coat to ask what you should do first, he finally caves in; knowing that there’s no way for him to worm his way out of this perilous situation.

“You know, you could try asking Skadi. Or how about Shishou? There’s a hell of a lot of other servants who know bits and pieces about the runes as well. How about you give ‘em a try first?”

When you admit that you want to learn from him, due to your deep appreciation for his extremely flashy use of the runes; Caster stifles a laugh. Yep, there really was no room for escape now.

“Well, I can’t fault you for that; I do look pretty damn cool in action!” Twirling his staff, Caster strikes a pose. “But I don’t get it. You’re already training in other arts. Why would you wanna load rune magic on top of that? You like drowning yourself in work or something??”

As you excitedly flapped your arms around, explaining how you liked watching him trace sparkling runes with his hands; and wanted to take his tree branch summoning skills for yourself, his eyes widen with surprise. He wasn’t expecting you to be this observant.

“Ah, you mean the Berkana/Berkano (ᛒ) rune? Yeah, that one represents the birch tree, so I can summon it. It also commonly symbolizes new beginnings and fertility...” Caster trails off as your braincells physically implode at his explanation.

Berkana? Birch trees? Fertility?! You had no idea what he was talking about right now. As a dour silence weighs heavily upon the two of you, a lightbulb of inspiration strikes Caster right in the head.

“Oi, master. Read up a little on the runes, and remember at least some of their names first. As your new teacher, that’ll be your first assignment. See ya!” And with that, he was gone, vanishing into thin air. Realizing that he had just agreed to teach you, your face sparkles with glee. Clenching your fists with all of your might, you march towards the library. Time would wait for no man!!!!

Exchanging friendly greetings with Murasaki, as you trundle through an entire emporium of books; it takes hours for you to find a book on the runes. Many of the books were in a language that you couldn’t read, however this one looked rather easy on the eyes.

Titled ‘Easy Rune Magic for Modern Mages’, you flick through a rather simplistic guide that provides you with the names and a single definition for each rune; but it provides you with little to no information on how to truly understand their meaning. With subheadings such as ‘How to use the Fehu (ᚠ) rune to generate wealth to pay for your magecraft PHD at the Clock Tower’ and ‘Is Thurisaz (ᚦ) more effective to use as a defensive spell or curse spell?’ you were officially BAMBOOZLED. Tired, you decide to throw in the towel for today.

However, on your way back to your room, a stroke of excellent luck manifests itself before you. Situated upon a sturdy pine table are none other than Sigurd and Byrnhildr, who are reading together. Although you find this scene to be rather adorable (seeing as they were both entirely intact, with no stabbing wounds to be seen); you decided to interrupt their date anyway.

“O-oh, master...” Byrnhildr blushes, as Sigurd waves politely. “What brings you here today?” Slamming your hands on the table, you passionately declare that you wish to learn more about the runes, but can’t understand them without gaining some insight into their history first. As Brynhildr’s eyes glimmer with a sense of appreciation at your open display of interest of their culture, Sigurd haphazardly pulls out the chair next to them.

“I’m glad to see you profess such a profound interest in the runes, master. Please sit down and join us.” Glasses sparkling ominously, Sigurd explains a little bit more about how the elder futhark runes work. He not only explains how Odin discovered their wisdom after hanging from the world tree Yggdrasil; but also tells you about how Odin shared their power with humankind, making him none other than the ‘Allfather’ of the runes.

At the mention of his name, Byrnhild’s expression sours somewhat; making you realize that the two most likely share personal ties with him.

“They’re a special alphabet that we can use to invoke the power and wisdom of the Norse gods, so be careful with them.”

Sigurd then goes on to explain how all 24 runes are separated into three Aetts- which are basically a means of dividing the runic characters into different categories.

“Each rune comes with a short poem. That way, you’ll be able to understand them and their context a little more.”

Once you thank him for the information, he replies with a “I hope I was of use. I’m very proud of you for asking us for help.”; as Byrnhildr returns with an entire truckload of books tucked within her arms!!!

“These books will be helpful! This one’s about the myths associated with the runes, and this one is a practical guide that’ll help cultivate understanding. As for this one, it explains their etymology.”

Byrnhildr chuckles at your gobsmacked expression, as the two of them heap the books into your own arms. “You don’t need to know everything about them, but it’ll be handy for you to develop a little bit of historical and lexical knowledge as well.”

‘I thought I only had to know their names and descriptions...!!’ Tears pooling within your eyes at the mountain of books, you thank them for their help and leave, as they wish you all the best with your studies (and prayed that one day you’d wish to speak to them in the language as well. They couldn’t wait for that opportunity!)

Sighing all the way back to your room, you gasp in surprise as you bump into none other than Skadi.

“Oh, good timing.” Passing you a bundle of golden-trimmed strips of ancient paper, Skadi smiles vigorously. “You can use these as flash cards for your rune training, as well. I’m surprised that you didn’t ask for my guidance, but that may have been for the best. I would’ve trained you thoroughly in the arts.”

A chill jolts through your spine at that. Who knows just how hard she would’ve trained you? Part of Skadi was Scathach, after all. Thanking her for her assistance, the two of you split paths.

‘I seem to be bumping into a lot of people today...’

Was this a mere coincidence, or perhaps something more?

A busy month full of book reading and writing notes onto your flash cards passes within a blur.

Mash had also shown great interest in your studies, and would help test you with your flashcards every day! However, you were still pretty confused about how long this stage of research would last for.

Whilst reading up on how runes could also be used to predict the future and provide advice for one’s dilemmas; and how the Nornir (3 deities of fate) determined this form of divination, you groan.

All of the people within the books had their own sets of runes, which they would use to communicate with the gods.

In other words, they could be used for divination as well as magic.

‘Why can’t I do that yet?’ You pout indignantly; snapping the book shut.

If Caster wouldn’t teach you rune magic, he could at least teach you about divination! Patience running thin, you decide to leap back into action.

It was time to confront your teacher, once and for all.

However, as soon as you exit your room; you are greeted by none other than Caster himself.

Almost tripping onto the floor with surprise, you gawp in shock at his appearance. With his staff and a mouth-watering cup of Darjeeling tea he had brought from one of Marie’s posthumous tea parties in his hands, Caster smirks. “Yo, master. Looks like I came just on time.”

As the two of you settle in the canteen for class (?), after a bit of small talk; you declare that you want to learn how to use the runes for divination. “If you won’t teach me magic, then I would like to learn how to communicate with the runes first, please!”

At this, he lets out an unusually loud guffaw of laughter. “Ahaha, so you finally worked it out, huh? Before you can use their magic; you gotta understand and communicate with the runes, as well. You’re a faster learner than I thought you’d be.”

Unsure whether this was a compliment or not, you enquire as to what he means by that. “It’s pretty simple: you can’t cast these bad boys without building a relationship with them first. On that note, let’s see how much you’ve learnt from your studies.”

His test is a nightmare.

As he barks the name of each rune from the First Aett (the first eight runes), you are forced to draw each and every one. If you get a rune wrong, he repeats it consistently until you draw the right alphabet for each one.

Afterwards, he takes you through a hellish journey as he asks you to provide at least one definition for each rune.

By the time you are done, night has already swept its veil over Chaldea; the halls devoid of any signs of life.

In other words, the two of you had been at this for the entire evening, which had definitely garnered you both the attention and pity of many staff and servants.

Stomach rumbling, you beg Caster to finish class for today.

“Yeah, sure. Whoops, looks like I got a bit carried away right there.” He has definitely inherited his deadly teaching style from Scathach.

When you ask him if you’re ready for the next bout of training; he frowns. “Nope, that was only the First Aett. You’ll only move to the next stage when you’ve memorized all THREE. In other words, get to learning all 24 runes!!” As you cry in despair, Caster shoots you a mischievous wink as he helps himself to the bar.

The dreaded tests continue on a weekly basis.

Not only do you have to deal with the challenges of the saving the world, helping out your allies and maintaining your own health; you also have to leap into the hellish jaws of rune testing with Caster Cu.

Albeit suffering greatly from the challenge, your spirit was also greatly roused. Learning about the runes was fun!

So much fun, that you’d often dream about them, and see their shapes in the food that you ate; and would even accidentally use their names in conversation sometimes, like saying: “Oh, I’m sure the energy of this rune would help with your headaches,” to a very bewildered Mash; or comparing the sunrise to the runes (which confused Shakespeare and Hans greatly. Actually, they are now worried about your health).

All in all, your studies were starting to take effect!!

It was finally time.

As Caster more or less yelled the name of each rune at you, your response was astounding. Not only were you able to draw the shape of every rune in a matter of seconds, you could also provide multiple readings for all 24 of them.

Eyebrows quirked with surprise, Caster sighs with relief. ‘Phew. Looks like class will be shorter than usual today.’

“Holy shit. You’ve done a damn great job, master. You got them all right!” As you roared with joy, pumping your fists into the air with glee; Caster almost fell off his chair- clutching his sides as he tried (yet failed) not to laugh. “Alright, buckle up. We’re gonna get you a set of runes now.”

A set of runes?! Your eyes sparkled at the prospect of finally being able to have runes of your own. It was about time, as well. You had grown sick of using your flash cards, you wanted the real thing!

However, you were confused about the concept of needing your own set. If Skadi and Caster Cu could manifest them just by using their hands, and magical devices; why would a person need to have a set of them? As you expressed your concern, Caster nods his head in understanding.

“I see your point. But even I have a set of runes, you know? It’s every bit as useful a method.” Unleashing a small, worn-out felt pouch; glimmering gems -whose rune inscriptions were engraved upon them in gold- splashed across the dining table. They were beautiful. “’Sides, there’s something exciting about making your own set.”

Your mind swims with excitement, as he describes the different materials that runes can be made from: bones, metal, gemstones, pebbles, glass, clay...there were endless options.

However, when you asked him if you could use your collection of Evil Bones to make a rune set, he chokes on his coffee- pure horror drenched across his features.

“No way in hell! You trying to get yourself killed? Never invoke the power of the runes on cursed items, master.” 

Then how about using QP or Mana Prisms as a base to inscribe the runes instead? Once you suggested this, his face paled somewhat. “Yeah, about that...don’t even think about it. You need those materials, you know.”

Grumpily threading his hands through blue locks of hair, he sighs. “Look, I’ll help you find some materials. Guess we could rayshift the next time I’m free or something...” As you cheer exuberantly, he can’t help but crack a small smile.

Being a teacher was a lot more amusing than he originally anticipated it to be. There was something fun about departing his knowledge. Besides, he had dedicated himself to becoming the guiding light of Chaldea anyway. ‘A little teaching hurts no-one.’

Using the light of the Soliwo (ᛊ) rune to guide the way, the two of you traverse through a forest heaving with verdant green trees and wildlife.

No matter how many pretty trees and tumbled pebbles you found by the riverside; you weren’t sure if they were the right material for you.

Just when you were about to give up, a powerful jolt of electricity beckons you; almost as if it’s calling your name. As soon as you alert Caster of your instinctual powers, he looks rather flummoxed at first; but is somewhat awed once his Soliwo rune’s light begins to shine in exactly the same direction as the one you’re pointing in!

‘Huh, that sure is weird.’

Things only get weirder, once you both come upon a ginormous slab of Labradorite. Situated neatly upon a bed of leaves. Placed carefully within the middle of the forest.

This timing was too good to be true.

As the electricity coursing through your veins triples in intensity, Caster has to hold you back before you cut loose. “Oi, wait up. Let me test this stone for safety first.”

Placing an Algiz (ᛉ) runestone in your hands to guarantee your protection, he saunters towards the massive hunk of Labradorite.

Chanting an incantation beneath his breath, the forest glows in an eerie blue light; as a pale magic circle glimmers beneath the stone. “Yeah, it’s safe. Pretty strange for it to be out here, though.”

As he sketches Thurisaz (ᚦ) (which not only symbolizes thorns, defense and danger, but can also be used as a means to channel a power akin to Thor’s hammer, mlonjir) onto his staff, he smashes it against the mass of Labradorite; splitting what was once an enormous rock into 24 neatly divided; brilliant blue gems.

Gathering them up, he thrusts them before you. “Here you go. That was a pretty lucky find, if I do say so myself.”

You thank him for your help- making sure to also pay homage to the awesome power of your intuition at the same time, which tickles Caster right in the funny bone.

As soon as the stones drop into your hand; they crackle with an immensely powerful energy, as if these gems were waiting for you!!

As you turn them onto the side; you are gobsmacked to see rune inscriptions already engraved onto each and every stone, as if they were reacting to the mana flowing within your body.

You ask Caster to take a look at this strange phenomenon for you.

“Whoa, are you kidding me? That’s pretty awesome. Let me take a look, too.” As you gently stretch your palms towards Caster- trying to keep the runestones steady in your hands- he gently takes your palms, leaning towards them.

As he catches sight of the engravings lying upon them, his crimson eyes widen with bewilderment. “Holy shit...I think the gods just made you an offering. You’re secretly packing a shitload of power in there, ain’t you? Great job!”

Ruffling your hair, Caster grins. “Think you’ve got time for more teaching?”

As you nod your head, anticipation clear on your features; he plonks onto the ground, handing you a felt pouch. “Put them in there. Try doing your first reading, see what rune speaks to you first!”

Eagerly plonking all 24 runes into the sparkly pouch, you close your eyes and concentrate; beseeching the contact of the gods. Imagining yourself encountering the Nonrnir, as you visualize dropping into the center of the world; you place a hand within your pouch.

Rummaging around the bag, a single rune sends energy rippling through your fingers. That was the one! Pulling it out of the bag, you grin excitedly...only to see that it was none other than...

Nauthiz (ᚾ).

‘Aw shite...’ Disappointed by the rune, you sigh. You wished that your rune could’ve been a more positive one! However, Caster’s reaction was rather different to yours.

“Hey, it’s not as bad as it looks.” Figure illuminated by the sun, he looked much more chill than usual. “Nauthiz is all about your needs, you know? With all the singularities popping up recently, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re pushing yourself too far.”

“But this rune is basically saying ‘lol you’re suffering’...It’s frustrating.” You counter him.

You knew all too well about the massive strains your body was going through, the transformations you were forced to undergo. Sometimes, it was just too painful for you to bear. Seeing this rune only served as a reminder of that fact.

“How about you look at it from a different perspective? Even though things are way outta wack for you, a small fire still burns. Doesn’t Nauthiz look a bit like two twigs that you’d see in a fire?” Now that was a funny observation. As you smiled at that, he continued. “It just means that no matter how hard things become; all you gotta do is balance your needs and continue to fight. Nauthiz is also screaming ‘oi, damnit! Don’t give up here, you can survive and make it out the other side sparkling like brand new, you hear me??’”

You were very grateful to hear that. Now you realized that even the most ominous of runes also came with signs of fortune and peace.

In other words, they would be there to support you all the way. Thanking him for his great insight, he replies with a simple “Well, I’m the wise one you know? Anyway, you know the saying. Even the coldest of ice thaws someday.”

As you correctly link his adage to the runes, he claps with pride. “Nice, nice. Well, that’ll be all for my teaching. Soon you’ll be able to do readings with nine or more runes!”

But once you yell to him about how you want to use runes such as Kenaz (ᚲ) to fulfil your long-standing desire to set shit on fire; his expression hardens.

“I ain’t teaching you rune magic until you learn how to master rune divination. Don’t push your luck too far~ Come visit me again once you learn how to read the past, present and future with them!” As you indigently complain about how you still want to summon birch trees, and about how difficult it was to learn about the runes; he bursts into rancorous laughter. “That’s not my problem! C’mon, lay off a little...”

Frustrated, you finally give up, asking for one last request. “Caster. What rune will you get if you do a single reading? I would like to see.”

Begrudgingly adhering to your request, he unearths none other than the Ansuz (ᚨ) rune.

“Ah, my favorite. Well, that’s it for today. Let’s go back.” As he turns away, a frightening wind blows through the trees, as a dark shadow drifts over his figure.

In that very moment, he becomes a dark specter within a bountiful forest filled with brilliant light; as his form briefly flickers and shifts, melding into an entire kaleidoscope of distinct beings.

But all it took was a single blink for his form to return back to normal again.

How strange...Was that none other than an illusion? Were your eyes playing tricks with you? Silently trailing behind, you contemplated the meaning behind the rune he had drawn.

Ansuz...It commonly symbolized communication, breath, and chiefly of all...it was the rune that represented none other than Odin himself.

In addition to that, you saw how the rune landed on its side when Caster drew it, and the mysterious glint in his eyes.

Was Caster hiding something? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

‘Just who is Caster Cu really?’ Such a thought weighed dangerously heavy within your mind as the two of you took the steep path back home.

By learning more about the runes, you may have unlocked the door to an endless chasm of mysteries; one that had ties directly linking to the deeper truths lying behind Chaldea...

THE END

Omg this was only meant to be like 1,000 words. But I got extremely invested within this concept and was burning with great excitement, which lead to this becoming SUPER LONG XD Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this ;; Also dw learning runes in real life isn’t as hardcore as this, I promise you!

[literaryfic]

singer!cha-young & violonist!vincenzo au pt.1

don’t ask me why. i have no answer for you okay.

cha-young starts her career when she’s 5, appearing in a yogurt commercial. she’s not exactly a cute child, but she’s enthusiastic and disciplined.

her dad, the retired leader of a rock band who had a few hit songs in the 80s, is the one who introduces her to music.

she learns the piano & the guitar and takes singing lesson. her childhood is guided by auditions and music classes.

when she’s 12, a big agency contacts her and she signs a trainee contract with them. her dad is against it, but her mom and her win him over. she’ll be careful, they’ll look after her.

she starts training after school everyday, on the weekends too. she’s not really good at dance and she gets in trouble a lot but she’s the best singer in her age group, which makes up for it.

time passes by and the company starts to ask her to lose weight. her dance teacher comments on how big her thighs are. she’s asked if she ever thought about a nose job, or an eye surgery. those things happen a lot, and if she wants a sit at the big table, she’ll need to make some decisions.

her parents disagree, of course, but then her mother falls ill. she has to stop working and money becomes scarce. cha-young doesn’t want to bother them with her insignificant issues and so she starts a diet without any of them noticing. she needs to be thinner, maybe she’ll win a scholarship and her dad won’t need to work two jobs anymore.

her dad comes home drunk most nights, as if the sight of her mother made him sick. she was dying and her husband couldn’t even look at her anymore. cha-young doesn’t know who she hates more: her dad or herself for wishing she could escape home the same way he did every night.

her mom dies when she’s 15 and she stops taking lessons. she quits the company after a while too. she wins a scholarship for a good arts high school, known to hone musical talents. she meets new friends there, ones who don’t care about her proportions or her eyelids, and she’s happy in school.

her dad and her starts to argue more and more, until they stop talking. she fills the silence in her empty house with the music she writes.

after she graduates high school, she works two jobs to pay her way through college. all of her spare time is used composing, writing lyrics, singing. she posts covers on YouTube and she starts to gain some followers.

it’s not enough to make money but an independent label that’s been on the rise notices her. she signs with them after reading the contract carefully, when she’s 19. she choses her stage name, NOVA.

her first album is out by the time she’s 20 and she starts appearing on tv. her second album at 23 is her big break. her first hit song “Alone With You”, an upbeat tune contrasted by sad lyrics, stays on top of the charts for weeks, owing her the nickname of “monster rookie”.

people soon start to discover her easy-going, bubbly yet blunt personality and she starts going on more variety shows.

she’s loved and she’s found her sound, profound lyrics with innovative instrumentals, she plays with genres and concepts often, keeping her image fresh.

at 30, she’s one of the biggest South Korean solo act. she tours the world, sells album, holds events for her fans, travels. she doesn’t have to think about money anymore. she lives in a luxurious apartment in the centre of Seoul.

she’s learned that not everyone is going to love her. she’s used to dealing with virulent anti-fans, stalkers and paparazzi.

she has everything her 15 year old self dreamt of, an amazing career and devoted fans, a name people recognise and a wardrobe bigger than their previous living room. yet, she can’t seem to fill the emptiness inside of her.

she calls her dad once a year, for the new year. he still lives in their old house, refusing to move into the one she bought just for him. he teaches guitar to kids at the community center in their neighbourhood. her anger doesn’t seem to fade with the years.

she almost looses everything when her assistant, jung jun woo, leaks the fact that she’s had an abortion after she rejects him.

she’d been dating an actor a few years ago, and they had had an accident. she’d noticed too late that she missed her period since it was irregular and had to get an abortion. she didn’t think any of it now, there’s nothing wrong with a woman making this choice and she wasn’t ready to become a mother. she’d never once regretted it in the past.

however, South Korea’s entertainment industry was not a kind one, and a news like that would destroy her clean, quirky girl-next-door image she’d built over the years. and it did.

she’d never expected jun woo to betray her. he was part of her management team, one of her assistants. he’d always been cute if not a little clingy.

he’d confessed his feelings for her a few weeks back, claiming that he knew they were made for each other and that he would do everything for her and she’d laughed in his face. she hadn’t meant to sound mean or insensitive, she had thought it was a prank he was pulling on her.

turns out it wasn’t, and he had leaked this “abortion gate” to dispatch to get get back at her.

her label had released a vague statement, about “a difficult time in her life”, urging people to stop looking into “her private medical history”.

trashy tabloids and online blogs had had a field day. some people even started a petition to remove her from the industry. the news quickly turned into a social discourse when feminist orgs stood up for her. everyone was talking about it, some claiming she was a slut, others turning her into a symbol for women’s rights.

she felt like neither, it had been too long since she’d gotten some to qualify as a slut, and her label would have never let her discuss politics publicly.

she’d lost dozens of endorsements and deals and had officially decided to “focus on her health away from the spotlight” for a while (another statement from her label)

officially on her first hiatus ever, cha-young was lost. every time she tried to write, nothing came out. it would’ve been the perfect time to work on a new album but it seemed nothing worked in her favour as of late.

it’s 6 am when her father calls her. the last she’d heard of him was when the scandal broke out and he’d sent a vague supportive message to which she had responded “thanks, dad”. it was unusual for him to call, especially so early (or late).

she picks up the phone the second times he calls. “hello?” “hello, do you know the owner of this phone?” the man on the other side of the line is definitely not her father and he sounds rather annoyed. “yes, i’m this person’s daughter.” “great, can you come pick him up from my hotel room?” “your hotel room? is he okay?” “he should be. we drank too much and i have to vacate the room before 8. can you come or not?” “yes.” “I’ll text you the address from his phone.” is the last thing he says before hanging up. what a rude man.

why was her father drunk in hotel room with this rude stranger and why was she the one having to pick him up?

she doesn’t want to wake up her manager at this hour, and so she decides to go on her own. the hotel isn’t too far, a mere 15 minute drive, and soon enough she’s knocking on the door of a very expensive hotel suit, definitely not what one of her father’s friends could afford. who the hell was this guy?

she definitely did not expect Vincenzo Cassano, renowned world class violinist, to be the one opening the door.

[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: hehe hello cuties, before i get to the chapter, I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of the support and lovely messages you that you sent to me for the last chapter. as I said, it was one that was super personal to me and for it to be so relatable and emotional for you all makes my heart feel so, so full. these themes are going to continue, so please read the warnings cuties. as always, thank you so very much for reading my stories <3 

Part 6 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, roommate!minho, explicit language, HARD fluff to HARD angst, some sensual-azz fuckin’ (muhaha), unprotected sex (stay safe cuties!), lil bit of breath play, nipple play (f), cumshot, mentions of food, changbin has a cute butt (that’s the tweet) 

CWs: aftereffects of traumatic experiences, mentions of past toxic relationship, self sabotaging tendencies 

Word count: 6.6k (remember when i said i wasn’t gonna write long chapters? wellllll...ooP)  

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7

When you were back in high school, before you knew a thing about what love was, your Art teacher had given you an assignment: what do you think that love looks like? At first, all you had really known love to be was the kind that you shared with your friends and your parents, and maybe with your family dog. You had read about love in your favorite books and seen it in your favorite movies, but you had never really considered what it looked like. Obviously, the assignment was all up for you to decide, but there being a million and one things that you considered love to be, to put it to paper with your own hand was something different entirely. 

At first, when you thought of love, you thought of the typical: hearts, hugs, the colors red and pink. But, this was too simple. 

“What are you drawing?” You had sneakily whispered to your classmate. 

She shrugged, and continued scratching away at her sketchbook. You had peeked to see what she was putting together, and for her, she had started to draw what looked like a house on the edge of a lake. The house was in the middle of nowhere and it was surrounded by trees of all different kinds and there was a single bench that sat at the edge of the water. 

You figured, love can be a place, so you started drawing that. 

Your pencil swiped over the paper in strokes big and small, and the lead rubbed off on the side of your pinky as you outlined the corners of your apartment building. 

You thought, I love the people who live here, therefore, this must be love. 

It made sense. People and places could make up love. 

When you turned in your drawing of your apartment building you were surprised to see the variety of other paintings and drawings that the other students had turned in. One student had turned in a whole piece that had been drawn with oil pastel. It was a jumbling of colors: mostly red, as you had expected, but it also held streaks of gold, black and teal. You remember your teacher really liking that one. 

Today, if you would’ve gotten that assignment, it would’ve been completely different. 

It was a sunny afternoon when you sat at your easel with your pencil in hand. Drawing out the mere outline and rough draft, tears welled in your eyes. A long time ago you had promised yourself that if your art didn’t mean anything, what even was it?

The sun filled your room in the golden hour of the day best it could from your frosted glass window. The warmth that the rays held made your whole body swell with a warmth, and it gave your shaking arms the power to keep going. 

You brushed lightly over the rough canvas with your pencil, tracing out the lines as if they were the very memories that you had kept painted in your mind. 

You drew a snowy night, not much unlike the ones that you had been seeing recently. You drew an empty alley, not lit by much light. You drew the way that the oil slicked in potholes mixed with the snow. You planned out the way that the industry of the city lit his back as he stared out into that dark expanse where you knew that darker figures were hiding. You drew him. You drew him on that exact same night that you had fist seen him: a dark outline, who would become full of color. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“What’s that?” 

Changbin pointed to your easel with a sheet draped over it. 

“A surprise.” You answered. “I know that I’m not good with surprises, but, are you?” 

“I don’t mind them.” He chuckled. “For me?” 

“Mmhm. Its not ready yet so you’ll have to wait.” 

“I’m fine with waiting.” He sighed out. 

You nuzzled closer into his bare chest, right up to his heartbeat. Both of you were admittedly a bit dewy in your sweaty afterglow, but this was of no concern to you. These past few days, this had been your preferred way to drift off to sleep. Even on the occasional times when the both of you would be too busy to make the time, when you finally could see him, it was everything to you. In his large and muscled arms, there was no place else where you had felt safer. You too wrapped your whole being around him with a feeling so close it must’ve been unreal. If you could hear the muffled little rhythm of his heartbeat, you were sure that he could hear yours. 

“Soon, all this snow is gonna melt, and then I can take you to loads of other places. I’m just getting started.” Changbin’s airy breath tickled your scalp. 

“Really? Taking me to all the usual places?” You mocked. 

“No.” He said seriously. “I want to take you to places I haven’t taken anyone before. My secret places. I...you know...wouldn’t mind if you could draw them for me either.” 

You giggled, “Ever heard of taking a picture?” 

“Hey! It’s not the same.” 

“Fineee. Okay, okay. I’ll draw them for you.” Your fingertips traced down the muscles of his back. “Maybe I should start charging if you’re gonna keep being like this.” 

“You don’t do pro-bono?” He ran along with your joke. 

“If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll consider it.” 

He tsked, “Could you please draw for me?” 

You masked another adoring chuckle. “I do like it when you say please.” 

Everything about the one moment felt so sickly sweet, it was like you must’ve dreamt it up. In between the swaddling of sheets, you tried your best to enjoy the one moment: it was just enough to keep the doubtful whispers away. After all that he had done, said, all the pain that he had kissed away, or compliments he had hushed into your ear, the creeping feeling that you hardly deserved it all would rear it’s head time and again, even when you didn’t expect it to.

The two of you were quiet for a moment as you fell into the serenity of just existing together. After a while, you would narrow your focus best on the way that his breaths would rise and fall and the way this his body heat would melt into yours under the mess of sheets that neither of you bothered to fix. He would use his thumb to rub reassuring little strokes into the back of your neck where he had you. 

Your hand would fall down his arm, all the way down this wrist where his scar lived. Ever since you had noticed it, you couldn’t stop looking at it. Every time that you did, you were given a tangible reminder of everything that he had been, and was, to you. You rose the uneven skin to your lips to gift a little kiss to it. 

Changbin tried his best to hide his giddy smirk at the action. 

“Do you have to leave tonight?” You settled his arm around you once more. 

“No. Not tonight. But, for the next few days I don’t think I’ll be able to. They put me on the matinee shifts at the theater. I fucking hate those. No one comes in at all so it’s like I’m just sitting there.” 

“Wanna sneak me in some time this week? I should have a break.” 

“I would but...I’d prefer to keep that job. As much as I hate it.” 

“We could do something this Thursday? You aren’t busy on Thursdays as much right?” 

“Ahhhh I think so.” Changbin rolled the two of you over, allowing himself to lean over top of you. With a sly smirk he lowered his voice to say, “You know, my ribs really aren’t hurting as much any more.” 

“Oooh? Good to know.” You ruffled his curly strands. 

“I’m trying to say that I can go for another round if you would like to?” He bowed his head to kiss lightly into your neck and the fading love bites that he had put there himself. 

Your eyes wandered to your clock telling you that it was nearly 2 in the morning. If you had better judgement, you would’ve said no. But, these days, judgement wasn’t something that you took too seriously. 

He kissed down deeper, and pulled at your skin just in the way that he knew you liked it. Changbin knew the ins and outs of you perfectly, as well as exactly what to do send you quivering under him. All he had to do was press his body into yours so you could feel his weight, and it made you fold just for him. He followed his kisses up your jaw where he then lead them into your bottom lip and over every angle that your mouth would crave him. He often didn’t mean to do it intentionally, but between your parted mouths, his tongue would sneakily find yours, and he would slowly slide it against yours. 

“Do you want to?” He muttered between kisses. 

Under the covers, his hand cascaded down your side in a way that tickled slightly, but also made you shiver. 

He broke from his kiss to hold your eyes seriously. “We don’t have to.” 

“No, I want to.” You reached up to hold his sleepy and puffy face in your hands. 

Changbin said nothing more, but instead returned to weaving kisses back down your neck. Under your waist, you felt him angle up your hips higher and the heat of his tip teased at your entrance still slick with your arousal from before, and now renewed. He bowed his head down to your chest to pump himself with a few muffled grunts. After, he rose his head to hold your eyes with his own. The muscles on his arms flared where he held himself up, and those adorable little stretch marks in the corners of his arms moved with them. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” 

You melted under his compliment. No matter who many times he had said it, you still weren’t use to it. 

“So are youuuu.” You said with a dreamy tone. One other thing that you had figured out about him was that returning such comments to him made him a flustered mess. It was utterly adorable for someone as stoic as him at times. 

“Psh.” He scoffed, then lowered his voice once again. “Beautiful how I fill you up sweetheart?” Changbin angled your waist up higher, then spread your thighs, finally pushing them into your body to tighten you. He aligned himself over you, then pushed himself in agonizingly slow. “Beautiful how I can fuck you so deep? How I can m-make you...” 

He had given up on talking, but rather thrust himself further into you with his shaking breaths and little “mmm’s” getting caught on his tongue. 

“B-Bin...fuck, f-feels s-so good--”

He pushed your legs up closer to your body, allowing himself greater access to graze your g-spot. Your busy fingers found their way around his back to claw all the way down. He still relished in taking his time with you, and would never rush fucking you--it was as if he had all the time in the world to unravel you. You returned around him, tightening has he fucked in and out with his own pace. After a while of doing the same, his hand crept around your neck to give you a couple choking squeezes that made you whimper out like a kitten. He would never keep it going for long however, but rather indulged himself in the way that your gasps would remind him of how good it all felt. After, Changbin dipped his thumb into your mouth to run the pad over your tongue. 

The tip of his teeth caught the skin of his lip which he bit into hard. 

“You feel so good baby. F-feels so good on my cock. It’s all for you angel.” 

An unrestrained groan escaped from your mouth as he continued and your orgasm pooled steadily. In and attempt to steady yourself you clawed back into your pillow supporting your head. 

He swiftly changed your position, taking both of his hands to turn you on your stomach. Without a pause he lead his swelling head back into your pussy where he kept on going at his favored slow pace. Your face smushed into the pillow with hips raised in the air. The fluffy fabric muffled your helpless moans. 

“Louder for me princess.” He growled. 

With one hand he arched over to tweak at your nipples with force: twisting and pulling, then he wet his hand with his own saliva to let your skin feel the cold and wet sensation. His other hand he used to reach around and rub circles into your clit. He was gentle at first, but worked your bud harder and faster. Your knees and legs shook the faster he rubbed, and you spilled your loudest and most unapologetic moans into the room that had risen in temperature. 

“Fuck...” He swore. Changbin allowed himself to quicken his pace inside of you. The action alone sent you spinning wildly into your orgasm: a tear of white hot heat that shook your whole body and turned your swollen bud into a sensitive mess under his fingers which did stop, even when when he knew that you had just cum all over them. The harder he pressed, the more wonderfully painful it felt, and you let your tears fall hot from your eyes to the sheet. You attempted to call out his name, but no words that left your mouth made sense. 

He turned your body once more, using brutish hands on your hips as he pulled you overtop of the sheets to fuck you into the bed once more with your sweating back stuck to the comforter. Your body shook with your orgasm still, and you needily brought his lips down to yours to kiss him with your thank you’s as he milked himself out in your tightening walls. 

Changbin was animalistic in the way that he finally let his hips snap over you, at last reaching his orgasm mere seconds after he had pulled out and jerked himself over you. Ribbons of his white cum came spilling out over your gasping chest and stomach and dripped lazily from his pink and flaring tip. He took in shallow inhales as he did, and kept rubbing until the very end and he had nothing more to give. Even as his hand dropped, you took his dick in your own hand to just twist lightly and ride out the last of his orgasm. He softened in your hand with eyes closed in his focus and came down. 

The combination of your lust held in the air for a few silent moments, then he collapsed back down next to you into a blushing and exhausted mess. His pink chest shook, and his soft heather eyes found you. 

“We should...probably take a shower right?” 

“Probably.” You grinned. 

Changbin leaned over to plant even more sugary sweet kisses on top of your lips. He always was one to admire his work, so he chuckled lightly seeing the way that he had properly covered you in his cum. 

“I can help you clean that off.” 

The bed shook and he rose to get you something to clean up. You wished that you could’ve moved to see him saunter around your room without a single piece of clothing on. It was no secret that he had one hell of a cute butt. 

Changbin helped you out of the bed, finding that your legs had started to shake and betray you a bit more harshly than you had intended. He ran the water for you both, inviting you in to take the task of cleaning you to himself. He took the suds in his own hands to brush them all over your body and took careful and gentle attention to the more sensitive parts of your body. He giggled a little at the way that even under the warm water, your nipples would still harden when he ghosted his fingers over them with soap. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You scolded him. 

He took care of the little bruises on your neck and collarbones, giving them kisses under the clear stream of water as if he was healing them. After he was done, you did the same and cleaned out his hair with your shampoo. He always let out happy little groans when you would massage his scalp. He still had a couple scrapes on his face from a few weeks ago, so you kissed all of them too. 

Changbin’s favorite part was how he could mess up your hair with the towel afterword and make you look as ridiculous as possible. Of course, you would do the same. You would brush your teeth together, and dress somewhat all of the way back again. A while ago he decided keeping clothes at your place was a good idea, but you ended up wearing them more than he did. You blamed it on dirty laundry, but you really did just like the way that they would smell all tangled up in your blankets on your nights alone. 

With bare legs, you would tangle yourselves all up in eachother once more, and not even bother to look at what time it was then. 

As it had become his habit, before the two of you drifted to sleep, Changbin would kiss into your forehead “l love you. You know?” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Chocolatey goodness wafted up Felix’s nose, and he let out a happy little squeal. 

“~Thank youuu~” He beamed to the waitress. 

He took a careful sip not to burn his tongue, then turned his head to watch the way that the snow had started to flurry outside of the diner window. Minho flipped the pages of his book and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Whatcha reading?” Felix said with a little tap of his feet under the table. 

Rather than answering, Minho sighed out and closed his book. “Nothing now. If you’re gonna ask questions, then I’ll get distracted, so, nothing now.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” Felix frowned. 

Minho rolled his eyes, suddenly becoming exasperated over his new friend’s dramatic reaction. 

“It was something that I’m assigned to read for one of my classes. It’s about economics or something like that. I’m kind of just skimming; reading because I have to....” He took a sip of his coffee. “Y/n should be reading the same book considering that we are in the same class...but I haven’t even seen you with it yet.” 

You prodded at your plate of half eaten waffles. “About that...” 

“If you think that I’m gonna give you the SparkNotes you are sorely mistaken.” 

You writhed in your seat a bit like an upset toddler. “Come onnnnn, Minho, you know that I don’t have time for that, working at the library and such...”  

“--More like stealing my roommate from me. I hardly see him at our apartment anymore.” Minho made his remark with a type of snark, but knowing him, he was still just as sarcastic. 

“Yeah,” Felix piped up. “The three of us haven’t hung out in a while either!” 

“...Sorry, I’ve just been getting...caught up in things.” 

Minho cleared his throat. “I’m not saying that its a bad thing. It’s just something that I’ve noticed.” 

Felix nodded, “Me too! I’m really happy for you!! So is Chan, don’t get me wrong. We haven’t seen you so happy and like, not serious in such a long time. Really, I’m so so glad that you have someone like him for a boyfriend.” 

Your fork scratched your plate. “--Boyfriend?” 

“Yeah!” Felix beamed. “Isn’t that what he is?” 

Minho too held an expectant gaze. 

“I-I don’t think...we hadn’t really talked about what it is that we’re doing...or are.” 

“So you’re saying that he’s not your boyfriend?” Minho cocked his head in his confusion. “Well, you ask him and he’ll think that it’s a different story.” 

“H-he talks about me?” You sat up straighter. 

“Well, he hasn’t explicitly said anything, but the way that he never shuts the fuck up...” Minho suddenly became much more interested in his coffee. 

“What? You don’t want him to be your boyfriend?” Felix looked just as confused. 

In your hands, you crinkled up the napkin that you had resting on your lap. You hadn’t in fact, ever thought of such. Merely, you had thought that you loved him, and that you enjoyed being around him and that he had made you happy. Was it odd that the thought had never crossed your mind? 

“And he hasn’t said anything about it either?” Felix leaned in. To his side, Minho nudged his arm in the most non-obvious way possible. 

“...No?” 

Your heartbeat quickened in pace. 

“Af...after everything that happened back then? Didn’t you say that he like, confessed or something and you did the same? You’ve only been hanging out with eachother for weeks?” Felix pushed his cocoa away from himself to lay his hands flat on the table. 

“I...don’t think that we should press the issue.” Minho patted down the boy sitting next to him. 

It was the feeling that you had been avoiding for weeks: that kind of uncertainty and fear that you had pushed down so far after the night that it all came together, but you didn’t expect it to manifest like this. In your chest a knot tied itself together tightly and in a way that you couldn’t explain. 

“I...just like what's happening right now between us, I didn’t think that he would want--” 

Felix nudged Minho by the hip, motioning for him to let him out of his side of the booth. Minho rolled his eyes, but did so muttering, “I said we shouldn’t press the issue but here you go...” 

Felix slid over to your side of the booth, nearly shoving you up close to the wall with how near he scooched to you. Carefully, he removed the napkin that you had scrunched up into your palm. 

“Relax okay? You’re doing it again. Just calm down.” While his tone was sweet, you couldn’t help but find some condescending edge--real or not. 

“Doing what? I don’t think that I’m doing anything wrong??” 

Felix let you squeeze his hand tight, as patient as ever. 

“Do you not want him to be your boyfriend?” He repeated. “But he treats you so nicely? There’s nothing to worry about.” 

At first you were angry at yourself, angry at yourself for feeling the hot tears well up in your eyes in public, 

I’m so fucking pathetic. 

Secondly, you were furious at yourself for feeling anything less than the happiness that had made up your whole world for the past few weeks. You had worked so hard just to make something that made sense, and he made sense. Why did it have to be much more complicated than that? 

“Y/n?” Felix bowed his head down with his softening gaze. 

“F-Felix, I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I’m just trying to understand so I can help you out with this. Clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you about, I don’t know, putting a label on it? If that’s the right word--” 

Minho sucked at his teeth, “He’s too nice to say that you’re self sabotaging again. Listen, you don’t have to have the answers right now, we’re just saying you’re getting in your own way at having something that could be really great.” 

Felix shot daggers in Minho’s direction. 

“I wasn’t gonna say this, but Bin’s been going through shit right now with his family that I’m sure he isn’t telling you about. Someone tipped them off about what he’s been doing and they’re furious. He’s been telling them that no one knows that he’s tied to them when he raps but they aren’t listening. Literally when he goes to see you it’s like, what’s helping him forget all that shit. He cares about you a fuck ton, and I’ve heard about it all. He wants you to be his girlfriend. Believe me. Don’t know why he hasn’t brought it up yet, but...” 

Felix took in a shaky breath, then turned his attention back to you. “Besides all that, I think that you should at least talk to him about this all. I had no idea that you felt this way. I’m sorry for making assumptions. At least, if you and him talk about it, you can figure something out right?” 

You took at the papery and crinkled napkin and dabbed it harshly on your eyes to dry your tears before they had a chance to run further down your face. 

“Why the fuck doesn’t he tell me anything?” Your voice wavered. 

Minho folded his hands on the table. “Knowing him, he probably thinks that it would be burdening to you. Selfless dick. He thinks that putting that shit on you somehow makes him seem like a handful or some shit.” 

“B-but I don’t feel that way?” 

“Then tell him!!” Felix’s volume rose. “When you talk to him, tell him that.” 

“What the fuck is this, a drama?” Minho laughed a little. “These communication skills are god-awful.” 

“Oh fuck off Minho,” Felix rubbed your back to soothe you. “This is real life, and we’re here to help out Y/n.” 

“That’s fuck off Minho-hyung to you.” The older boy stuck out his tongue. 

You wiped your nose against your hand, then Minho threw another napkin from the holder in your direction. 

“I promise that things will get better when you talk to him.” Felix nodded. “Talking always helps.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Thursday afternoon came, and the forecast had called for snow, but none had come. Rather, the atmosphere had turned to be dreary and grey the whole day long, and the temperature dropped so low that some local schools had to cancel classes for the day. Your university had decided to do the same. While you had been thankful and decided to spend the day working on your various projects, you couldn’t bring your hand to the canvas. 

All day long you had spent figuring out what it really was that you wanted to say to Changbin, and you still hadn’t figured it out yet. Even you didn’t know what it was entirely that scared you deeply. But, you knew that somewhere you did. 

Why her? 

You could do better. 

Isn’t she...boring? 

You hugged your legs to yourself as you waited on your couch. The memories seeped into your brain like some kind of poison diffusing its way. 

No, no. You’re wrong. You tried your best to banish them. 

You’re all mine. No one else’s. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell me. Who’s baby are you? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, and dug your nails into the fleshy part of your knees where you held them. 

You don’t own me. You don’t have the fucking power. 

Three knocks clicked at your door, and you knew that it was Changbin. Your chest shook with a type of anxiety that felt like prickling thorns. You rose to open the door. 

“Fuck. It’s so freezing out there.” Was the first thing that he said. “I wouldn’t mind not having to go back out there if you are?” He slung his coat over one of chairs to your two person dining table. As soon as he was undressed, you were overcome with the desire to be as close as possible as you could get to him. It had been your safe place. 

Changbin let out a little surprised noise when you launched your body at him, but he just as quickly held you back firmly. 

“Is everything okay?” 

For a moment you let his rosemary and cedarwood cast aside all the ideas and words that ate away at you. 

“Can we talk?” You mumbled. 

“Yeah, of course. Can we sit down? Get a blanket maybe?” You nodded and let him do the work of going back to your room to get back your knit blanket that he knew you liked best. He threw it over his shoulders them beckoned you to join him in his arms. You snuggled right up into his chest where he had tucked himself into the corner of the couch. “Want to talk about it now?” 

With glistening eyes you tried your best to look up at him. His cheeks were still bitten pink from the cold. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents? Or about what’s going on right now?” 

Changbin sighed and bit at his lower lip in his discontent. “Minho said something didn’t he?” 

“You can tell me, you know?” 

Changbin shook his head. “It’s not your problem to worry about, so I don’t want you do.” 

“But you’re my problem to worry about. Don’t you get that?” 

He sighed once more, then rested his head atop of yours. Where he held you around your arms, he rubbed gently.  

“And if...being with me helps you...I’ll come around anytime alright? You don’t just have to come here.” 

He laughed a little. “My place isn’t as private as yours is.” 

You toyed with the fraying fabric of the blanket. “You know that I can be quiet if I need to be. Or if you just want me to sleep over, I can do that too.” 

“I don’t want you going out of your way--” 

“--I don’t mind.” You nuzzled a little deeper. “So, your parents are giving you a hard time?” 

He tsked. “Yeah. It’s just...stupid is all. They care so much about what I do and don’t do when I left so it wouldn’t bother them. They’re trying hand out some kind of threats to me like they have the right to do so....they don’t.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

Changbin helped you up a bit higher up his body so your head could rest on his shoulder. “Nothing. Keep doing what I’ve always been. No one knows except the people I have closest to me. They’re worrying over nothing.” 

You formed a “oh” with your lips. 

“But, it’s nothing to worry about. I promise.” 

Already, you had forgotten what you really had decided to talk to him about. It had slipped from your mind just as quickly as you had let it arise. The two of you grew quiet, and you let yourself become overcome with the feeling and warmth that his body and the blanket gave to you. You wondered if he would’ve gotten mad if you had fallen asleep just then. It didn’t seem like the worst idea.

“As long as we’re talking about things, do you mind if I ask you something?” Changbin asked after planting a small kiss on your forehead. 

“What’s that?” You said with a sleepy and cracking voice. 

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but I just thought it would be worth it to ask, since we’ve been doing you know, this, for a few weeks now. You already know how I feel about you, I think that I’ve made it pretty damn clear, but, I was thinking that we could make things exclusive between us? Like, it just becomes me and you?” 

Drip by drip, the drowsiness that had swept over your eyes dissipated. 

“Would you be up for that? I just, it seems a bit odd to me that we haven’t talked about it yet considering...well, I think that it would be easier if we knew what we were so then we could, I don’t know, plan or something like that? It’s kind of a commitment, I know, but I want you to know that I’m willing--” 

“Bin...” You pulled yourself up from his chest. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did-did I say something wrong?” 

Who’s baby are you? 

“You want me to...be yours?” 

“Well, not exactly, you know what I’ve said before, but, I would like you to be my girlfriend--” 

A sob clogged your throat. Now that he had finally said it, the realizations came flooding over you like the deathly winter chill. 

“Angel, are you scared again? I told you that you don’t have to with me, I swear that I don’t ever want to hurt you or anything like what happ--” 

“--Like happened what? Back when I was so fucking stupid to get myself locked up in something that I thought would be good for me? Why is it that you want me to be your girlfriend, huh? I-is it because I-I fall over for you? I can’t run away from you? Am-am I just a good fuck for you? What is it?” 

“What the fuck? Where is this coming from? Y/n, you know that I love you, I fucking love you like crazy and I don’t think any of those things!! I’m not trying to restrain you our use you or anything like that, I don’t know why the hell you would think that!” 

“B-because you might not now, but what about later down the line...when I get boring or you figure out that I’m not as exciting like I used to be or--” 

“--What?! No! That’s not gonna happen!” Changbin reached out to pull you back into his arms, but you shook him off. 

Salty tears filled the corners of your mouth. “The last time that I-I did something like this, I--” 

“--Well this isn’t last time, this is this time, okay? It’s different! I swear to God that I’m not that fucking asshole. I get that you’re scared, okay, that’s totally understandable, but I’m asking you to trust me alright? Can you trust me?” 

Part of you wanted to trust him. In fact, a much larger part of yourself wanted to trust him so bad, it hurt. But, a smaller part of you, a much smaller part of you still screamed into the abyss that he was the last person in the world that you could trust; and that voice, was much louder. 

“I want you to be my girlfriend, and I want to give you everything that I have. All my fucking time, my attention, hell, just minutes ago you said that I was your problem, can’t you be mine? Is that not allowed? I’m just...I DON’T get you!!!” Changbin growled out the tail end of his sentence and only after he had said it he realized it was much louder than he intended. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...please. I’m not mad at you.” 

Your body had weakened, so when he had reached out for you, you let yourself fall into his arms. 

“Angel, can’t you see that what I’m trying to do is the complete opposite of what you think I am? Yeah I mean, it would be nice to call you my girlfriend, but not because I’m trying to control you or anything, but because...fuck, you make me happier, made me feel like I’m less lonely in this fucking crazy-ass world. I want to be that for you and you only.” 

Poisonous thoughts. Why were they even more alluring than the antidote that you had right in front of your face? 

Your limp body mustered up the strength of push yourself off his chest. Looking into his eyes you felt numb. With all the care that he held for you, you felt as if you didn’t deserve one single ounce of it. 

Why her?  

You figured that in some parallel earth, you would’ve been able to have said yes. In that parallel earth, nothing bad would’ve ever happened, and you wouldn’t have been crouched in that alley with snow melting into your dress. You would’ve lived a normal life without pain and doubt. Maybe you would’ve met him there too, and you would’ve been able to say yes. 

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but can you please consider it...for me? I meant everything that I said, but I...I also can’t wait forever.” You heard his voice grow thick. “I know that if...you can’t do it, or iff you don’t know, then I can’t just make it happen. There’s not a lot else that I can do. But at least I want to try.” 

You could do better. 

“I-I think that I need to be alone...right now--tonight.” Two more hot tears fell down your cheeks with a sting like a papercut. 

“Right now?” 

“Yeah, just--there’s things that I need to think about, I don’t..I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“No. I understand.” Changbin sniffled. 

Slowly, your two bodies seperated, and the heat from his body faded. You thought to yourself, it wasn’t yours to keep in the first place. 

You lead him quietly to the door where you watched him lace up his shoes and throw on his coat. His eyes had become puffy, as much as you figured you had looked as well. His grey eyes looked tired, just like the dreary day that you had spent all day hiding from. Still, he smiled. 

“Y/n. I know that you think that you’re hard to love. But you’re not. If you take away anything from this, I hope you know that your past doesn’t define you, and that you can have happiness after it all. I want to be that for you. If you’ll let me. Only if you’ll let me.” 

Your clogged nose made a horrible stuffed sound and you nodded. You had listened to his words, but had you heard? 

He sighed with finality, then bent down to kiss at the salty taste on your lips. 

“Call me, okay?” 

You closed the door after him, then collapsed down the door. Your pent up sobs flew out of your chest with loud and ugly sounding sobs. Each one hurt more than the last to get out. You crumbled against the wood door, and didn’t even mind the cool draft from under the crack. Your world became a blur in front of your watery eyes and your hands shook as they took your phone from your pocket. 

Words of self loathing filled your ears as you searched up the name, but it was the only one that you could think of in your blind emptiness. 

If only things could go back to the way that they were. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

The walk to his apartment was cold, freezing even. You had worn the shoes that you had been scolded for, and the coat that provided you with barely any warmth. You knew the way to his apartment well--it was almost muscle memory by now. Streetlights passed you overhead, and finally the snow that was promised started to drift from the heavens and before you. 

Your hands cracked with the cold when you pushed the button to his intercom, and he buzzed you in without saying a word. You showed yourself up the staircase with empty sounding footsteps echoing against the walls. Your eyes had welled with tears once you reached his floor, but you blinked them away harshly. It was a futile attempt considering that he would see how red your eyes had become. 

His door was cracked with old paint, and the number had been scratched off with age. You knocked one time, no more than that. Somewhere a tiny voice had hoped that he wouldn’t hear the knock at all, and figure that you hadn’t even come up, and that you could quietly slip back away. 

But he didn’t. He must’ve been waiting. 

He too looked to be a mess: his cheeks and eyes had puffed up and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. He wore minimal clothing that hung loosely on his frame. 

“--Jisung--” 

Before you could say any more, he had leapt into you, and wrapped his arms around you so tightly that he could’ve rid you of all your breath. 

“Baby, thank you so much for coming. Thank you so much. I’m sorry how I acted at the concert. I just missed you so much....I missed you so much.” 

[wasabito]

had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true. 

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer. 

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once. 

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance. 

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture. 

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment. 

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly. 

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more. 

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too. 

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit. 

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up. 

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!" 

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?" 

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

[slytherinsnekxvii]

let's talk about severus snape. he's one of the most controversial characters the internet has to offer, with several blogs, channels and pages dedicated specifically to hating him, despite him having one of the most—if not the most—intriguing character arcs the series has to offer. so, as a result of me coming across far too many of said blogs, channels or pages, here's an extremely detailed explanation of why i like him and think he's easily one of my favourite characters :)

1. he's not that bad of a teacher.

just so you know, i'm a teenage girl fresh out of high school. so, my experience with teachers? still keeps me up at night :)

my family is pretty strict about religion. you can guess what that means. anything that was magic-adjacent, especially something that, god forbid, had an entire school dedicated to witchcraft and wizardry was a hard no if i wanted to have any sort of freedom over the media i paid attention to, and any opportunity to go about my life without being monitored to make sure i wasn't suddenly possessed or something. thanks to this, i ended up secretly reading the philosopher's stone in my last year of primary school. i would've been 11 at the time, just about to turn 12, so a little bit older than harry and co. going on what i'd heard from those who had already read the series, i went in expecting to absolutely despise this man. i went in expecting to read a demon. i finished the book and came out thinking... that really wasn't that bad.

my mom found out, so i didn't get to read the rest of the series until i ended up on the executive committee for my school's book club and my friends were appalled that i'd only read the first book. at this point, i'm still expecting him to get worse and... he just doesn't. when i was in primary school, i had multiple teachers break wooden meter-long rulers across my classmates' backs. the first time it happened, i was in infant year 2 (about 6/7 years old). i had teachers who would insult us, based on anything from hygiene to behaviour to intelligence if you looked at them wrong. my sister (who was three years ahead of me) had a teacher who kept her in hours after school was over because the teacher had a written a note in her workbook upside down, and when my sister corrected her, the teacher made her rewrite it, turning the book each time the note was written so it would never be done the correct way.

in secondary school, i had teachers who would actively humiliate us in front of the class if we didn't do as well as they wanted. i had teachers who would throw markers and whiteboard erasers at us if we did something they didn't like during class. i had a teacher who looked for a friend of mine who was petrified of attention and then mercilessly picked on her until she went to the bathrooms to cry. these are the kinds of teachers that i was used to. so, when i read harry potter and read snape, who would have probably been one of the nicer teachers i met in my lifetime, i thought to myself, he's really not that bad. he's just... strict.

antis claim that he traumatised every kid that ever went through his class, that he straight up abused them and... no. he didn't. all of them are comfortable talking back, they talk during his class, no one trembles when he walks past, except for neville, who usually bore the brunt of snape's anger because he was consistently messing up in a potentially lethal class.

after school, i hated the thought of formal education, so now i'm working until i feel ready to do university. coincidentally, one of my jobs is teaching maths and english to kids writing the end of primary and secondary school exams. given the sheer amount of annoyance i feel sometimes, i actually respect him for not being more harsh with them, especially when they're all running off into danger or exploding cauldrons.

he really isn't that bad of a teacher, and we know this, since his classes' owl results are said to be consistently good.

plus, he was written in the 90's when all this was okay behaviour for teachers. hell, compared to some of the teachers in text, given that he goes out of his way to make sure the students are always protected, he's a lot better than most people give him credit for.

2. i relate to him.

come on, the man grew up to be a dramatic, queer-coded, petty bitch who wears all black all the time and likely has at least one mental disorder. i'm a petty, emo bisexual with (actually diagnosed, don't worry) depression and anxiety and I'm in a theatre group. what did you really expect from me?

on a serious note, both of the schools i went to were considered "prestigious". i got into my primary school because of a teacher's recommendation (she was a family friend). the second school i got into was because i scored ridiculously high on the placement test that would determine which school i went to. in primary school, i was the poor, really awkward, really smart kid who got left out of everything, and my best friend was the only kid who was worse off than me.

in secondary school, i was just as smart as everyone else... but i was still poorer, and still more awkward and still got left out of everything.

i got that isolated feeling, that feeling of not being good enough, that feeling where life always seems to have it out for you and that's even though i still got dealt a better hand than snape ever did. so, i get it. i'm never ever going to have it as bad as he did, but i acknowledge what he went through and i sympathise, because i have a chance, but it only ever got worse for him.

3. i genuinely enjoy his character.

this dude went through absolute hell for basically his entire life. the best years he had were probably when he was neck-deep in the group of people who hated witches and wizards like him, but somehow managed to treat him better than the good guys.

all of that, and he still manages to be one of the most entertaining motherfuckers in the whole series, with one of the most interesting character arcs ever. it's the witty lines, the sheer dynamic of his character, the change from the twitchy, hypervigilant kid from the slums to the adult that managed to spy on the Dark Lord himself and save the wizarding world in the process, while still being a hot mess of a person. it's the managing to get shit done while everybody hated him and everything was going to hell. it's the everything, and i haven't even talked about how badass he is.

come on, potions prodigy turned master, exemplary duellist (cough, cough, winning 4-on-1 vs McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn, and leaving a scratch on nobody, while managing to not take a single hit himself, cough, cough), spellcrafter, spy and one of the only wizards to ever figure out unaided flight. dark arts master, proficient at healing (dumbledore would've been dead a lot sooner, if it weren't for him, most likely). he's one of the most powerful wizards of his time. i've said that any universe where he's actually a bad guy—or just legitimately loyal to the death eaters—is a universe where voldemort wins and this is why. if he was motivated by literally anything other than lily, the wizarding world was more than likely fucked.

the point is, i just think he's neat.

4. spite.

every time i appreciate snape, a snater feels like someone is walking over their grave. every time i appreciate snape, a snater turns blue out of sheer rage. every time i appreciate snape, a snater loses their mind looking for their non-existent reading comprehension.

the spite in my veins is tempered only by the broth of instant ramen and ungodly amounts of sugar, and i'm going to use them all in my mission to cause antis pain when they refuse to acknowledge their lack of critical thinking and analysis skills.

so, yeah. why do i actually like snape?

tl;dr: he's not that bad. for a teacher written in the 90's and compared to teachers i've had within the decade, the guy's just strict. sure, he's a dick (who i personally think is hilarious), but he always makes sure the students are safe and he didn't leave any lasting effect on any of the students. he's really not that bad of a teacher. and hell, he's not even that bad of a person. i fully admit that he was an asshole and i entirely believe he was prone to self-destructive behaviour, but he still tried to atone for his mistakes and he did, is the thing, even though the odds were stacked more or less completely against him. i like him because he entertains me, and because i relate to him, as a teen who went through some shit and probably would have joined up with some bad people if it weren't for my friends and family, and as a teacher who really can't stand my students sometimes. i also like him because it irritates people who don't like him :)

also, istg if any of you respond to this with "bUt hE was ObseSsED with LiLY and just WAnTEd to FUCK hEr," i'm crawling into your bedroom window with the most unrealistic, mangled interpretations of your favourite characters and making sure they haunt you in your dreams. meet me in the fuckin' pit, babe. reread the series, actually think about it and come with receipts that aren't Voldemort, because i don't think you want to have the same opinion as the character who canonically doesn't understand love, now, do you, sweetheart? when you do that, then, and only then, will i consider entertaining your bullshit :)

that's about it from me, thanks for reading!

[engie-ivy]

“What are you saying, Remus?”

Remus doesn’t spare him. “You won’t get custody over Harry as long as I’m around.”

Sirius closes his eyes. “It doesn’t stop, does it?”

It was supposed to be better after the war...

Already Decided

“I’m surprised you found me,” Remus says, folding his arms over his chest.

Dumbledore looks up from the cup of tea he’s holding. “I wasn’t aware you were trying to hide.”

Remus shrugs. “I wasn’t. Not per se. It’s just been so long. I figured I’d be hard to track.”

Dumbledore takes in Remus’ worn robes, greying hair and the dark circles under his eyes. “You look bad.”

“Why, thank you,” Remus says with a wry laugh. “That’s what years of living with my condition tends to do.”

“I would’ve thought the new Wolfsbane Potion made things easier for you.”

Now Remus laughs out loud. “Yes, because of course an expensive potion targeted to a population for whom it’s practically impossible to get a decent job is going to solve it all.”

“I actually got a job offer for you,” Dumbledore responds. “I’m in need of a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

This makes Remus laugh again. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me.”

Dumbledore puts down his tea. “I assume you’ve heard about Pettigrew’s escape?”

Remus’ face darkens. “Yes. I assume you know about...?”

“His Animagus form?” Dumbledore finishes. “I’ve been informed. I must say, Lupin, I’m disappointed in you. When I gave you the opportunity to attend Hogwarts, I had expected you to adhere to the rules set for the other students’ safety.”

There was a time in which Dumbledore’s disappointment would’ve gutted Remus. Hearing the words now, however, he can’t bring himself to care. It’s been a long time since he cared. “So, do you expect that Pettigrew will be targeting Harry Potter?”

“It’s possible,” Dumbledore replies calmly. “Harry Potter’s godfather is concerned, to say the least. It’ll help if I hire a trustworthy Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to keep an eye out. He wasn’t well pleased with me when the last one I hired tried to Obliviate Harry, and the one before that tried to kill him.”

“I reckon he wasn’t,” Remus replies.

“If you were willing to fill the position, you could be provided with a vast supply of Wolfsbane,” Dumbledore says casually.

“While if I refuse your bribe, you’ll leave me to my fate?”

Dumbledore doesn’t even bother to reply.

Remus sighs. “I used to admire you, you know.” He shakes his head. Anyways, if you want to appease Harry Potter’s godfather, you shouldn’t be asking me. I’d assume he hates me.”

“I thought Harry Potter’s godfather was your friend?” Dumbledore asks innocently.

Remus clenches his jaw. “You know very well what he was to me.”

12 years earlier

Remus lowers the letter he’d been reading when he hears the front door open. He still feels the urge to jump to his feet and grab his wand, but the war is over and a door opening doesn’t mean an attack might be coming anymore.

“So, Dumbledore tells me they’re going to give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt,” Sirius immediately goes off as he enters the kitchen. “Can you believe it? I’ll kiss Kreacher before I believe he acted under the influence of the Imperius Curse!” He shrugs off his leather jacket and hangs it over a chair. “But Dumbledore says we have to believe it as long as we don’t have strong evidence that proofs the contrary.” He rolls his eyes. “Yet they sent Pettigrew to Azkaban without so much as a trial.”

Remus arches an eyebrow. “Surely you don’t mind that?”

“Of course not!” Sirius’ face darkens as he remembers the mass murder, but even worse, the betrayal that signed their best friends’ death sentences. “But if they’re going to send people to prison without a trial, I wish they’d do it with the rich ones as well. No double standards, y’know?”

His eyes fall in the letter Remus had been reading. “What’s that?”

Remus hands it to him wordlessly. No use postponing it.

Eviction Notice

To: R. J. Lupin

According to our information, you, as a registrant of the Lycanthrope Database, are currently the inhabitant of this premise.

Regretfully, we must inform you that under the recently passed Anti-Werewolf Legislation Act of 1981, it is stated that ‘no one affected with the Lycanthropy affliction is allowed to live within a 10-kilometre radius from an urban area, where the creature can pose a danger to others’.

In accordance with this law, we urge you to vacate this premise as soon as possible, as otherwise legal action shall be undertaken.

Was signed,

The Ministry of Magic

Remus studies Sirius’ face closely while he’s reading, and he sees it: Sirius is worried and tired. So very tired. Only for a split second, then Sirius plasters that unaffected smile on his face as he throws the letter back on the table. “Well, that was to be expected any time now. We’ll find a way to deal with that later.”

He’s pretending for my sake, Remus thinks. Acting like he’s not concerned, so I won’t feel guilty.

“I should leave,” Remus says.

“We probably should,” Sirius sighs. “I don’t really see another outcome. I’m sure we’ll be able to find a new place we can live. I’ll start asking around.”

“And then what?” Remus asks. “A week, maybe two, until another letter comes?”

“What would you suggest, then?”

“I already suggested it,” Remus says. “I should leave.”

“No.”

“Padfoot...”

“No! For Godric’s sake, Moony! We fought a war together! We risked our lives for each other! We faced death side by side! We managed to withstand suspicion and false accusations! And now you want to give up because of a dumb letter?”

“It’s not just the letter,” Remus says. “You know it’s not! The attitude towards werewolves in England has always been bad, but now so many werewolves have fought on You Know Who’s side during the war and the tales of Greyback’s cruelties are rapidly spreading through the wizarding community, it has gotten so much worse. It won’t stop here.”

“Then we’ll spread the tale of the brave werewolf in the Order of the Phoenix who risked his life fighting for what's right!” Sirius exclaims.

Remus shakes his head. “They won’t listen. You know what people are like. They only listen to stories that fit within their pre-existing worldview. Fear will lead to hatred, and it’s only a matter of time before hatred leads to violence. It’s not safe for me to remain in England.”

“We’ll move to some cottage in the countryside,” Sirius pleads. “Far away from any ‘urban area’, where no one will bother us! Or we’ll cross the English Channel into France! I speak French!”

Remus gives him a small, sad smile. “You’re trying to get custody over Harry. The Ministry won’t grant you custody if you live in some abandoned cottage, far away from any facilities, schools, and other children to play with, much less if you go abroad without a job, or even a place to live.”

“The hearing for Harry’s custody is next week,” Sirius replies stubbornly. “Once we have it, we can do whatever we want!”

It’s tempting. Merlin, it’s tempting. Remus wants nothing more than to be persuaded by Sirius’ arguments, to believe it really is possible, that Harry, Sirius and he can live happily ever after in some cottage in the countryside, together. But Remus has to be sensible.

“Harry is their national treasure,” he says. “The famous Boy Who Lived. Lily and James made their wishes evidently clear, but still many people from the Ministry don’t want to see him raised by a Black. They’ll latch on to every little thing they can to deny you custody. And being associated with a werewolf is no little thing.”

Sirius looks at him, fear visible in his eyes. “What are you saying, Remus?”

Remus doesn’t spare him. “You won’t get custody over Harry as long as I’m around.”

Sirius closes his eyes. “It doesn’t stop, does it?”

“Sirius...”

“Fabian, Gideon, Marlene, Dorcas, Regulus, Lily, James... Hasn’t it been enough?”

Remus gets up from his chair and sits down on his knees in front of Sirius, taking his hands in his own. “Look at me, Sirius. Please look at me.”

Sirius opens his eyes, silent tears streaming down his face. “Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t make me choose. You’re all I have left. You and Harry... You’re all I have left. Please, don’t make me choose.”

Remus gathers the trembling man in front of him in his arms and rubs soothing circles on his back. “I won’t,” he says. “I promise I won’t make you choose.”

Sirius pulls away slightly to cup Remus’ face in his hands and searches his eyes, looking for the lie. Remus encircles his wrists with his hands and looks back with a steady gaze.

“I love you, Remus Lupin,” Sirius says earnestly, almost like a challenge.

“I love you too, Sirius,” Remus replies without hesitation.

Sirius kisses him fiercely, desperately. Remus allows himself to get caught up in it, allows himself to forget. Forget about the prejudice, the legislation, the letter, the hearing. Forget about everything, just for the moment. Everything but the feel of Sirius’ lips on his skin and Sirius’ hands on his body.

Afterwards, Remus is lying on his back in their bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sirius is fast asleep, tucked against his side, an arm splayed across his chest and his head resting in the crook of his neck.

Moonlight drifts through the curtains. Moonlight. Moonlight that has already taken so much from him. This will be the last. After this, there’s nothing left.

He carefully detangles himself from Sirius and silently puts his clothes back on. As he looks down on Sirius’ sleeping form, he can’t help but reach out and carefully brush a strand of hair from his face. “I won’t make you choose,” he whispers. “I’ve already chosen for you.”

Sirius takes a few sips from the water placed in front of him, while the wizard at the other side of the table, a middle-aged man in sharp, dark blue wizarding robes, rummaged through his papers.

“Well, Mr Black,” he says, as Sirius places his glass back down. “The documents seem to be in order. Mr and Mrs Potter were very thorough in their paperwork. They have fully filled in each form, dated and signed by both of them. I must say, their wishes are evidently clear.”

The witch sitting next to the man, a short woman with a broad face, wide mouth and bulging eyes, somehow reminding Sirius of a toad, wearing pink, frilly robes, lets out a small cough.

The wizard, however, ignores her. “I assume you’ve been thinking about practical matters, such as education and healthcare?”

The witch makes another coughing noise.

The wizard pointedly keeps ignoring her. “I must tell you, even if you’re given custody, the Ministry is planning on monitoring the child closely. With everything he’s been through and the publicity around him, it’s a precarious situation. If we find that you cannot offer the boy a stable home environment...”

The toad-like witch lets out another small cough. The wizard grits his teeth, but Sirius is barely aware of it. He finally feels an emotion burning through the numbness, something fierce. “I will provide him with a home.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr Black,” the wizard says. “I’m not trying to aggravate you. It’s for your own sake, as well as the boy’s. Mr Black, you’re only twenty-two years old, you’ve been through some very traumatic events, and you’re offering to take care of an infant child as a single parent. It’s not unreasonable to fear you may get overwhelmed-”

Another one of those small coughs, and the wizard jerks his head around. “Dolores, is there anything you’d like to add, or can I perhaps get you something for your throat?”

The toad-like witch doesn’t hesitate to take over the conversation, her iron-grey eyes boring into Sirius’ empty grey ones.

“You’re known to have close associations with a Lycanthrope.” She speaks in a high-pitched voice that makes an oddly terrifying contrast with the cruelty in her eyes.

“I used to have,” Sirius replies.

She raises her eyebrows. “Not anymore?”

“Not anymore.”

“So there won’t be a dangerous dark creature hovering around the small child?”

“There won’t.”

“And where is the werewolf now, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not-”

“Mr Black,” the wizard interrupts the toad-like witch. “Perhaps you can save us time by just telling Ms Umbridge what your current relationship to R.J. Lupin is?”

Sirius drinks the rest of his water, which he knows to be heavily spiked with Veritaserum, before answering. “There is none. He left, and I don’t think I’ll ever see him again.”