#anyway here's a history lesson no one asked for

[nullshocked]

The Parents Music Resource Center was a group of bored white wom-- I'm sorry ACTIVISTS who had some concerns about music that was being made in the mid-80s. Their scope began with album art and lyrical content, though they would later come to encompass live performances, radio airplay, and outlets like MTV back when MTV played music.

The sentiment was that any music that was sexually explicit, violent, promoted drugs and alcohol, or contained otherwise objectionable content, should be kept out of the hands of children. On paper, this isn't a terrible goal, but many of their proposed solutions would have resulted in many artists having their music banned, censored, unfairly stigmatized, and subject to superfluous taxes. Naturally, a lot of musicians took issue with this.

In August 1985, there was a senate hearing regarding the complaints brought up by the PMCR and potential solutions to the supposed proliferation of objectionable music dominating the music industry (though as would be pointed out, many of the so-called examples given were extremely obscure and cherry picked examples read in bad faith). The committee focuses largely on rock and heavy metal music, but given that at least one person's testimony spoke of Jazz and Rock-and-Roll (as in the genre pioneered by black artists in the 40s and 50s) as being examples of music that corrupts the youth, it doesn't take a genius to deduce what other kinds of music they would like to ban if it gained market dominance.

And it was a disaster for them when opposing witnesses came in to testify. Frank Zappa (The Mothers of Invention), John Denver, and Dee Snider (Twisted Sister) all came in, exposed the PMCR for the disengenuous organization that it was, and clowned on the senators trying to to do the mental gymnastics necessary to advocate for violating their first amendment rights. John Denver was arguably the most polite about it. Frank Zappa and Dee Snider were far more savage.

I bring this up because this happened nearly 40 years ago, and so much of the arguments that both the PMCR and the senators in the hearing keep trying to make revolve around protecting children from theoretical exposure to harmful material, but when it is suggested that perhaps parents should take a more active role in their children's lives and engage with them about the music they listen to the universal response is that's an unreasonable request.

Anyway some idiots online seem to feel the same way about art they don't like. Instead of thinking critically about why something makes them uncomfortable, it seems easier to just try and bury it so that no one can engage with it. And that isn't helpful to either the audience that wants to engage with art or the artists trying to authentically express themselves. Rendering value judgments and attaching stigma to art has never helped anyone except the authoritarian dipshits who benefit from an uneducated and uninformed population.

Frank Zappa's testimony

John Denver's testimony

Dee Snider's testimony

Genuinely give them a watch if you have the time. The total runtime of all three of these is around an hour and a half, but I think it's interesting to think about.

As for the PMCR: the hearing failed to do much more than waste everyone's time and make them look like idiots. The RIAA independently decided to start putting parental advisory warnings on future albums, which from the looks of things they were going to do regardless of the outcome of the hearing. The PMCR (and Tipper Gore, who was stupidly vocal about how little she actually knows about the music she was bitching about) got clowned on for the rest of the decade and into the 90s by the music industry until they just dissolved, having accomplished nothing except make teenagers everywhere want to listen even more to the very music they were whining about.

I wonder if people who think that banning objectionable art know about the time a group of pearl-clutching white women tried to do that with music in the 1980s and got clowned on so hard they dissolved by the mid 90s.

[atlabeth]

unadulterated loathing (pt 2)

pt 1 / pt 3

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner with fiyero on a history project. things don't go as you imagine.

a/n: sprinkling anthony bridgerton references in this because wreck my plans that's my man!! anyways this is actually going to be 3 parts because i have zero self control and ended up writing 15k words in total and im trying to see whether i like posting parts or doing one whole one shot more so there's going to be a third part. but for once in my writer life i have the whole thing written so it will be out in a couple days! have no idea how this fic became this long out of nowhere but i hope you all enjoy lol. stressed reader x calm bf will always be famous on this blog

wc: 4.9k

warning(s): almost cheating? fiyero is still w/ galinda for most of this so the line is very blurred but they dont cross it lmao. the slightest bit of angst but basically all fluff

“Isn’t this nice?” Fiyero spread his arms out as you took a seat in the grass. Idly, you wondered about getting grass stains out before he started talking again. “Fresh air, actual sunlight, and things to look at other than words on a page.”

“I do go outside,” you said wryly. “You act like I’m some hermit.”

He shrugged. “I only ever see you in class or at the library.”

“I’m just there most of the time,” you said with a slight laugh. “I’m not this smart by slacking off.”

Fiyero said your name with surprise. “Was that a joke?”

You laughed again. “Hardly.”

“I think it was,” he nodded. “You really are learning how to have fun.”

“I know how to have fun!” you exclaimed. “We just have different ideas of fun!”

“And what is your idea of fun?” Fiyero asked pointedly. “Studying? Attending class? Going through the intricacies of various languages?”

“That last one is very fun,” you defended. 

“How did you decide on linguistics anyways?” he asked. “You’re incredibly passionate about something I didn’t even know was a major here.”

“It’s not, technically.” You shrugged. “I’m a history major. I just convinced Doctor Dillamond to let me be his teacher’s assistant so I could include more linguistics lessons in the syllabus.”

“How do you do it?” he asked. “Oz— why do you do it? You’re stressed all the time. Surely taking one less class or not being a TA wouldn’t kill you. All of this seems like it is.” 

“I’m not like you, Fiyero,” you said. “I can’t get kicked out of a hundred schools and still be fine. I’ve got one chance, and if I squander it, then I’ve also squandered my dream. And that’s unacceptable to me.”

“There’s always second chances,” he said. “And third ones, too. Sometimes even fourth.” 

“Maybe for a prince,” you laughed. “But not for somebody like me.” 

“And just who are you?” Fiyero asked as he sat down next to you. “I know you’re Gillikinese and I know you’re probably going to succeed in whatever you attempt. But I still feel like I don’t know anything about who you are without the school uniform.” 

“Why does that matter?” you asked defensively. “We’re project partners, not friends.” 

“Because I’d very much like us to be friends,” he answered simply. 

That might have been the most shocking thing he’d said all day. Fiyero Tigelaar, Winkie prince and self-declared slacker and desired paramour of nearly every Shiz student, said he wanted to be your friend. 

Again, that warmth bloomed inside you. You tried to ignore it—tried to fully banish it. 

“Don’t do this,” you said, looking away from him. 

“Do what?”

“Act like you like me,” you said, stronger this time. “You— you do it with everyone, and that’s fine, but don’t do it with me.” 

“I’m not following,” Fiyero said. 

You glared at him. “I know you aren’t this daft.”

“Apologies,” he said. “I’m just trying to figure out how you figured I don’t genuinely like you.”

You blinked. “Because you’re you. You flirt with everybody so you can dance through life.”

“Of course,” Fiyero agreed. “It just so happens that I genuinely like you in addition.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why?”

His laugh was nothing but shocked. “Are you asking me why I like you?”

“Well,” you glanced away with a huff, “when you put it like that it sounds ridiculous.” 

“I’ll bite anyways,” Fiyero said. “I like you because you know what you want. You never really stop talking about it, honestly.”

“Are you trying to compliment me?”

“You’re intelligent and driven and you don’t shy away from anything you want,” he continued. “And you thoroughly vex me in near every encounter we have, most joyously.”

“…So you like me because I’m stubborn and confusing,” you said. 

Fiyero sighed. “You‘ve got some serious self esteem issues.”

“I do not!” you exclaimed.

“You’ve tied your worth to your academic achievement,” he said. “You can’t see all the good you’ve already done, how smart you truly are, because you only stress about the next thing you need to do. You’d rather lose your mind over what’s to come than realize all you’ve got in the moment.”

Your mouth opened and closed for a good five seconds, like a fish out of water, before it snapped shut. 

“I thought you were supposed to be brainless,” you settled on. 

“I am,” Fiyero agreed with a chuckle. “But I also know people better than most, and our study sessions have given me ample time to study you.”

Great Oz, why was your face so hot? You felt like you were burning up from the inside out. Fiyero Tigelaar was killing you, and slowly at that. 

“Why are you studying me?” you asked pointedly. 

“Because you’re interesting,” he said. “And very beautiful.”

“Well, I’m— I’m glad we’ve finally reached a truce.” You tried to sound as casual as possible—you couldn’t let Fiyero know the full effect he was beginning to have on you. You didn’t think he would ever shut up about that, and Galinda certainly wouldn’t either. You didn’t want to make an enemy of her. “It’ll make this project much easier.”

“Yes,” Fiyero mused. “I believe it will.”

Amusement, and maybe something warmer, danced in his irises. A very small part of you wanted to let yourself fall, freely and uncaring, just as every other student did. 

You had to lock that part of you away, never to be seen again. You didn’t like Fiyero. He was still a nuisance in every single sense of the word. 

You swallowed, trying to cure your cottonmouth. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. 

You needed to finish this essay immediately. 

-

You sighed when you heard a knock on your door. Coralie, for how smart she was, had a habit of forgetting her room key—so much so that you’d stopped bothering to lock the door on the days she went to class before you. 

“It’s unlocked, Cora!” you called out. You didn’t want to get up from your desk, not when you were in the middle of writing. You were worried that you would lose the thread of inspiration you’d finally caught the moment you got out of your chair. 

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” a familiar voice said. “All sorts of miscreants could get in.” 

Your hand slipped in your shock, but you couldn’t even be annoyed about smearing the fresh ink on the page or getting it on your shirt cuffs because you had more important things to worry about. Namely, your surprise visitor. 

“Fiyero?” 

“Present,” he affirmed as he leaned against your doorframe. “You’ve got a nice place here.”

“Thank you,” you said. “What are you doing here?” 

“Much less pink than Galinda’s,” he continued. “I think it’s the only color she owns, honestly. A bit absurd but—” 

“What are you doing here?” you repeated. 

“I should be asking you that question,” Fiyero said, eyes narrowing in on you. “I went to the library and you weren’t there.” 

You cleared your throat. “I was giving you the day off.” 

He frowned and stood up from the doorframe. “Who said I wanted the day off?” 

“You,” you said. “When you didn’t show up to Doctor Dillamond’s class today.” 

Fiyero brushed his hand through the air. “That’s different.” 

You looked at him expectantly. “So you skipped the class this project is for, but you don’t want to skip the actual project.” 

“That sounds about right, yes.” 

“You don’t even do anything whenever we’re together,” you said. “You just stare at me and complain about doing work and ask me about my life and take an hour to write one page of notes.” 

“That also sounds about right,” Fiyero said. “I enjoy your presence. Do you not enjoy mine?” 

If only he knew the way he’d been making you feel for the past week. He could never know that he appeared in your dream last night. 

“...Your presence is fine,” you said. “I just figured I would give you the day off, seeing as we only have one week left until it’s due.” 

“How much have you written already without me?” he asked. 

“Five pages, but that—” 

“You’ve nearly done half of the project without me?” Fiyero interrupted. 

“...Yes?” Why did you actually feel bad about this? 

Fiyero got closer so he could look over your shoulder at your work, and you found yourself holding your breath at his proximity. 

“Do you think you’re doing me a favor?” 

“Clearly,” you said. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner it’s over, and the sooner you don’t have to deal with me anymore.” You shrugged. “You said you wanted to ride my coattails anyways, so I figured I would make it easier for you.” 

“Just a few days ago you were chastising me for not doing my part,” Fiyero said. “Now you’re not even letting me try?” 

“I—” the words stuck in your throat, and again you felt your face heat. 

I don’t want to have to think about any of this more than I have to because I’m worried what I’ll realize. 

I don’t want to give you any more chances to take me off course because I know I’ll say yes. 

I don’t want to be around you longer than I have to because I think I’m starting to like you. 

“Yes?” 

“I am doing you a favor,” you finally decided. “You don’t have to worry about it. Go ride that horse of yours, or bother other students, or spend time with Galinda. You’ve earned it.” 

“Hardly,” Fiyero said. “I’m doing my part, whether you like it or not. We’ll meet at the library tomorrow morning before class like we’ve been doing.” 

“I have class at 8 in the morning tomorrow.” 

“...Then we’ll do it after class,” he reneged. “I do need my beauty sleep.” 

That got a smile out of you, which spurned one from Fiyero in turn. “I think that is one of the only genuine smiles you’ve given me since we started working together.” 

“I smile plenty,” you insisted. 

“At your books,” Fiyero said. “Not at me.” 

“That’s because my books are oh-so-beautiful,” you said. “And they don’t even need beauty sleep.”

He placed his hand on his heart. “You wound me.” 

Your smile grew and you set your pen down. “The library after class?” 

Fiyero nodded and tapped on your desk as he stood up. “Library after class.” 

He was about to go to the door when Coralie poked her head in. “Why is the door— oh! Fiyero!” She straightened up, plastering on a pretty smile as she stepped inside. “What brings you to our corner of Shiz?” 

“Doctor Dillamond’s midterm,” he said. “Your roommate here is trying to save all of the fun for herself.” 

“That sounds like her,” Cora nodded sagely. “You’re very good to try and keep her from that fate.”

Fiyero pressed his hand to his chest. “I consider it my duty. But I apologize for the intrusion—I’ll leave the two of you be.”

“Oh, stay as long as you want,” she spoke up. “I’m sure your partner wouldn’t mind.”

“He’s got things to do,” you interceded. “You’ve got things to do, Fiyero.”

He smiled knowingly. “I certainly do. You lovely ladies have a fine rest of your day.” He looked at you and said your name. “Don’t forget tomorrow.”

“How could I?” you said weakly. 

Fiyero chuckled and bowed his head in lieu of more parting words. The second he left, Cora turned to you with wide eyes. 

“Don’t,” you warned. 

“He came here to talk to you!” she exclaimed. “He found out your room number because he wanted to talk to you!” 

“Be quiet!” you exclaimed. “The door is still open—he can probably hear your screeching!”

Coralie shut the door and squealed. “He likes you!”

“We are project partners,” you enunciated. “Nothing more.” 

“Oh, I’m sure that’s what you think,” she said. “Just like I’m sure that he wants to be more.” 

“You’re acting like he isn’t with Galinda,” you said. “She controls this whole school—do you remember what happened to Elphaba when she didn’t like her?” 

Cora shrugged. “Sure. But I’ve been hearing there’s trouble in paradise.” 

That got you paying attention. “What?” 

“I knew it!” Coralie exclaimed—nearly yelled, honestly. “I knew you liked him!” 

“Be quiet!” you whisper-yelled. “Oz, what is wrong with you?” 

“I knew you liked him!” she repeated. “And he likes you— oh, it is too perfect!” 

“He does not like me,” you insisted, “and you are crazy.” 

“You didn’t say that you didn’t like him,” Coralie sung, and you screwed your eyes shut. 

“Fine!” you finally said. “Fine— I like him. Will you stop now?”

“Of course not,” she said, and you sighed. “How bad do you have it?”

“I don’t have it bad,” you scoffed. “I just— I enjoy spending time with him. And I think he’s kind of cute.” 

“Oh, you are full on head over heels,” she mused. “You just don’t know it. It’s okay.” 

You groaned as you buried your head in your hands. “I hate you.” 

She laughed. “And you like Fiyero.” 

“Shut up.” Your words were muffled, but you meant them all the same. 

You were comically doomed. 

-

The next day went… shockingly smooth. 

Fiyero was in the library when he said he’d be—he was even there before you, much to your surprise and he still had the notebook and pen you’d given him, much to his surprise. He made sure to bring an extra canteen of water for you, because he noticed you never had any with you. You were probably concerningly dehydrated. 

He tried to be a more attentive student to you than he’d ever been at any of his classes—not that that was difficult. You explained your outline and all the work you’d already done, what he could do on the last five pages and how to make his writing voice match yours to make a consistent paper. 

He wrote notes both on what you knew about Ilara Mayfair (a ridiculous amount, in his opinion) and anything else you thought he needed to know (also a ridiculous amount).

He was impressed most of all, though. No wonder you’d isolated yourself from near the entire student body and stressed over every letter in every sentence in every assignment. You were incredibly intelligent, but you were also able to explain everything in a way that even he understood. Fiyero had never really cared about… well, anything relating to school before he ended up partners with you. 

But now, Fiyero found himself surprisingly entranced by it all. He’d always liked your voice, and he had a permanent smile on his lips watching you talk so easily about your passions. It put a spark in your eye and a brightness about you that was usually bogged down by everything else that you stressed about. 

You were beautiful, especially when you were happy. And Fiyero had discovered over the past week that you were happiest when you got to talk about what you cared about to an interested audience. He only regretted acting like he wasn’t interested for so long. 

Finally, when Fiyero called a break on account of his hands aching (he’d never written this much in his life, and it still was only half of what you did basically every day), and you were eating an apple (that he also brought, because you really didn’t take care of yourself when you were doing work, which was always), he smiled at you. 

“You know, we really do make a good team,” Fiyero said. 

You swallowed the bite of apple you had in your mouth and cocked your head as you looked at him. “You think?” 

“I know,” he nodded. “You’ve done the impossible, darling. You’ve actually made me care about school.” 

“Well, I think you’ve done the impossible too.” You lifted the apple up. “You made me care about my health during midterms season.” 

“It certainly wasn’t easy,” he said wryly. “You kind of took it all kicking and screaming.”

You shrugged. “I’m not top of our class for nothing.” 

“Do you have to stress yourself into misery to be top of the class?” he asked. 

“I’m not miserable,” you retorted. 

It was when you said things like that that Fiyero really began to worry about you. It was part of the reason he was so intent on staying by your side through this whole project—no matter how dull he found the material—after the first session. He sometimes saw you around campus, usually carrying a stack of books or talking with your roommate.

After Fiyero was paired with you, he wondered why he didn’t see you more before it all, considering how active you were with literally everything school-wise. Then he realized you were likely always in the library, and the only time he’d visited the library was on Galinda’s tour. You were there, well enough, but you took your leave as soon as things started getting rowdy. 

A shame, he realized. He wondered what your relationship could have been had Galinda not staked her claim on him so soon. 

You weren’t going to take care of yourself, clearly enough, so Fiyero decided—at least for the duration of this project—that he would. It didn’t really matter if you were top of the class if you passed out from stress, exhaustion, annoyance, or a mix of all three. Likely a mix of all three. 

He didn’t really anticipate those feelings morphing into genuine affection. 

“I seem to recall you saying you dream of your future assignments,” Fiyero said, coming out of his thoughts. “That doesn’t sound like the habit of a happy person.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “Everybody has stress dreams.” 

“You know, I really don’t think they do,” Fiyero said. 

You rolled your eyes as you picked your pen up with your free hand and jotted down a few more sentences. “Sure.”

“On that note,” he said, “why don’t we call it a day?”

“We can’t call it a day,” you said. You took another bite from your apple and swallowed, continuing to write all the while without looking at him. “We’re not finished yet.”

“That is the most casually you’ve said that so far,” Fiyero mused. “I really am making progress.”

You laughed, finally paying him mind. “Progress with what?”

“I’ve been tracking your smiles and laughs this whole time,” he said. “See, this essay was your project, but that was mine—trying to make you enjoy your life.”

“This essay is both of our projects, Fiyero,” you said. “Besides, I don’t think Doctor Dillamond will accept your bar graph of all the times I laughed at you making a fool of yourself.” You frowned. “Or would it be a line graph because it’s over time? Or maybe it could be—”

“Alright,” he interrupted. “You’re going into hypotheticals on my joke. That’s clearly the sign that we need to call it a day.”

“…Fine,” you reneged. “But it’s just a break, not calling it a day. And I get to finish proofreading the rest of the essay when we get back.”

“A compromise,” Fiyero said. “Love it.”

You rolled your eyes as you started gathering your things. “You love everything.” 

“Eh,” he tilted his head, and you felt his eyes on you. “Most things.” 

You couldn’t help your smile, much as you tried to bite it back. “Whatever.” 

Soon enough, you and Fiyero were sitting together by the dock. You let your legs dangle over as you watched the scenery around campus—the ripple of the water, the gentle brush of the wind, the chirping birds that flew around without a care.

“Isn’t this nice?” Fiyero asked. He also had his legs over the edge, but he’d laid down against the stone. 

“You don’t have to push your relaxation propaganda so hard anymore,” you said wryly. “I’m here, aren’t I?” 

“And I’m grateful for it,” he said. “Someone that works as hard as you do deserves to relax the same amount.” 

“We’ve gone over this a thousand times—”

“I know,” he interrupted. He turned his head to smile at you. “I just have to hope that some of it sticks.” 

You rolled your eyes, once again unable to hide your smile. “And I have to hope for the same with this paper. Do you think you’ll remember any of this once we turn it in?”

“Oh, but of course. You were the one to teach it to me, after all. I could hardly forget it all.” 

“Good,” you said. “Everyone should know about Ilara Mayfair.” 

Fiyero chuckled, and you once again fell into comfortable silence. 

That was the thing that shocked you the most, you think. Not that you were beginning to like Fiyero, or that you actually liked Fiyero, or that you actually looked forward to spending time with him. It was that you were so comfortable just sitting with him in silence. 

It was very difficult to get to the silence, though. Fiyero couldn’t really stay quiet, and you didn’t know if he liked talking or the sound of his own voice. But you found it didn’t really annoy you like it used to. 

Great Oz. You really were into him. How embarrassing. 

Eventually, when the strain in your wrists and fingers from writing had finally faded, you turned your head to look at Fiyero. “I think it’s time we go back.”

He sighed. “Already?” 

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” you said. “Far longer than the breaks I usually take.” 

He opened his mouth, likely to say something of the same ‘you need to relax’ ilk, but you held up your hand. “Don’t. Just be thankful you got me away for this long.” 

Fiyero smiled, and he pulled himself up off the ground. “I always am.” 

He held his hand out, and you stared at him for a moment. “Why do you always do that?” 

“Help you up?” 

You nodded. “I can do it myself.” 

He shrugged. “I told you it was my project to make your life easier.” 

“You said it was your project to track my happiness,” you said. 

“And they go hand in hand,” he said. “I’m surprised you remember.” 

“It happened thirty minutes ago, Fiyero,” you said wryly. “Besides, I remember everything. It’s a gift.” 

Fiyero laughed, and you finally took his hand. He pulled you up and once again, you tumbled a bit too close—and again, his hand fell to your waist. He had to be doing this on purpose by now. 

“We keep finding ourselves in this position,” Fiyero mused. 

Heat flooded your cheeks like usual. “And whose fault is that?” 

“Well,” he said, tilting his head, “you’re not exactly pulling away.” 

Your mouth opened, trying to think of what words to say when your head was reeling from his mere presence. But then you saw a flash of pink in the background, and your eyes darted away from Fiyero. 

Galinda. She was distracted, talking with Pfannee and Shenshen as she went down the stairs. Oz, how did she slip your mind so easily whenever Fiyero was in your proximity? Why did you let him get this close when he was spoken for? 

You panicked—nothing less. You tore out of Fiyero’s grasp with a bit too much gumption, and then you stumbled, then you slipped, and then you fell. Fiyero called your name in shock, reaching his hand out, but it was too late. You’d plunged into the water before you could save yourself. 

The cold water instantly shocked all your senses, your eyes widening as you gasped out on instinct. Your mouth filled with water and your muscles seized up from the change in temperature—it was so much deeper than you’d imagined, and all your layers of clothing weighing you down were of no use. 

You tried your damnedest to ignore the alarm bells going off in your head as you fought against yourself, finally gathering the sense to swim. You kicked your way up to the top, gasping for air once when you breached the surface. 

You heard Fiyero yell your name again and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear the water from your eyes. When everything finally came into focus, you saw him on his knees, his coat shed and his sleeves rolled up. 

His eyes were wide as he reached his hand out, once again saying your name—this time with a certain desperation. “Are you alright?”

You tried to respond but all you could do was cough, trying to expel the water from your lungs. You took his hand and he helped pull you up onto the dock, where an exhale shuddered out of you.

“I— I am so sorry,” he stammered. It was the first time you’d ever seen him flustered, and you were too busy hacking up a lung to point it out. “Obviously I didn’t think—”

You held up your hand in lieu of saying something, as you didn’t think you could say something. 

This was so stupid, and it was something that never would have happened before you and Fiyero started working together. Your paper was due in two days, you’d only just finished the draft, you still had so much proofreading and rewriting to do, and instead, you were here on the docks soaked to the bone. 

And you found yourself laughing. 

“Oh, Oz,” Fiyero said. “You’ve lost it.” 

You couldn’t refute it, because you kept laughing. You could feel the eyes of your classmates on you, could hear them whispering to each other—likely making fun of you—and it only made you laugh harder. 

“Are—” Fiyero chuckled nervously as he said your name, “are you okay?” 

“I’m soaked,” you got out through your laughs. “And everyone saw me fall into the water. I’m a fool, Fiyero!” 

He was still staring at you in that careful way, as if you were made of glass. “I can’t tell if you’re mad or not.” 

“Oh, Fiyero.” You wiped the trailing water off of your face and wrapped your arms around him. You felt him freeze beneath you for the slightest moment—it had to have been the last thing he expected you to do. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Fiyero returned the hug, his movements still unsure. He didn’t seem to care that you were getting him wet, just about your wellbeing. “What— what for, exactly?” 

For a moment, you couldn’t look away. His blue eyes were meant to enrapture, his soft lips typically an invitation sealed with a smirk. But for once, Fiyero looked genuine—he wasn’t putting on a performance, or trying to seduce anyone who looked at him. He was genuinely sorry, genuinely confused. It only made you laugh again.

“What for, indeed.” A higher voice pierced through the air, and you separated from Fiyero immediately. Galinda, to no surprise, had found her way over to the chaos you’d created, her compatriots flanking her on either side. She smiled at you brightly, but her whole demeanor was like a violin string pulled taut. 

“Galinda,” Fiyero said. “Lovely to see you.” He didn’t seem half as shocked as you at her appearance, but his words fell flat. 

“And you as well, dearest.” Her smile turned sickly sweet as she shifted her attention to Fiyero momentarily, taking the opportunity to lace her fingers with his and pull him into a kiss. He pulled away first, but if it affected Galinda, she didn’t let it show when she looked back at you. She batted her eyelashes as she said your name incorrectly. “What was it you were saying?” 

The sudden combination of cottonmouth and sour guilt creeping up your throat didn’t really help your already flustered state. She knew what she was doing—but you did too, didn’t you? 

She was with Fiyero. You knew that. And though Fiyero danced across the line, you took his hand every time he offered. 

“I—” you cleared your throat, attempting a casual smile of your own. “Just that I know why Doctor Dillamond put us together.”

“Excellent,” Fiyero said. “Off-topic, but excellent— are you sure you didn’t hit your head down there?” 

“Perhaps you should go to the nurse,” Galinda said. “I’m sure Shenshen could—” 

“I’ll be fine,” you interrupted, your smile tightening ever so slightly. You looked at Fiyero. “Meet me at the library tonight, and bring coffee. We’re finishing this project tonight. 

“Of course,” he nodded.  

You nodded as well, and you started to go. Galinda’s gaze was sugary sweet poison, and you couldn’t take the weight of it anymore. 

“Wait,” Fiyero spoke up. 

You stopped against your better judgment, and he let go of Galinda’s hand to take his jacket off. He moved closer to you and wrapped it around you. His touch, light but certain, lingered on your shoulders once he’d finished adjusting it, and his gaze stayed on yours 

“Until you can change,” he said. 

“...Thank you,” you said. 

Galinda cleared her throat extremely loudly, her taut smile back. You remembered yourself and stepped away from Fiyero. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” you said, already starting on your way. You wouldn’t let him stop you again. 

“Tonight,” he agreed, bowing his head in parting. 

You only glanced back once you were by the stairs. When you did, you saw Galinda speaking rapidly to Fiyero—you were too far away to hear anything, but she didn’t look happy. When your gaze drifted to him, you found he was already looking at you. Almost subconsciously, you tugged his jacket tighter around you. When you realized what you were doing, you stopped. You averted your eyes immediately and hurried up the stairs. 

You weren’t out of breath from exertion. 

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

A good grade.

Pairing: Perv Art Professor!Joel x afab!reader Words count: 4844 Rating: +18, MDNI Summary: You always thought you would have a future in the art world, until you met Mr. Miller, your professor who decided to make your life hell. What are you willing to do for a good grade? Tags: perv!Joel, soft!Joel, power imbalance, degradation, smut, blackmail, reader is described having female genitalia, no other description of her is given, unspecified age gap (in my mind 24/45 but you can imagine whatever, they’re both grown up anyway), unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but you know, do better irl), oral (f receiving), mention of blowjob, edging, edging with a brush, creampie, pet names, slurs, Joel has a dirty mouth, a lot of swearing, some reader's thoughts marked in italics.

Disclaimers: English is not my first language, very poorly proofread, no beta, it's all my fault and I'm very sorry! I like art but I'm not an expert, I've never taken lessons (well, in high school I did but it was art history and it was only theoretical) and I don't really know how they work, I made it all up so if it doesn't adhere to reality please excuse me. I hope you like it anyway, the other morning I woke up with the idea of ​​Joel painting me as one of his French girls (heheheheh) and I started writing this thing 💀

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know. Thanks to anyone who reads, I hope you like it ♥️

You’ve always loved art, since high school it’s always been your favorite subject and drawing and painting your outlet, your way of expressing yourself. Your teachers have always praised you, considering your works not only perfectly executed but significant, mature, full of pathos. Everyone has always told you that you had an eye for recognizing artistic value, you’ve always been the best in your class and you’ve worked hard to get here.

You graduated with excellent grades and were accepted into a prestigious master's program. You would like to become a professional artist or at least an art critic.

You had a bright future ahead of you, until you met Professor Joel Miller.

He has done nothing but criticize you, your skills and your work from the very first day. 

And he always does it deliberately, in front of everyone else. No matter how hard you try, you never get more than F for every work you submit. The disdain with which he treats you makes you feel like a failure and your breath die in your throat every time he lays eyes on you and says the most hateful words you’ve ever heard about yourself. Today it happened again. You spent sleepless nights working on this portrait, begging the model called by Professor Miller to see you after class hours. You even offered to pay her and she was kind, she didn’t ask for an outrageous amount despite the fact that she could have taken much more lucrative jobs instead of posing for you. You’re just a master’s student trying to support herself by working nights in a bar. 

“What is this?” he thundered looking at your painting “You are only getting worse, miss, I have never seen anything like this. It is indecent that a person like you tries to make art, it should be prohibited by law. Look at this, wrong proportions, no harmony, no attention to detail, nothing. This does not even look like the same person I had pose for hours in front of you. You should be ashamed to present a work like this after 6 months of course” 

You won't be able to finish your master's degree unless you get a passing grade in Professor Miller's course, but he doesn't seem at all inclined to give you even a measly D.

It’s a nightmare.

You'd be forced to start all over again, ask your parents for financial help, which is the last thing you want to do when they've already sacrificed so much to help you pay for college, or do the unthinkable and give up on all your dreams, the career you have cultivated with strength and passion throughout your life up until now.

You decide to make a last-ditch effort and try to talk to Mr Miller during his office hours.

You've always avoided it until now because you thought things would get better but it's the third F you get and you can't afford to go on like this. 

The idea of ​​being alone with him doesn't excite you at all, but you hate losing everything you've worked so hard for even more.

You take a deep breath before knocking on the door, terrified of what he might say to you.

Mr Miller is also an established artist and his work has been appreciated abroad so his disapproval could really preclude you from many opportunities. 

“Come in” even from behind closed door his voice sends shivers down your spine.

You walk in muttering “good afternoon” feeling like a complete idiot, you are already convinced that it was a mistake to come to him, nothing will change his mind. 

Joel is sitting behind his desk, frowning as he corrects tests. He looks up from the papers only when you are in front of him “Oh. it's you,” he says in his usual dismissive tone of voice “What do you want miss?” 

You clear your throat and murmur, “I...” his gaze is already back on the tests, he doesn't even look at your face as he fills the paper with red marks and writes a big circled F at the top, the assignment of some other hapless person like you who will find himself failing his class. Incredible anger mounts in your body, you clench your fists and say "excuse me" in a stern voice. 

It infuriates you, it's maddening how he can't even treat you as a human being for a second. 

"What do you want?" he asks annoyed looking back up at you "and be quick about it, you are wasting my time." 

“I'd like to know what I need to do to have you evaluate me favorably” you try to keep your tone as detached and respectful as possible even though you despise the man in front of you with every fiber of your body. 

“Nothing, you can't do anything, I thought you had figured it out by now, are you also stupid besides not having the slightest talent?”

“Actually...fuck, I don't think I am that bad. And I think you are judging me too harshly,” you spit out feeling tears stinging your eyes. You promised yourself to keep calm but the way he is treating you only makes you want to insult him.

“I advise you to moderate your tone if you don't want to be expelled as well as failed in my class.”

He has the upper hand, you can't do anything about it. A sense of frustration and helplessness crackles under your skin as you plead with him, “Please Mr Miller there must be something I can do to change things. Anything...I…I don't want to fail.” 

An evil grin paints on his face “how much do you care about it?” 

“It's the only thing I care about, please, art means everything to me” you look at him feeling your whole essence crumble in front of him, you are desperate and tired of struggling, you just want to find a way to work things out. You have very good grades in all the other courses, he is the only one stopping you from achieving what you want most in the world.

“Actually you could do something to make it better,” Joel suggests, and you cry, ”Please, I'll do anything.” 

“Anything?” he probes ”are you sure?” His smug, dangerous expression unnerves you, maybe you shouldn't have made yourself so vulnerable in front of him, but there's no turning back now. "Yes," you shriek.

He leans against the back of the chair while continuing to sneer under his mustache “Well, then I have an offer for you. I'm working on a series of paintings of women, you could pose for me.” 

“Me?” you ask confused, the last thing you expected was for him to ask you to paint you.  

“Why not, if nothing else you're pretty,” he admits, and it's the first nice thing about you that's ever come out of his mouth. 

You wonder what the scam is behind his proposal, it can't be that easy, he's probably going to ask you to pose with some repulsive animal or in a way that makes you look completely idiotic or he's just pretending that this is the solution but then he's going to blackmail you and make you regret setting foot in his office.

He writes something on a post-it note and hands it to you “Meet me at this address tomorrow night at 8” he orders you “don't be late” 

“I really...” you try to say. 

“What? Is there something more urgent you need to do besides securing good grades?” he raises an eyebrow scrutinizing your astonished face. 

“No it's just that...I'm supposed to be working at that time.” You mutter.

“Well get your shift changed, or ask someone to fill in for you, pretend to be sick, I don't care, just show up.” He barks at you. 

“Okay,” you agree. You can't say no, it's your last resort, either that or total defeat. 

You walk out of his office with the feeling that you have gotten into big trouble. 

_____________________________

You get confirmation of this the next day when you show up at the address written by Professor Joel. It's on a suburban street with little traffic, in front of you is what looks like an abandoned former factory. A blast of cold air makes you shiver as you ring an old intercom near the front door. You huddle in your coat, wondering where the hell you are. Maybe he gave you the wrong address just to make fun of you, you took two buses to get here, at the very least you'll soon find out your professor isn't even here. 

Surprisingly, he answers you instead, his thick voice ordering you to come up. You enter through the doorway into a dusty, bare lobby, only an old freight elevator in front of you. You push the button and the elevator car begins to descend with a sinister, metallic sound. "What the hell is this place?” you ask yourself "my god, I'm going to end up dead and thrown in a dumpster". You get on the elevator with your heart in your throat praying that there isn't a serial killer waiting for you on the other side. 

The doors suddenly open wide onto a large room with concrete columns. You step out and look around, there is a large table in the corner, chock full of artists' materials, tempera, canvases, oil paints, watercolors, all thrown in bulk. Various canvases are resting on pedestals scattered around the room, and others lie leaning against the wall. There is an old leather couch in the corner and a double mattress resting on wooden pallets on the other side. Several rugs are spread on the floor. It's all messy and chaotic, but it definitely has the look of an art studio. 

"Oh, you're here at last," Joel grunts, popping up from behind a pillar holding a dirty brush stained with red tempera. 

He is wearing a pair of frayed jeans and a white T-shirt stained in paint, he is disheveled and barefoot. 

He doesn't even look like your professor; he always wears suits and perfectly ironed shirts at university. 

Two large leaded windows divided into small squares open on the wall in front of you. 

It’s dark by now, so the entire room is softly lit by several lamps and candles scattered around. 

“Where should I stand to pose?” you don't intend to put in more than is necessary; spending time with this obnoxious man is the last thing you want to do today. 

“Sit on the couch,” Joel orders, pointing to the old leather ruin to your right, ”I'll prepare the necessities and we'll get started.” 

You sit, quietly, dreading what lies ahead. 

Joel picks up a blank canvas and places it on a stand, takes a graphite pencil from the table and orders you " Undress" 

You squint your eyes, squeaking “I'm sorry, what?”

“I'm making a series of artistic nudes, didn't I tell you?” he grins 

“No, you don’t” you retort. 

Fucking bastard. 

“Strip” he repeats firmly. 

“But I don't-”

“Look, you're already irritating me, either take off your fucking clothes or get out of here” 

You've seen people pose nude in your art classes before, even in Professor Joel's class, and all you've ever cared about was doing a good job, but now it's different. It's just you and him, in a place in the middle of nowhere, you weren't warned before, and more importantly, he makes you uncomfortable. 

His gaze has done nothing but judge you from the first moment it landed on you. You don't want to lose that last bit of dignity you still preserve and let him see you in your most intimate form. 

“So what have you decided?” Joel presses you. 

With extreme reluctance, you begin to take off your coat, laying it on the couch. What else can you do? By now you have fallen into a trap, either you do this or your grade at the end of the course will be F. 

F for failure.

“Damn asshole,” you think, ”I hope I never see you again in my life after your fucking course is over.” 

The resentment must be clear on your face because Joel mocks you “Oh come on, don't pout like that. There's nothing underneath that I haven't seen a hundred times before. It's just tits and a cunt” he concludes in a dismissive tone, crossing his arms over his chest impatiently.

He rolls his eyes when after some hesitation you slip off the T-shirt you are wearing, revealing a light pink lace bra. 

He curls his lips "cute," he whispers in a lascivious tone " take that off too." 

“But Mr Miller I...” you try to retort

“Go ahead and take it off,” your arms reach for your back, you undo the hooks of your bra and drop it to the floor. You cannot believe this is happening, you are bare-chested in front of your professor. 

"Very well..." he acquiesces, "you see, everything is easier when you cooperate." 

He strokes his beard as he glances at you remove your shoes and pulling down your jeans, the same smug, dangerous smile he had in his office returns to peep across his face.

“Good girl.” 

You feel a knot in your stomach. And you who thought that commitment and talent were enough to get results...poor naive girl. 

You should get out of here and go to the dean and report him for unethical conduct but you suddenly realize that he may be the first, but he won't be the last. 

"Lie down on the couch," Joel whispers to you, his gaze not leaving your body, hungry and demanding. 

You don't want to be here, yet you feel you can't do anything else at this point. 

"Raise your right arm above your head," Joel instructs, "and bend your legs slightly." 

“Like this. Don't move," Joel stands in front of the canvas and begins to trace marks on the surface. His hand moves quickly, his fingers run over the traced lines smudging them. 

You remain still as he ordered you, feeling goosebumps across your body and your nipples harden from the cold. 

You have to admit to yourself that it is fascinating to watch him work; his gaze is alert and sure, his hands move expertly and competently. He is certainly talented. 

Joel observes the work done so far, scratching his chin, adding a few touches here and there as his eyes scan the entire surface of the canvas.

Maybe he really just wants to paint you and you're making a big deal out of nothing, maybe this will end well after all. He moves the easel to one side of the sofa you assume to look at you from another angle until he growls “Spread your legs for me, darling” 

“But I don't-”

“I need more shadows on your  body”

“What?” you glance at him, this sounds like a lame excuse. 

“Spread your legs” he repeats ”come on” 

You do so, feeling his eyes everywhere on you, feeding on every uncovered inch of your skin. And for some reason you cannot explain, you feel your body react under his gaze. You peak at the outline of his cock straining under his jeans, a rush of adrenaline rushes through you, a flush of arousal between your legs. 

No, you can't. 

You cannot crave for him to look at you. He's your professor who lured you here under false pretenses. 

Yet you realize how incredibly handsome he is. So far you had only thought of him as your teacher and had never truly paused to observe him, especially since he always treated you like a dirtbag. 

“Perfect, now stay still like this,” he mutters.

He hums as you do “Such a good girl for me” in a mellifluous and manipulative tone.

You feel his voice penetrate deep into your bones and another thrill of arousal runs through you all, gliding under your skin and straight to your pussy. 

This is so fucked up but on the other hand you are thrilled by the idea of ​​ending up in one of his paintings.

He makes a couple of changes to the sketch and then walks over to you, sitting on the armrest of the couch. He watches you intently, as if he wants to study every tiny detail about you, you still have your panties on but you've never felt more naked than that.

“Hmm, someone is wet.” he observes, gazing at the wet spot on your underwear. “It’s all for me?”

“I…uh…no, absolutely not” You don't want to admit it even to yourself but the situation is turning you on, no matter how wrong it is. 

“Honey, I advise you never to play poker,” he sneers. You look at him puzzled, and he adds, “You're not good at bluffing at all.”

When he reaches out a hand to touch you, you almost tremble, it's as if your body is crying out to him “take me. use me.”

All you ever wanted from the beginning was his approval and now somehow he seems to recognize something in you. You just want to stop arguing, to stop fighting, to stop feeling like you are worth less than nothing, you just want to know that you still have a future that consists of not settling for a job that you don't love and doesn't allow you to feel fulfilled and let you get the results you know you deserve. 

And most of all, you want him to be on your side.

“You're such a pretty little thing, you know that?” his voice gruels as his fingers run from your ankle to your knee and then up to your inner thigh. You stiff, feeling your heart raging up under your ribcage and a fresh flush of arousal dampening your cunt.

How did you never realize how sexy this man is? Now that his gaze has softened you notice the deep brown of his eyes, with some hazel undertones, and how he lights up as he stares at you. 

God, you want him so bad right now. 

You are almost on the verge of grabbing his wrist and placing his big hand on your pussy already, but you decide to let him. 

His fingers move slowly over your skin; instead of touching you where you need it most, his hand stops at your hip, fiddling with the hem of your panties. 

"Can I?" he grunts. 

You nod silently and he demands “I need you to use your words, baby. Speak to me”

“Yes” you breath 

He grins as he places his other hand on your hip and begins to pull down your panties. You lift your pelvis to ease him, and he comments, "mmm, so eager. You’re such a slut, aren’t you?”

You feel your cheeks on fire as you cannot take your eyes off him, desperately in need of his hands, his lips, his tongue and his cock. You want it all, right now. So maybe he’s right, you’re a slut and you don’t even care. 

Joel calmly moves your panties down your legs and brings them to his nose, inhaling your scent. “Sweet. I bet you taste even better.”

He gets up from the couch, tucking your panties into his jeans pocket, and takes a clean brush from a container resting on the table. He sits back right next to you, and grins. 

He caresses the inside of your leg with the brush, the feeling of the bristles flowing over your skin is incredible, soft and intense at the same time, leisurely moving on your inner thigh, raising up closer and closer to your pussy, his eyes set in yours, mesmerized by you.

You are subjugated by him as he fondles you, going up your belly with his brush, deliberately ignoring your pussy, moving deftly over every curve of your body. It is as if he is painting you, as if he has made you his work of art.

The bristles rub over your rib cage, slowly, then your breasts, moving in concentric circles from your areola to your nipples. He passes the brush back and forth over your hard buds and a deep moan escapes from your throat. “Please, Mr Miller” you whine. 

“You can call me Joel, darling” he whispers “what do you need?” 

“I…fuck” You’re dripping wet, your voice is a wail and your body is itching to be touched. 

“Say it.” he orders you, ”I want to hear it.”

“I want - fuck - my pussy” you blather, you are not even able to form a complete sentence right now.

Joel laughs faintly, descending again on your abdomen, very slowly, until he reaches your mound. He rubs the bristles from right to left lingeringly, then lowering again, descending on your outer lips, first one side and then the other. And then again and again. 

When he finally brushes over your clit, you are so pent up and needy that you arch your back, emitting a throaty moan. 

“Oh God! Oh my God”

Joel lowers the brush to your clit, surrounding it with the bristles, pushing and making concentric circles. He stops when he feels you on the edge. 

And then he does it all again, circling and pressing, jerking your bundle of nerves with the brush. And then a third time. 

You’re a crying mess at this point, mind completely numb and your body covered in sweat.

He spreads your folds with his thumbs and sighs, “Look at this pussy, all nice and wet for me, I can’t wait to dip into your sweet honey, babe”

He throws the brush on the floor, it falls with a dull thud bouncing on the carpet. 

“So fucking perfect” 

You squeeze your eyes whining “please" a riot of emotions assail you, your body is so on the edge you could explode just by the way he looks at you, moistening his lips with his tongue.

He puts his arms around your neck, “cling to me,” he whispers. You do as he says, instinctively encircling his waist with your legs, clinging to his body with all your strength as he carries you to the bed and lays you gently on top.

He undresses, staying in his boxers in front of you. 

You can't take your eyes off him, gazing at his wide shoulders, his broad chest, his soft belly with a thin strip of hair running down into his boxers. 

He kneels on the bed, facing you, gently spreading your legs and moving between them. 

He lowers himself on you, placing a kiss on your clit, making you whimper another pathetic "please." 

He sticks his tongue out and runs it flat across your folds, up and down, one hand firmly clinging to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin. 

"I was right, you taste amazing," he murmurs against your skin. 

You are no longer thinking about anything right now, not about your master's degree, evaluations or the fact that he is your teacher. 

You feel his nose hitting on your clit as he eagerly licks your folds, opening them with two fingers to sink his tongue in. 

You bite your lower lip, stifling your moans, burying a hand in his dark curls, pulling him toward you “oh fuck, yes”.

His tongue encircles your hard clit, swirling around, his lips lace over it sucking greedily.

“You don’t need to hold back, you can be as loud as you want in here, no one will hear us. Let me hear you, baby. I wanna know how you sound when you come” 

He doesn't stop sucking and licking until you feel your orgasm mount inside you like a flooding river, invading your body, curving your toes, clenching your fists on the sheet beneath you and rolling your hips on his face, wetting his lips, his chin, dripping onto your inner thigh. 

“Yeah, baby, come apart on my tongue, just like that”

He licks you clean until you calm down, devouring your juices to the last drop and then looks up at you “you have no idea how beautiful you are, starving for my cock” he groans “god, I must have you right now, I must make you mine, you hungry little whore”

You wait for nothing else, it seems your thirst has no way to quench today.

“Please, Joel,”

He pulls off his boxers, throwing them on the floor, his cock springs free and is incredibly hard, you can't stop looking at it. He's big, so big you don't even know how he's going to fit all the way inside you but you don’t care. “Fill me up, Joel, please”

“Yeah? You want this big cock inside you? Want me to fill you up so good baby?” He grumbles.

“Please, Joel, it’s all I need” you whine. 

He lies on top of you, tapping your lips a few times with the tip, running it along your folds and wetting it with your juices, aligning himself with your opening, “I'll give you what you want, then.”

He nudges at your hole a moment before he enters you, just the tip, pressing gently to let you get used to his intrusion. 

You moan feverishly, clinging to his back, bucking your hips toward him “more, please, more” you plea. 

As he plunges inside you, he stares at your face, as if he doesn’t want to miss a single second of your reactions, when he’s ball deep into you you let out an incoherent whine so graveling it doesn’t even sounds like your voice. 

He begins to pump into you as you circle his waist with your legs again, pushing to feel him deeper, your hands roaming in his graying hair. 

“Here you go, taking me so well princess, you’re so good to me” 

When his lips settle on yours you realize that you had not yet kissed until this moment. His lips are soft, demanding, his tongue penetrates your mouth licking eagerly, and you are more than happy to respond, savoring his taste of mint and cigarettes. 

One of his hands kneads your breast, his fingers close on one of your nipples as his cock doesn't stop sinking inside you.

You moan into his mouth feeling like you are on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall into the sinful pit of hell. 

“Where do you want me?” he whispers in your ear, and your voice comes out broken from the back of your throat  ”Inside. please. I'm - fuck - I'm on the pill.” 

You feel him spilling his load inside you a moment later, painting your inner wall with his hot sticky cum. 

You feel delirious and exhausted, guilty for what you just did. Your moral code has just been shattered under the hot weight of his body.

He kisses you again, lingering on your bottom lip. “You’re so much better than I thought,” he chuckles. 

He moves away from you and stands up naked to return to the sketch. He traces a few lines and makes some adjustments as you stare at him in amazement.

“Can you show me?” you ask. “Yes, come here,” he replies. You get up and stand next to him to observe the canvas. Your body is sketched on it and it looks perfect, you have never seen yourself so beautiful.

“You can go if you want, I’m done for today” 

“I- I don’t want to”

“Do you want more?” he sneers “god, you really are a slut.” he comments as he gets closer to you. 

He fucks you two more times, the first time he makes you get on all fours, licking your pussy from behind and then sinking into you while he holds you by the hips, his cock slamming against your cervix and his balls against your ass. Then you’re too eager to have him in your mouth, to taste your flavor mixed with his, so you offer to give him a blowjob and he fucks your mouth before digging back into your pussy again.

He drives you back to campus. “I may be an asshole, but I won’t let you walk around alone at night,” he says. 

You get out of his car feeling like you’re in a bubble, like everything that happened was just a surreal dream you can’t wake up from. You collapse into your bed after throwing your clothes haphazardly on the floor. When you wake up the next morning you feel like shit. 

You don't know how boldly you will look your classmates in the eye, but you can't skip class, and the thought of seeing Joel again thrills you, no matter how wrong it is. 

When Joel enters the classroom, he ignores you, probably so as not to arouse suspicion; it would be too strange for him to treat you with regard after denigrating you for months.

He begins returning graded tests proceedings slowly as usual, moving between desks and laying down the papers without making any comment. The test that rests on your desk has a circled A at the top.

Tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @lemon-nomel @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed @pedrostories

[canthelpit0]

Jealous girl

Pairing: Chris x jealous!Reader

Wordcount: 5.1k +

Summary: where a girl from school, that you don’t like, somehow knows Chris. Your school life and private life collide, as you decide to make rash moves to get back at her, and teach her a lesson.

Warnings: smut, jealousy, rich kid!Reader, use of y/n, they’re seniors in HS, marking, possessive!Reader (if u squint), pet names, p in v, filming, creampie, unprotected

(A/N: ik I’ve been doing a lot of rich kid reader, but it’s just sm easier 😭 I'm sorry for any grammar errors, English is not my fist language. also, the song has like barely anything to do with the plot.)

I’ve been friends with the triplets for most of my life. We just click.

I’ve always had a slight crush on Chris, he’s the first one I met.

I was scribbling a drawing in kindergarden, sitting at a table all by myself, when Chris came up to me. He started to talk to me and rant about something, until he declared us friends.

We grew up together, went to the same elementary and middle school. But being a rich kid, my parents wanted me to go to a private high school for better education.

So now I go to a private high school in Boston, while the triplets go to Somerville high school.

At first I really didn’t want to go, since it was a private school with uniforms and all. But my parents weren’t letting up, and even threatened to send me to a boarding school in Switzerland.

So I reluctantly agreed.

There was this girl, Eva. Your basic blonde girl with green eyes.

Now, I never liked Eva’s friend, but that was years ago, and I don’t think they’re even friends anymore.

Anyway, me and Eva share the same AP European history class.

We don’t talk a lot though.

★ ★ ★

I walk down the hallway making my way towards the door. Today was a draining day and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep.

But I have homework and-

My thoughts are cut off as I stop in my track raising an eyebrow. There was chris, standing in front of the main entrance of the school.

“Y/n?” He asks excitedly. It’s like my brain pauses for a moment.

“Chris?” I ask back.

At this point I hadn’t seen Chris or his brothers in a month or so. I was too busy studying and they were busy with lacrosse.

I live in Boston at the border to Somerville. And Chris lives in Somerville. But my school is 40 minutes away from his by car.

He opens his arms and I gladly hug him. I sigh as we embrace, my eyes closing briefly.

“Why are you here?” I ask. After all, Chris, to my knowledge didn’t have a drivers license and no reason to be here.

“Well, you know Eva? Well I gave her my jacket a week ago and I came to pick it up since she goes to your school-“ He rants, his words come out fast and jumbled by how excited he is to see me.

“How do you know Eva?” The words come out sassy. And honestly if i wasn’t hyper aware of the fact that we’re on school grounds I’d slip in a swear word.

“Well a week ago I was out in Boston shopping with Matt and Nick and this girl came up to me asking for my jacket since she was cold. Just out of nowhere” he starts to rant again, but I don’t even have half the mind to interrupt him.

After all, this felt like two of my separate worlds were colliding. And I didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t seem to dislike her like I did, wich only made me despise her more.

“And you gave it to her? A stranger?” I raise an eyebrow a huff leaving my lips.

I sound more sassy than I intend to, but I can’t help it.

Students walk past us slowly. Being in a private school most people loved it here. They weren’t pushing to leave.

We stand at the side of the main entry, still inside.

“Yeah. She asked for it” he sasses back, matching my attitude. Yet his smile stays big on his face and I could tell he wasn’t serious.

“What if she stole it?” I roll my eyes looking back up at Chris who had a few inches on me.

“That’s what I said too.” He agrees dramatically. “So she offered to give me her snap and told me she’d give it back to me next opportunity she got.”

That seems a bit dumb to me. She’s rich, she could just buy a new jacket if she’s outside and cold.

“You’ve been talking?” I question. I cringe slightly at the jealous tone lacing my words but Chris doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

“Yeah” he chirps back happily.

Oh so now they were snapping too?

He sticks out like a sore thumb. The way he carries himself, the way he smiles and acts, is just a dead giveaway that he does not go to a private school. Let alone, the fact that he’d not wearing a uniform like everyone else walking out right now.

Some people give us weird looks, but most don’t even care.

I purse my lips, if my day hadn’t been bad already, it was definitely ruined now.

The problem wasn’t that he had friends, other than me. But the fact that I knew her and knew how much of a Bitch she is, and how he can’t realize that.

The fact that he knew that she goes to my school, and that i probably know her, But didn’t even bother to mention it to me.

“You know what class she has right now?” He asks me. He actually has the nerve to.

“No.” I roll my eyes. Honestly I couldn’t care less. I only share that one class with her.

I turn on my heel to walk away, but before I can he grabs my elbow pulling me back slightly.

“Please don’t leave?” He asks sweetly.

I huff yanking my arm out of his grasp. Sure it could be awkward standing in front of the main door, obviously not going to this school looking like a lost puppy. But it’s Chris, he’ll survive.

“Chris, I have shit to do”

that’s a lie. I don’t have anything planned today. I just wanted to go home and sleep.

“Pretty please??” I huff turning back around. I stand next to him, my arms crossed as I scan the people leaving the building.

“Cute uniform you got there.” He says licking his lips slightly as he looks over my body.

I was wearing the green plaid skirt. And a basic white, collared button down. Along with the schools signature green cardigan and the tie.

I had so many layers on it was crazy. Since it was a more chilly day in Boston I had my tights on, but under the tights I had Thermo leggings on to keep me warm.

Honestly if people at public schools think the dress code is strict they should go to a private school for a day.

Once three buttons from the top of my collared shirt were unbuttoned and I was dress coded for it.

Atleast the skirt wasn’t horrendously long.

It could still be considered a mini skirt if you squint.

“You say that every time you see me in it” I scoff. I can’t help the fact I’m being sassy, I’m just in a horrible mood.

“I mean it.” He answers.

But before i can respond I hear an annoying voice from in front of me. “Hey Chris.” I turn my head to look at Eva.

The bitch is smiling wide. She was wearing the khaki skirt and the navy blazer with the black tights.

I purse my lips. God I wish I could dress however I want to for school.

“Hi Eva.” Chris greets her with a hug.

I physically try to hold back a scowl. They talk about something and I drown Out Eva’s pitched, bitchy tone.

Of corse Chris wouldn’t pick up on the flirting. But I see the way she smiles at him. The way her eyes trail over his face and linger at his lips for too long.

And I don’t know why I’m getting all territorial, but I guess I’m scared that Chris won’t have time to hang out anymore if he starts dating.

Either that or I just know how much of a bitch she is and I could treat him better than she ever could.

“Y/n this is Eva, Eva this is y/n” Chris makes us shake hands. He introduces us like we don’t know each other.

She chuckles at the silly gesture. She doesn’t hate me and I don’t hate her either. I just don’t like her, and the way she acts.

I’m rich, sure. And I’m more wealthy then her, but atleast I don’t act like a brat.

We start to walk, with them chatting, and me just trailing behind them.

We get to Eva’s car, she’d said something about driving him home or something. Does this girl know he lives like more than 40 minutes away?

My skin crawls at the thought of them being together in her car for that long. All alone.

“Chris come here” I wave him over for a second. Eva doesn’t question it instead going on her phone.

He walks over to me. I grab him by the shoulder to pull him down as I whisper in his ear. “You always pick the worst people to befriend.”

I let go of him. He groans rolling his eyes. His past two friendships with girls he befriended had ended horribly. But it was so predictable.

“Y/n/n. Come on” he scoffs. I turn to walk away to my own car to drive home.

Until he grabs my arm again pulling me back. “Can we talk.” He mumbles his arms wrapping a round my torso his chest pressed against my back.

“Not now.” I huff pushing myself off of him slightly. He wasn’t holding me tightly so I get out of his grip fairly easily.

“Y/n” he huffs.

“Don’t start.” I sass at him. I clench my jaw. I feel disappointed but not surprised. Eva wasn’t the type to show guys she’s interested in just how bitchy she really is.

“I gotta go, have fun.” I smile at him sarcastically. I let my smile drop as fast as it had appeared finally walking away from them.

But when I glance over my shoulder he’s already standing next to her smiling down at her.

★ ★ ★

The whole week after she found out I knew him, she’d constantly call him, and be around me and tell me stuff about him as if I didn’t know.

She’d sho me pictures of them together, she’d tell me jokes that I’ve heard before.

It was just the same old recycled bullshit.

He’d told her that we’ve known each other for basically forever. Why the hell was she talking to me like I didn’t know him?

That weekend I went over to the triplets house like I usually do, ready to sleepover.

I was in nicks bedroom talking to him.

“God, Chris always has terrible friends. And he needs to stop talking to everyone he sees.” Nick says with an eye roll.

This was our weekly complaining session.

“I know right, he befriended some girl from my school-“ I’m cut off by Nick.

“Eva?” I nod.

“I met her a few days ago and she’s so annoying.” He agrees slapping my arm a few times as he gets worked up.

“Right.” I scoff agreeing with him.

“And she totally has a thing for Chris.” He rolls his eyes hard.

I purse my lips. Good to know that I’m not delusional and that someone else sees it too.

After that the conversation topic shifts until Nick is ranting about some random TikTok song, and about how it’s obviously written to go TikTok viral and whatnot.

★ ★ ★

“Where are you gonna sleep tonight?” Nick asks, lying flat on his back, on his bed.

I slept over almost every weekend. And usually I’d rotate between whose bed space I’ll take up.

It is Friday, I always come over Friday after school. And then I stay until Sunday. And Sunday afternoon I go back home.

I always stay over on the weekends unless I have like an upcoming exam or something.

“Uhm.” I pause. I should sleep in Matt’s room tonight. But I want to talk with Chris more.

“Chris” I state. Nick doesn’t even question it.

The last time I’d slept over was over a month ago. and while sure, we did hang out in the past month, I spent all my weekends studying.

Nick had no mind to question me. He couldn’t care less. I could tell he’d missed me, and knowing I was sleeping over was comforting no matter where I slept.

We talk for a bit more until I stand up and pick up my overnight bag. I hug Nick and tell him I’m gonna head to Chris’ room.

We really need to talk about making good friends, and who to not befriend.

Because it keeps happening that Chris will pick out the shittiest people to befriend. And god it’s so irritating having to listen to him complain after they ‘betray’ him.

I walk upstairs to Chris’ room and unceremoniously swing the door open.

Once the door opens I’m immediately greeted with the sight of the pale pink LED’s on. There he was laying on his bed laying ON his side his phone up to his face.

“Oh hi y/n” he smiles at me briefly before going back to staring at his phone.

Chris usually called me any nickname under the sun before calling me my actual name.

Eva’s piercing voice echos out of the phone speakers making my expression sour immediately.

“Hi y/n” she says loudly. I can’t help the eye roll.

“Chris.” I hiss under my breath my eyes narrowed in a glare. He glances back at me his lips pursing in mild annoyance.

He tells her he’s got to go and that he’ll call her back. Chris then hangs up, slightly sitting up, his back pressed against his head bored.

I walk in fully, now closing the door behind me.

I put my overnight bag on his desk.

“I think she likes you.” I say simply my lips tugged into a straight line.

He huffs a laugh as if he thinks I’m joking.

I look over my shoulder, observing the grey sweatpants and white wife beater combo.

He crossed his arms staring back at me.

“I’m dead serious.” I say flatly. “Ever since she found out that I know you, she’s been coming to me in breaks and talking about you like I give a fuck.”

He poked his tongue into his cheek his expression falling flat “you’re serious?” He asks his voice painfully monotone.

“Of corse you didn’t realize” I roll my eyes turning back to look at my backpack.

“Whatever” I roll my eyes. I grab my make up bag that I always had in his room and I walk out the room to the bathroom to take off my make up.

After a few minutes I come back to see him on his phone again.

“Shit you’re right.”

Chris breathes out not even looking at me just saying that. He was going through previous messages only now seeing the underlying flirtation in her choice of words.

I raise my eyebrow at him before it registers what he is saying.

“I know” I say simply.

“How do I let her down slowly?” He asks his eyes finally going up to meet mine. His blue eyes only seem more exaggerated under the pink LED lights.

Before walking away from the door I lock it, he sends me a questioning glance but ultimately doesn’t say anything.

“You know, like how do I tell her I’m not interested, without saying that?” He adds still looking at me.

I walk up to the side of his bed.

I then roll my eyes getting on the bed. I sit next to him my back against the headboard as well.

We’re both quiet, the air in the room thickening. I can practically feel my skin burning up.

“How about you make a bold statement?” I break the silence after a moment.

Before he can respond I turn and get on his lap. My eyes are dark as I Simply sit on his thighs.

His hands go to my waist out of instinct. My arms wrapping around his neck.

He huffs out a breath his cheeks tinted a slight red. “What? you wanna make a sex tape or something?” He rolls his eyes.

I roll my eyes back at him. “That would be bold, but I don’t want her to see your dick.”

“Ooh possessive?” He teases. Chris unconsciously squeezes my side making me whine under my breath.

He chuckles at the sound, but before he can comment on it I’m speaking again. “I was thinking hickey , but if you want to fuck so bad then-“ I cut myself off.

“We can do both” he assures.

I lick my lips. And before I know it I move his face with my hand tilting his head to the side. My lips touch his jawline. I kiss down his jawline to his neck before I start to suck harshly.

He lets out a harsh breath his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“Easy ma, you got all the time In The world.”

Ma. I genuinely don’t know where he heard that, but at some point he just started calling me ma or mama.

Like I said, he used every pet name under the sun, before saying my actual name.

I pull away for a second my eyes scanning the small purple bruise on his neck.

“No.” I breathe out harshly before starting to peck his neck again. Until I bite down, relatively low on his neck close to the other hickey.

I bite hard, making sure my teeth print would be there while also sucking another hickey into his skin.

He hisses at the harsh feeling, his hands clenching and unclenching on my waist. He doesn’t stop me tho. Quite contrary, I hear a few whines leave his mouth. His sounds sounding borderline like moans.

I pull away admiring his neck.

I move the strap of his wife beater to the side, kissing down his collarbone. I suck more marks into his skin, until I deem it enough.

“You wanna tap this, handsome?” I tease , my eyes meeting his pale blue ones.

His eyes are half lidded and his pupils blown out in pleasure.

It’s really late by now. It’s dark outside. And the light pink LED lights make his blue eyes look even bluer.

“Please?” He asks sweetly his tone feigning innocence.

I can feel the hardness press up against my clothed core. I grin back at him, my eyes dark in lust and half lidded like his.

I cross my arms and tug off my t shirt. I throw it to the ground, letting Chris Bask in the sight of my bra covered chest.

The lust radiating off of him only seems to double.

“So pretty.” He coos. And before I know it he’s leaning forward and kissing my chest.

He glances up at me through his lashes and mumbles against my skin. “Can I leave hickeys too?”

I chuckle at the question. It really didn’t matter for me. My schools dress code is strict and I would have to cover them up anyway.

“Under the neckline” I nod simply. And before I realize it he’s sucking on the tender skin of one of my boobs.

He licks and sucks at the skin, half my boob covered in his saliva now.

I tug in his top. He groans against me, obviously not wanting to pull away. But he eventually does, I pull the wife beater over his head and throw it to the floor.

His hand goes up to cup my other boob while he kisses down from my collarbone to my chest and then sucks another hickey at the top of it.

I card my hand through his hair while I don’t bother pulling him off. He lets me stroke his hair moaning into my skin.

He pulls away, his eyes even darker than before. his hair now messy as well.

I get off of him. He groans at the loss of contact. I can see he’s about to complain. But before he can, I start to undo my pajama pants and slide them down.

My black lacy thong and my black lacy bra match.

Chris had made fun of me for wearing such ‘slutty’ underwear before. After all whenever I showered here I left some of my clothes, namely my underwear, here.

I had my own little section in Chris’ closet filled with my panties and bras.

“Fuck.” He breaths out closing his eyes briefly and then opening them again as if checking if he was seeing things.

He starts to shift and tug down his own sweatpants. He eagerly tugs them off along with his boxers letting his cock spring free.

My mouth quite literally waters at the sight of his hard dick lying flat against his stomach.

He lays down flat on his back looking to his side to look me in the eyes.

“Please ride me ma.”

He says in such a pleading and whiny tone, how could I say no to that.

I walk past his bed to his desk and pick up my phone from where I’d put it.

I walk back tugging the thong off swiftly. I get on top of him straddling his torso. I grind myself against his dick, feeling it glide between my wet folds.

I tug on my bra trying to get it off. And when I finally do, it’s also discarded quickly.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous mama.” He sighs looking at my boobs, both of them having small hickeys on them.

He puts his two hands on my waist lifting me slightly. He trails one hand down to my folds examining my pussy.

I feel him push his middle finger into my cunt abruptly to wich I moan.

He hums as if he was thinking. “So tight baby.” He coos his second hand on my waist caressing my skin gently.

“Gotta stretch this pussy out. We don’t want it to tear do we?” Chris asks sarcastically, obviously joking.

I lick my lips and let out a dry chuckle. His girth really did look painfully big. Atleast for what I was used to.

It wasn’t like he was that big, but it was definitely well above average.

I hand him my phone so he can start recording and that’s just what he does. He uses his hand from my waist to film this.

The camera pointing right at my pussy. He pushes a second finger in, briefly finger fucking me and scissoring his fingers to stretch me more.

“So fucking soaked.” He groans under this breath.

Chris takes his fingers out of me grabbing his hard dick and jerking it for a second. I lift myself and he positions it at my cunt, while also making sure to keep the camera at the right angle.

I push myself down letting out a breathy moan.

His hand, that’s not holding my phone, goes to my waist to steady me.

I suddenly push myself down on him completely. I whine loudly, my body jerking forward at the impact. He groans at the feeling of being balls deep in me.

“You okay?” He asks rubbing my waist gently in comfort.

“Yea” I breathe out my eyes closing as I try to get used to the feeling.

My legs are already numb and I’m already questioning why I’m on top.

I start to slowly bounce myself on him. He watches through my phone, his eyes glued to where we connect, seemingly fascinated by the sight.

“So tight for me.” He breaths out harshly trying to hold back loud groans. He was painfully aware of the fact that his siblings and parents were home.

I start to bounce on him more listening to him shower me in praises and compliments.

“Fuck.” His eyes stay trained on the phone screen, but he occasionally glances up to look at me.

I start to ride him harder the compliments and praise only making me wetter.

“God, come on, get yourself off on my dick like the slut you are.” He huffs. His free hand lightly on my waist to help me steady my movements.

He tries not to be too loud, both for the camera and because everyone is home.

I lean forward slightly and take my phone from his grasp.

I film his face and his reactions now.

His hands go to my waist slightly squeezing my skin as I start to rock my hips harder.

“Good boy, be quiet yeah.”

I feel the knot in my stomach tighten threatening to snap. The constant hit to my sweet spot is so overwhelming, and before I know it I’m releasing on his dick.

my hands are shaky but my phone is still angled at him, catching his mouth dropping in pleasure.

I clench around him letting out soft whines and moans, while Chris uses his hands to make me grind on him.

After a second when I calm down he grins. Chris holds his hand out for the phone that I give to him. He lifts me slightly to show the Camera the white circle my cum created around his length.

He makes no move to switch our positions so I just grind into him.

Chris turns the recording off and puts my phone on the nightstand. His hands find their way to my hips holding me tightly.

But before he can switch our positions like he was lplanning to, his phone starts ringing.

I glance ova seeing Eva as the caller ID. I roll my eyes. I feel pretty over stimulated already, but I want her to know.

“Pick up.” I demand under my breath. Our eyes meet for a moment but he eventually complies.

He leans over and takes his phone, picking up the call with a frown.

As soon as I hear her annoying voice i start to ride him again, making sure that the slapping sounds are loud enough.

He tries not to groan at the movements, trying to keep himself together.

“Eva, uh” he pauses his eyes locking with mine once more. He can’t help it when his free hand on my waist urges me to go harder.

“I’m kind of busy right now”

But she doesn’t get the hint and questions him. “Too busy to talk to me?”

Fucking pick me.

“Yeah well” he lets out a soft groan, pulling the phone away so she doesn’t hear it too well.

She starts to yap about some unimportant shit. Chris puts the phone on the side of the bed sitting up.

I stop moving due to Chris harsh grip. He pulls me off and flips us around.

I grab the pillow re- adjusting it so the side of my face is buried in it, my ass up for him.

He grins a soft slap echoing through the room. He kneeds my ass trying to smooth the pain of the slap.

He spreads my cheeks and pushes himself back in. He immediately starts up a harsh and fast pace fucking me into the pillow.

“Are you having sex right now?” Eva questions sounding like a brat who was just denied a toy

He leans over for a second picking up his phone. “No I’m not, why would you think that” he scoffs continuing his relentless attack to my sweet spot.

My core throbs around him, clenching to try and suck him back in.

“Oh my god you are-“ before she can rant about god knows what, Chris hangs up the phone.

He scoffs his grip in my waist tightens as he continues to forcefully pull me back on him.

He goes to the camera app on his phone starting to film once again.

He admires the way his entire length disappears into my tight cunt, and the way he has a white ring around the base of his cock from my previous release.

He picks up pace even more, if that was even humanly possible, until I feel like im going to cum again.

I turn my face and burry it in the pillow trying to muffle my noises. Because honestly I’d be surprised if the whole house didn’t already know what we’re doing.

“Close” I whine out between incoherent moans.

“Me too ma. Hold it for a bit, yeah?” He says sweetly his harsh actions not so sweet.

“Where do you want it?” He keeps glancing between the camera and me, sometimes angling the camera to show my back and the back of my head too.

“Inside” I whine. And that mildly catches Chris off guard.

He only picks up pace tho, his palm meets my butt again, in a harsh slap. I moan at the feeling. “Come on come for me” he demands.

And before I know it the knot in my stomach snaps once more my thighs shaking and my cunt clenching a round him.

The Camera is focused on my cunt. His thrusts get more sloppy and messy until he gives me one last harsh thrust.

Chris releases into me, filling me up to the brim and stuffing me.

We both stay like that for a moment to catch our breathes.

He stops the recording and throws the phone next to me, onto the bed.

He trails his hand over my ass and lower back, before gently grabbing my hips and pulling out.

He lets out a breath seeing his length covered in our combined juices, and me leaking.

He pushes me on my side slightly, so I’m laying down fully. I sigh turning my face into the pillow my arm under it.

“You okay?” He asks softly. Chris kisses my shoulder softly.

I just realized that we hadn’t kissed once. This entire time, his lips hadn’t been on mine not once. And I don’t know if he did that on purpose or not.

“ m’ good” I sigh closing my eyes briefly.

I nuzzle my face into the pillow, breathing out. I blink my eyes open again sighing.

I feel his eyes burn into the side of my face.

“Were you jealous?”

My eyes shoot open and I turn my head slightly to look at him. “About what?” I say simply playing dumb.

“Why do you not like her.” He asks again.

“I never liked her.”

“Right, and you don’t like that she likes me.” He states simply.

I scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself” I huff and nuzzle my face into the pillow.

“You literally have my cum inside of you right now, ma.” He huffs in response.

I purse my lips burring my face harder into the pillow.

“I like that.” He says again making me look back at him. Chris is looking down at me with a sweet smile

“What?” I ask and look at him from the corner of my eyes.

“That you’re jealous.” Chris replies, his smirk ever so cocky.

“Why would I be jealous?” I huff, replying sarcastically.

“Don’t deny it ma. I think it’s cute.” Chris chuckles. He grins down at me victoriously. He lays down next to me staring into my eyes.

Masterlist

A/N: this was so fun to write lmao. sorry for not posting in the past few days, I was just busy with school and didn't have the motivation to write. Feel free to to send me stuff my req and asks are open <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf

[mothhball]

five-finger discount

Pairing | Neil Lewis x Reader

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, DUB-CON, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, blackmail, sex on camera, brief edging, creampie, cheating, cursing, Moth pretends to know anything about movies

Summary | You’ve been trying to make easy money, but you’re not as subtle as you thought. Some lessons need to be learned the hard way.

Words | 4.4k

Notes | FINALLY DONE. and vaguely inspired by 70s porn haha

MINORS DNI

INT. GUMSHOE VIDEO – THRILLER AISLE – DAY

“No, it's not. That's not what she said. Someone is in trouble. Something bad is happening!” squawks a woman from the running TV in the background while your fingers trace over the backs of the VHS as you walk past the shelves.

1 PM on a Wednesday certainly is no rush hour at Gumshoe Video. Even the most annoying film bros don't come here at this time of day to flaunt their knowledge of the craft and subsequent absence of social skills. You're in the clear, pretending to deeply think about your choice in entertainment for the end of the day, even though that couldn't be further from the truth. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you spot the business owner, entranced by the film that he put on to pass the time, and you can see his plush lips silently mouthing along to the dialog. Cute. And easy to trick.

It's not your first time here. No, you made sure to become familiar with the place over the course of months now, learning where each genre and title has been sorted into its rightful place.

Certain old VHS-tapes can sell for a small fortune online, and for every tape you rent, you take one for free with the plan of selling it to the highest bidder. Currently, you have a stack at home, waiting for you to finally stop procrastinating and open up that damn eBay account.

Your pinky catches on a specific tape. 'A History of Violence', currently estimated to lure an additional 199 bucks into your greedy bank account. Quietly, you pull out the film, leaving a gaping hole in the neatly sorted row as you slip it into your purse.

With nimble hands, you try to rearrange the tapes to make the missing VHS a little less obvious, but in your haste, a few of them escape your clammy grasp and clutter to the ground. A head of silky brunette hair whips around, and you're met with pretty blue eyes as the store owner turns to face you.

You let out a giggle, trying to sound as vapid and innocuous as possible. You’re in character now. The persona you chose? An unassuming, ditzy little thing that’s hot enough to distract him, but stupid enough as to not get suspected of any wrong-doings. You’d say you’re a good actress. A fantastic one, even.

"Sorry," you purr, batting your eyelashes at him. "I'm a little clumsy today." You're already bending over to pick up the tapes when he makes his way over to lend a helping hand, and you make sure to show off your cleavage in an intentionally accidental way. You know he’s into you. You’ve been seeing the heat in his gaze for weeks now, along with the occasional crack in his voice and an almost endearing desire to impress you. It’s his biggest weakness and the reason your plan has been working flawlessly until now.

"Hey, hey, no worries. Uh, gravity wins sometimes. Don't sweat it," he grins at you, brushing his fingers against yours as the two of you work together to put everything back into place.

"What exactly were you looking for anyway?" he suddenly asks, breaking your focus for a second.

"Uh, Moonstruck," you mutter, completely on autopilot. The store owner nods, pursing his lips as he mulls over your answer. You’re aware of your blunder before he even answers.

"Moonstruck? Then you're in the wrong section. You know, with how often you come here, I thought you got the hang of our layout by now." Fuck, he’s got you. Play dumb. Play dumb!

Your poker face almost cracks, but you keep your composure. Or at least you try to. "Huh? Oh - I... right. God, I'm just all over the place today." You giggle again, relieved by the way his grin seems to soften. Hook, line and sinker. He may think he’s detective Sam Spade from ‘The Maltese Falcon’, but you’re Brigid O’Shaughnessy. Or he’s Batman and you’re Catwoman. Or – well, it doesn’t matter. Baseline is, you’re snatching tapes right from underneath his nose while he’s too busy fantasizing about what’s underneath your clothes.

The store owner speaks up again, lazily rubbing the back of his neck as he leans against the shelf, and his free hand wanders and gestures around a bit as if he’s trying to figure out which pose would look the coolest and most effortless.

“Right. Actually, that wasn’t really fair of me.” You tilt your head at him, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly which prompts him to elaborate. “Some of our tapes went missing. Y’know, some of the oldies and goldies? That’s why I didn’t stock Moonstruck this week.”

Your lips part in surprise, but all you can reply with is a soft ‘oh’. The store owner shrugs, leaning in towards you. There’s something conspiratory about his expression which makes your stomach churn a little. “Yeah. But I do still have it. It’s just in my office.”

There’s a beat of silence as you mull over the unspoken offer. Your plan is built on the one tape you always rent for cheap. No one would think you’re stealing if you’re actually paying for something, right? Despite this, you wonder if you should call it a day and head home with the stolen film hidden in your purse. Alibi be damned.

“I… That’s great. Uh, actually, I was just about to –“ he cuts you off with a casual wave of his hand, and the grin on his face widens once more.

“Don’t worry. I’ll even give you a discount. Just follow me.”

INT. GUMSHOE VIDEO – NEIL LEWIS’ PRIVATE OFFICE – DAY

The private office of Neil Lewis, cinephile and pop culture enthusiast, is decorated with a distinct Film Noir charm, lovingly empathized by leather chairs and a checkered floor. Not to mention the letters on the door. He calls himself a private investigator. A joking title that makes you palms sweat ever so slightly. You notice that he set up a small camera on his desk, but he brushes it off as a regular procedure.

"So... Moonstruck,” he starts, gesturing for you to take a seat. Which you do. “Great pick. Just curious - Why did you go for that one?" The question makes you pause for a second.

"The... the cover spoke to me,” you casually lie, trying to sound somewhat cute, but it doesn’t land. Neil’s expression quickly betrays his skepticism, and his lips part while his narrowed gaze wanders around the room for a minute. "Hm. And what about the other one?"

"What do you mean?" Play dumb, play dumb, play – but he’s not letting you off the hook so easily.

"The other tape."

Silence fills the office, and you swear the VHS in your purse is starting to burn a hole right where it’s settled in your lap.

"Which... other tape? I just picked out this one."

"Ohhh, right. Sorry. My bad. Just… Moonstruck." The way he’s saying this makes it seem like he enjoys the taste of the letters on his tongue. You nod, a little too eager to get this conversation over and done with.

"So you won’t mind me looking through your purse?" Neil leans forward in his seat, folding his hands on top of his desk. Your eyes briefly fall onto the little desk name plate that’s undoubtedly just made out of shiny, golden plastic. But it does the job. It intimidates you. At least to a certain degree.

“No,” you lie through your teeth, trying to shrug off the tension. “I… it’s certainly no problem, Mr. Lewis. None at all.”

Neil lets out an apathetic sigh as he rises from his seat, causing the leather to squeak. His steps seem a little too confident for a video rental owner as he moves around the desk to first walk over to the door and lock it. “Neil is fine. I’m not a big fan of… formalities,” he starts, coming up behind you to set his hands on your shoulders. His hands are gentle but firm, causing your body to warm right down to the deepest layers. To make his control over the situation even more apparent, he splays his hands, tracing your collarbone with his middle finger. It’s subtle enough that he could pass it off as a figment of your imagination if you should choose to speak up. But you don’t. You stay quiet, even as he leans down and you can hear the murmur of his voice right next to your ear.

“Open your purse.”

You bite your tongue, slowly opening your purse to find Cher’s face grinning back at you. It’s Moonstruck. In all of its romantic glory, and it makes both you and Neil freeze for a moment. You lick your dry lips, saying the first thing that comes to mind.

"That's mine."

"Yours?" You wouldn’t know, but his eyebrow twitches upward at your ridiculous claim.

"Yeah. A... personal copy." Great, now you’re doubling down.

"With my name on it?" Silence, yet again. You could basically hear the dramatic music that the producers of any reality TV shows use in the background of any tense scene. But this isn’t scripted. No, all of this is improvised.

"... what are the odds?" you croak, feeling how your throat goes dry in real time. Neil scoffs in reply, shaking his head, and his grip on your shoulders tightens a tad before he lets go entirely. His expression is stern as he steps in front of you, leaning against the desk and crossing his shapely arms over his chest. For a moment, he’s silent, letting his eyes wander all over your form in a slow, appreciative way that makes your palms get sweaty. “You do know I have to call the police, don’t you?”

“What?” Your breath hitches in your lungs, and you blink a few times, almost in an attempt to shake yourself out of this very strange dream. “This… this is just one tape. Isn’t this kind of excessive?”

“Yeah, maybe it’s one tape today. But you’ve been coming here for weeks.” Your jaw drops, but you can’t seem to come up with an appropriate response. You’ve been had. For the past months, you were convinced that he only saw you as a little piece of eye candy wandering through the store, but he’s been seeing right through you all along. Now you definitely don’t feel like Catwoman anymore. When he notices that you’re not going to say anything, Neil continues.

“Did you really think we don’t have security cameras all over the place? Well, I’ve been watching you the entire time, playing along when you pretended to be all ditzy and cute. It’s not just one instance. It’s a whole case, baby. And you’ll go to jail.” That makes you break out of your stupor, and you can feel your pulse speeding up.

“No- wait, no, no, no. Please, can’t we just talk about this for one second?”

“I don’t bargain with thieves.” He’s smug. Too smug for your liking, considering that he’s threatening you with the loss of your precious, precious freedom.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” you plead, fixing him with the biggest puppy dog eyes you can muster in an attempt to appeal to the soft, awkward side of him. And he cracks. At least the tiniest bit.

“Maybe… maybe we can work something out. But I’ll need to search you first. Who knows what else you’re hiding.” He gestures for you to stand, and you get up from your seat, causing the leather cushioning to faintly squeak once again. “Spread your arms. To the side.”

Your expression settles into a pout, but you do as you’re told, much to Neil’s satisfaction. He returns to his previous position behind you and starts by touching your shoulders, slowly trailing his hands down your arms. His fingers leave tingles behind on your skin, and you’re even more aware of how close he’s gotten when you feel his breath on the back of your neck. His cheeky hands continue to wander, making their way down your sides, softly squeezing around your waist before he moves on to your hips. You try to think about it as a TSA search, but it’s a little hard to do when his hands linger for much longer than necessary on your thighs and your calves as he crouches down. Once he’s satisfied, he straightens back up, and you almost think he’s done before he leans in to rasp into your ear.

“You’re gonna have to take your clothes off… so I can search you more thoroughly.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you’re about to protest, but he’s already pulling your top off, tossing it aside before he moves on to your shorts. A sigh escapes him as he pulls them down along with your panties, and he doesn’t give you even a second to recover before he’s gripping and caressing the curves of your body. Leaning his chin on your shoulder, he runs his fingers over your hips, feeling how your skin warms beneath his touch. “Take your bra off.”

“What? There’s no way I could be hiding a tape in there –“ In response, Neil lightly pinches your thigh, causing you to jump a little and let out a soft whine. Seems like there’s no way around it. With shaky hands, you reach behind yourself to unclasp your bra, and Neil leans back ever so slightly to give you the space to move. That is, until your tits are exposed, and his body is glued against yours once more. The feeling of his hardening cock pressing up against your ass sends heat into your core, and you instinctively clench your thighs together. Of course, this catches his attention.

“Ah, so you are hiding something.”

He wraps his arms around you, steering the two of you over to the mirror he hung on the wall next to his ridiculous little costume rack. You watch your own flushed expression as his hand slips between your legs to let his fingers trace over your already wet folds. With a groan, you try to avert your eyes before he corrects you with a rough grope of your breast.

“No. Eyes on yourself. I want you to see the guilt on your face while I search you.”

Reluctantly, your eyes return to the mirror, just in time for him to plunge a finger into your velvety pussy. Your lips part, and as much as you’d like to keep quiet, your resolve crumbles immediately when he finds that sweet spot inside of you. Within minutes, the office fills up with the sounds of your pleasure and the obscene squelching of his fingers in your wet cunt. And he’s thorough in his search, quickly working you up from one finger to three, making your toes curl against the checkered floor. For a moment, he drives you up to that delightful edge, only to pull his fingers out of you at the last second.

You don’t have the capacity to complain when he lifts his hand towards the light, showing off his glistening digits. Both of you are entranced by the sight, and Neil lets out a soft wheeze before he licks his fingers clean.

“Yeah, I made up my mind. Get over to the desk and bend over.”

“I have a boyfriend,” you whine, turning your head to give him your biggest puppy dog eyes.

“Well, you should’ve thought about it before you stole from me. Losing those rare tapes was a financial disaster for me. I’m risking this store. And I’m not gonna do it without something in return.” He finishes his sentence with a light smack to your ass which only manages to get you even more riled up. It’s hard to disagree with him when he knows just how to get you going.

Neil drags you back over to the desk, angling the camera in just the right way before he hurriedly tears his clothes off completely. The sight of his urgency makes your chest fill with butterflies, but you still need to protest. You have to!

“I don’t usually do this… what if my boyfriend finds out?”

“That’s one more reason to behave. You wouldn’t want him to see this little clip, right?” he asks, although the question is entirely rhetorical. You’d love to feel guilty, but you can’t bring yourself to it.

 His hands run from your shoulders down to your hips, kneading your flesh with the attentiveness of a potter crafting a masterpiece, and he leans over you to place open-mouthed kisses down your spine. You shiver, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle the noises that are threatening to escape your mouth. With a quick movement, Neil reaches under your knee to guide your leg on top of the desk, and you let out a soft sigh when you can feel your arousal rolling down the inside of your thigh as he spreads you open with two fingers.

“You know… nice girls wouldn’t get this wet in situations like these. Then again, you’re a filthy thief, so you’re the furthest thing from a good girl.”

Neil wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest so he can latch back onto the side of your neck, sucking and biting while he uses his other hand to guide the tip of his cock against your drooling entrance. His naked skin against yours fills your head with need, and you press up against him a little more to feel him more closely as he slowly pushes inside your velvety cunt. Both of you let out a hiss, and Neil follows it up with a needy whimper as he stills for a moment.

“Fuck… oh fuck,” he breathes, causing your lips to twitch up in subtle amusement. Neil’s hand shakes as he adjusts the camera, making sure to get everything in frame, and in this moment, you clench around him on purpose, causing him to moan right into your ear. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that –”

The slap to your ass is meant to punish you, but it’s doing the exact opposite, and you let him know this by moaning his name. His lips return to your pulse as he pushes his cock deeper into you, stretching you so perfectly that it sends goosebumps over your skin. Or maybe it’s because of his warm breath on your ear. Or his hands diligently kneading your tits. The cocktail of heated touches and sensations is literally making you feel drunk.

“Your cock feels so good,” you whine, causing him to suck in a sharp breath at the praise.

“Yeah?” he chuckles, bottoming out inside of you before he starts to set a slow, sensual rhythm. “You’re such a depraved little slut… getting off on your punishment. If only your boyfriend knew.”

Neil rolls his hips against yours, drawing a moan from both of you that would fit perfectly on the set of a porno. Maybe you’re hamming it up a little to feed his ego. But that isn’t very hard to do when he fills you up so deliciously, making you wetter with every thrust.

You’re already starting to feel breathless when he slowly speeds up, drilling into your dripping pussy with even more fervor. Words are starting to become a little difficult, but you try your best anyway. “You’re better than him. SO much better –“

Your reward is a second smack – aimed at your chest this time.

“You’re damn right I am,” he groans, sucking another hickey into your skin and adding to the little necklace of bruises he’s been placing around your neck. “Suck these for me, will you?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but it doesn’t last long when he brings his fingers up to your mouth, and you eagerly latch onto his digits, still faintly tasting yourself from earlier. You suck them down to the knuckle, running your tongue in between them in a way that makes him groan and pound your cunt even harder. Once his fingers are sufficiently coated in your saliva, he pulls them free from your lips and reaches between your legs to rub your clit.

The one leg you’ve been standing on threatens to give out immediately, but he holds you up with his other arm, and gently guides your hands into place to better support yourself on the desk. Neil nuzzles his face into your hair, breathing heavily against the shell of your ear.

“If you promise not to steal ever again, I might let you cum on my cock.”

His words are intercepted by quiet grunts and whimpers, and you find yourself agreeing pretty quickly, blabbering out promise after promise.

“I’ll never – never steal again! I swear, I swear, I swear, please! Please, please let me cum –!”

You’re almost not recognizing your own voice due to the desperately needy tone that’s laced through your pleading, but Neil doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite, really, because you can feel his thrusts picking up in intensity. He rewards your obedience by rubbing your clit a little faster, and you have to bite your knuckle as to not cry out his name. Fuck, it’s only noon and you’re approaching your release at breakneck speed.

“Fuck… I – I’m close,” you breathe, turning your head to look at him from over your shoulder. His teeth are back in your neck as he kisses and bites at your skin, and his voice sounds strained as he answers you.

“Go ahead… let go for me. If only your boyfriend knew, hm?”

That’s it. Your orgasm rips through you, and you let out a whine as you claw at the surface beneath you. Neil is generous enough to let you ride out your climax, but you can tell how impatient he is when he suddenly pulls out, swallowing heavily.

 “On your back.” He doesn’t have to tell you twice. It’s a little awkward, but you manage to scramble and reposition yourself, lying back against the desk and looking up at him with flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Neil is in the same state, licking his lips and swallowing dryly as he guides his cock back into your cunt, aided by his thumb on the base of his length.

“Fuck… how can you still be this tight? Shit, FUCK…” He’s cursing and muttering under his breath, having half a brain to readjust the still rolling camera as to not miss a single second. His hands guide your legs around his waist, and he leans over you, staring at you through blown out pupils that clash against the vibrant intensity of his ocean gaze. His pretty face is red, and sweat beads on his forehead, causing his hair to stick to his skin. Without thinking, you reach up to push it back, causing both of you to still for a second before Neil finds his tone again.

“M’gonna fill you up… and send you back home to your boyfriend with a creampie in that pretty cunt. Alright? Alright.”

You can only nod in response, hearing your own racing heartbeat in your ears along with his continued grunts and moans. His hands on you are gentle, but his thrusts definitely aren’t as he pounds you against the desk. Neil’s hips smack against yours, causing every novelty item around the two of you to tremble along to your feverish rhythm. You tilt your head back but he goes after you, finally capturing your lips in a hungry kiss that he’s been trying to hold back from the entire time. But now that he’s rapidly approaching his own climax, the self-restraint is completely out of the window.

Your tongues clash, and you moan into his mouth when his hands find yours, linking your fingers together. Neil’s lips faintly taste of iced coffee as he licks against your tongue, and your grip on his hands tightens when his movements start to become erratic.

Your lips stay locked the entire time, even as he lets out a guttural groan when he finishes inside of you, thrusting into you a few more times to push it in as deep as possible. Finally, he stills and pulls away from you, unable to resist stealing one last peck from your swollen lips. You’re still breathing heavily as his hands roam over your body once more, relishing the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. Now that he has material on you and you promised not to steal again, he’s gentle. Almost too gentle, and you have to clear your throat to snap him out of it.

Neil catches himself, blinking down at you with soft eyes while he wipes some sweat off his brow. There’s a subtle twitch in his lips that tells you that he’d love to keep touching you, but he’s aware of the setting you’re in. Almost reluctantly, he pulls out of you to let you retrieve your clothes. While you’re getting dressed, he checks the camera and stops the recording before he speaks up.

“You’re free to go, then. You know what happens if I catch you stealing again, right?”

The question prompts you to nod in response, and you mumble out a “yes” as you pull your top back over your head. Once Neil confiscates the VHS from your purse, you’re free to exit the store on trembling legs, cringing a little at the feeling of your combined fluids leaking into your underwear. But God, this heist was worth it.

INT. YOUR PLACE – LIVING ROOM – DAY

As expected, the house is quiet when you get home, and you let out a deep, satisfied sigh as you throw yourself onto the couch to decompress for a moment.

Not even 20 minutes pass until the front door opens, and you hear familiar footsteps. A lazy smile spreads over your face, and you sit up, watching you boyfriend as he kicks off his shoes and throws his jacket over the coat rack on the wall. He makes his way over, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, and your vision is filled by ocean eyes and faint freckles. Neil chuckles softly, placing the camera onto the coffee table before he sinks down on the couch next to you and pulls you close. “I’m glad Lucien agreed to take over the rest of the day.” You hum in agreement, closing your eyes when he brushes his fingers through your hair to massage your scalp.

“I think that was our best one yet.”

FIN.

tags: @ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24 @detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls (couldn't tag) @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411 @ashdrinksoatmilk @luvizuku @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | end up here

a/n: i'm going FERALLLLLLL over this chapter. enjoy poisoned mercury's debut album hehe.

iv. end up here by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“your band name doesn’t even make any sense,” you argued, eyes narrowing at the boy in front of you. 

luke crashed your secret spot, again, and refused to let you smoke in silence until you gave him a detailed explanation of how your day went. he knew you didn’t smoke every day, only on days that were particularly hard. he noticed that your bad days always had something to do with your dad, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to bring that up. 

anyway, you got fed up with his badgering and that stupid smirk on his face because he knew you were about to crack, and decided that if he was going to act like a toddler, you would too. hence, why you were now bringing up his band name. 

luke took offense to that because he thought the band name was cool. he was the one to suggest it. he crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let his hurt show on his face, “what do you mean? poisoned mercury is a sick name.” 

“mercury is already poisonous. your band name is like redundant or some shit.” 

“then why did so many people in history ingest it?” luke asked, recalling the one thing he remembered from his high school history class before he dropped out. he took a drag from his cigarette, turning his body a bit so the wind didn’t blow the smoke directly in your face. 

“they fucking died, castellan,” you replied, deadpan. 

“oh,” he blinked, staring off, “i didn’t know that.” 

you rolled your eyes, a habit that you’ve picked up whenever you were with him and sat back down on the bench. luke joined you, silent as he thought about what you just said. he really needed to stop zoning out during lessons, but since he was already out of high school, he guessed it didn’t matter anymore. 

as much as you hate to admit it, luke castellan was growing on you. sure, he got on your nerves like nobody else– the boy just doesn’t quit– but, he wasn’t half as bad as you originally thought. not that you’d ever tell him that though. 

when you got back to the cabin last week after helping with concert prep, the cabin was spotless. there were no empty red bull cans in sight, the table tops were free of crumbs, floor vacuumed and mopped, and there was even a candle burning on the counter. you approached your bedroom door to find a post-it on the handle. luke’s messy writing was smudged around the corners, but you could still make out what it said. 

“five star, 

i snitched on the boys and my mom will have a stern talk with them about their cleanliness. can’t promise that people will stop talking about me, but i can promise you won’t have to live in the dojo casa house mojo or whatever it was. 

ps i’m using the spot tomorrow, just thought i should let you know. maybe we can set up a calendar for reservations. 

luke :)” 

the cabin hasn’t been as messy since. whatever may castellan told the boys worked like a charm. there was still the occasional trash, but nothing crazy. it smelled better in the cabin too, still like a boy, but it smelled like expensive cologne more than anything. cedarwood and pine. 

and thankfully, the luke castellan hype train was starting to run out of steam, with many people finally realizing that he was also just a human being and the surprising revelation that luke castellan was not entertaining anyone during his time at camp helped with it as well. you still heard whispers about him here and there, but you were glad the topic of conversation was beginning to switch to something else. 

you and luke walked to the gym and back home every morning together. he and the boys sat with you and clarisse during meals. they tagged along for music lessons and spoke to the kids, which they really appreciated. they helped the older campers with writing music, luke particularly. you’d been around a few musicians in your life and many of them only kissed ass when your dad was around, but poisoned mercury was different. they were passionate about their music. that was clear.

after a conversation with clarisse, where she managed to convince you that not all musicians are like your ex, you began to let loose a little bit. you hung out with the boys more, partly as an excuse so clarisse could hang out with chris without causing too much suspicion, and found that you actually enjoyed their company. and luke castellan? well, he wasn’t half bad. that doesn’t mean he got off easy though. 

you took a hit of your vape, facing him, “are you done interrogating me?” 

“for now, yeah,” he smiled as you shook your head. “are you coming to the concert tonight?” 

“well, i did help organize it.” 

“a simple yes would’ve sufficed, five star,” luke teased, relighting his cigarette. it was burning unevenly and luke was never one to waste his cigarettes. “you gonna watch us play?” 

“don’t have a choice. dad wants me there the whole time.” 

“you can act a little excited,” luke ran a hand through his curls, “we are pretty good, you know.” 

“i know,” you hummed. the sun was beginning to set and there was a slight breeze in the air. goosebumps formed on your skin, the t-shirt and denim shorts you wore didn’t offer much comfort. you shivered, “i have listened to your music.” 

“are you cold?” 

your teeth chattered, but you shook your head, “i’m fine.” 

luke took off his hoodie, tossing it in your direction, “take it.” 

“no,” you tossed it back to him, “told you i’m good.”

always so stubborn, luke thought.  

“if you catch a cold, that’s not on me,” he placed the hoodie on the bench between the two of you. “which songs have you listened to?” 

“kilby girl, of course. it played on the radio so much when you guys first dropped it,” you said, remembering the days where you and your hometown friends would blast it in the car. it reminded you of high school, reckless decisions, life-long memories, and the thrill of knowing you were going to be playing the sport you’d worked so hard to excel in at a d1 level in the fall. you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, “i really like family line. it might be my favorite.” 

luke’s eyebrows shot up. not many people talked about family line. it was probably their least streamed song. they never performed the song on tour because it was difficult for luke to sing it. it was a personal song to him. it was inspired by his relationship with his father, or lack thereof. 

when poisoned mercury first got signed to olympus records, luke sent a message to his dad on facebook. luke hadn’t tried to contact him since he was ten, not since his father returned his letter to him unopened, no response but a “return to sender” stamp plastered over the envelope. but after the small congratulatory party his mom set up for the band after they signed, luke felt like a little kid again, a kid who wanted to share the great news with his dad, so he found his dad on facebook, made an account, and sent him a message. 

he didn’t get a reply, which was expected, but it felt good for a second to pretend that he had a father to tell his good news to. luke thought he didn’t care about whether or not his dad was proud of him, but when his message went from “sent” to “read” a few days later, he was brought back to those moments in his life when he cried and wondered why he wasn’t enough to make his dad stay. he wrote family line in one sitting, on his bed in his bedroom in connecticut, looking at the little league medals on his wall that seemed to mock him. 

he originally didn’t want it on the album because he felt like it didn’t fit the vibe of the rest of the songs and that it was too real, too vulnerable for a debut album, but then he played it for his mom and she loved it. she cried when she first heard it and luke knew that even if people didn’t like the song, he was going to put it out for his mom. 

“huh,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “wasn’t expecting that one. thought you’d be more of a crash my car type of girl.” 

“i like that too,” you shrugged, “but family line. that song. i don’t think i have the words to describe it.” 

“thanks, five star,” luke looked down at his feet, taking a puff from his dying cigarette. “that’s my mom’s favorite, too.” 

“did you write it?” 

luke nodded, looking to face you. there was a new expression on your face, one that you’d never used with him before. it was a mix of disbelief and awe. he tried not to get offended that you didn’t think he could write something like family line, but he couldn’t blame you. he didn’t really portray the type of person who would be able to be that raw and vulnerable on a song. “me and trav write the lyrics for our songs, mostly. chris and connor help too, but the bulk of the lyrics are me.” 

“you need to stop doing that.”

he cocked his head to the side, crushing the cigarette butt on the hardware of the bench, “doing what?” 

“surprising me,” you shook your head, “i don’t like it.” 

“i don’t know what to tell you,” he chuckled, leaning back on the bench. he looked out into the lake, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains, “i have layers. you just gotta give me a chance.” 

“how do you do it?” you sat criss cross on the bench, leaning against the arm rest. “how do you write like that?” 

you’d always been curious about music, even if you weren’t good at it. your dad was never one to answer your questions, especially because you were interested in lyrics more than anything, and that wasn’t his forte. 

luke mimicked your actions, “i dunno. personal experience, i guess?”

you frowned, thinking about the lyrics of family line. luke never talked about his dad, but spoke highly of his mom. was family line based on his own life? if it was, his dad was an asshole. 

you relented to the cold, grabbing the hoodie that he left in between the two of you. you ignored the triumphant smile on his face when you draped the sweater over your bare legs, shielding them from the wind chills. 

he continued, “sometimes things happen to me that get me worked up and i have to write a song about it. sometimes, it’s based on my imagination. it depends.”

you wanted to ask him about his dad, but you didn’t know if he considered you guys friends yet. it’s not like you made it easy for him anyway. you could deal with the banters and annoyance, but you didn’t want to push him to talk about something he wasn’t ready to. you could be a dick, but you weren’t cruel. 

you changed the subject, “okay, let’s play a game.” 

“21 questions?” luke bit his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. he waggled his eyebrows, dodging your arm that reached out to smack him. 

“you’re gross,” you gagged, knowing the implications of the game, “no, i’m gonna ask about the songs on your album and you tell me if it’s real life or from your imagination.” 

“alright, go for it five star,” he beamed, propping his elbows on his crossed knees. he loved talking about music with anyone. he could go on and on for hours. 

“18.” 

“real,” luke snorted, remembering the first time travis pitched the idea for the song to the band, “but not my experience. it was trav. he met this girl at one of our gigs in new york, right after we got signed, and he was obsessed. she was a freshman at nyu and she kept telling him he was too young for her, even though she was just less than a year older. trav was hooked.” 

you could picture it. it was definitely something travis would do. “okay, another one of my favorites. only angel?” 

“not real,” luke shook his head, a slight blush creeping up on his face. “if you tell anyone, five star, i will vehemently deny it, but i had a crush on jade west from victorious and i wrote it about her.” 

there was something about jade west that made luke like a love-sick puppy. ignoring the fact that she was hot, her attitude was something that luke was attracted to. she had a tough exterior and acted like she didn’t care about people, but she had her moments where she was soft and kind to the people she cared about the most. luke liked that. the idea that someone could be sensitive but only to the people they deemed worthy. 

he’d spent so much of his life trying to be worthy, in whatever way the stage of his life defined it, and he craved it– a pat on the back, an approval, a confirmation that he was worthy of it. 

you threw your head back laughing, surprised by his ridiculous confession. the sound of your laughter rang across the woods, making luke smile. your voice echoed throughout the trees and he his senses were surrounded by you. it hit luke like a truck. 

he sucked in a breath, taking out his phone. he jolted from his seat for more than one reason. “shit, five star. we gotta go.” 

you took out your phone too, checking the time. your eyes widened as you got up from your seat. you threw his hoodie over to him, “fuck, we’re late.” 

the two of you raced out of the woods, arriving to the concert venue with flushed faces and rapid breaths. you could feel clarisse’s knowing eyes on you as you got ready for the concert. you tried your best to ignore it. you were going to deal with that later. 

–

“and for the final event, i know you guys are looking forward to this one,” your dad laughed into the mic. the sun was long gone and there were disco lights illuminating the stage. a smoke machine was on either corner, making it difficult to see the bottom half of the stage. you and clarisse stood in the front row, listening to the deafening cheers of the campers. “ladies and gents, welcome poisoned mercury!” 

the screams got louder which you didn’t even know was possible. travis entered the stage first, sticking his tongue out as he expertly twirled his drumsticks around his fingers. connor came in next, smiling and waving at the crowd as he plugged his guitar into the amp. chris walked in with his bass strapped around his neck, eyes immediately finding clarisse and sending her a shy smile. you nudged her teasingly, enjoying the way she blushed under the lights. 

then luke castellan walked in. he ditched his hoodie and t-shirt and walked in with a white tank top on, messing with the curls on his head. he tugged on the silver necklace around his neck as his eyes scanned the crowd. he threw a wink to the group of the older girls in the back, turning to travis to let out a laugh at their reaction. the lights on the boys were blinding and a thin layer of sweat already began to form on their skin despite the bite to the air. 

luke took center stage, picking up his guitar. he leaned over directly in front of you, fingers pretending to mess with the wires connecting his guitar to the speakers, “hey, five star.” 

he straightened his back before you could reply. clarisse’s eyes darted between you and the boy, now nudging you like you did to her earlier. you rolled your eyes, smiling at the rest of the boys as luke began talking on the mic. 

“what’s up, camp half blood?” luke screamed into the mic. the crowd roared. “we’re poisoned mercury and we are so happy to be with you guys here this summer. before we close out this awesome concert, i wanna introduce our lovely band.” 

“on drums, we have the one and only, travis stoll!” luke turned around to applaud travis as he did a little drum solo, head banging as he hit the drums. he turned to connor, “on lead guitar, we have the amazing connor stoll!” 

connor strummed his guitar, leaning over on the left side to soak in the applause of the crowd. the girls beside you swooned as he unleashed one of his award-winning smiles. 

luke faced chris, “and on bass, we have my very best friend in the entire world, my 4lifer, chris rodriguez!” clarisse cheered loudly for chris as he played a tune on his bass, mouthing, “love you, brother,” to luke as he played. the crowd quited for a second as luke addressed them again, “and my name is luke castellan. we’re poisoned mercury!” 

you turned around to look at the crowd. the size of the crowd tripled when the boys got on stage. everyone had a smile on their face, excited to hear them play. 

“the song we’ll be singing for you guys today is from our debut album,” luke adjusted his mic on the stand. he got closer to it, lips touching the metal, “this is only angel.” 

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at their song choice. this was not the song they were supposed to sing. they’d been rehearsing kilby girl for the past week. luke saw your reaction, laughing along with you. 

the instrumentals began and you nearly missed the beat drop because of the cheers from the crowd. as the song progressed, the boys were one with the music. you watched luke sing, working the crowd like a pro. his skin glistened under the spotlight, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. he approached chris when the chorus started, dragging his mic stand with him. he swung his guitar around so it rested on his back as he sang the lyrics. his curls were sticking to his forehead, eyebrows raised in glee as he performed. 

you couldn’t take your eyes off the lead singer, not even when the rest of the band had their own solos in the song. your eyes were glued on luke; how his adam’s apple was on full display as he threw his head back, getting lost in the music, how his arms flexed as he wrapped the mic cord around his fist, how his thin tank top stuck to his body and how it raised when he lifted his arm up to bring the mic closer to his lips. you saw the outline of his abdomen and his v-line. 

but what really got you was his face. he looked at peace on stage, a wide smile on his face, full lips pink and glossy as he licked them in between verses. he looked incredible up there, like that was where he belonged. he was born to be on stage like this. 

“fuck,” you mumbled, applauding at the end of their song. luke’s eyes found yours as he sang the last bit of the song, smiling at you. you hoped clarisse couldn’t hear you talk to yourself. you looked down at your feet, tugging nervously on the collar of your shirt, “i get it now.”

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

lowk FUCKED up, butttttttttttttt would any of the comic book yanderes lobotomize their darling? we always talkin about willingness and shit saur... ya know!! just a lil off the top if ykwim

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒…

!!! GN reader, take a wild guess (lobotomies), neurological terms used, basic delusional behaviors, unethical uses of superpowers, unethical practices in general, mentions of brain dead/vegetative/mentally handicapped reader, Hal’s part briefly describes actual lobotomy procedures, Joker jumpscare in Harvey’s, gaslighting, a small history lesson here and there, themes of forced drug abuse, Tim Drake being a good candidate for the Saw franchise.

GRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHGHHHRRR. Anon, come over here so I can give you a lil forehead smooch. I’ve always wanted to write a yan lobotomy blurb, but… I didn’t really know what direction I wanted to go. Or who to write about. The idea is was legit, “hee hee, wouldn’t it be silly if there was a yandere lobotomy fic” and that’s about it. So I guess this is my chance to get some feelings out about that, yay!!

A few of these are a bit longer than usual cuz this type of shit is my jam. I also didn’t know if you wanted me to rank them on least to most likely, so shoot me a follow up ask if that’s what you wanted. Mwah!!

Bruce Wayne: Definitely not off the table. I’m willing to bet Thomas Wayne had at least one book on lobotomies; just an antique hardback that makes for an interesting read. I can see young Bruce sitting on his father’s lap in the study, tiny hands tracing over the book’s old diagrams as Thomas lovingly describes all of the morbid things they’d do to people (you know, classic father/son bonding activities). Who knew it would actually come in handy one day? Moral repercussions be damned, my man can pull off a sick lobotomy. There are of course factors he has no control over — such as your own brain plasticity and cognitive function — but that’s not exactly his fault, now is it? What your brain decides to do post-lobotomy has nothing to do with him (jokes aside, he’d be devastated if you were totally fucked up afterwards… though he’d easily adapt).

Bucky Barnes: I think he’s had enough mind-meddling of his own to give this a hard pass. It doesn’t matter how bad you are; he’s not doing anything to your brain. You’ll learn to behave on your own accord. And thank god, cuz bro would NOT make a good brain surgeon. He’d brick you so fast. Also, fun fact, the Soviets were actually the first to ban lobotomies (if memory serves correct; Google is backing me up, so… do with that what you will). I don’t know if this carries over to the KGB and their little secret evil organization side shenanigans, but yeah. Let it be known that the chances of lobotomized Bucky went down by… like… 3%.

Clark Kent: At first, I was about to say no, but then I remembered the Justice Lords from the JL cartoon, and… you know what? Maybe. It would be a very low chance, but if it’s gotten to the point where you’re a danger to yourself, Clark would have no other choice. What else can he do? Your safety always comes first and foremost. While the two dots singed into your forehead would raise a few brows, it’s not like he lets you out much anyway. He’d spend a long time trying to cope with the guilt. He did this to save you… he just had to save you from yourself. At least his heat vision is precise enough that he wouldn’t fuck it up. Now all that’s left to do is hope that you turn out okay. He’ll consider it a job well done if you can at least still smile at him.

Dick Grayson: He really isn’t that much different from Bruce, is he? Yeah, he’d do it. Maybe with a few more reservations, but he’d still do it. I think it’s in your best interest if you don’t let him spiral this far, because he’s not against the idea of you being in a completely vegetative state. Yeah, it would suck that you aren’t as active of a participant as he’d want you to be, but having complete control over your care is good enough for him. He’ll easily let his own delusions fill that void. Honestly, a part of him might even hope you turn out with a mental capacity of a toddler. It’s the best of both worlds; while you can still respond to your environment, you also rely heavily on his care. Perfectly pliable in his hands… a dream come true! Yay!

Hal Jordan: Nah. He’s good. Last he checked, he’s not the most qualified person in the world to quite literally poke around in someone’s brain. Hell, even the thought of it makes him sick. No drilling holes into skulls, no skewering needles through eye sockets, no thanks! He’ll leave that up to the people who can stomach the grosser shit. Now, is the thought of a quick operation that theoretically fixes your bratty behavior tempting? Sure. But Hal’s not an idiot; he knows the risks, and those risks just don’t seem worth it. There’s a reason lobotomies are unethical nowadays. Unless the topic comes up in some sort of show or movie, the thought wouldn’t even cross his mind.

Harvey Dent: Neither Harvey nor Two Face are all that keen on the idea. They might’ve done some fucked up shit to you (definitely Two Face more than Harvey), but a lobotomy? That’s just a new level of fucked up. A Joker level of fucked up, even (and the thought of being compared to that piece of shit makes both sides of Dent want to light up an entire room). Besides, there’s no one on the entire planet he’d trust to pull off a procedure like that on you. While he might know a guy or two who would totally do it in this day and age, he’d sooner put a bullet in their brain than let them fuck around with yours. That being said, don’t think you’re totally out of the woods. At the end of the day, it’s all up to the coin, remember?

Jaime Reyes: Would Jaime? No. Absolutely not. It’s unethical, it’s fucked, and it’s also just gross. Anything to do with surgery makes him feel extremely squeamish, and he might actually pass out if he thinks about it too hard. But would Khaji Da? Yeah. Probably. Though it would have to be an extreme scenario, where you’re just completely beyond controlling. Khaji Da knows the risks, and while he’ll execute the technical aspects flawlessly, the results are naturally unpredictable. It would be unfortunate if the scarab lost its host’s mate. Your poor little noggin is at the mercy of Jaime’s resolve. Is he in full control? Then don’t worry, his incoherent mutterings about severing connections in your prefrontal cortex are nothing but his weird intrusive thoughts. But… if he isn’t… uh-oh.

Peter Parker: Nope. No lobotomies here. He’s quite aware of the repercussions, both morally and practically. Honestly, he doesn’t even see most of your behaviors as something in need of correcting in the first place. Maybe if you were causing yourself any sort of harm, but other than that, he can put up with a lot of your bullshit. Talking back? Name calling? Hitting and kicking? Straight-up just being abusive? As long as you don’t leave him, he’ll work with it! Peter is the exact definition of a pushover yandere. You can get away with a lot, and that includes not getting lobotomy!

Reed Richards: I can see him pulling one off. Is it the most desirable outcome? Definitely not. But there’s only so much he can put up with before he finally puts his foot down. If you’re the insubordinate type, you’ve probably given him at least 17 heart attacks by now, and it’s only natural he’d come up with a way to curb those behaviors. See, me personally, if I were to get a lobotomy from any of these men, I’m calling up Reed. He’s no neurologist, but I’m sure he can whip up something to study your brain waves and accurately predict the outcome of a lobotomy. Plus, he’d probably have the safest environment and instruments for the operation. You won’t feel a thing, trust. Now let’s hope months of collecting data and trial runs on some less-than-willing test subjects pay off!

Remy LeBeau: Yeah, no… probably not. Thanks to Sinister, he knows first hand how invasive a lobotomy is. You’d have to be really unstable for him to even consider that idea. He definitely has the means to do it — all he has to do is put a finger up to your forehead and burn through your frontal lobe — but having the resolve to do it is a different story. While he might’ve turned out semi-okay post-lobotomy, there’s no telling what would happen after yours. Way too risky. Only something to consider as a totally nuclear option. So don’t make him do something he’d rather not, okay? It’d be better for you, better for him, better for everyone.

Scott Summers: Like Gambit, he’s a victim of Sinister’s fuckery but 10 times worse. I don’t think he’d be able to stomach the thought of doing anything surgical to you no matter how disobedient you are. But… maybe we can make this a little interesting. Scott’s attracted some hella weird attention over the years… who’s to say someone like Sinister wouldn’t get his hands on you and do a little fucking around? Maybe Goblin Queen? A particularly pissed off Phoenix? While Scott himself wouldn’t dare lobotomize you, I think there’s some people out there who would. Or, hear me out: mind controlled Cyclops almost crushing your skull with an optic blast. It would be more blunt force than an actual lobotomy, but I’m willing to bet it would fuck up your cognitive function all the same. Despite the immense horror and guilt he’d feel afterwards, a small part of him can see it as a blessing in disguise (depending on how you turn out, that is).

Steve Rogers: Honestly, Cap was frozen at the funniest point in history ever. The amount of lobotomies increased exponentially from the 40s to 50s (mind you, WWII ended in 1945), and then antipsychotics were introduced as a more ethical way to treat mental illness, which Steve wouldn’t know shit about. Unfortunately for all of my fellow sickos out there, lobotomies were probably never a thing Steve liked about the 40s, but allow me to offer an alternative. Steve thinks there’s clearly something wrong with your mental health; why else would you act like you hate him? Luckily for him, this is the 21st century, where people know much more about mental illnesses and disorders. He could easily pull some strings as Captain America and get you the help you so obviously need. So, I guess the question is, how many different prescriptions of antipsychotics can one take at once? Guess you’ll find out!

Tim Drake: So… uh… y’all better pray that he doesn’t get any intrusive thoughts about this shit. And if he does, PRAY that he snaps out of his weird fit before it’s too late. DO NOT LET BRO COOK. I don’t think he’d totally fuck it up or anything, but the chances of him spiraling and performing more than one are dangerously high. You might find the out hard way just how much poking and prodding a brain can take before it shuts down. Depending on how manic he is, he might actually lobotomize you while you’re conscious. No anesthesia, no painkillers, just him pouncing on you with a hammer and pick. You will be rawdogging this lobotomy like god intended. That’s when he’d fuck your shit up. Unless you want him to brick your brain, you better fight him off and wrestle those tools out of his hands. The post-manic episode clarity would be insane. “Uh… sorry I tried to give you a lobotomy.” Cool, man. Okay.

Wally West: Wally “if you need to give someone a lobotomy, that’s honestly a skill issue” West. Who needs that shit when you’re THE master manipulator? It would take some god-tier perception (or paranoia) to see through a fraction of his act, and even so, what good will any of that do when he’s got everyone else wrapped around his finger? Fighting against him is a dangerous game. If need be, he’ll play the loving caretaker while you’re the loony one. Poor Wally… he’s trying to help you through your issues, and this is the thanks he gets? Wow. Now, for the sake of a little exploration, I think it’s important to note that Wally could theoretically go through with it (by phasing his hand through your skull and solidifying at the right angle), but that sounds way too unstable to pull off. It would probably run the risk of turning your brain into a soup, and I’m pretty sure that kills people.

[birdbaddie]

Spar: Gone Wrong

Oooooo we starting to get fancy up in here.  More slop that I have cooked for you to enjoy! Thanks for reading and toodles! ;)

--SUMMARY-- Where you try out your new move and it gives Satoru a heart attack.

Satoru Gojo x Teacher! f.Reader

“Yuji! Stop being a nosey idiot!” Nobara hits Yuji over the head with her phone as both of them walk up to Megumi and the year 2’s. 

“It’s not being nosey when you’re practically showing off your texts to the entire world!” he rubs his head as they bicker.

Megumi sighs in defeat as he hears his friends get closer. They’re only down the hall but he already feels a headache coming on. 

‘At least it’s not that idiot.’ That he’s grateful for but it’s still lunch so anything could happen, especially in this school.

Thinking about that idiot, he wonders where you are. Because where you are, Gojo is usually only 2 feet behind. He remembers you mentioning you have PPA time to plan lessons for next week but he couldn’t remember which day you said you had it. It was usually the same scheduled time every week, but after a certain blindfolded menace complained and whined to principal Yaga for 4 days straight about it being on the same days as his off days- her schedule was magically changed. 

He recalls how confused you were when Gojo gave you the ‘great news’ but you accepted it fairly quickly because that was just who you were. Even though that was a certain charm that Megumi loved about you, Being that aloof and naive in the field they were in was nothing short of dangerous. The only reason the higher-ups haven’t done anything about it was because of the power you held. That and you were Gojo Satoru’s spouse.

“That would be interesting, What do you think Megumi?”

At the sound of his name, he was snapped out of his thoughts. 

“Huh?”

He sees Nobara scowl at him not listening and points an accusatory finger at him. “You’ve been around those two longest so surely you’ve seen them spar before?”

At her words, he can only guess they were talking about you and Gojo. 

“What about it?” He’s only ever seen you guys spar twice, Gojo winning one and you winning the other. Both times Megumi didn’t know how it was going to end due to your techniques basically being opposite of each other. Where Gojo had some of the strongest offense techniques known in jujutsu history, You had the reverse. Big strong wings that could get you anywhere as fast as Satoru’s warping technique and a mutated version of cursed energy the higher-ups like to call ‘blessed energy’. It lets you create shields out of this energy that repels any cursed technique, even Gojo’s purple hollow.

He could never get a scratch on you (not that he’d want to anyway) And you could never do the same because of your lack of offensive techniques. In that way, Megumi could say you were made for each other. 

Maki crosses her arms as she sports that usual bored look.

“We were gonna ask that idiot if he could take us for lunch but Inumaki said there were bentos for us in the fridge anyway,” so it was PPA day, you usually got up early to make them for everyone as you couldn’t help yourself if you have the time. Megumi gets one every day anyway but if he let everyone else know then he’d have them all on his ass and that’s just another headache he’d rather avoid.

“So if we’re stuck here, Panda came up with the idea of asking those two to show us how they’d spar” Maki genuinely looked interested in the concept. You had helped her how to handle different weapons in her first year so he couldn’t blame her for being curious how her sensei would handle herself in a ‘real’ fight.

Even though Gojo made it clear that most lunchtimes, it was his time to chill with you and just you- Megumi knew the idea of another spar with (Y/N) was filling his need to be near you and tempting his ego at the same time.

“Fine, but I’ll just say this to give you guys a warning,” Megumi started to walk towards your office where he knew both of you would be, not caring if any of them caught up or not.

He shoves his hands in his pocket as he thinks back to those two spars he’s witnessed before- rare excitement building inside him.

“Neither of them hold back”

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

“Toru, slow down! You’ll choke if you keep eating that fast!” Satoru loved it when you doted on him, it felt domestic to him and it was a nice change from killing curses all of the time. It was also one of the reasons he fell in love with you in the first place so he guesses he’s never grown bored of it.

He smirks as he leans his head over the shoulder of the small sofa, knowing it was annoying you by how nonchalant he was about it.

“Well sweets, if you didn't make this so nice every time then maybe I wouldn’t eat it as quickly” The smug smirk on his face only irks you more as he wasn’t taking it as seriously as you.

Putting down your pen and pushing your swivel chair behind you to stand up, you simultaneously picked up your own bento and worked your way to the sofa Satoru was currently taking all the space on.

“If I feed you myself, you’ll slow down right?” You made it sound more of a request than a question and that was what gave Satoru the victory. It was always easy to pull you in the direction he wanted and he liked to abuse that power every time. This situation itself has just become such a common occurrence now, that the back and forth has reduced to the absolute minimum.

He takes his legs off of the other side of the sofa and sits up properly, still sporting that shit-eating grin as he makes room for you to settle in properly next to him. Most times he does feel some sort of guilt for doing what he does but in most cases, it was only for your best interest. For example- now, you have been at that desk on that computer for at least 3 hours straight. He was sure if you didn’t get out of that chair for another hour you would lose circulation in your legs. And with you basically being on top of him it was a win-win situation.

“ I definitely wouldn’t refuse something like that,” he gave you his bento as he quickly snatched your own from your other hand. “ But only if I get to do the same for you”

Seeing the soft look on his face even with the blindfold gave you tingles up your arms. 

‘This man could say anything and I'd still be whipped’ 

Mirroring his look, you gently fixed his blindfold where it had begun to slip on his undercut. Him leaning into your hand as you caressed the back of his head, playing with the little hairs.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing” You sighed blissfully as you moved your hand to the side of his face instead. He overlapped your hand with his own, playing with the engagement ring on your finger. 

“Well if you know what I’m doing then why haven’t you stopped me?” He challenged your statement so swiftly but it was just as easy for you to come up with your own reply. 

“I never said I didn’t enjoy it” You recognised his little efforts for you to relax and it was just natural at this point for you to give in without much fight. 

He fought high-grade curses nearly every day and you were called nearly every meeting as a bodyguard for the higher-ups. You would be a fool to pass up any chance to be this close to your fiancè. Not being as strong as most of the other jujutsu sorcerers offensively, you were barely only graded as a semi-grade 2 so you were not called on as many missions as most others. Instead, you were used as the unbreakable shield to protect the higher-ups and lead escorts for related important people to them.

Satoru would always be worried about you when on any mission and vice versa, but it was never a question of if you came home, it was a matter of when. Both of you know better than to doubt the other's ability but it would be impossible to stop that worry from appearing.

“Love you” his usual smirk comes back as your hand moves to your chopsticks.

“Love you too idiot” The endearing look on your face makes it obvious you didn’t mean that nickname and as this was precious time, Satoru decided to ignore it just this once in favor of starting to feed you. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t get back at you later for it.

5 minutes go by with you both still feeding each other with little conversation in between before a knock sounds at the tatami doors. You look at Satoru, letting him decide what he wanted to do and by the look on his face, it didn't look like he was all too happy from the disturbance. 

But before he could tell the person on the other side of the door to kiss his ass, they heard Megumi’s voice come through.

“Oi Idiot! You in there?”

Widening your eyes, you gave Satoru a certain look as your wings twitched behind you. Looking back at you he only groaned inwardly as he stood up.

‘She has a softer spot for him than me’ he whined to himself as he set your bento on your desk and worked his way to the door. 

“This best be important” he whispered as he threw open the door with an indifferent look.

Behind the door, he could see all of the first years and the 2nd years grouped up and whispering amongst themselves.

Growing confused by the sight of everyone there he wanted to get straight to the point so he could go back to spending time with you.

“What did you guys need?” No quip or annoying comment showed all of them that Satoru Gojo wasn’t that happy he was just interrupted from his free time with you. Hopefully, the incentive of this idea would be enough to convince him.

“We were wondering if we could watch you and (L/n)-sensei spar” 

Satoru’s eyes widened as he was briefly surprised. He thought they were just gonna ask for money to go to that new fair in the nearby town or ask him a stupid question about Panda’s fur or something. Before he could answer, you piped up from right beside him. Caught off guard from the question he didn’t notice how quickly you came up to the door.

“Well I have been working on a new move, it would be nice to try it out properly- but why the sudden interest?” You had been working on this new skill for a while now and because of how busy you and Satoru have been lately, it was quite difficult to know how effective it was.

“Wait really? How come I didn’t know about this?” He turns to you and wraps both of his arms around your left, feigning a sad and disappointed face.”I thought you loved me?”

Megumi scoffs at Gojo’s over-the-top display.

“Idiot” He mutters.

“I didn’t mean to not tell you! It’s just slipped my mind since I’ve only worked on it a bit each week” You genuinely looked guilty and Megumi didn’t know whether to sigh or laugh.

Megumi instead cleared his throat, if he didn’t stop you two- this would go on for the rest of lunch and they would have no time to spar. The number of times he missed his solo book club because of the same reasons- He only had a designated time for those classrooms dammit!

This time Satoru looked at you, letting you decide what you wanted to do as either way he would still be by you anyway. 

Thinking about it some more you started to grin as you crossed your arms.

“What’s the score right now? Seventy to seventy-one?” Understanding your words, Satoru copied your grin as he looked down at you.

“Think you can even it up sweets?” Already thinking of ways to win, he brushed his hair back with one hand in his pocket.

“I think you shouldn’t underestimate me” You let your wings brush against him as you walked past and down the hallway towards the training grounds. Your feathers leaving a tingling sensation against his cheek.

Satoru bit his lip and willed his excitement to go down as he was still on school grounds, All students following closely behind you now as well as he was left to catch up. 

Still lingering by the door, he stared down the direction you went as you turned the corner and secretly gave him a challenging smile.

‘Game on Princess’

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After calming himself down and thinking of a battle strategy, he worked his way outside where he saw the students had created two designated areas on the steps. One had your name and the other had his messily written on big white cardboard sheets. How they managed to do it so quickly he didn't know. 

“YOU GOT THIS SENSEI!” turning to Yuji’s voice, Satoru sent him a cocky smirk until he realised what the areas were for- face immediately dropping.

They were areas for them to guess who would win. 

And only Yuji was sat by his name. 

Turning to the rest of the students he put one hand on his hip and one on his heart.

“Do none of you think I can win???” Despite his act of trying to get them to pity him, they were only annoyed more.

Nobara being the one to speak up.

“If you don’t get your ass down there now, I'll be the one beating you up”

“Tuna, Tuna” 

Gasping dramatically, he held his head up as he went the rest of the way to his spot on the training grounds.

“Even my own students don’t believe in me” pretending to wipe a tear from his blindfold.

As both of them were finishing up their stretches, Nobara turned to Megumi with a prevalent question that had been lingering in her head for a while.

“Is it just me or does this seem insanely unfair?”

Locking eyes with Nobara, he paused eating his bento- putting the half-eaten ginger-chicken slice back on top of the rice. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well Gojo-sensei has infinity and limitless, I’ve only seen (L/n)-sensei create shields” Before Megumi could say anything, Yuji piped up from across from them. His cheeks full of the bento you made for him.

“That’s a point! Can’t Gojo-sensei teleport as well? (L/n)-sensei doesn’t even have the speed edge on him” 

Megumi grumbled as those two went off on a tangent. To be fair he had been thinking the same the first time he was about to watch his guardians spar. It was clear to everyone how he favored you over Gojo and as he caught your eye mid-hamstring stretch- giving him a small wave, it took him back to that first one. He was barely 7 years old, yet he already knew to trust you more than Gojo. He watched you guys from his bedroom window, silently cheering you on. From then to now, your techniques and the way you fight have come a long way but back then you couldn’t form your shields for more than 5 seconds at a time before they dissolved. But where you were training him for months before that fight, he saw you steadily improve your skills. Not just relying on your technique.

 So when he saw Gojo win he remembers the disappointment he felt for you as Gojo helped you up. The memory was a bit foggy now but he’d never forget the way you ruffled his hair as you gave him his miso and rice the next morning, calling him-

‘My little believer’

“She has more of an edge than you think morons”

“HUUHH, WHO ARE YOU CALLING A-” but before Nobara could wack him over the head, a loud bang was heard and you and Gojo were on each other in less than a second. You threw your left leg at his ribs, covering it with a shield. It easily went through his infinity- as if it wasn’t even there. But before it managed to touch him, he teleported behind you ready to twist your arm. 

Using your wings, you unfurled them and let them spread out as much as possible, not only blocking his attack but you flew back as hard as possible, knocking Gojo as he stumbled backward.

Quickly shooting up into the air, only about 15 feet, you did a half backflip-curling your wings in as you shot down to your target.

Warping again, Gojo landed a few meters behind where you would land, readying a lapse red. He didn’t want to take any chances in this fight because he had no idea what the ace up your sleeve was, but he couldn’t lie that he wasn’t at least a little bit intrigued.

“He’s doing a lapse red already?!?!” Panda stood in shock not knowing how it escalated so quickly.

“Sit down dumbass you’re blocking my view” Maki nearly tugged panda down herself before he crashed back down on the step.

You turned and to the students, it didn’t look like you turned quick enough. The lapse red shredded through the training grounds until it just stopped. Every student except one stood on their feet with wide eyes.

The dust cleared and the students couldn’t see you, Thinking Gojo just disintegrated you they all started yelling at him.

But Gojo only smiled as he leaned a bit to the side, you flying right where he just was, missing his neck by just a few centimeters. At the sight of you, the students all sat back down.

“Nice try princess, but your energy gives you away every time”

Narrowing your eyes, you carried on with your strategy. All you had to do was make sure he couldn’t get too close to you. You can get away with a lot of things with your techniques but if you let him engage in hand-to-hand combat with you, you’d lose instantly. You weren’t physically as strong as him at all and he had more experience in that field. It was how you lost over half of the duels you two had.

You knew your energy was more visible than others, probably twice as potent as Satoru’s. Because of the nature of it, you understood you would be less than helpful on missions involving curses graded 1 and higher. They would find you before you would find them.

Good thing this new move you’ve been working on centers around it.

The back and forth went on for about 10 more minutes until Gojo decided enough was enough.

Seeing the familiar hugh of his hollow purple, you felt relieved as you were starting to tire yourself out. Gojo could sense that too and he was feeling a bit nice today.

Flying alongside the forest, you let the final parts of your plan fall into place. Covering yourself with your shield. At this point, you’ve shown the capability of your shields- hopefully letting Satoru put his guard down. 

And as the hollow purple shot across and towards you, you feigned shock, letting your wings falter for a second. And as the technique touched your shield, you let it absorb the power. Only letting it shatter at the last moment of force. Letting it blow you backward and into the forest.

“Blessed technique; veiled armor”

With a victory smirk, Satoru pirouetted and bowed toward the students as if he were on a stage and just performed a simple magic trick.

Straightening up quickly he pointed enthusiastically towards Yuji.

“Yuji! I dub you my favorite student!”

After no reply, he dropped his arm as he looked at his students' unreadable faces. Waving his arms up and down.

“At least give me some praise for being a super awesome and strong teacher!”

Another few beats went by and no one did anything, not even move. 

Hands now laying limply by his sides, he was about to reassure his students until a flash of black ran by him.

Turning, he could see Megumi’s strands of hair disappear into the forest followed by his divine dogs.

Confused, he stared at where Megumi ran in trying to figure out why he would do it. Before, he’d never worry over either of you this much after a spar. He knew how strong you both were and he knew Satoru wouldn’t hollow purple you if he knew you couldn’t handle it.

Taking a step towards the forest, about to follow Megumi, he staggered.

His breathing grew uneven as his thoughts stopped altogether.

‘Wait…..why can’t I..’

Tugging his blindfold quickly to bunch around his neck, he let his six-eyes search the forest. 

That usual constant hugging feeling was gone. That feeling of comfort gone. That warm-soft feeling that always calms his thoughts- gone.

He only ever feels this when he has to go on missions, when you have to go on missions, and when he is ever away from you. You would still be in the same city, and he could still feel that good feeling. Like a blanket on his soul.

Your energy was a constant since he met you, but right now.

He couldn’t feel anything.

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Instantly warping to Megumi’s trail of curse energy residue, taking note of Megumi’s tight expression he could tell he was silently seething at him. But right now their main priority was finding you so any conversations could be had later. So Satoru clenched his teeth and became serious- something Megumi didn’t see often.

Thoughts were running through both of their heads like wild but they both tried hard not to let them waver from their goal. Guilt was prevalent in both minds, not that that was surprising. 

Following the path created by Satoru’s hollow purple, they both noticed how it started to become narrower and narrower. Three emotions became prevalent, Churning your bento that suddenly became so heavy in Satoru’s gut- Anxiety, hope but the strongest was dread. Those three emotions feeling so familiar to him. He didn’t know what he’d find at the end of the wreckage, and he dreads at the thought of what he might've done. 

“You best hope she’s ok”

Keeping his focus in front of him, he barely regarded Megumi’s sharp words. 

“Or I’ll kill you before you can say sorry” 

Gojo always knew Megumi had more of a soft spot for you. That was evident the day he brought him and Tsumiki to meet you for the first time. He’d tease those two non-stop and you’d always be there to defend them. But in his opinion- you only won him over because you bought him that one book that he’d been eyeing through a shop window.

But you were his fiancè, he was pretty sure if anything happened to you he would never be able to forgive himself. He’d probably retire outright too. He’s already let down one of the most important people in his life- and that was his maximum.

Steeling his focus, Megumi’s divine dogs suddenly shoot forward, obviously following your scent now.

Warping to keep up with the dogs he left Megumi to catch up. The caved path had gone into single meters in width and the dogs started to maneuver to the left- darting into the densest area of the forest. 

It only took about 25 seconds more but the dogs stopped at the bottom of a large dead tree. The humongous branches and twisted roots make the area look more haunting.   

Seeing the dogs sniff at the base of the large tree, Satoru slowly made his way forward to see. His fast and shallow panting not only from the long spar with you and the run to get here but also the fear that gripped his throat- tightening with each step forward.

Shooing the dogs to the side, he willed himself to look at where you were. 

Or what was left of you anyway.

A single button from your uniform lay there- slightly browned from where his purple hollow started destroying it.

The world was silent for a few seconds.

Satrou Instantly thought back to that fight with Toji, where he created a giant hole in his side.

Oh god, had he eviscerated you?

It was only meant to be a playful thing to distract you from your work. 

You guys did the same back and forth every other week, why was today the day it went wrong?

His six eyes tunnel-visioned onto the button, he swore it was mocking him.

He bent down to grab the button, legs shaking and almost giving out on him. Any moment he’d feel like he would break completely, shattering into a million pieces.

As soon as his trembling fingers grazed the still burning button, something crashed onto his back holding him down.

He couldn’t care though, at the moment all of his fight had vanished and he felt like an empty shell. Thinking it was Megumi ready to deliver the final blow he closed his eyes and waited.

“I win!”

His eyes shot open, he felt gentle hands turn him around so he was looking straight up at the person straddling him.

“I’m sorry I landed on you! I needed to surprise you and it was the only thing I could think of on the spot, I’m honestly just glad I- Satoru? Are you……crying?”

Either Megumi had killed him and he was in heaven or you were perfectly safe without even one scratch on you. 

He didn’t even realise he was crying, but when he felt your usual delicate fingers wipe his tears away he knew it was real. You were real.

He could feel the air finally able to enter his lungs fully as he closed his eyes in relief. 

You were okay.

You were safe.

You were with him.

The sounds of the forest filled the silence. Satoru used his hands to double-check you were there, running along your legs and your arms and finally resting on your face.

“Never leave me, ok?” words so soft and fragile you almost missed them.

Furrowed brows and a small confused frown graced your face as his sky-blue eyes stared dazedly into your own (e/c) ones.

“Toru what-”

“I thought something happened to you when I couldn’t feel you, I thought I ki-” He choked on a sob before he could finish his sentence. He started to shake as he couldn’t control the sobs and the cries leaving his mouth. “I couldn’t- I-I didn’t-”

“Shhh, everything is ok Toru, deep breaths” 

Having him sit up, he wrapped his arms securely- almost protectively around you as you rubbed circles on his back. This was nowhere near as bad as he was when he came home last year after being ordered to kill his best friend, but it still filled you with guilt that you were the one who caused this in the first place.

After his body had grown more lax and the wet spot on your shoulder stopped growing in size, he slowly pulled Satoru off of your shoulder so you could look him in the eyes.

“Toru I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you what my new technique was. I never meant for you to think I was hurt-” Your own sobs in regret starting to overwhelm you.” Oh God, S-Satoru I’m so sor-ry”

A small smile grew on Satoru’s face as it was his turn to wipe your tears.

“You must-must’ve been so scar-scared, and I was-s the one that did that to yo-you”

“(Y/N) It’s ok now, you’re ok”

Leaning forward until both of your foreheads were touching, you let your wings sag and curl around both of you as if to shield you from everything else.

You both waited until both of you calmed down enough to stand. 

“How did you do that anyway?” 

You hummed in confusion as he began to pick out leaves and sticks from your hair from where you were camping in the canopy of the trees.

“Your energy, It’s like it just poofed”

Giggling at his wording, you released the technique and let your energy flow around you again. He visibly relaxed as you also started brushing mud and gravel from his shoulders from where you tackled him earlier.

“It’s a technique I've been working on for a while now, basically I create a concentrated viel around myself and it keeps all traces of energy inside. It needs a lot of concentration and energy to keep it going and flexible though so I’ll need to work on that.”

“I’m really proud you’ve managed to do this yourself princess, just……next time give me a warning”

Looking up at his face from his uniform, you notice how tired Satoru seems. Dazed and droopy eyes, slumped shoulders, and a general look of sluggishness as he shuffles on his feet.

Standing on the tip of your toes, Satoru bent and met you halfway as you shared a gentle kiss. You wove your hands around the back of his neck as his sneaked around your waist. Neither one of you wanted to let the other go as Satoru pulled you closer until there was zero space left between you two.

Eventually, you both ran out of breath and slowly pulled apart. Eyes fluttering open, you searched his sky-blues for any lingering fear but you only found love.

“I promise”

Grinning, Satoru leaned down again to initiate a more heated kiss but he was interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

“If you just wanted to kiss in the forest, I would’ve stayed behind”

Groaning at Megumi’s poor timing, Satoru pulled his blindfold up and fixed his hair.

‘Menace of a child’ 

On the other hand, you started laughing at Megumi’s statement. Strolling up to him and pulling him in for a hug too.

 He shot up since he was 6 years old, now towering over you and he was still only 15 so you were he was going to rival Satoru in height. So he also had to bend down to hug you back properly, but like Satoru, once he could feel you there and alive- his shoulders sagged with relief as he just enjoyed your presence and your energy surrounding him.

Megumi was never one for words so you felt everything as he held you tighter than usual. Taking into account how Satoru reacted, you could tell Megumi was trying hard to suppress his emotions. Instead, letting them flow through him by the hard grip he had around you. You reached up to stroke his hair as you found out that was the best way to help him sleep when he was small, So you just used that knowledge to calm him down. 

When his grip loosened, you let your hands fall as you took the chance to make sure he was ok. 

He was about to say something but Satoru threw his arm around his shoulders roughly and started ruffling his hair.

The annoyance quickly returned on his face as he shoved Satoru away, calling back his divine dogs as he stalked away. 

Hearing him mutter about being around too many idiots or something as he made his way back to the other students.

Feeling Satoru weave his fingers with your left hand, you noticed some strands of hair not in their proper place.

Letting you fix his hair with your free hand, the moment you pulled back he quickly snatched it with his left hand and warped you two back to the group of students.

“Satoru! We left Megumi…” Quickly shaking off the surprise of being teleported, You turned back to the forest to look for Megumi. 

Forgetting Satoru was still holding your hands, he twirled you and dipped you until pulling you back up and wrapped his arms around you, that whole sequence making you dizzy.

“Eh, brat deserves it”

Rolling your eyes, you wiggled out of his hold and walked over to the students.

“Sensei! We thought that idiot killed you for a second” Panda yelled as you saw how tense the others were, even the usual stoic-faced Maki looked like she just saw a ghost. Frowning at what you did to everyone, you lit up again as you thought of a way to make it up to everyone.

“ No more studies for the rest of the day and I’ll take all of you out tomorrow to the new Sushi place that just opened!” 

Cheers were heard as the tension started to dissipate, students asking each other what they were going to do now with their free day.

Feeling your own tension leave your body, you decided that was enough excitement for one day.

Turning back around you had a quick hug with your fiancè and gave him a peck when you made sure the other students weren’t looking.

“Anyway, I best get going- the babysitter has a group project meeting to go to and I convinced Principle Yaga to let me work the rest of the day from home.”

“‘kay princess, want me to take you there now?”

“Thanks, Satoru but Ijichi is already waiting by the entrance and he said he’d also drop the babysitter home”

Kissing him again you walked up the stairs to grab your bag from your office.

“See you soon everyone! Love you Toru!” waving at everyone you heard them all shout goodbye and a loud ‘I LOVE YOU MORE!’ from Satoru. You giggled as you disappeared behind the large Tatami doors.

The conversation came back and Yuji came up to his Sensei in curiosity, noting he was still staring at where you disappeared. He thought it was amazing how in love you two were and you both didn’t care who was around to see it. He hoped he got that one day.

“Sensei? What did she mean by baby-sitter?” 

Satoru snapped out of his thoughts as a wide and proud grin stretched across his face- Always getting giddy whenever he gets to talk about his son.

He pulled his wallet out from his back pocket and let the comically long picture reel fall almost to the floor.

“BEHOLD! My son!” The first picture being a still frame of an exhausted but happy you in a hospital bed holding a baby with snow-white hair and Satoru next to you wrapping his arms around both of you.

“WHAT?!-”

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Bonus-

“SATORUUUUU!!!!! WHY IS THERE A HUGE CRATER IN MY FOREST?!?!?!?!”

Satoru scrambles to fold back up the pictures he’d been admiring alone in his classroom. But he wasn’t fast enough as his classroom doors burst open with a very furious Yaga. Satoru felt sweat bead above his blindfold as the two faculty members stared at each other.

Yaga did a quick look around the room and snapped his head back to Satoru.

“AND WHERE ARE YOUR STUDENTS?!?!? SATORU I WILL STRANGLE YOU RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW-”

Satoru glossed over the fact that was the second time someone had threatened his life today and let out a loud screech at the approaching principal. He tried to run away but his collar was snagged as Yaga started to drag him to his office. His limbs flailing around trying to free himself and pleading with Yaga to let him go because his butt was starting to get sore.

“Strongest my ass-”

[pasukiyo]

𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦 | sebastian sallow

sebastian sallow x reader notes; no gender is specified, hogwarts house is entirely up to you 727 words warnings; nothing but fluff<3

 “you know, sometimes i wonder if professor binns is actually trying to kill us,” sebastian thought aloud, and you glanced over at him, an eyebrow raised in question. “what makes you think that?” you asked, the corners of your lips twitching in the beginning of an amused smile. sebastian shrugged as the both of you continued down one of hogwarts’ many corridors, history of magic books in your hands. “i mean really, it’s like he’s trying to subject us to the same fate he faced,” he continued. “sometimes i’m so bored and get so tired in his class, i wake up checking to see if my skin has turned blue yet” 

 you couldn’t help but laugh at this, giving his arm a playful jab with your elbow. “you’re ridiculous, sebastian sallow.”

 sebastian couldn’t suppress his own smile. “no, this class is ridiculous.”

 you laughed again and flushed when you felt his eyes linger a moment too long over you, and you glanced away, your heated gaze fixated on the stone floor below instead. sebastian sighed from beside you, and you peeked up at him again, watching the way his shoulders heaved when he stretched. “i’m in a good mood today too,” he pouted as they approached the entrance to history of magic, sebastian slowing beside the door to allow you to walk through first. “this is rubbish,” he spoke a little too loud, and you winced, peering up at where the ghostly figure of professor binns stood at the front of the room. 

 luckily, he seemed to not have heard sebastian’s declaration. 

 “don’t worry,” sebastian murmured in your ear as the two of you found your usual seats next to each other, and you flushed again when his breath fanned over your hot skin. “professor binns practically functions like we’re not here more than half of the time anyways.”

 you giggled behind your hand as you flipped open your history of magic book, patiently waiting for the lesson to begin. 

 and when it did, you swore the sound of professor binns monotone voice added weights on top of your eyelids. it wasn’t long before you— including the entire room— began to droop their heads, fighting a war with yourself to stay awake. sebastian was leaning his head against his palm already beside you, his lids narrowed but very nearly still open, using his other hand to hide his yawn. 

 as lazily as you could, you swung your head towards him, and he did the same, raising one finger to the side of his head as if it were a wand and mouthing the words, ‘avada kedavra.’ you nearly let your giggles slip from your lips before you turned back to face the front of the room, desperately trying to tame the pounding of your heart inside your chest. 

 your eyelids began to flutter closed again, your body easing into the wooden seat, your hands folded in your lap. you could feel your body begin to sway as you proceeded to fight to stay awake— or alive for that matter— but professor binns’ voice began to muffle, becoming somewhat of a soft, distant lullaby..

 sebastian’s arm tensed at the feeling of a sudden weight falling onto it, and his eyelids flew open, his head turning swiftly to see what had hit him. he blinked the sleepiness away from his eyes as your leaning and sleeping figure came into focus, and sebastian felt he could turn into magma right then and there. 

 he watched the rise and fall of your shoulders, your breath soft and in rhythm with your chest. the tension in his muscles from moments before faded away, his lips curved into a soft smile as he watched you, almost wearing you proudly on his arm as if to say, ‘look everyone! they’re asleep on me! and i’m the only one they’ll ever fall asleep on!’

 sebastian suppressed the urge to pet your head, to touch your hand, to wrap his arm around you, to touch you at all. this was new, in fact, it was the first instance of intimacy between them he could even think of. it was refreshing. it was nice. it was a beginning. 

 so instead, he let the sleepiness from a moment before wash over him, but, he did let his own head fall on top of yours, as if it were a shield. 

a/n; this is the first time i’ve written a gender neutral imagine, which makes me feel kind of bad gah i’m just so used to writing with she/her pronouns since i like to write imagining myself lol but i wanted to try including everyone in this one! this was also my first time writing in second person so i hope it’s not too bad!

[punksocks]

Warning Signs That You May Have A Toxic/Karmic Significant Other

Hey everyone, you may have seen my recent post about breaking up with my ex partner after 5.5 years. If not, I’ve been deep in reflection after ending this relationship. My reasons for ending it were that he refused to seek professional help to manage his anger which would come out in constant outbursts of violence (not physical ab*se but hitting walls, kicking furniture, scarring my dog, etc) and his mental health in general. After breaking things off I analyzed our relationship and all the red flags became crystal clear in hindsight. This blog is not only my emotional space to reflect, but also a place to give out advice to make sure you guys feel less alone in the world. So I’ve compiled a list of behaviors that made it clear that in hindsight the relationship was destine to be toxic and could not continue. It’s important to take lessons from painful experiences in order to continue to grow, and that’s what I hope I can help with by sharing my experiences here:

(TW Manipulation, Distressing Themes, Emotional Ab*se)

- They hate your intuition: (they work to make you doubt whatever means you have of self guidance. Whether that’s tarot/astrology, or spirituality in general, or therapy, or your simple gut feelings/reactions to things. They hate them because they know that they’ll be singled out at some point by them so they work to make you not believe in yourself through manipulation/gaslighting. My ex would constantly say the tarot is going to tell me to break up with him, but he never really changed he’d just belittle it and say I was getting weird about spirituality and he’d try to make me doubt myself or choose between the tarot and him. When I asked him to go to therapy he would also say that he was worried the therapist would tell him to break up with me-implying I was the problem. When I would ask him to go anyway he would find a way to avoid it- saying it’s too expensive, too hard to find, he doesn’t have time, etc)

-They constant give you advice that puts you in harm’s way: (My ex always told me I was too quick to cut off people that threw me under the bus and that I was paranoid. When I found out my former business partner was being shady and stealing from me, he told me to keep working with her. I said I had to take things over. He said I had no chance of covering the expenses on my own and that he wasn’t going to help me at all even though he was working a consistent 9-5. I rationalized this as putting too much pressure on him to support me through my apprenticeship over the previous few months, even though by the time we were having this discussion I had picked up a seasonal 9-5 to compensate for starting the business. I still felt guilty because I was asking him to cover the rent at home while I built this business up. I ended up wracking up debt over trying to cover everything myself and he was telling me I was going to fail every step of the way. When I didn’t fail and the business remained open over a year later, he said he had always believed in me every step of the way.)

- They rewrite history (that’s the other thing- when I broke up with him he said it was his idea to open the studio in the first place. This was a lie. A bold one at that. At the time I would have had to become self taught due to dealing with several egotistical mentors (wow thematic) and I looked for positions in other studios and there were none. My ex told me I should “pause” my goals. I told him I’ll open up my own space with another artist. He had a long talking down to me about how we couldn’t afford any of that, and how impossible it was, etc. But I went through with it anyway, effectively doing all the work on my own. He constantly told me what I was doing was crazy. But I made success out of it, thank God. Now my ex is trying to take credit for the whole thing as if I don’t remember what happened. Audacious.)

- Instead of having their own dreams they focus on wearing yours down (I have so many big dreams I want to accomplish and every other idea I shared with my ex was pushed back on or breadcrumbed. I wanted to live abroad, he’d say it’s too expensive but maybe he could find a way to make it work if I stopped putting so much pressure on him. I took over my own business, he told me I shouldn’t do it and should quit while I’m ahead. He would always try to counter every idea I had with a “logical reason” of why it wouldn’t work. He would try to control me by doubting me and in turn trying to get me to doubt myself. I never actually listened to him in hindsight, and when I pushed through successfully he would pretend to have been on my side the whole time.)

-They always compare you to their exes, in bold ways (My ex would always go out of his way to bring up his past relationships. The examples and instances were never appropriate. But one of the first worst early examples was when we were at a show. My friend’s band was playing. In the middle of the set he decided to look up his ex on social media. I was clearly uncomfortable but he continued. Then when we’re talking he brought up a nickname she used to call him that was inappropriate. When I was upset by this he threw a shirt (merch gifted to him by my friend’s band) in the booth almost hitting me with it and he stormed off. He made himself seem like the victim in a situation where he was trying to bait me into starting a public argument and yet made me soothe him afterward.)

- The betrayal of not ever being believed (early on this was another giant red flag in hindsight. I’m black and I tried to explain colorism to him, while I was having a bad experience with it. He’s white and should have been listening and understanding with open ears. Instead he tried to argue me down for being “mean” to light skinned black people. In the experience I was talking about how a mixed femme at work established a boundary with our white bosses to try to avoid racist harm. They let the femme do this without any pushback. I tried to establish the same boundary in the same meeting and those white bosses accused me of actively refusing to do my job. I told my ex this was colorist and that’s when he argued with me about this. He didn’t believe my experiences until he googled “the right articles”. When I brought this up in the future he would say he was just trying to see all black people as equal. It was a pretty disgusting defense.)

- Throwing insults in your face about past trauma (I told my ex about how emotionally abusive my mother was (wow there’s that pattern again) and he would throw this in my face and blame me or compare me to her at the slightest provocation in several arguments. When I was disrespected at work, he would blame me for misinterpreting things. Complaining about how I used him for money whenever I had asked him for help managing the business’ expenses. And so many deep cuts of things he should never said to me and names he shouldn’t have called me if he ever cared about me. He always wrote it off as me misremembering or him meaning it as something else or a distraction tactic of whataboutism -‘what about when you complained that I left dirty clothes on the floor?’ For example. All ways he tried to manipulate me from seeing this pattern of messed up behavior. Every argument he would make us talk in circles until I would have to give up from frustration and exhaustion.)

-They’re full of hot air, and if they seem like they aren’t they’re probably mirroring you (when I broke up with him I stopped hanging out with him pretty much immediately. Although I had to coordinate moving out still, I started keeping my head down to focus on my work. Essentially I had already moved on. I thought we had had deep discussions about the world and life but when I had less to say he had nothing to add. He would just keep filling up the air with anecdotes about nothing and commentary on anything just to keep crossing my boundaries and to try to force me to pay attention to him when it was clear I neither interested or comfortable doing so.)

- They try to force you to become as cynical and jaded as they are (I was never antagonistic per se, but when we were together I had unconsciously started looking/preparing for the worst in every scenario and every person I’d meet. Because of my ex’s toxic influence. Getting along with coworkers? They must be just “kissing up to you” according to him. Like that tv show most people are fond of? No way that has to be trash. Want to try something new? No there can’t be anything good about that. He was a very stuck person that refused to find the joy in almost anything. Unless it was too impressive to ignore —but even then he had to nitpick it apart. I would wonder why his compliments would feel so hollow- it was because he really had trouble seeing the good in anything. Like a day or two after we broke up I was already feeling lighter and more optimistic. When people were kind to me I embraced it easier and in turn every aspect of life got a little brighter. The contempt for others was palatable. Because he expected everyone to be ready to undercut him like he was ready to do to them.)

- Before you know it, they’ll have you romanticizing breadcrumbing behavior (I asked my ex to get on meds for his mental health and to find a therapist so many times over the course of 5 years. 4-5 months before I broke up with him he got on medication. Then after a peace period of a month or so, we were back in a cycle of petty arguments and he was saying the meds don’t work. He didn’t even try to go to therapy until I broke up with him. he got an appointment the next day because he “was trying to win me back” Essentially, he’d never work on himself or actually actively improve things. He’d always make one or two half steps to placate me then complain about how it was too hard and completely impossible to put the work in. Even with the therapy example, he wanted to display that he could make progress in order to win me back. Don’t worry, I had seen this tactic before and knew he would just fall back into toxicity. So, it didn’t work.)

- When you do leave they get cocky about how you’ll have nowhere to go (I leaned on my ex to support me when I became overwhelmed by figuring out my business on my own. I worked several temp jobs in addition to the business but it was stretching me thin. So I needed his help several times and only had so much saved up by the time I broke up with him. After begging me to take him back the entire night and pretending to be supportive, the next day he was scoffing and boasting about how “[he] didn’t even know what [I] was going to do.” He did this over everything from buying my own detergent-even though I always bought the detergent- to managing my bills on my own-even though I usually managed most of my bills on my own- until I finally was able to move out and leave him behind.)

- They never defend you and always make it seem like it’s your fault if you get attacked (My ex was always siding with abusive people and gaslighting me when I noticed that behavior. As many of you may know, my mom was a terror throughout my childhood. I confided in my ex about how much of an impact this had had on me. Before I went no contact with her we all got dinner when she came in town to see me. Despite all my warnings and preemptive begging to be supported through the difficulty of meeting with her my ex threw me under the bus immediately. He laughed at her jokes at my expense and didn’t stop her at all from singling me out. I shutdown in this moment and began to draw to cope- I’m neurodivergent so that’s one of the things I default to doing when I’m overwhelmed. They continued to make fun of me together and when I asked him why he didn’t have my back afterward, he blamed me for “not being friendly enough” and “not interacting with [my] mom enough”. This pattern of doubting and failing to help me would continue through our entire relationship.)

- They’ll have -self aware- moments that aren’t quite what they seem (I truly cannot count the number of times my ex would start an argument just to talk me in circles then try to get me to believe I was in the wrong too. It was truly maddening. He would always push to say he “understood” how we had gotten there. Then ramble on and on and on saying that I was attacking him and he was the victim of things. I asked him to do the dishes? I’m “criticizing [his] housework and putting too much pressure on [him]”. I ask him not to throw things when he’s upset? I’m “overly criticizing [him] and making [him] so anxious he can’t help but hit things”. And on and on and on it went. He would always tidy it up by saying he forgave me because we were “both wrong” and he just “would try to be better next time and [I] should too”.)

-They have underlying personality issues that need to be addressed (and when you bring a hint of these up, they lash out about how you’re attacking them and they throw personal attacks back at you because of their fragile ego. If you -somehow- get them to see a mental health professional you may find them lying about what feedback they got. After I broke up with him he said he’d go to anger management class and find a therapist “to win me back”- funny how it’s after you leave them and set the ultimate boundary they do the work to show you they can hypothetically change and it’s never one of the times you’ve begged before in the midst of madness. Before I moved out I overheard his therapy appointment and she asked about his bipolar diagnosis and he said he was just anxious despite the mood swings. When he came to me to tell me the good news of him finally going to therapy he left that out. When I asked if the therapist knew if he had another disorder he manipulated that. He said the therapist asked if it could be anything else but it was just a brief thought. He framed it that way instead of the consistent behavioral issue it was.)

- Usually they attract drama and chaos but blame you for it as their partner (He always kept his ex around in boundary crossing ways. In hindsight I wouldn’t be surprised if he had cheated in any way with any of them because of how murky he was about spending one on one time with them. They also will always encourage you to keep other toxic people in your life so they can keep flying under the radar/blaming the other toxic people when you feel drained/etc. When I decided to go no contact with my parents, he second guessed me. When I decided to go no contact with my friends that were harmful, he second guessed me. He went out of his way to call me paranoid and picky and every other name in the book he could. Even after I broke up with him he went out of his way to tell me I was paranoid and should quit tarot reading “because [he] knew it would turn [me] against [him] one day”. I told him his opinion meant less than nothing to me.)

- Whenever you set a boundary they try to undermine it and take it as an attack (When we met, all of my ex’s small circle of friends was made up of people he had dated or slept with. Once his friend, who had flirted with him multiple times, asked to stay in his apartment while she moved out of her place. He offered her his bed. She even had a boyfriend at the time but she went to my ex first. I told him this made me very uncomfortable. He screamed and yelled about how he’ll always choose his friends first and I have to understand that and that she didn’t want to sleep in his bed while he was in it. It was crazy but the whole time he called me dramatic and made me feel insane for being so uncomfortable with it.)

- They may often act out in public over the littlest things (my ex would get absolutely infuriated when there were lines in places. Insane right? Especially living in cities? with other people? And yet whenever we went out I’d have to prepare my mental for the possibility of him getting angry and breaking down because people were waiting ahead of him in line. In hindsight the entitlement he had was overwhelming in itself. The last time we went out to a movie -which was a whole scheduling fiasco in of itself with him during our entire relationship, he was obsessed with movies. I like movies but spending 6-9 hours in a theater? Every week? On top of hours of mandatory movie viewing at home? It was exhausting. He also made me pay for my own monthly movie pass even though it was his thing. Even in covid, although I’m immunocompromised I had to negotiate with him to wait to get vaccinated before he went back to the theater. And to wear a mask in the showings. He would huff and fuss about those small courtesies the entire time. Anyway the last movie we went out to see had a long line but we bought tickets ahead of time. He pitched a fit and kept storming off away from me and threatening to leave over the line. I kept following him foolishly, and coaxed him into staying. Of course there were enough seats and of course he enjoyed the movie. He apologized after for “getting overwhelmed by the line” but that shouldn’t have happened in the first place.)

- It’s all or nothing for them but breadcrumbs for you (I’ve always been clear that I have no plans of staying in the country I’m from. From the start I’ve understood I’m not meant to stay here. And yet I stayed in a city I hated so he could suddenly finish his associates degree. We moved back to my hometown but we lived in the most stressful neighborhood because he “wanted to be downtown with a pool.” He would always complain about every single idea I had to leave the country. I’m thinking about doing a language school or artist residency? He “did long distance with [his] ex who cheated and it would be too hard”. I want to study this language and go to this -easy-place for a visa? He “kept forgetting to study and had no idea how we would ever afford the move.” And on and on it went until I simply gave up on trying to get him to step up.)

- They twist everything to be about them even grief (my grandma was like a mother to me, so it hit me hard when she died. She even told me she was going and thanked me for my friendship at the end. It was still a very difficult period and I couldn’t accept it until it just happened. When I got the call and burst into tears my ex said “I’m so sorry… do you blame me because we stayed here for me to go to school and you couldn’t be home with her?” It hadn’t even been 20 minutes since I learned she was gone. The extent of his selfishness would shock me until I cut him off.)

- They make you bury things they don’t like about your self expression/goals (I’ll use a simple example. I love fairy lights. When we met I had fairy lights and my ex had no complaints. But when we moved in together they ‘would always bother him and give him headaches’. So I took out the lights. Then he got me a glowing lamp I wanted for my birthday but never allowed me to turn it on when we were in the room. I brought the lights I love to my work and my ex would complain about them there too. He’d say he didn’t know why he “just didn’t like spending time at the studio” and then use the lights as an excuse, and then hed complain all day about how exhausting it was to be there. He’d only offer to come to the studio more if I turned them off just for him. All this time later and all of a sudden I don’t have any lights I like up. This didn’t happen for everything, but there were a lot of little things he was so controlling about just to be authoritative about something I liked.)

- They hate it when you have positive things happen to you (and instead of seeing your success as a good thing they see it as you one upping them, so they often express jealousy and then disguise it as a joke. He would “joke” about how I was going to fail so often I lost count. When I had a great day there would always be a hint of disappointment in his voice. He would always undermine it in anyway he could. “Oh you made X amount that’s nice, but that’s not enough to cover the rent”. I got a lot of compliments on my outfits, so he’d say “no one ever compliments me”. Always something to bring me down and try to get me to focus on a worry.)

- They downplay your trauma (I’m a burn survivor. My dad burned me through hot water and neglect as a baby on around 20% of my body. For that and many other reasons I became sort of a local legend for my time in our local child protective services. In a city of well over a million people. Doctors thought I wouldn’t be able to walk again and it was a miracle when I did. My grandmother had to wrap my scars everyday, twice a day for 3-4 years afterwards. She would tell me the pain would make me cry random throughout the night until I went to kindergarten. All that to say, my scars had a BIG impact on my health and my life. When I told my ex about my insecurity he said “sorry that happened, but it’s not that big of a deal.” Crazily at 21 I took that as flattery. It was not, it was severely downplaying the trauma I went through because my ex didn’t care for that part of my life. I even remember thinking I should tag a post as a burn survivor and he said “isn’t that like advertising your burns, why warn people about it?”. I got better and embraced my scars all through my own healing but damn it was all severely fucked up.)

- They usually have a Fatal Flaw they try to make you contend with (My ex had explosive anger where he would hit something (a wall, the couch, his desk, etc) or throw things at any slight provocations, and he would disguise it as a reaction of low self esteem instead. I didn’t realize how bad the conditioning had got until I broke up with him and I wasn’t getting jumpy from him coming home anymore or my dog wasn’t hiding from him anymore. I was walking on eggshells all the time and I only knew it subconsciously. He would also curse at me and call me the meanest names from the smallest arguments, he would get belittling. It’s their signature style to make you feel small and to desensitize you to truly nightmarish behavior.)

- That’s the other thing- most people and sometimes animals can tell they’re off (I would always wonder why my ex never seemed to make a good impression on others. They could tell he was off from the start.)

- They start trying to love bomb you after you give up or when they sense you are finally giving up (I always asked my ex to pay more attention to my business/endeavors/art/etc when we were together, to respond to texts I sent him at work-within reason-, to give me some support or feedback. His replies were always blasé. “That’s nice.” Or “I will.” As soon as I broke up with him. He was complaining that he always missed texting me at work. Then he started getting more involved on my social media pages. Then for the first time in months he watched my story on Instagram completely unwelcomed and unprompted. It was how fake the performance of interest was that really struck me after everything.)

- They always ask for one more chance when you’ve given them at least a hundred chances (Evem when I broke up with him he kept saying “you cut off other people (for being toxic) but I never thought it would be me!” I feel like I’ve already put plenty of examples of this, so I’ll just say this points to the fact that at their base motivation they don’t really respect you or care about you. If someone actually cares about you, they’re going to go out of their way to make you comfortable, to care about your opinions and feedback, from the very start)

- Even when it’s over, they still always try to blame you for their bad behavior. (My ex painted himself as an introvert when he was in a relationship. I had always asked him to make -newer, healthier- friends and to make a social effort. Since the beginning. After we broke up he made an effort to go out to social events. After he went out one day he came back and said “I was such a girlfriend guy, I never went out and socialized!” In turn I said you’re not a girlfriend guy you never cared about what I had to say, if you were a girlfriend guy I wouldn’t have had to break up with you for literally never taking me into account. So that ended that.)

- When it’s over the relief hits you in waves (I didn’t even realize how much I was doing to cope with the hostility and boredom of the relationship until it was over. I stopped overeating, I actually lost my appetite for days. I went from taking edibles every week to not even craving the ones I had. I wasn’t the most indulgent but I was shocked by how immediately I was fine with going cold turkey. My time with myself became even more peaceful. Even before I moved out, I was more creative and productive. I felt the beauty and the optimism of all the little moments deep in my spirit and my glow was brighter than ever before. My ex kept turning to me in despair and asking “how can you be so okay with this??” I answered him indifferently because he wasn’t worth entertaining. But obviously my spirit had been restored, I wasn’t wasting love on anyone that didn’t deserve it anymore. My energy was finally all mine. And I had faith in God that everything would be alright. And it was.)

You slowly but surely realize that you were formed to be a victim of a narcissistic/antagonistic person due to being raised by narcissistic parents and in an environment full of enabling emotionally and verbally abusive behavior. When we met I was so vulnerable. I had moved to a new city on my own, I was in a financially precarious place. The city was The Worst for Black people (tm). I was so desperate for an ally, I caught an energy vampire instead. I’ve healed and learned a lot from this. To be much more deliberate about who I let into my life. To be unafraid of purging and moving on when someone shows you they’re incapable of growth. To not accept crumbs of affection and appreciation. To pour my love into myself first before I let anyone else do the same. So I write all this to say, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that some people are so corrupted to the core that they’d rather destroy you than heal themselves. So… forgive yourself for this experience. Forgive yourself for being a person that just loves and cares about others. That believes in cultivating a world full of warmth and compassion. Don’t let one (or a dozen- ugh the people I’ve had to move on from oml) toxic ass person ruin you and your compassion. I had to forgive myself for believing in a lot of disappointing, inept, bad people. But I won’t stop being kind and compassionate because of those losers. I’ll continue to shine my light on those who need it whenever I’m supposed to. I mean I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to rely on anyone again without fear of their self interest but one step at a time, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Anyway, wish me luck on this fresh start. Buy a reading if you want to support me. But yeah, thanks for reading y’all.

[flamingpudding]

Summoning Gone Wrong

Ties to: Ouija Board Prompt and Ghost Hunting Vigilantes Part 1 / Part 2

A/N: Thanks to @lazy-alex for commenting the base idea in Ghost Hunting Vigilantes for Tim trying to do a summoning that just goes wrong~

Danny calmly sipped the ecto-tea and resisted eyeing the ghost club Lady Gotham had placed next to her as she also drank her tea with all the elegance the spirit possessed. The Ghost King was pretty sure she had placed it like that, in his view, on purpose. He just wasn't sure if it was as a warning or as a preparation since the last couple of times he had been in Gotham, she had felt the need of using it against him.

"I am very glad that you are finally looking into that matter, your highness." The spirit commented, placing the cup back onto the table and refilling it. "I wasn't sure if you had been made aware of it before, if I had known that the old beings had not mentioned it to you before I certainly would have sooner."

Danny nodded. "Yeah, about that. What are these Lazarus Pits anyway? Clockwork only told me to look out for the color green, which is not helpful. And Pandora started on an entire history lesson regarding Lazarus and I am pretty sure that has nothing to do with these Pits your 'knights' mentioned."

Lady Gotham chuckled amused with mirth in her eyes. "They are only known as Lazarus Pits in the human world, my king, not in the Infinite Realms."

"So what…" Danny couldn't finish his question as his ghost sense went off. He really wanted to slam his head into the table. It had been months since his senses went off like that and he hoped it was just Cujo who followed him or Fright Knight. But as no one appeared to interrupt them, he got ticked off because that meant it was one of his former rogues who was up to something. He excused himself from his discussion with Lady Gotham who appeared even more amused than before.

Whoever it was he would send them straight back to the Ghost Zone, they were interrupting some important kingly business here!

A little earlier not too far away from the ghostly discussion, by a recent regularly vigilante visited occult site, three vigilantes stood before a summoning cycle.

Red Robin was crouching by the circle, chalk in hand as he drew runes and symbols on the ground all according to one of his research papers that summed up all the information he had gathered. Including information he had obtained from the Justice League Dark, mainly Constantine since the man owned him and wouldn't just tell on him, behind Batman's back.

It had been weeks since their last encounter with the teenage ghost. He didn't want to admit it but Red Robin was getting worried about the ghost. Both times when they left they sounded like something was hunting or hurting them and last time there was even that green swirly thing they saw for a short moment right after they had heard the ghost say their goodbyes with an actual voice. Besides, that ghost was a mystery to them and Red Robin wasn't known to leave any sort of mystery they encountered unsolved.

"Should we really do this without B?" Nightwing asked, eyeing the strange symbols the youngest among them was drawing on the ground.

"Fuck him. If we get him involved we wouldn't be doing this at all." Red Hood added crossing his arms. "I am more surprised that its only us three this time. I would have bet that at least one of the others would have joined too."

"Baby Bat is out on a mission with B. Spoiler and Orphan are on a outer space mission and Signal has an exam tomorrow." Nightwing shrugged. "It's probably better form Robin not to be here. He was pretty spooked after the last two times."

"Ha! Spooked? The kid is dead set on Pit Demons trying to kill us."

"We can't comple-"

"Finished the writing." Red Robin cut in dusting his gloves from chalk, he was still kneeling on the ground as he turned to the older two vigilantes holding his hands out expectantly. "Nightwing, you brought the candles?"

The vigilante in question handed over a plastic back with the label of a gas station. Red Hood titled his head in question, indicating that he was raising an eye brow under his helmet. The elder only shrugged sheepishly as Red Robin stared at the colorful duck candles it contained.

"I forgot you asked me to buy some and went last minute to the late night open counter gas station. They only had these colorful duck candles."

"Well our fucking ghost has some Humor. Might work better for them then."

Red Robin only sighed but still placed the candles in the circle the way Constantine had described to him. "We will have to see if this will work."

He had made sure to also draw up a protective circle around the summoning one just like Zatana had instructed and Constantine had insisted he would need. Lighting up the candles he stepped back next to his brothers.

"So according to Constantine, we are now supposed to recite a summoning spell and think about the ghost we talked to before to call them back to us."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"So…" Red Robin distributed a piece of paper to each of his brothers. "We start on three."

"One…."

"Wait let me read that shit first!"

"Two…"

"Slow down, little bird."

"Three."

The three of them definitely were not in sync. Nightwing struggled with some of the words while Red Hood ended up mixing in some chosen curse words when he stumbled over a word. Red Robin even though he had practiced before still struggled with some of the words also but still all three managed to get through the incarnation.

They waited with their breaths held for something to happen but the seconds ticked by, with nothing happening. After three minutes Red Robin let out a sigh, deciding that this was a failure.

Just as he was about to step up to the circle to blow out the candles, a green swirling portal like the one he had briefly seen last time opened on the ground where the summoning circle was and a figure rose up from it. The figure was entirely dressed in white with black gloves, boots, belt and hat. Their skin was just as white as the clothes they were wearing and the being was staring back at them with completely green eyes, no irises or pupils. They stood firmly and straight in the summoning circle, arms crossed behind their back and by the way they were holding themself appeared like an authority figure.

"That doesn't look like a 16 years old ghost." Red Hood commented, his hand resting on his gun holder as he stared down their summon.

"Red, you did follow all the instructions right." Nightwing asked his hands, also moving to take out his escrima sticks, eying the being that was now looking at them in what he assumed was contempt.

"Yes, I did." Turning to their summon the vigilantes eyed it carefully. "Hi, sorry about the sudden summon. You obviously aren't the 16 years old ghost we had been talking to before. So uhm, you are free to go again? Unless you happen to know a 16 year old ghost that had been to Gotham at least two times now?"

The summoned being didn't look like they were going to answer, instead they took out a green glowing book that had 'RULES' written on it and leafed through the pages. Stopping when it apparently found a certain page. Their eyes focusing on the page then back at them. Still not grazing them with an answer. Red Robin however noticed how their inclined their head, for a short moment, over to Red Hood before turning back to the book and turning a couple of more pages.

He hadn't been the only one as he felt Nightwing tensing next to him too as well as heard the soft click of Red Hood removing the safety from his gun.

"Unauthorized summoning with out of date summoning methods. Interruption of security works. Unauthorized usage of corrupted ectoplasmic waste and apparent coverup of a human infected by corrupted ectoplasm." The being listed and the three couldn't help but feel reminded of a policeman listing crimes.

"I, Walker, reappointed Warden by his majesty the Ghost King and self appointed head chief of the security department of the Infinite Realms, hereby declare all of you under arrest for the previously listed offenses. Especially you, punk." The ghost called Walker pointed at Red Hood who in return pulled out his guns pointing them back at it. "You will be presented directly to our King. To think there would be a subject that failed to report back their existence."

"The fuck you wanna do? I ain't going anywhere." Red Hood scoffed, his distorted voice sounding challenging towards the ghost.

"Not to be rude but how can he report something he didn't even know about." Nightwing added eying the ghost as well as the protective barrier. The being hadn't made a move toward them yet and it should keep it contained but that didn't mean they just could let their guard down, not like he would let them take any of his brothers anywhere either. He took a step forward in case he needed to cover his younger siblings, protectiveness stirring in him. "RR, did Constantine or Zatana give you a spell to forcefully send them back?"

"Not exactly but they said destroying the summoning circle should send them back instantly." Red Robin mused after glancing at his notes for a brief moment. He didn't dare look away from that ghost for longer than needed. Normally he would be thrilled about having summoned a ghost and probably ask it a bunch of questions he had, ever since their first encounter with that 16 years old ghost left him with a tone of unanswered ones, but not with this one.

"Maybe we should-"

"WALKER! NOT AGAIN! BACK TO THE ZONE NOW!" A white haired 16 years old looking flying boy appeared through the wall without destroying it like he just phased in. The three vigilantes stared at the new presence that looked rather ticked off. The teenager had a cosmic with green flame outlined looking crown floating over their head and were wearing a jumpsuit with a logo that looked like a flaming D.

"Hey could that be our little ghost bastard?" Hood more or less stage-whispered over to Nightwing and Red Robin.

"Looks 16, maybe younger but not like what I imagined." Nightwing mused.

"Ghost Kid -ahem- your Highness, perfect Timing. I was just about to apprehend-"

"No." The teenager interrupted, arms crossed as he floated before the other ghost. "We went over this when I appointed you as the Warden again. Back. To. The. Zone."

"Did… did that other ghost call him 'highness' just now?" The more he got to learn about ghosts the more questions appeared to come up and Red Robin would definitely need answers for all of them.

"Your Highness, we need to-"

"Back now!" The teen repeated as he moved his left arm to point at a portal he opened especially for Walker. "Or do I have to get Lady Gotham to kick you out of her haunt herself?"

Red Robin watched how the two ghosts appeared to have a stare down before the white one closed his rule book and bowed before leaving. Well he would have left if he didn't smack right into the protective wall the vigilante had set up before the summoning. Good to know that Constantine's advice worked.

"Pff - cough -" The teenager covered his mouth, hiding a laugh behind a cough as he closed the portal he had opened and reopened it inside the barrier. The white ghost only sent them the most disgruntled and offended glare Red Robin had seen in a while before going through the portal the teen had opened.

Before either of the three could say anything the teenager let out a sigh and muttered something about having to deal with Walker being naggingly annoying about security and summonings later again. As if noticing them for the first time the boy glanced over at them and instantly stiffed and Red Robin definitely saw recognition in the boy's glowing green eyes. Could it be...?

"Shit." The teenager cursed. Yup, that's him.

"You are-"

"Sorry, no time for talking, gotta get back to Lady Gotham." They interrupted before continuing to ramble on. "You don't really want to make an old spirit with a ghost club wait. You guys better forget what you saw here. I would like Man In Black wipe your memory if I could but well for now please don't attempt summoning like that again? Summonings like that are outdated and barely work correctly for us ghosts. Demon summonings are a different matter but for ghosts this won't work correctly anymore or at least not since I got the stupid crown. You either end up with some random ghost or Walker trying to arrest humans. I soo have enough of getting him back from all the attempts of arresting humans that broke 'summoning rules'. Maybe I should have Fright Night arrest Walker for forcing his summon whenever he notices human summons… Anyway! Don't try again. Okay? Okay. Thanks and bye!"

The boy blinked out of existence before any of them could get a word in. The three vigilantes stared at the now empty spot. Red Robin had so many more additional questions now after having heard the presumed ghost teens ramble. So if the summons from the Justice League Dark were outdated then maybe he would need to find a more modern summoning? Also the teen had mentioned a Lady Gotham and Red Robin could only assume that that had to be their local city's spirit judging by the name.

"Well… we know now what our ghost boy looks like." Nightwing offered after some time and Red Hood scoffed.

"How the fuck was that boy a ghost? He looked more like a meta kid than a ghost."

"Well judging by the voice he definitely was the one that talked the last two times."

"So Demon Brat's Pit Demon theory is true?"

"He didn't lo-"

"I am going to try and summon this Lady Gotham next." Red Robin cut in as he turned on his heel, determined to get to the bottom of this ghost mystery even if he had to pester the JLD members for a while.

""What?""

[holdmymallowsweet]

What are you doing here? 06

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 5612, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: It had been four years since he'd made his first and only friends. Just enough time for him to forget how awkward the beginnings of a new friendship could be.

a/n: I hope you like teenage awkwardness, stupid misunderstandings and frustrated Ominis. Biggest thanks again to the world’s best beta reader ladyelisabeth, for ironing out all my silly little mistakes ❤️

Chapter 05 || Masterlist || Chapter 07 (coming soon)

Chapter 06 - Long way to go

“...Ominis.”

Not yet… a few more minutes.

“Ominis, it’s about to overflow.”

But it was the squeaking of the faucet that finally made him stir. “Oh.” Ominis’ voice was still a bit raspy from sleep, though it wasn’t the first time he’d woken up today. He’d dozed off again, on the bathroom floor, arm hanging over the edge of the tub so he’d know when it was full enough for him to get in.

The dungeons were perpetually cold this time of year, and he wasn’t fond of sitting naked and shivering in a half-empty tub until the water finally came up to his neck. 

Ominis pried himself off the floor with a groan, scrunching his nose in disgust as the cold air hit his wet arm. 

“Why are you up so early, anyway?” Sebastian asked. 

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” Ominis answered sluggishly, unbuttoning his shirt. The edge of his rolled up sleeve was slightly soaked, pressing a wet patch into his side.

“Oh, obviously,” came sarcastically from the direction of the sink.

Ominis ignored him. He’d gone to bed too exhausted to think of anything at all, and although his sleep wasn’t as restful as he’d have liked it to be, and not nearly enough to make up for the stresses of the previous two days, he’d woken up with a fairly clear mind. 

Just clear enough to focus on new concerns. The easiest of which to deal with was that he’d not been as clean as he would have liked to be, for how close she’d been sitting to him. 

Sebastian was almost done washing up, and Ominis stalled until he was through the door before he finished undressing and got in the bathtub. It wasn’t as if Sebastian had never seen him naked, that was unavoidable when living on top of each other for years, but Ominis still felt somewhat self-conscious about it. 

The warm water felt like heaven. He practically melted into it, stretching out with a sigh, letting it wash away the grime and sweat and all the doubts and fears that had come with it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ominis”

They were friends now. He’d been so relieved and yet so weary of everything, he hadn’t actually put a single thought into what that meant. 

Sebastian and Anne were the only real friends he’d ever had. The three of them had been inseparable since they were eleven, spending every hour of the day together until their electives, or Crossed Wands, or Sebastian’s library ventures necessitated they part for an hour or so. But even then, they’d always gravitated towards each other immediately after, stuck together again as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

It wouldn’t be like that with her. She didn’t make those sorts of friendships.

Always on the move to the next exciting thing that caught her attention, going off on her own to Merlin knows where, and not under any compulsion to tell anyone where she’d been or where she’d go next, no one person eagerly waiting for her to come back.

She belonged in a different common room, they wouldn’t eat together in the Great Hall, she had her usual seats next to her other friends for their lessons, what else was there? It was hard to imagine she’d somehow find the time to join them in the Undercroft for a round of Gobstones.

Wait- she didn’t like Gobstones.

Ominis sank deeper into the water, savouring the last few minutes of peace before the day well and truly started. 

She’d see him today, right after breakfast, in History of Magic. Say hello when she did- and then what?

At the very least, he could invite her to study with him in the library again. Merlin knew she’d need it if she had any intention of passing her O.W.L.’s, and he’d just have to wait and figure out where to take it from there.

One step at a time.

He was clean for a start- time to tend to his next pressing concern. 

Sebastian sat on his bed when Ominis finally emerged from the bathroom, seemingly busy with yet another book, but not so much that he missed the obvious growling coming from Ominis’ stomach. “Hungry?”

“Starving. I haven’t had proper food since the day before yesterday.”

“I brought you biscuits last night!” Sebastian said indignantly.

“I said proper food,” Ominis replied with a smirk.

Sebastian snorted. “Right.” Then he softened considerably. “I suppose you’re feeling well enough for classes today?”

“I think so.” Ominis took a deep breath. “I know I can’t dwell on it forever,” he said, with more conviction. “I know none of us knew what we were getting ourselves into. Just don’t forget what you promised.”

“I won’t.” 

It wasn’t quite the earnest conversation Ominis wanted to have with Sebastian about what happened in the scriptorium, and some of the things peripheral to it- the ease with which Sebastian had cast an Unforgivable, why he had the knowledge to cast it in the first place, why he’d never talked to Ominis about it, even knowing how much he’d suffered because of the Dark Arts- but he’d give it a rest for now.

One step at a time.

Ominis took his time meticulously getting dressed, ignoring the gaping hole in his stomach that demanded to be filled with food. 

“Do I look all right?”

Sebastian stopped what he was doing. “You know, I can’t even remember the last time you asked me that.”

“Well, do I?”

“Do you ever not?”

Ominis sighed. He would have liked to actually get Sebastian’s opinion, but he had too much pride to ask again. 

The bathroom mirror was generous with its compliments, as it usually was, but he had a sneaking suspicion that those were enchanted to either point out the sort of sloppiness that would make Professor Black scoff, or else be unnecessarily flattering.

Today, it told him he looked “as dashing as a dewy morning,” whatever that was supposed to mean. 

Ominis’ stomach growled again.

“Breakfast?” Sebastian asked mildly.

“Merlin, yes. Please.”

One step at a time.

“Good morning, Ominis.”

He almost jumped out of his seat. Through the commotion and annoyed groans of their classmates- because no one was enthusiastic about listening to Professor Binns’ waffling about Goblin rebellions first thing in the morning- he hadn’t heard her coming. Not to mention he’d already mentally prepared himself to catch up on some more sleep during the lesson.

“...sorry, did I startle you?” She tried to hold back a laugh.

“You caught me lost in thought,” he replied, cursing the warmth that spread over his cheeks and hoping it wasn’t too obvious. “How have you been last night? Did you go to the Hospital Wing in the end?”

“I didn’t need to. I think I’ve found something that works better.”

“Oh?” Ominis’ eyebrows shot up, and he gave her a curious smile. “Please do tell. What was it?”

“Talking to you,” she answered, with a sincerity that left him dumbstruck.

“Speaking of which,” she continued, “there’s something else I wanted to ask. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up yesterday.”

Ominis hesitated. He turned his head, but based on the noise and softly mumbled complaints, their classmates were still occupied with taking out their books and the mental preparations required to withstand Binns’ monotone droning.

She seemed to have noticed, because her voice dropped to a whisper. “Noctua Gaunt’s notes. I wanted to ask you if you’d like to have them. I’d understand if you don’t- I promise you I’ll keep them safe.”

The familiar sting came back as suddenly as Noctua’s name. “No, I’d like to have them.” It wasn’t even a decision. He owed her that much, she’d died for him. 

Ominis held out his hand, expectantly.

“I don’t have them with me- they’re in my dormitory. I could get them for you after classes today?”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

An excuse to meet later. Stick around to do homework, perhaps. He’d only have to ask.

“Would you-” he started, but the bells cut him off. He expected her to bid him goodbye, to go and sit with one of her friends- one of her other friends. Instead, she sat down next to him. 

Should he mention it? Ask her what he’d done to suddenly deserve this much attention? Tell her she didn’t need to feel obligated to stick around?

But it was already too late for her to get up and switch seats anyway, so he said nothing and settled into his seat, chin propped up and eyes closed while the disembodied voice of their Professor promised an hour of profound boredom.

For a little while, he just concentrated on breathing.

She smelled like her soap. Stronger than usual, like that day in the library, so she’d started the day by taking a bath, just like he had. It was a lovely scent, slightly flowery, interwoven with the smell of the plants from her common room that always clung to all the Hufflepuffs’ robes. Then he suddenly realised that she never wore perfume. It’d probably be a waste, considering how frequently she’d have to bathe, what with her rolling around in the dirt all the time.

He listened to the rhythmic scratching of her quill, too rhythmic for her to be taking notes. Not that there was much to be taking notes about, Binns was telling them some minutia about the Goblin rebellion of 1612, at a pace that would make a Streeler cry. She was probably doodling in her textbook. 

Smiling to himself, he took his quill, the regular one, ripped off a piece of parchment and started writing.

Bored?

A gentle tap of parchment against her hand got her attention. The scratching stopped as the parchment slipped out under his fingers, then resumed more evenly, purposeful. Ominis changed the quill in his hand for his wand, ready for her reply.

deadly. you?

Quite the same

Her next reply took a bit longer, scratches more hesitant than before, but he wasn’t kept in suspense for long.

you use your wand to read? how does it work?

Should he? Trying to keep a straight face, he wrote his answer and slid it over.

Magic

It earned him a playful elbow jab that made his heart leap. Ominis’ face split into a genuine smile as she tried and failed to stifle a laugh.

fine keep your secrets

At least you’re not bored anymore

no first time I’m not, in history thanks to you

…Thanks to him.

I’m glad How do you usually pass the time Sleep?

sometimes I fall asleep sometimes I just stare at the windows. they’re even prettier than the ones at church

Ominis froze briefly. He had a vague idea of what “church” was- some building vitally important to Muggle customs, Muggleborns mentioned it every now and again- but he’d never been sure if it was a particularly pleasant place, other than having nice windows, apparently.

So he decided to disregard it for now.

You’d like the ones in our common room

I’m sure I would, I heard the view is lov

He had the piece of parchment ripped out from under his fingers before he’d finished reading.

I’m sure I would, I heard the view is lovely sorry, I guess you wouldn’t know

Ominis frowned. He didn’t like where this was going, there was nothing for her to be sorry about.

No matter The view is lovely from what I know Sebastian said if you hit the windows with spells sometimes the squid hits back

how did he find out

Tried to find out if our windows were spell resistant

what if they hadn’t been?

Would have drowned us all I suppose

She quietly snorted with laughter.

Ominis couldn’t remember the last time he felt this light during History of Magic. Or smiled this much. Or didn’t want the lesson to end.

It was the first time he’d cursed the bells cutting off Binns and signalling their freedom, but he noticed she didn’t join the choir of relieved sighs either.

“-five rolls of parchment on the topic of today's lesson, to be handed in on Friday.” The audible tail end of his instruction was met with obvious displeasure and quite a few groans, which the ghost ignored as resolutely as his own death.

“...Did he say five rolls?” she asked with a hint of desperation.

Ominis smirked. “You should have been here last year, his record is twelve.”

She made a noise that sounded vaguely like a strangled cat. “I think I haven’t paid attention to a single word he said.”

Ominis hummed in agreement as he packed his things, feeling around on the table for the piece of parchment they’d written on, but it was already gone. He didn’t know why the realisation upset him. 

“No one does, but as long as you vaguely remember some dates, you can look it up in the book.” He smirked. “Surprisingly, it takes but a fraction of the time Professor Binns needs to elaborate on it.”

“Would you like to meet up later? Perhaps we could write it together.” 

Such a simple request, but it hit Ominis like a ray of sunshine. “Yes, I would. Shall we meet in the library?”

She hummed teasingly. “Am I still not welcome in the Undercroft?”

“Sure, if you want to write them on the floor.” He’d faltered briefly, but they’d been through much worse since that particular argument, and she still voluntarily sought out his company.

“I think I’d prefer the library.”

“I thought as much.” He’d finished packing up. Charms was next, they’d be joined by Sebastian and after-

“Natty’s waiting for me- see you, Ominis.”

“...Right.”

And gone she was, again. Of course she was, she always spent Charms with Onai- but for a brief, foolish moment he wished she would have made an exception, for him, just for today.

It never rains but it pours. Not sitting with her in Charms had been a small disappointment, but he hadn’t expected to be unlucky enough to end up next to Leander Prewett instead.

“Gaunt.”

It was the third time since class had started that the Gryffindor had tried to get his attention. They were going over the colour change charm again, and while Professor Ronan had encouraged Ominis to ask Prewett if his marbles had turned the correct shade of blue- a suggestion Ominis had politely acknowledged and then ignored- he had a hunch that Prewett’s repeated tries to get his attention had nothing to do with the lesson.

“Gaunt.”

Again, and always when the sound of Professor Ronan’s footsteps grew faint and he could be heard giving instructions at the opposite side of the room.

Ominis lowered his wand. “Can I help you?”

“I saw the two of you, being all chummy in History of Magic.”

So that’s what this was about.

“It’s bad enough that Sallow keeps pestering her, she doesn’t need to be bothered by the likes of you, ” Prewett said with obvious contempt.

Oh please. He might still be insecure about their budding friendship, but he certainly couldn’t care less what Leander Prewett thought of it.

“I do apologise,” Ominis said, as sincerely as he could fake it. “I suppose I should have been more considerate towards your girlfriend.”

“I- well, she’s not my girlfriend-” Prewett tripped over his words, flustered.

“Then it’s not your place to decide who she spends her time with, is it.”

Prewett sat in stunned silence for a moment, then Ominis could hear him angrily slamming his textbook shut, followed by the sound of marbles clattering on the floor and a string of curses.

The corners of Ominis’ mouth curled into a self-satisfied smirk. He was probably going to get murderous looks for the remainder of the lesson, but it wasn’t as if he’d have to see it.

It wasn’t surprising that Prewett thought the seemingly sweet, innocent little Hufflepuff was too good for the descendant of Slytherin and the most notorious troublemaker in their year. Plenty of others probably agreed, even if they had enough sense to keep that opinion to themselves.

And he very much doubted Prewett would have said anything at all if Sebastian had been close enough to hear it.

Which left the question, would he have said anything if she had been?

Ominis left the Charms classroom in a pensive mood. 

He tried not to dwell on his conversation with Prewett. Instead, he kept his mind busy trying to construct an excuse for why he’d not finished his Potions essay that wouldn’t cause Sharp to have him scrub cauldrons until after midnight. 

Being unwell yesterday was the most obvious one, but it wouldn’t be difficult for Sharp to figure out that he’d never been to the hospital wing. One casual inquiry towards Nurse Blainey at the staff table during dinner was all it would take.

The only reason he got away with missing his classes at all was that his connection to the headmaster usually shielded him from scrutiny, but he’d rather not push his luck.

On the steps just outside the door, he could hear Prewetts voice again, urgently talking to Onai, and although he went in the opposite direction and the general noise drowned them out, he could still hear his own name being mentioned.

It left him with a vague sense of foreboding.

Prewett had made his feelings about him abundantly clear, and Onai was at the very least wary of him. Ominis was fairly certain he’d never given her a reason to be, but he supposed his family name and the reputation that came with it was enough.

Perhaps enough for Onai to disapprove of them now sharing a common friend. If she did, she’d have plenty opportunity to voice it soon, when the two of them would be in Beast class together.

Ominis’ stomach turned.

He had a hard time mustering up any enthusiasm for lunch after that, although that was mainly due to him still being full from breakfast. So instead he decided to use the time to catch up on his sleep in the Undercroft, tasking Sebastian with waking him up in time for Arithmancy and ignoring the voice in his head telling him he should at least try and put something on parchment for Potions. 

He consoled himself with the thought that at least he’d be awake enough to pay attention in Sharp’s class. 

And his subsequent, inevitable detention.

He still fell asleep in Arithmancy.

Eyes still sleep-swollen, Ominis somehow still didn’t feel well rested by the time he met up with Sebastian in the Potions classroom. He’d tried to be early, so he could at least make sure he’d be properly prepared for the lesson- and have time for a much needed conversation.

“How was Beasts class?” Ominis tried to pass it off as small talk, while weighing his bottle of Horklump juice in his hands to figure out if he still had enough.

Sebastian snorted. “I’m sorry, are you expecting me to believe you care? Just tell me what you really want to ask.”

Ominis grimaced. Fine, he hadn’t exactly been elegant, or subtle- in his defence, sleeping through most of Arithmancy hadn’t left him with much time to think of something better. “Oh, all right. Did Onai seem odd at all, or did she say anything?”

“What about? Of course she was saying something , we all did, it’s not exactly a quiet class.”

Oh, Merlin. He felt awkward about it, for some reason, but Sebastian was still his closest friend, and the only one who he could talk to about this. He rolled the bottle between his hands, more to keep them busy than because he still needed to. “I met her yesterday, when I… went for a walk. We talked about what happened in the scriptorium-”

“Onai?” 

Ominis gave him a long-suffering look.

“Oh. Wait, why am I only hearing about this now? You should have told me yesterday.”

“I’m telling you now. We talked, and… we’ve decided we’d like to try to be friends, after all. We sat together in History of Magic this morning. Only it seems there are some who didn’t like that very much.” Ominis almost missed the table when he put the bottle down, but Sebastian caught it in time.

“It’s none of their business who you sit with in History of Magic,” Sebastian said dismissively.

“Obviously, but I still wouldn’t want them to bother her about it. I think… I’m fairly certain Prewett told Onai to warn her about me.” 

“Even if she does, it won’t make a difference, trust me. Don’t worry about it.”

“Perhaps. But if she had to choose, I’d doubt she’d pick me over her other friends. I wouldn’t blame her.”

“I would.”

“Oh?” 

“But I won’t have to. Trust me. And besides, we come as a set, you and I. She won’t choose any other friends over me.”

Ominis made a vaguely affirmative noise. Sebastian had a point- as long as the two of them were friends, it wasn’t likely that she’d shun him, now that they’d made it past their initial differences. But he somehow wished that wasn’t the reason, not all of it, at least.

“I’d thought you’d be over worrying what others thought of you. Don’t mind them,” Sebastian said soothingly.

He didn’t. He was afraid she might.

“And Prewett’s still sulking because she wasn’t impressed by his insights on chomping cabbages.”

Ominis snorted at that. “How dare she.”

As expected, Professor Sharp was not enthused to be a parchment short when he collected their homework. He gave Ominis until Monday to hand it in- at double the length. Ominis was tempted to ask for detention instead. Scrubbing cauldrons seemed like a less excruciating ordeal by comparison.

Half an hour later, his potion was on its way to turn out poorly, if the smell and Sharp’s disappointed sigh as he passed them were anything to go by. 

She’d been busy at the opposite side of the classroom, doing a perfectly fine job with her own potion, of course. Even finding time to chat and laugh with Weasley while she was at it. Ominis didn’t think he’d ever wanted to drop this blasted class more. 

He half heartedly dropped his spider fangs in the cauldron, causing some of its foul smelling mixture to splatter onto his hand, where it left painfully burning spots. “Oh for the love of-”

“All right?” Sebastian asked.

“Fine.” Ominis was soothing the burns with a mild cooling charm, when he heard her approach. For the first time since yesterday, he wished she’d stayed away.

“Would you like some help?”

It returned in full force. The same uneasy feeling from before, when she’d apologised about mentioning the view from the Slytherin common room windows, only now it was starting to grow into something more like panic.

He shouldn’t say anything. Her friendship had been hard earned, she only meant well, but the longer he let it go, the harder it would be to bring it up, and he’d have to bring it up eventually.

“Ominis?” She asked again. “I could help you out, if you want. I don’t mind.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he replied, as calmly as he could.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, very much so.”

She leaned over his cauldron. “It’s starting to curdle.”

“I’m asking you to stop,” Ominis said coldly. “Let me fail or succeed on my own. I don’t need your help.”

She froze. Just long enough for Ominis to regret every word, think of a hundred ways to say it instead. 

She took a step back. “I understand.”

“Wait.” Ominis grabbed her by the sleeve as she turned to leave, but let go almost immediately. “…Are we still meeting in the library later?” he asked nervously.

She sighed- In relief? Or exasperation? “I’ll be there.” It was all she said before going back to her potion station, leaving Ominis behind, forlorn and confused.

Sebastian groaned. “Ominis-”

“Don’t.” The pain in Ominis’ hand came back- he deserved it. 

He gave up on his potion. It had started to curdle, and he couldn’t even begin to guess how to fix it.

Once Professor Sharp had made his final round- with another disappointed sigh as he passed Ominis’ cauldron, but at that point it would have been foolishly optimistic to expect anything else- Sebastian excused himself. He’d spent a few minutes talking to her, what about, Ominis couldn’t hear. 

“Just wanted to make sure she’s all right,” Sebastian explained, once he’d caught up with Ominis outside the classroom.

“Is she?” Ominis asked quietly.

“‘Course she is, you know her.” Sebastian paused. “Or maybe not.”

“I know she means well, I… I just don’t want it to be like that. I don’t want her help.”

“Why not?” asked Sebastian. “I still help you when you need it. All the time.”

“You’re not being so obvious when you do.”

Casually describing pictures or paintings, as if he was just musing aloud. Handing Ominis the pruning shears in Herbology so he wouldn’t either have to feel around for them and possibly cut himself, or have to grab his wand with soil stained hands. Catching his potion bottles when he missed the table.

“Now. I constantly made a fool of myself when we first became friends. Remember in our first week, when I tried to help you up the stairs and you tripped me for it?”

“I didn’t-” 

“It’s been four years, you can stop pretending it was an accident,” Sebastian scoffed.

Ominis almost laughed, but he managed to turn it into an annoyed huff at the last moment. “Fine. I still can’t believe you thought I’d need help getting up the stairs.”

“They were moving!”

“‘They were moving,’” Ominis repeated, mockingly.

“All right, are you done?”

He was. Unfortunately, that meant he no longer had anything to distract himself from the doubts gnawing at his mind.

Walking through the library door, he’d felt a moment of pure dread, until the sound of her voice carried his worries away like the autumn breeze.

She wasn’t one to nurse a grudge, but Merlin, after Potions he wouldn’t have blamed her for not showing up at all. But she’d waited for him, at the same table as last time.

It tore at his heart.

After they’d spend History of Magic chatting as if they’d been friends for years, not being able to guess what had soured his mood in between, she couldn’t possibly have expected him to suddenly snap at her like he did back when he caught her leaving the Undercroft.

It must have hurt her more than she let on, but if she was at all bitter about it, she hid it well. None of them brought it up. For a terrifying moment, Ominis had thought Sebastian was about to- he’d invited himself to join them, and Ominis had been glad for it- but he’d just asked her for a piece of spare parchment.

They’d said their hellos, gave their insincere apologies because Madam Scribner had been walking by too close just then, and sat at the table in amiable silence ever since. Across from her, because there was no reason for him and Sebastian to split up when they’d walked in together, and she’d already spread out her things over her side of the table.

So there’d be no more friendly elbow jabs for today. 

Deciding that Sharp was the bigger threat- and perhaps also because even without the aural sleeping agent that was Binns’ voice, more History of Magic was likely to put them to sleep then and there- they’d decided to work on Potions first.

He regretted the decision almost instantly. Potions was famously his worst subject, and each time he furrowed his brow and bit his lip because he couldn’t make sense of the instructions as they were described in the book, Ominis ignored the voice of reason that told him to ‘just ask her, that’s why you’re sitting here together.’

But he still had his pride. He wasn’t going to ask her for help after telling her to let him fail on his own, and he knew her well enough by now to know that she wouldn’t let it go without a bit of teasing.

Today, he didn’t trust himself not to retort unkindly. And he wanted to take at least some of the familiarity and warmth they’d shared this morning with him when he left.

“Not going too well?” 

He froze. 

“...Ominis,” she added, obviously unsure if he knew he’d been the one she’d spoken to.

Just let it go. It’s just a question. She’s only being polite, she only means well.

“I can manage,” he replied.

Sebastian was quiet- too quiet, all of a sudden, so he was almost definitely keeping an eye on them, which almost annoyed Ominis more than her unwanted thoughtfulness.

“I can read it over for you, if you’d like,” she offered.

“I don’t.” 

“Ominis, I think she just-”

“I know. Stay out of it.” Ominis buried his face in his hands, fingers pressing against his temples. “I told you before, I don’t need your help. I don’t need you to be my caretaker. What I need is for you to listen to me, for once.”

It was deadly quiet.

“I meant,” she started softly, “We could switch. You read over mine and I read yours. I would have done it this way with anyone- I do it a lot with Adelaide.”

Ominis was silently begging for anything- Cressida Blume’s failed spell experiments, Peeves, the impending Goblin rebellion Binns didn’t care about because it happened now instead of hundreds of years ago- to come and put him out of this misery, to distract them and give them something else to focus on.

“It’s all right.” She said it softly, again, but Ominis almost would have preferred it if she got angry with him. At least then he wouldn’t feel as much like a fool.

Why was Madam Scribner not coming over to scold them for the ruckus, the one time he would have welcomed it?

“Well,” Sebastian finally said, jovially, “at least this isn’t awkward at all.”

Ominis groaned. “Sebastian-”

But she dissolved into laughter, and the tension with her, so he gladly shut up and quietly slid his homework across the table. A wordless apology, until he could pluck up the courage to give her a proper one.

She returned the gesture, and taking the parchment from under her fingers almost brought back the feeling of when they’d done the same in History of Magic.

Sebastian said nothing more, but Ominis knew he was silently watching them. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they were going to have over this, once she left and they were alone again. 

To his surprise, Sebastian was the first of them to leave.

“Why?” Ominis asked desperately, as he listened to his friend packing up his things. 

“I took the notes I needed, I’ll have to cross reference them with another book. One I thought I’d better not carry around with me.”

That one.

“You weren’t doing your homework?”

“No.” Sebastian’s chair screeched over the floor as he stood up. “I’ll find the time for that later. Anne is more important.”

Ominis didn’t know what to say. Of course Anne was, that’s why he’d let Sebastian take Slytherin’s spellbook in the first place, but…

“Can I leave the two of you alone?”

“Of course you can,” she replied, before Ominis could object. 

He wasn’t sure if it was intentional. “Of course,” he echoed, with much less enthusiasm.

In spite of what they told him, they still sat in awkward silence for a while, after Sebastian left. 

Feeling the strong urge to occupy his fingers, Ominis started fidgeting with the sleeves of his robes, then realised how silly he must look and forced himself to stop.

“I’m almost done,” she told him evenly.

“That’s good.” No, it wasn’t. Not if this was his last chance not to let the day end like this, and he didn’t take it. 

“Listen,” he started, “I truly am sorry about before, I don’t know what came over me. Only…” He squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “...it’s been a long day.” 

“...I meant it when I said it’s all right,” she said softly.

“Did you?”

“I thought you could tell when I lied to you.”

“Fair point.” It came out low, barely above a whisper, but his relief was still audible. It made him feel vulnerable, but he didn’t mind for once. 

She’d put up with a lot where he was concerned, when she didn’t have to.

Ominis was tuned into Sebastian and Anne, and being with her was… different. He was glad to be more than a casual acquaintance she’d greet in between classes, or when they passed each other in the corridors, but the constant anxiety that came from the unfamiliarity was exhausting.

Not necessarily in a bad way. Just a way he wasn’t used to.

“You don’t have to, but if you’d like, I think I may have an idea of how you could make it up to me.” 

It never ceased to amaze him how quickly she always fell back into that melodic, playful tone. Perhaps that was why he didn’t stop to think twice about the offer. “I’m listening.”

But as she finished speaking, he still wasn’t entirely sure if he’d heard her correctly.

“I’m sorry- you’d like me to go where with you?”

a/n: Where, oh where might they be going? I really wanted to thank everyone who still enjoys reading this, I’m sorry I can’t seem to stick to a regular update schedule to safe my live, but it means a lot to me that people are still waiting and looking forward to new chapters ❤️ Secretly chatting in class by passing notes back and forth is something I did a lot in my school days, so I’ve always wanted to write a scene like that for them. And since they’re canonically seat neighbours in History of Magic, I thought it would be a cute way for them to pass the time, when they’re not napping, that is. And we’re still on track for the Halloween themed chapter to actually be up on Halloween (or slightly before, if I can manage).

[yanderes-galore]

Darling escaped Wesker and is hiding from him, being constantly paranoid and all. She takes a hike and gets captured by the Las Plagas cult but before they can do anything Wesker arrives (because he was conveniently around, watching Ada). How would the reunion be like? - 🐈 anon

I was confused at first but found out you meant the Separate Ways DLC. Here you go! Did a concept as not specified.

Edit: I only just saw this was meant to be a female darling I'm so sorry, but I hope you like it despite my mistake- 💀 The only gender related thing is in one thing Wesker said anyways-

Yandere! Wesker "saving" Kidnapped! Darling

(RE4: Separate Ways)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Violence, Thoughts of murder mentioned, Forced relationship.

The whole scenario just sounds unfortunate for you.

From one bad situation to another.

Then potentially back to the first one.

Escaping Wesker is a feat within itself.

He usually always has an eye on you although he isn't as deadly as he is in RE5.

He may even be impressed that you managed to slip by, if not annoyed.

Not only is escaping a feat but hiding from him is also an achievement.

So to stay away from Wesker's sight you hide in the woods.

For awhile you learn to survive.

You take hikes to stay in shape and find food as you go.

You yearn for your old life... the one before Wesker.

Hikes have been the only way you were able to cope.

At least... that was until you encountered Los Illuminados.

The reason for taking you in could be for any number of things.

However the most likely reason would be for experimentation.

Injecting people with Las Plagas makes the cult grow.

It just so happens you were a vulnerable target.

They most likely had no idea who you were (unwillingly) connected to.

As a result you are chased and dragged to a cell for later use.

Around this time Wesker would've sent Ada to look for the amber he needs for his virus.

He may have even asked her to find you if she was able to.

Wesker is no doubt searching for you ever since you managed to leave his gaze.

He'll admit it's felt... odd to not have you around.

He doesn't like the feeling of being unable to hold you, feel your warmth, or breathe your scent.

As a result he's been on edge.

Not only must he make his virus but he also needs to have you by his side again.

Imagine his surprise (and anger) when he sees footage of you being carried away through Ada's lenses.

Wesker knows if they hurt you he's going to gut them all.

Plans have changed. He orders Ada to keep an eye on you while looking for the amber.

He's finally found you again... and he plans on retrieving you along with the amber.

As a result you end up meeting Ada.

You have no idea she's working with Wesker or why she's here.

All you know is once she sneaks into the prison and stands in front of your cell, you're saved.

Wesker most likely didn't say why you were so important.

He doesn't need Ada to know your past.

You and him have had history, romantic history in his eyes, and he'd just about blow up this entire island to have you.

If Wesker really can see footage through Ada's cameras then he watches the screen intently.

You look so dirty, malnourished, and unkempt.

He can fix that once you're back in his arms.

He wonders as he watches you if he should be punished.

However, the fact you were kidnapped by the cult seems punishment enough.

It only proves the reason he took you in to begin with.

You're weak without him... you need him in order to be stronger.

Surely you'll learn such a lesson by the time he comes to pick you up.

The moment Wesker comes onto the island, he calls Ada and demands she brings you to him.

Until then he watches the island to catch sight of you.

He's been patient with you... but you have to come back with him now.

Right where you belong.

It's a sad sight to see.

You trusted Ada to save your life, what does she do in return?

She brings you right back to Wesker.

The moment your eyes land on the blonde haired man, you try to go the other way.

You shake your head but Ada nudges you in front of her.

"You've managed to retrieve them, but what of the amber?" Wesker asks Ada before beckoning you closer.

There's silence between you as Ada explains she still needs to find the item.

You feel betrayed as Wesker sends her away before turning to you.

"I applaud you for making it this long. But you must know you weren't going to last long."

You're roughly dragged into Wesker's chest as he checks you over.

He's checking for scratches and signs of any parasite you could've been infected with.

If you were hurt his mind is set.

"For now... you're punished enough." Wesker tells you, but he doesn't let go. "But I'm not done here."

"You're going to take me back..." You whisper, defeated.

"This is only proof that you can't survive without me. You got yourself captured by someone else." Wesker frowns, annoyed.

"They won't leave this place alive. None of them will."

You stay silent, feeling Wesker stroke your head before kissing the top of it.

He hasn't been able to feel you in so long.

He feels you struggle a bit but he doesn't care.

All that matter is he has you again.

He'll make sure you're brought back onto his boat and watched.

You're coming back with him.

Meanwhile, he'll make sure there's nothing left of the cult that took you after he's obtained the amber.

[libraryofgage]

The Prince and the Metalhead (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two (you're here!)

I know I just posted part one but I've got Thoughts for this AU that include: Steve's first birthday in Genovia and then his 16th, his conversation with his grandmother about attending public school in America for his senior year, and then we get into him attending Hawkins High and meeting Eddie!

So, yeah, plans lmao

Anyway, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

------

"You'll have a rotating course schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays will focus on math and social studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be science and literature. Friday will be Royalty lessons and the history of Genovia. We can also include an elective, if you'd like."

Steve blinks, staring at Sue for a moment before glancing at Jonathan and Robin. Jonathan is looking through a book of photography and Robin is idly scratching behind Dart’s ears. "Will we all have the same elective?" Steve asks.

"Not unless Jonathan and Robin want to join you," Sue says, looking at Steve expectantly. She's got a pen at the ready to write down what he says, and it suddenly feels like a lot of pressure.

Is there a wrong answer here? Is there an answer that gets him sent back to his parents? He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, a cold and wet nose presses against his hand. Steve blinks, smiling at Dart and picking her up to hold close. "What kind of electives are there?" he asks.

Sue hums softly, flipping to another page on her clipboard. "Possible electives include art, music, theatrical performance, physical education, equestrian studies, botany, and foreign languages, to name a few."

"I'll be taking photography lessons," Jonathan says, looking up at Steve and gesturing to his book.

Robin nods and leans back on her palms. "I'll be doing the physical stuff. Like learning how to fight and practicing ballet to improve my balance," she says, leveling a look at Steve that dares him to say anything about the ballet.

Steve wouldn't, though. He doesn't want to make Robin angry enough to ditch him. He looks down at Dart, thinking for a moment before asking, "Can I take more than one?"

"Of course, but you're limited to three for now," Sue says.

What would be the most helpful? Foreign languages, probably, since he'll definitely have to speak with ambassadors from other countries at some point. He should also learn something that can be shown off, a skill that he could pull out at functions to make his grandmother proud or distract guests.

"What language should I learn?" he asks.

Sue thinks for a moment, tapping her pen against her chin. "Mandarin. It's a business language, and we have close relations with a few representatives from China and Hong Kong. If you'd like to learn a Romantic language first, though, Spanish is good."

"I'll learn Mandarin," Steve decides, nodding once to himself. "And music. I want to learn to play...hmm...the piano."

With a nod, Sue writes his electives down. "Let me know if you'd like to add an elective later, Your Highness. In my opinion, though, your current courses will keep you properly challenged for now."

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

Sue wasn't kidding about his academics being challenging. Steve struggles in math, muddles his way through science, drags himself through literature, and is ready to drop when he hits social studies. He'd ask the tutors to spend more time on topics, but Robin and Jonathan seem to have no problem keeping up, and Steve can't bring himself to disrupt their pace.

His Mandarin lessons are going just slightly better if only because the tutor seems to recognize that slower is better for him. After almost a month, he's starting to understand intonation and vocal variation better, and he can recognize a few characters on sight.

Piano lessons are also going well. His tutor there doesn't burden him with theory; she introduces the keys, shows him how to read sheet music, and then lets him choose songs to learn. Steve feels the most at ease when he's squinting at sheet music and slowly pressing piano keys into something recognizable.

The lessons he really looks forward to, however, are the ones for his Royalty Education. He gets to see his grandmother then, and she spends the whole day with him. Even better, something about this stuff just clicks. He's good at fixing his posture and memorizing silverware placement. He bows just right on his first try and his grandmother compliments his wave.

By the end of the lesson, she'll be smiling, her pride obvious, and take him for a walk in the gardens or to eat cookies in the kitchen.

"Royalty requires maintenance," Clarisse says, standing in front of Steve with relaxed shoulders. "You maintain your demeanor, your image, your knowledge of foreign dignitaries, your understanding of the people’s needs, and your humility. But you must also maintain your pride and your boundaries."

"That sounds like a lot," Steve says, idly tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"It can be overwhelming, but it becomes second nature in time," Clarisse explains, smiling reassuringly. "When you're royalty, you are constantly watched. Many eyes are kind or curious, but others are malicious, and you want to do everything you can to disappoint the malicious ones."

"How?"

"By acting like the Crown Prince you are."

"What kind of prince am I?" Steve asks, finally voicing the question that's been lingering since these lessons started. What kind of prince does his grandmother want? What kind of prince would best serve the people? What kind of prince will be so loved by all that nobody could even think of thinking about getting rid of him?

Clarisse hums, thinking for a moment. "I suppose a good one," she says, her slight smile telling Steve that she's only lightly teasing. "My hope is that you'll be kind and competent. You will make Genovia prosperous without compromising tradition. You won't allow politics to stand in the way of doing what's right by the people of Genovia. But this is a tiring job, so I hope you'll learn how to balance your duties with relaxation."

It's a lot, but Steve can do it. He can be that kind of prince, especially for the country and grandmother that's offered everything he's ever wanted and more. He nods once. "Okay," he says, "What do I need to learn, then?"

Clarisse smiles fondly at him. "Let's start by reviewing Genovian history. Only by knowing the past can you face the future."

With that, she places a book on Steve's desk and doesn't wait for him to open it before telling him about Genovia's founding.

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

Steve has weekends off from classes, which leaves him with more free time than he knows what to do with when he doesn't have to clean a house or make his own meals. So, he's bored, and telling Robin that he was bored was a huge mistake after she suggested riding bikes around the garden only to learn Steve didn't know how.

She'd insisted that he should learn, insisted that Clarisse be the one who teaches him, and insisted on hearing no objections.

And now he's here, standing in front of Clarisse's desk and staring down at his feet as she finishes writing something on the paper in front of her. Joe is standing just to her right, hands behind his back.

"Okay," Clarisse says, gently placing her pen on the desk before looking at Steve with an encouraging smile. "What did you want to ask me, Steve?"

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, takes a deep breath, and looks up. "Well, um, Robin wants to ride bikes, but I don't know how," he says.

"Well, that's easily fixed," Clarisse says, reaching for a phone at the corner of her desk. "I'm sure a member of staff is free to teach you."

Before she can pick up the phone, Steve finds himself blurting out, "Well, I...I was hoping...you could teach me."

Clarisse freezes, blinking twice with confusion before looking at Steve. "You want me to teach you?" she asks. When Steve nods once, she sighs softly. "A queen does not ride bikes. Besides, I have too much work to complete. Perhaps I could accompany you for a walk this evening to make up for it."

Despite himself, despite bracing for rejection, it still hurts. In the three months he's been in Genovia, Clarisse has agreed to just about every request he's made. Every held breath as he waits for cruel words has been released with unprecedented relief when none came. Even when he broke something---a priceless vase, according to Jonathan---his grandmother had simply surveyed the damage, thanked him for being honest, and asked him to avoid kicking soccer balls in the presence of priceless vases in the future.

Perhaps Steve has gotten too comfortable. He shouldn't be pushing like this. If he wants his grandmother's affection, he should know when to hold himself back.

So, despite the unfamiliar urge to ask again in case Clarisse might change her mind, Steve nods once. "I look forward to walking with you, Grandmother," he says, his voice quiet. He glances up, waiting long enough to see Clarisse's smile before turning on his heel and leaving the office as quickly as he can.

Clarisse watches him go, her head slightly tilted as the door closes silently behind Steve. She nods once, glad that Steve is sensible enough to understand things like work and propriety, and picks up her pen once more.

"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" Joe asks.

"At this point, Joe, you may as well assume the answer is yes."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, and please pardon my French, my experience has been that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."

It takes a moment for Clarisse to understand the joke. When she does, she can't help her amused smile. "Fair enough," she says, "Go ahead, Joe."

"Do you remember what I said about being Steve's grandmother?"

"Yes, of course."

"Perhaps now is one of those moments where being a grandmother is more important than being a queen. His Highness does not ask for much, and he is not the kind to ask more than once, even if he really wants something. I imagine it took a significant amount of courage to ask you to teach him in the first place."

"Are you suggesting that I...I risk making a fool of myself for all to see?" Clarisse asks.

"I am suggesting you spend time with your grandson, who asks very little of you because he does not believe he can ask for anything."

Clarisse is silent a moment, letting Joe's words process and settle in her brain. Finally, she sighs and gestures to the papers on her desk. "I have work to complete," she says.

"Your Majesty, editing these proposals was on your schedule two weeks from now. You are ahead of your work. A break would not be unreasonable or unwarranted."

Well, when he puts it like that.

Clarisse sighs, leans back in her chair, and looks up at Joe. He's still staring at the door, giving no indication that he feels her eyes on him, but she knows he does. "Have a groundskeeper retrieve bikes and safety gear and meet us in the garden," she says, standing from her chair and bracing herself to look like an utter fool.

Her apprehension fades away fifteen minutes later. It can't hold last when she sees Steve's surprised and delighted expression at her presence. As she helps him put on knee and elbow pads, shows him how to pull the helmet's strap tight, and holds the bike steady as he sits on it, Clarisse decides a little foolishness is perfectly fine (necessary, even) if it will keep the smile on Steve's face.

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

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord,

[dyadicjustice]

can u do like a hazelxreader best friends to lovers

like they’ve both been secretly in love with each other and pining for years but were too scared to say anything (and maybe smut if u write that but if not that’s totally good)

ooooh let me see what magic i can work, bestie. aged up the characters to be in college, so rockbridge falls high is now rockbridge university. unfortunately no smut this time because i am awful at it 😅 but i hope you enjoy this little blurb instead

ao3 link for if u prefer to read there :)

At 11:30, Professor G's class let out without anyone having learned anything actually in the syllabus. But for you, there wasn’t much room in your mind for history lessons anyway. You were too distracted by Hazel sitting next to you, scrolling on Twitter and excitedly showing you every adorable cat meme she came across. 

You’d known each other since the 3rd grade, and it was safe to say that some things never change— especially not your love for one another as best friends. At least until the end of Senior Year, when you’d started to realize that change was inevitable, and you’d fallen hard for her.

You’d been overcompensating these past couple months. You’d purposely try to fly under the radar, so she wouldn’t notice you pining or the countless lingering looks and lip biting. Desperation was heavy in your bones, settled deep in your core. So when you finally return to your shared dorm, she asks, “Seriously y/n, it seems like you’re not even here most days. What’s going on?”  

You know you can’t lie to her. You can’t lie to those dazzling grey eyes, so warm and sweet and sincere. So you sigh and admit, “Are you ready to receive some potentially devastating information that could change the state of our friendship forever?”

She blinks and lets out a quiet chuckle, “Uh, no promises, weirdo. What’s up?” 

“Hazel, I’m being serious. It’s like... important,” you whine.

She hikes an eyebrow at your nervous demeanor, taking a beat to take in your features. She’s suddenly fully aware you’re uncomfortable when you start to wring your hands a bit. To calm your fidgeting, she slips her hands in between them and intertwines your fingers. You feel her sweet gesture start to soothe you, like when puppies snuggle up to you to help you stop crying.

She whispers, “What’s wrong, bean?”

Your eyes start to water at the nickname. “You have to promise you won’t get upset”, you choke out.

She wraps her arms around your neck in a comforting embrace, and whispers in your ear, “I promise. You can tell me, only if you’re comfortable and ready.” And her considerate nature makes you want to cave and sob right then and there.

“I love you, Hazel. But, I also… I just… I’m in love with you.” You can’t even meet her eyes out of pure embarrassment. You feel her fingers snake beneath your chin, and she gently tugs until you’re looking into her eyes. She stares into yours, into your soul, really. She whispers, “y/f/n, I’ve been dreaming of hearing you say that for years.” You both giggle. You joke, “That’s such a fucking relief because I would’ve shat myself if you rejected me.” 

“I could never reject you, bean! Thank you for being brave enough to tell me.” You can hear the smile in her voice. “But I am curious, when did you realize you felt that way?”

You sigh, “Honestly? I knew I was sure when we went to Senior Prom together, so 6 months maybe? But I also would say, I’d felt something since we were like 10. I just hadn’t realized how deep my love was back then.”

Hazel murmurs, “You made Prom Night so magical. You looked lovely. Not to mention, you just had this magnetism to you that had everybody staring. I was fighting the urge to kiss you the entire evening. It was hardest during the slow dance.”

You admit that you had felt similarly, explaining, “It was hardest for me to resist when you had that little bit of whipped cream stuck on your lip when we went to Denny’s after. I wiped it away with a napkin, but I wish I’d just gone for it.” 

You stare up at her lovingly as a subtle silence emerges between you, your eyes scanning her features before dropping to her lips. Without saying a word, you crash your lips together. Hers taste like… well, like nothing and like everything at the same time. Just chapstick and love. 

And it’s not your first time kissing a girl by any means, But you can already tell it’s your favorite after only ten seconds. 

Hazel pulls away, breathless, “So just to be clear, what does this make you and me?” She smirks.

You hold her cheek with one hand and hook the other around the back of her neck, scratching the back of her head. Her jaw goes slack and her eyes flutter. You reply, “Horny, Hazel. It makes us really fucking horny.”

She smirks, “Maybe we should… do something about that. Your place or mine?” She dopily wiggles her eyebrows. It’s made even more ridiculous by the fact that your beds are just feet away from each other.

You shoot back, giggling, “Yours. I don’t wanna fuck up my sheets right now.”

She scoops you up bridal style and sets you down on her bed. Those months of pre-season training for rugby had made her insanely strong despite her short and lean figure.

She kisses your forehead and replies, “Whatever you wish, Your Majesty.”

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part five

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death, incest jokes

Word Count: ~5.8k 

A/N: all of your support with this little series means the world to me and is incredibly motivating! thank you so much. if anyone wants to be tagged in the next part, please let me know!

series masterlist

“Only princesses live in castles all the time.” 

Rowan leaned against the wall, right next to the door, admittedly eavesdropping on your conversation. He’d intended to come talk to you, to see Ceri before bed, but now his heart is sinking. You’d only had this conversation with them yesterday, and insisted you speak to her first. Better sooner rather than later, he supposed. More time to figure out a plan. 

“Some of the guards live here as well,” you countered, “and healers.” 

A small pause. Then a sniffle. Gods, was she crying? 

“Do we have to?” 

Rustling and movement. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. 

“So I don’t have to study maths anymore?”

A huff of a laugh, and then a giggle from Ceri. “Maths are important.” 

“You hate them.” He pressed his lips together to muffle his own laugh. Footsteps, and the door swung open. 

You looked exasperated, at him, but he knew you’d already scented him - Rowan wasn’t doing anything to hide his scent. 

“They’re still important,” you stepped aside to let him in, sending a pointed glance his way, “right?” 

His mouth tilted up at one side, “right.” 

A groan came from Ceri, then she was flying across the room, he braced himself as she flew into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. Absent-mindedly, he ran his hand over her back. 

“A story?” She tilted her head up at him, eyes pleading. Rowan nodded, and let her lead the way back to her room. They’d offered several other rooms, but Ceri always insisted on staying in the same one. At least it was semi-close to theirs.  

“What kind of story do you want?” He asked, leaving the door slightly ajar. He already dreaded the day she’d stop asking for them. 

“Wyverns,” Rowan blinked. Usually it was Dragons, and he’d tell her about a sea dragon. Lysandra was thrilled the first time she heard about it. “The ones the witches ride,” she added, as if exasperated he didn’t know. That’s what they had in history books now, or taught in lessons. He shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. 

Rowan threw together a story, from what he could remember, of Abraxos and Manon, carefully avoiding

what happened to the rest of her coven. 

As he reached the end, he was grateful her eyes started to droop, he was struggling to throw things together.  

“I want to ride a Wyvern. I want to be a witch.” 

Rowan was less grateful, his heart caught in his throat. She fell asleep before he could explain someone was born a witch, or that there’s no way in hell she’ll be getting within a hundred feet of a Wyvern. Most of them were not like Abraxos.

The door clicked shut gently behind him, and he found you, book propped up in one hand, cup of tea in the other. He settled in the armchair across from you, closing his eyes and kicking his legs out in front of him. 

A wyvern. He needs to be more careful about the stories he tells. 

Peeking his eyes open, he saw you close the book, gently tossing it to the side. No bookmark, he winced. 

“Do you remember the page?” 

“It wasn’t that interesting,” you muttered, hissing as you took a sip of your tea. Too hot. He didn’t think before he cooled the drink, just enough to be drinkable. Your eyes shot up in surprise, glancing between it and him. “Thank you,” you sounded a bit confused, but kept drinking the tea anyway. Confused he’d done something like that? He used to, all the time. Maybe you didn’t expect those sorts of things from him anymore, but he could easily change that. 

“Our daughter wants to ride a Wyvern,” not mentioning the part about wanting to be a witch as well. 

Jolting, the tea sloshed over the sides of your mug, landing on your pants, but you didn’t look away from him as the cup clanked on the side table. 

“Wyverns?” you choked. 

“She asked for a story,” he defended himself. 

A laugh, an honest and deep laugh left your chest, “If she manages to bond with one of them, she would’ve earned the right.” 

“You’re supposed to say it’s a bad idea,” he tried to scowl, but your laughter was infectious, and his mouth curved at the corners. 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” 

“Exactly. Silence is agreement” 

“Depends on the situation,” biting the inside of your cheek, you curled your legs up under you, snatching your mug again, wiping the small droplets of liquid off with the inside of your sleeve, expression straightening back out. He missed the smile. 

“I’m assuming you heard our conversation.” 

“I did,” a cautious answer, waiting to see if you’d snip at him for eavesdropping. 

“If I didn’t want you to hear, I would’ve stopped speaking,” you read through his lack of words. 

“I still want both of you to move in here,” he didn’t know what else to say, but made sure a small shield of wind would hide this conversation from small ears. 

“I’m not the one you need to convince,” hands clenched around the mug as you took another sip, tongue darting out to catch the drop gathering on your lip. He swallowed, for a reason he should not be. Not that Aelin hadn’t shown  … Rowan shoved that thought deep, deep down. Not the time. Would it ever be a good time? “I’m not sure what else I can tell her,” you continued, thankfully ignorant to his inner thoughts. 

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” he forced the words out. Your hand covered a yawn, giving him a good reason to excuse himself, making it down the hall before he braced a hand against the stone, letting the rough material center him. 

-

It had been somewhat of a disaster, Rowan bringing up Ceri and you moving to the castle. She’d outright refused at first, and still refused by the end of the conversation, but a little less vehemently. Not enough to bring her hope, but she knew Rowan was still thinking through ideas. Sure enough, Ceri had quickly changed the subject, and Aelin found herself on the receiving end of one of her difficult questions. 

“Why do they call you Gods-Killer?” Ceri asked casually, and Fenrys choked. 

“Because I killed some of the gods,” Aelin answered. It wasn’t the whole story, but that’s all she needed to know for now. If Ceri asked some day, when she was much older, maybe she’d tell her more. But a ten year old doesn’t need to know that. 

“Why?” 

“They killed someone I cared about very much,” Elena was already dead - but Deanna had taken away her chance of an afterlife, “and broke promises.” 

“Good,” Gods, she really is so much like her father. And maybe more like her mother than either of them know. “So,” Ceri sat down her fork, and Aelin already didn’t like where this was going, “if someone breaks a promise, I can kill them.” 

“No,” you said quickly, eyes wide, “those were very different circumstances.” 

“Fenrys said we could have dessert first.” 

“I did not,” the male immediately countered. 

“You did,” Ceri shot back. 

“I said the day you can beat me, we’ll have dessert for breakfast.” 

“You didn’t say what I had to beat you in.” 

A groan from the male. “In. A. Fight,” he clarified, avoiding yours and Rowan’s gaze. 

Aelin watched as you leaned back, head tilted up towards the ceiling. Maybe praying for mercy, maybe cursing Fenrys - especially as a challenge gleamed in Ceri’s eyes. 

“There are laws against murder,” Rowan steered the conversation back. 

“When is murder allowed?” 

Aelin remembered there were few laws against murder with the Fae, but - laws applied equally in Terrasen, regardless of whether someone was Fae, human, or Witch. Rowan, bless him, carefully and thoroughly explained the laws. 

“Murder,” you murmured, just loud enough for her to hear, “I don’t know if he’s realized he’s telling her when she can kill.” 

Aelin looked at Rowan, recognized the look in his eyes, “he knows.” 

You turned your head, still resting on the back of the chair, to face her. A long-suffering look on your face. “She takes after her father.” 

“And her mother,” Aelin added without putting much thought into it. You didn’t look convinced, so she kept speaking. “People … are drawn to her, the same way they do you.”

That’s the best way she could describe it, and a faint blush rose on your cheeks as you murmured a thanks. 

-

“It's too big.” 

“You’ve been coming here for months,” you’re not sure why you bothered to point it out, especially when she gave a contemplative pause. 

“But you don’t like it here.”

Too perceptive, she was too damned perceptive. “The castle is fine,” you forced the words, ignoring the conflicted emotions swirling in your chest. It’s not that you didn’t like it, just that you'd prefer to live somewhere else. 

“Fine doesn’t mean good.” 

“Then we go looking for houses,” you ran one hand over her hair. “Don’t forget you can change your mind.” 

Ceri nodded, “I know.” 

“Would you like me to tell your father?” 

A scowl. “I’m old enough to do that myself.” 

Thank the gods, you really didn’t want to tell him. “I know,” you repeated her earlier words, hiding your relief. 

“I’m going to wait,”

“It’s your decision,” you murmured, running your hand over her hair again, and she grinned up at you before darting off. 

“What’s the verdict?” Fenrys approached a minute later. 

“Can you keep a secret?” 

He gave you a look that said; blood sworn, like you were an idiot for forgetting that. 

An over-dramatic roll of your eyes. “She hasn’t completely made her decision, but she thinks the castle is too big.” 

“She’s been staying here for over a year.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“What do you want?” He asked instead. For some reason, that surprised you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, even though the heavy coat kept away any chill. 

“Whatever she wants.” 

He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms this time. “What if it was your decision?” 

“It’s not,” you said, with a bit more bite than you meant, and shot an apologetic glance at him. He didn’t seem phased. 

“But if it was?” 

You fixed your eyes on the cobblestone directly ahead of you. This was a dangerous question, a topic you’d avoided thinking of or ruminating on. 

“I was never born to live in a castle.” And that’s all you would say on that. Fenrys seemed to sense it, to sense the wall going up. 

“They mean well, but you know Rowan can be a bit stubborn about getting what he wants. So can Aelin.” 

He didn’t fight for you, the nasty voice said. I never wanted him to, you countered. It was a relief he hadn’t. 

“I’m not the one they need to convince,” you watched her climb up one of the trees, trying to get one of her friends to do the same. Another thing you’d noticed about your daughter while staying here, the amount of friends she has. Of course, she has plenty in Caraverre, but other children flock towards her. It’s always been that way. 

“I’m taking you on a night out.” Talk about a subject change. “You look like you need one.” 

“I’m vaguely insulted.”

“No monarchs invited,” he added. The storm had abated, the ‘monarchs’ in question insisted you stay an extra three days, just in case, and you were due to leave in two. The bitter part of you said it was only so they’d have more time to convince your daughter to stay in the castle, but realistically they did have a point, even if that was an underlying intention. Not everything has to be nefarious, you reminded yourself. Sometimes people do things out of genuine care. There’s not always a greater agenda, but in this case … you got the inclination there may be one, but you couldn’t figure out what, and that was going to drive you to the brink of insanity. 

“Tonight,” he added, drawing you from your thoughts. Tonight, meaning in just a few hours. You scowled at him, he’d left you little to no time to find an excuse to get out of it. 

“People go out in this weather?” The bright sun wasn’t enough to melt the snow banks gathered against the walls. 

“They serve alcohol for a reason.” 

He has a good point… and it would be nice to have a night out, a time you could pretend it didn’t feel like your entire world was bending and folding back over again. 

-

Aelin wasn’t jealous, she had no reason to be. Maybe a bit offended that Fenrys had immediately declared ‘no monarchs allowed,’ for your night out. Just the two of you. Rowan didn’t look entirely happy about it either. But, she supposed he was your closest friend in Terrasen. Fenrys liked to boast about it, ever since he learned it pricked at her husband's temper. 

When it came to pissing off Rowan, she was only second to him. Fenrys made it an art form. Still, as she watched you walk out arm in arm with him, she couldn’t help thinking he’d done it to piss off her as well. 

“A night out will be good for her,” Rowan said. 

“And if she decides to spend the night with someone?” She asked, a test. 

Rowan’s face tightened, “then that’s her decision.” 

Aelin frowned, he didn’t pass. 

-

You couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun, or when you’d drank this much. Before you became a mother, that’s for certain. Still, you weren’t quite sloppy drunk, but a good bit past tipsy. 

“Your tolerance is shit,” Fenrys commented. 

Poking him in the shoulder, “you’re just as bad.” 

He shrugged, but grinned. At least you were equally as drunk. But, you were a bit peeved. One male had eyed you appreciatively, and even if you wouldn’t do anything about it - the attention was nice. Fenrys glowered at him, and he paled and turned away. 

“Why did you do that?” you huffed under your breath, 

“Do what?” He asked, voice honeyed with false innocence. He yelped as you dug your elbow into his ribs.

“At least my tolerance hasn’t changed.” 

“I haven’t changed,” it was an obvious lie, and you both knew it. You’d realized a few seconds too late he wasn’t talking about you as a person, just your limits with alcohol - but you’d already opened the floodgates. “Maybe a bit,” you amended. “We both have.” 

He hummed his agreement, “you don’t seem quite as … happy,” he hesitated on the word. 

“I am happy,” there wasn’t a reason to be sad. 

“I didn’t mean that. I meant you’re not as carefree.” 

“Child,” you pointed out. 

“More than that,” he ran a hand over his hair, perhaps a bit too drunk to put his words together. 

The bartender shouted last call, her voice carrying over the crowd, and saving Fenrys from trying to explain himself.

“Another would be a bad idea,” you murmured, but Fenrys was already moving, getting ahead of the crowd, and missing your comment. You followed him, a bit unsteady on your feet. By the time you caught up, he’d already put in the order. For something, but you didn’t particularly care what - as long as it was strong enough to make you forget the last five minutes. 

Fumbling with your pocket, you tried to slide a coin on the corner, but his hand stopped you. 

“Put any coin on that bar and i’ll shove it-” 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you cut him off, but slid your hand back. 

“We’ll finish the conversation when we’re sober.” 

“We will not.” Fenrys already had that look in his eyes, the one that told you the conversation absolutely would happen. More time for you to prepare, then. “If we remember,” you added. 

“I’ll write myself a note.” 

“Your handwriting is barely legible on a good day.” 

The drinks came by, saving Fenrys again, this time from trying to come up with a witty remark. 

Despite the rather … thought provoking statement he’d made, it didn’t put a damper or shadow over the rest of the night. You took full advantage of the remaining hour, finishing your drink, laughing, singing along to some kind of bawdy song you only knew half of the words too, and all too soon you were saying goodbye to at least seven new friends you made. Could they be considered friends if you’d already forgotten their names? Well, hopefully there would be some friendly faces once you moved here. 

If a night out in Orynth was this much fun, living here couldn’t be that bad. 

-

It’s possible a white-tailed hawk soared above the city around the time the taverns closed, and may have shot back to the castle once he spotted two familiar drunk and laughing Fae stumbling back through the streets. 

Rowan flew through the window, finding Aelin standing, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Really?” She tried to sound disappointed, but looked more amused than anything. 

A flash of white light, and he shifted back. “I needed to check.” 

Aelin raised a brow, “you didn’t need to, they’re both adults.” 

“I wanted to,” he corrected. “Is that a problem?” 

Aelin’s brows lowered, studying him for a few moments, but he held firm. “If I could have, I probably would  do the same thing,” her shoulders rolled back, “shall we greet them?” 

“I want to see just how drunk they are,” her eyes said. He held out his arm in answer. 

-

“Mother and father are here,” Fenrys announced as you entered the wing where your rooms were, just down the hall and around the corner from the Royal suite. Meaning, you usually had to pass by there in order to get to your room. 

“He’s the father of my child,” you frowned. “That’s weird. Incest is weird.” 

Each word began to slur into the other, and you heard a choking noise - but you were focused on Fenrys’s reply. “I suppose we aren’t in Adarlan,” you found some satisfaction that his words were slurred as well. 

“Oh gods,” that was Aelin. 

“Adarlanians,” you sounded out each syllable, “marry their relatives?” 

Fenrys shrugged, like it was a rumor he could neither confirm nor deny. Aelin groaned, and started ushering the two of you back towards your rooms. 

“My rooms are so far,” Fenrys whined - honest to gods whined, but his rooms were all the way down the hall, and around a few corners. For a drunk person, it might as well have been a mile. 

“Crash in mine,” you offered, “there’s a spare room, and a perfectly good couch.” 

“Thank you,” he went to link his arm through yours again, but Aelin beat him to it, turning over your shoulder, you caught Rowan glowering at Fenrys. Why would he glower? It’s not like you were sharing a bed. Why would it matter if you were? There’s nothing between the two of you, besides friendship. Friends shared beds all of the time. 

“I’m a great cuddler,” you said, just to see if they would react. 

“You kick,” Rowan countered. 

“I do not,” you insisted. 

“How would you know?” Aelin decided to cut in, “you’re sleeping.” 

“I’ll find out tonight,” Fenrys added cheerily. 

You could’ve sworn you heard a low growl or two, but you’d already reached the door, fumbling with the handle. You’d put too much of your weight on the door, because as soon as it opened - you went careening towards the floor. Fenrys tried to catch you, only to fall as well, alcohol throwing off his center of balance. 

At least the carpet was soft, you rolled over onto your back, running your hands over it. It was comfortable. 

“I might sleep here,” you sighed, eyes half lidded. Rowan and Aelin stood in the doorway, amused at the two of you, and you shot a bright grin their way.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Rowan, the bastard, needs to stop trying to give you orders. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you muttered, turning over on your side and tucking one arm beneath your head. Fenrys mirrored your movements, the two of you facing each other. 

A long suffering sigh, from Rowan you thought, and gentle hands were pulling you up to your feet. You swayed back and forth, Aelin holding you steady with a faint smile on her face. 

From the corner of your eye, Rowan was tugging Fenrys up, not quite as gently. 

-

“Be nice to my friend,” you slurred. Aelin was biting her lip to hold back a laugh, and she was grateful Ceri decided to have a sleepover in another wing of the castle. Otherwise, she’d be wide awake right now and witnessing this mess. 

“Hear that Rowan, the lady says be nice to me.” 

Rowan released Fenrys, and the male stumbled back a few steps. She kept her grip on you as you tried to lunge for him. The last thing they need is to drag both of you off the floor again. Without realizing, her arms had wrapped around your shoulders, holding you back in place. When Fenrys caught himself, one hand on the arm of the couch, you sighed in relief, and melted back into her. 

“Time for bed,” Aelin shifted so her arm wrapped around your shoulders instead, leading you off towards the room. Grabbing some night clothes, she offered them to you, trying to shuffle you off towards the bathroom. 

“I think I’ll sleep naked,” you announced. 

“As much as I’d enjoy the view, it’s still a bit cold out,” you wouldn’t remember this in the morning, but she’d remember how your cheeks flushed. 

Rowan and Aelin left, only as you fell asleep, alone in your bed - Fenrys already snoring on the couch. 

-

The end of the visit came all too quickly, and for the first time you found yourself looking forward to your return to Orynth. Looking forward to searching for a house on the outskirts of the city. Yes, you didn’t particularly look forward to staying in the castle in the meantime, but you couldn’t deny the city had it’s charm. Rowan and Aelin’s reassurances unlocked something in you. Not a desire to step into the public eye, but to stop avoiding it. If anything happened, you weren’t alone this time. Accepting help wasn’t a weakness. 

Ceri waved as you set off, just around sunrise. In around two or so weeks, you’d be heading back to Orynth. 

Your daughter, however, was currently pouting because you couldn’t ride horseback in this weather, and she didn’t like the carriages. She was mollified by the few books Aelin let her borrow from the Library of Orynth. You had a feeling she just hadn’t informed the librarians they’d be leaving the city.

Tilting your head, you caught part of the title; dragons. “What are you reading?” 

Thankfully, she didn’t look annoyed at your question. Instead, her eyes lit up as she lifted her head. “About last dragons, besides Wyverns,” she flipped the book around to point at a page. A sketch of mountains, you squint your eyes, made of glass with a few dragons circling overhead, one breathing fire into them. You looked further at the book, it was old, by the color of the pages, but well preserved. Maybe with magic. Was this one of the few books that survived the initial siege of Orynth?

“They lived in the Kyzultum Desert. But they were all killed in a war eight centuries ago.” Kyzultum, a desert on the southern continent, far south from Antica. You’d never visited, but always wanted to, to see the glass mountains. “They made mountains out of glass. The book says it’s just speculation, but soldiers from Doranelle hunted the dragons to extinction.” 

A small pain in your heart, for creatures hunted just for their power or because someone viewed them as a threat. Soldiers from Doranelle. You would bet gold marks on who exactly sent that order. 

“Why did they kill them? The book doesn’t say.” 

“Probably from fear.” 

She hummed. “Do you think dragon eggs could survive this long?” 

“I don’t know,” but Gods, if Ceri set her mind to it - she’d find out. And if they could … you started thinking of ways to discourage your daughter from hunting for Dragons. Maybe you’d have to lean on her father for that one. “Giving up on Wyverns already?” 

She scowled at you, drawing a small laugh before she returned to her book. 

-

Rowan was in a pissy mood, and Aelin knew exactly why. Ceri waited until the last night to announce her ‘decision,’ leaving all of them on edge. Then said she wanted to live on the outskirts of Orynth, with a small cottage, a garden, chickens, and a wyvern. Considering how you scowled at Rowan, she knew who you blamed for that idea. Still, they weren’t quite out of time. The two of you would return in around a month, permitting you could sell your house in that amount of time, and still stay in the castle while looking for another home. 

“Y/n didn’t try to sway her decision,” she commented - although Rowan already knew that. You’d decided to stay perfectly neutral. It’s smart, not wanting to get into an argument like that. After all, she’d chosen the same path. “Besides, Ceri might change her mind later.” 

“Right,” he cleared his throat. 

“So,” Aelin leaned back in her chair, “Wyverns?” 

“She asked for a story about them,” he groused. 

“What did you tell her?” 

“What I know of Abraxos.” As far as Wyvern’s go, Manon’s mount is the exception, and Rowan might’ve given the wrong impression when it comes to the beasts. 

Aelin laughed, “I can’t wait to tell Manon. Already a bedtime story.” She didn’t know if the Witch Queen would be offended or amused. Ceri hadn’t met any of their friends from other Kingdoms, not yet. It would come one day, especially with the move. Would you want to meet them as well? SHe hoped so. 

The little hellion’s presence made Aelin realize she wasn’t quite ready to have more children around. It would come one day, but faced with immortality there was plenty of time. Besides, maybe it was a bit selfish or strange, but she wanted to spend time with Ceri as she grew up, and wanted Rowan to as well. He’d missed out on seven years. 

Aelin always knew he’d be a good father, but seeing it with her own eyes only cemented that. Plus, the rest of the court and castle got to witness a softer side of him. 

“Had y/n already settled when you met her?” 

“No.” 

Gods, going through all of that with a small child. She had hers a few years ago, and it … sucked to say the least. The only plus being some of her magic returned, not quite to what it was before, but still much more significant. 

Rowan had turned back to his book. Another question had lingered in the back of her mind, “What is her magic?” He marked his page, setting it to the side. 

“She has an affinity for raw materials, imbuing them with magic. As far as I know, it’s unique to her bloodline.” 

“What else could it do? Besides what she sells.” Protective wards, enchantments, all impressive. 

“I never asked.” The dagger. Enchanted to leave a mark. Fenrys said she’d paled when she saw it. If it’s unique to her bloodline … maybe the attack wasn’t only meant for Ceri. “What are you thinking?” Rowan interrupted her train of thought.

“You said it’s unique to her bloodline,” Rowan nodded. “The dagger,” he stiffened but she kept going, “she recognized exactly what it was. Why use a dagger specifically meant to leave a mark? Why make a dagger like that?” 

“It’s possible her ancestors made it,” he started, “daggers and knives like that could be intended for different rituals. Using it could’ve been ignorance - or a coincidence.”

Aelin’s mouth tightened. That was a bit too strange to believe. “You know that’s bullshit.” 

“Sartaq hasn’t sent word of anything, there’s not much we can do from over here.” But, Rowan did look unsettled.

“Could anyone else have made it?” 

“She’s better suited to answer that question.” A month from now. Aelin wasn’t particularly patient on a good day, but she’d remember this. “Don’t be surprised if she wants to leave it in the past.” 

“What happened to her parents?” 

Rowan didn’t look like he wanted to answer, but she felt like she needed to know. Like it was relevant. He told her the entire story, not sparing any of the more gruesome details. She read the words in his eyes; I didn’t tell you. If you ever decided to tell her, she’d act surprised. A stone settled in her stomach. You hadn’t just been hiding from Maeve. 

“Then Lorcan hunted the rest of them down.”  

“Who was it, the ones who attacked them?” 

“The last armies of a Kingdom who particularly hated Fae, destroyed on Maeve’s orders.” And her father participated, that much she could put together. “It’s in the past, Aelin,” there was a hint of warning in his tone. To drop it. 

She nodded absentmindedly. If she could find a way to be subtle about it, she’d keep looking into it. 

-

“Leaving already?” One of your neighbors questioned, after you finished showing the house to a young couple - the woman currently at least a few months pregnant, and glowing. You nodded, watching them disappear. “Where to?” 

“To Orynth,” you turned to look at her. A friendly older woman, living a few doors down, who’d greeted you the day after you moved in with a basket of cookies. This neighbor happened to be the mother of the son, currently linking arms with his wife, trudging through the snow. It was a given you’d sell the house to them, if they ended up wanting it. 

“We’ll miss you here, and your little one.” 

“We’ll miss you too,” you murmured, rubbing your arms to stave off the chill. “Want to come in?” It felt right to offer. 

“I’d love to,” her face lit up. Ceri was due back from school in a few hours, and now big enough to walk on her own, although always with a group of other kids. It was a close little community, on the outskirts of the city,  and you really did like it here even if it was a bit … boring. Maybe that’s part of the reason Ceri wanted to move to Orynth. 

The two of you settled in front of the fire, hands warmed by mugs of tea, and you listened to her talk. Her husband - killed by Adarlanian soldiers, her three children - who went to fight in General Ashryver’s legion, the bane, only two returning at the end of the war. 

“Something happier now,” she waved her hand. “What about your family?” 

“It’s just me and Ceri now,” you forced a smile. She gave you a sympathetic look, and although you knew she meant no harm - you wanted to wipe it right off her face. 

“Her father?” There’s the catch. She knew damn well who her father is, the entire town does, and you shot her a look to tell her that. She had the grace to look a bit sheepish, giving a small shrug of her shoulders. “Can’t help the curiosity,” 

‘Yes you can,’ you wanted to say, but reminded yourself she’d been nothing but kind - and still is, but probably wanted to get in all of the questions she’d been dying to ask before you left. You were aware anything you said now would make its way through everyone else living here. 

“We’re on good terms,” you said firmly. 

“How did you meet?” 

“We knew a few of the same people.” Actually, you’d met at a bar - but she had no business knowing that. An ache started to form between your brows. A few hours passed, conversation thankfully diverting from Ceri’s heritage and into more neutral topics. You found yourself enjoying the company. 

“It takes a strong woman - or female, to raise a child on her own,” a brief haunted look passed through her eyes, and you offered her a tight smile. Her situation had been different, Terrasen being under occupation by Adarlan and all. She blinked a few times, letting out a long breath. “I’m making some meat pies this afternoon, I’ll bring one by.” 

“Thank you,” she stood, and you led the way out the door, walking her down towards her gate. 

Ceri was currently coming down the street, accompanied by a few friends, holding … something in her arms, bundled tightly. When she saw you, she sped up her pace, now almost-running down the street. 

“Look, look,” she said, shifting her arms just enough for you to see what she was holding. A little head peaked up, yellow eyes, then a meow. “She was all alone, I couldn’t find her mother,” Ceri looked up at you with pleading eyes. You ran a gloved hand over the kitten’s back, getting a small purr in reply. Orange. It was rare to find an orange female cat. 

“Let’s get her out of the cold,” a squeal of excitement, and she raced off towards the door.

The two of you bathed her in warm water, and the weird little thing liked it. 

“Are you sure you want to keep her?” You asked, but even if she said no you’d probably insist. One hour, and you were already in love. Sure enough, you were hissed at. Twice. 

“You can be friends with her,” Ceri said, sitting as close to the fire as she could get, the kitten wrapped up in a towel, sound asleep. She was talking about your animal form. A Baast Cat, not a housecat. 

“I’m sure we’ll get along,” you smiled, taking up a seat next to her. That little head poked up again, meowing, before crawling out of the towel. Ceri let her go, choosing to take her mug of hot chocolate from you instead. Carefully, the kitten crawled over onto your lap, small claws digging in. “What should we name her?” 

“Wyvern.” A hiss. Not Wyvern, apparently. Ceri rolled her eyes. She tried out a few different names, but none of them were approved. You’d already noted she was very intelligent, even for a cat, and looked up at you like you were supposed to know the answer. 

“Halle?” you offered, as a half-assed guess. Surprisingly, a small purr came from her, and you ran your fingers through her fluffy fur, watching as she promptly fell back asleep. Like she was waiting for the conversation to be over. 

“Halle’s coming to Orynth with us.” 

“Of course.” You couldn’t leave the newest member of your family behind.

-

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