#armour? I hardly know her!

[everwalldigan]

Jason: I fight crime the way god intended, with a t-shirt jeans and a dream

Dick: shut the fuck up jason you’re literally more pain killers than human right now, you’re literally so riddled with bullet holes you’d make a sieve jealous.

[dracowars]

knight in shining armour | elrond

pairing: elrond x elf!reader

word count: 5,5k

summary: where elrond and y/n have to make fatal decisions in war

a/n: i'm having so much fun with writing in this universe i haven't had in a long time (with writing in general) and i think that's beautiful <3 season 2 elrond really did it for me, so i hope you enjoy this flangsty fic. don't forget to reblog and give feedback, it means the world to me ♡

warnings: angst, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, miscommunication (kind of), elrond kisses galadriel

universe: the rings of power

You hold your breath once you step into the dimly lit tent, teeming with orcs and their smells. Carefully, you place one foot in front of the other, never taking your eyes off the enemy who is currently watching three elves enter its territory. Amidst all these orcs and darkness, you couldn't stand out less in your polished white armour.

You follow Vorohil who is walking directly behind Elrond, and quickly spot the Father of the Orcs sitting on a makeshift chair that almost resembles a throne. Your gaze doesn't linger on him for long, however, because something or someone else catches your eye. Galadriel is standing right behind him, tied up and leaning against a post. Her eyes widen when your gaze meets and everything in her face screams for you to not be here, to turn around and leave again immediately. But you are here to help her, to free her from the clutches of the enemy, from the claws of evil. And you won't leave without her.

One of the orcs tells Elrond to sit opposite Adar, and he does as he is told with so much confidence you hardly recognize the sweet, curious boy behind the mask. Vorohil positions himself to his left, you stand on his right, ready to step in at any time should something go amiss.

You are more than aware of your situation: right in the mouth of the enemy whose teeth could pierce your flesh any moment, with absolutely no escape. Should this turn out to be a trap and part of Adar's plan, you have stepped right into it. Yet, Elrond insisted on not bringing a weapon of his own. You, on the other hand, have hidden daggers all around your body that you could pull out in the blink of an eye if the situation arises.

Even though all eyes are on Elrond, you still feel uncomfortable. You have never been this close to orcs before without fighting them at the same time.

"The ring you carry. Show it to me", Adar opens the conversation, and you inevitably flinch. Of course he shows interest in the ring. Like all of Middle-earth, it may seem.

"A foolish act if I had brought it here", Elrond answers in a firm voice and appears calm and collected, stoic almost, one arm draped over the armrest.

Adar's expression tells you that he is less than satisfied with this answer. What he doesn't know, however, is that the ring is closer to him than he thinks possible.

Its metal presses cold against the skin between your collarbones, your heart thumping loudly at the mention of it and your mind drifts back to the moment when it was handed to you.

'You shall have it', Elrond tells you, wearing that gentle smile on his lips that always adorns his features when he's around you, that makes your heart beat faster every single time. He places Nenya in your palm and when the light reflects in its beauty, you gasp. This small ring, inconspicuous at first glance but incredibly beautiful, contains a power you can't and don't even want to imagine.

'No, Elrond. I can't', you whisper, afraid that your voice might break. He now clasps your hand with both of his and gently closes your fingers around the piece of jewelry.

'My love. I wouldn't trust anyone else to keep it safe', he tells you with so much confidence and affection in his voice that you can't help but believe his words. The way he stands in front of you, his brown locks falling into his face, his eyes clear and bright, and holds your hand tightly leaves no room for further discussion. He trusts you with this power and you won't fail him.

'You can consider yourself a ring bearer now', he smiles, gently guiding your fist to his mouth to place a light kiss on top of it, his other hand cupping your cheek while doing so. His eyes linger on your lips for a second too long, but before you can say anything, he is summoned to the High King.

"It was Celebrimbor himself who welcomed Sauron in. You cannot save him. You can save Galadriel", Adars voice brings you back to the present. The circumstances you find yourself in make it hard to believe his words. He won't let Galadriel go willingly and Elrond will never give him the ring voluntarily. Since it is in your possession, you don't plan on handing it over either. No matter how much more danger that puts you in.

"It is an earnest offer. I suggest you take it", Adar continues, staring solely at Elrond from across the table, and stands up from his seat. "And leave Sauron to me."

The mention of this name sends a shiver down your spine. A name that describes pure evil. It is obvious from the way Adar says his name that he feels as much hatred towards him as the elves and all other inhabitants of Middle-earth. It makes you a little suspicious, after all, Adar was once a loyal servant of Sauron.

Once more, your gaze slides over to Galadriel when Adar walks around the table. One of the orcs holds his sharp weapon against her throat, a sign to not even think of making a wrong move. It is known that Galadriel was deceived by Sauron, or Halbrand as she used to call him, which is why her face reacts to his name, too.

She whispers something and you try to read her lips, but you don't get a chance when Adar suddenly stands right in front of you, blocking your view. Although he is still talking to Elrond, his full attention is now solely on you.

"You must know you cannot defeat me in battle. I will outmaneuver you, my forces outfight yours, and you will fall", Adar spits out, searching your face for any signs of fear, but you hold your ground and present him with your best death stare in return. But inside of you, it looks much different. Chaos rages within your mind and veins, your heart is beating so fast that it's pounding in your ears and Nenya is pressing painfully against your skin. You send a prayer to the Valar that Adar won't suspect anything, that he can't see behind the mask you've put on. Because you don't know how much longer you can keep it up, especially not under his relentless gaze.

Adar takes another step towards you and you can now feel his breath on your skin. Since he knows that you cannot resist him at the moment, he uses this to his advantage. His eyes search your face, but you cannot say what exactly they are looking for. Whatever it is, he doesn't find it.

"You will fall and all your little elves with you", he says in a calm voice, but his words are filled with hatred. At this, Elrond suddenly raises from his seat as well and positions his body between the two of you, enabling you to finally breathe again, your heartbeat slowing with relief.

"Not before you have painted the sands of the Glanduin black with the blood of your kin", Elrond tells him, briefly looking over to the orc whose blade is still at Galadriel's throat. His hand behind his back indicates that you should remain calm. Some of the orcs around you growl.

"My children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn't bear to hear spoken aloud."

"Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely, Adar?", Elrond confronts him, his words sounding accusatory. "Are they?"

Peaking over Elrond's shoulders, you see a clear shift in Adar's face, in his eyes. Apparently Elrond has struck a nerve with his words, the orcs becoming more and more restless as well.

"The ring for Galadriel's life. What is it to be?", Adar once again presents him with the tough decision, to choose, to pick one and let the other down. Before answering, Elrond closely walks past Adar, drawing his attention away from you and what it is he desires most. From your position, you only see Elrond adjusting his cloak before he casts another glance at Galadriel. Their eye contact lasts almost a moment too long before he then returns his attention to her captor.

"Ask me on the field, when the neck with a blade against it is yours", Elrond tells him, his deep voice making it sound like a threat. The orcs around you begin to seethe and snarl again and all of a sudden you are very aware of the dagger strapped to your shin, hidden beneath the leather of your boots.

"Very well. I will meet you there", Adar replies, his voice carrying a tinge of amusement after he gave him a once-over. And for a moment you think he actually agrees, that this decision can be made without shedding any blood, no matter red or black. That is until he finishes his sentence.

"With her head on a pike."

You want to step in, to say something, anything to help get Galadriel and the ring out of here, but you don't even know what. And you don't want to risk putting Elrond in danger by acting rashly. That is why silence ensues for a moment while Adar and Elrond just stare each other down challengingly, neither of them backing down or even thinking about giving in.

"If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell", Elrond finally answers him, causing a gasp to escape your lips as you unintentionally take a step forward. But Vorohil stops you by putting his arm out in front of you, preventing you from doing something you might regret later.

You can't believe what you're hearing, what just left Elrond's mouth. Galadriel, on the other hand, seems just about pleased with this decision, because it means that no one will be harmed because of her. At least no one who is currently present in this tent.

To your surprise, Adar grants him this favour and lets him talk to Galadriel one last time. All eyes are on them, but you can't hear what they say to each other; their voices too quiet. You watch in disbelief, however, as Elrond softly touches her face and suddenly leans in to her, connecting their lips in a gentle kiss.

All of a sudden, you find it difficult to breathe. You distinctly feel your heart breaking in two. The tent feels too small, too cramped, and tears well up in your eyes. No longer able to bear the sight, you lower your gaze, clenching your hands into fists at your sides. Although no one should be looking in your direction at this moment, it does not go unnoticed by Adar. He notices the pain in your eyes and in your entire life you have never felt so at the mercy of the enemy as you do right now.

You thought there was something between you and Elrond, a mutual, deep understanding that connected you. When by his side, you felt safe and loved. Until now you thought he returned that feeling and that there could be something more between the two of you, one day.

Apparently you were wrong.

It may have only been a few seconds, but for you it feels like several agonizing minutes before Elrond and Galadriel separate again. As soon as Elrond turns away from her, your eyes meet and a sharp pain ripples through your body, as if someone had stabbed you directly in the chest. Elrond's eyes are sad, suffering almost, and he looks at you with so much pity that you wish to disappear into thin air.

Elrond blinks a few times before making his way straight out of the tent.

"Vorohil. Y/N", he calls out your names, a silent command to follow him. Your gaze meets Adar's again who is watching you with his head tilted as you leave the tent together. You entered it as one, as a unit, but you leave it shattered.

You follow them out, the sun blinding you, but due to the tears you are still trying to hold back you couldn't see much from the beginning anyway. The orcs swarming around you aren't at all helping with the chaos that are your emotions.

You fall behind the two men. As if you were in a tunnel, you hear Vorohil bombarding Elrond with all sorts of questions in the distance. Questions whose answers are no longer important to you.

When they stop in front of you, you almost crash into them, too busy with all the thoughts swirling around in your head.

Was it all just a lie, a plot? Was he just using you to protect the ring? To have someone to sacrifice?

Your common sense tells you that this simply cannot be true, that Elrond has not been leading you astray and that what you feel for him is reciprocated inside of his heart. But your broken heart painfully beats in your chest and tells you something completely different.

You watch as Elrond mounts his horse and gives Vorohil an order, but the words do not reach your ears. You only see him in front of you, a knight in shining white armour, the sight of whom used to give you so much joy, made your heart beat faster and your cheeks blush. In the tent, you were willing to take a blade for him until the very end, but everything is different now.

Elrond's gaze wanders from Vorohil to you and all the sadness from before has disappeared from his face, replaced by a neutral expression. The expression of a warrior on his way into battle.

"Meantime, I will ensure that Eregion's walls hold for one more night", you finally register his words as he looks straight at you. Without another word, he puts on his helmet and rides away. An unspoken order hangs in the air and you swing yourself onto your own horse. After all, he is still your commander, whom you will always follow into battle, come what may.

════════════

Your legs are shaking, your hands sticky, covered in blood and mud. Your movements are shaped by exhaustion. Nevertheless, your blade sinks into the flesh of another orc who falls to the ground with a gurgling sound. With all your strength, you pull out your sword and stumble back a few steps, your gaze wandering over the battlefield in front of you.

Corpses over corpses scatter the ground. Some brave warriors are still fighting against the few remaining orcs, but there is no way out. You have lost, Eregion has fallen. You are shocked to realize that you have lost so many elves today, friends and strangers alike.

This realization hits you with so much force out of nowhere and you collapse to the ground, onto your knees, and let out a scream filled with pain and sorrow and all of your remaining strength. You fought, side by side, and in the end it was all for nothing. The forces of Adar have taken you by surprise and no one was prepared for the chaos that would ensue. Now you find yourself in the mud, surrounded by the dead, the last sounds of battle wafting towards you, and you feel utterly and completely alone.

You lost sight of Elrond since the troll's attack and Arondir is nowhere to be found either. Just thinking of Elrond gives your wounded heart another stab that cannot be compared to any wound inflicted in battle. Ever.

A tear finally finds its way down your cheek, but you are quick to wipe it away with your dirty hand. You can't show weakness, not even now when you feel incredibly overwhelmed. You don't even know if Elrond is still alive, and you scold yourself for still worrying about the man who took your feelings for granted.

But of course you do, you love him.

You don't know if it's the ring still around your neck or your instinct, but something tells you to look toward the fallen walls of Eregion, to get one last look at the once beautiful city. And there you see him.

Elrond.

Kneeling.

In front of Adar.

Without hesitating for even a split second, you gather all your strength and stand up. You approach them quickly and watch as Elrond attacks Adar with his dagger, but Adar parries his attack by violently grabbing his arm. With a whimper, Elrond drops his weapon. You stand still as Adar's hand closes around Elrond's throat and lifts him above the ground, choking him. The sounds that escape from Elrond's mouth will haunt you in your dreams.

"Where is it?!", Adar shouts at him, losing his composure. Elrond's hands claw at his, trying to somehow prie them away, but to no avail. The battle has left Elrond weakened. Adar, on the other hand, seems to have gained more strength from it. At that moment, Elrond spots you, and even though you only look at each other for a second, Adar immediately notices Elrond's shift of attention. He turns his head in your direction, and if you didn't know better, you'd think surprise flashes across his face. Apparently he didn't expect to ever see you again.

"Let him go", you command, your voice trembling and your sword pointing at him.

"Or what?", Adar asks spitefully, raising an eyebrow. Not knowing how to answer, you look at Elrond again.

"G-Go", he chokes out.

You look at him in shock and immediately shake your head. You would never leave him behind. Adar follows this encounter with interest and with a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth when something dawns on him. The next moment, he pushes Elrond to the ground forcefully who desperately gasps for air.

You want to rush to his side immediately, but Adar draws his own sword and pushes the tip directly against Elrond's throat who is still gasping for air and hasn't even managed to sit up.

You freeze when you see blood.

"So that's how it is, I understand", Adar murmurs loudly, seemingly amused by something. Then, he reaches out his open hand towards you, catching you by surprise.

"The ring. Or he's dead."

Your eyes inevitably widen, but you no longer have the strength to put on a mask and hide your true emotions. And in doing so, you put everyone in danger.

"D-Don't listen t-to him", Elrond stutters, his eyes full of terror when he meets your gaze. He is not afraid of dying. He is afraid that the ring will fall into the wrong hands.

You gave him your promise. When you accepted the ring, you simultaneously promised that you would protect it with your life. And you still stand by that.

But right now, this is not about your life.

"Hurry or your sweet commander will soon find it extremely difficult to breathe", Adar threatens and presses his blade even harder into Elrond's skin, making him whimper in pain.

He can't speak anymore because of the life-threatening weapon at his throat, but his tear-filled eyes scream at you not to give in. But how could you not?

You move your lips and form the words 'I'm sorry', but no sound wants to escape your throat, your vocal cords failing terribly.

Lowering your sword dejectedly, you feel for the silver chain around your neck and eventually pull it over your head. Nenya dangles at the end, catching the sunlight that slowly but surely breaks through the clouds. Your hand trembles as you place the ring in Adar's palm, feeling like a failure.

Not just to yourself, but to your entire kind. And above all, to Elrond.

As soon as Adar has the ring in his possession, he removes his sword from Elrond and lets you approach him. You immediately fall to your knees beside him. Elrond gasps for air and coughs repeatedly, his head thrown back in defeat. You support his head with one of your hands, helping him to sit up.

"Forgive me", you sob quietly, but get no answer from him. He watches silently as you are surrounded by orcs who were just waiting to take you as prisoners.

And the whole time you can only think of one thing: You betrayed them all.

════════════

You were about to set out to help her on your commander's orders. But it was already too late. You only saw a white figure falling down the cliffs. Now you're running through the dense forest, searching the ground, looking for a body. Every inch of your own body hurts, the cuts across your face throbbing painfully, but you have to keep going, keep walking just a bit longer, because she could be lying behind the next tree and you would never forgive yourself if you didn't find her.

Taking a break and catching your breath for a second, you lean against a tree, the battle taking a heavy toll on your body and strength. Suddenly you fleetingly notice a white shimmer to your right and run straight towards it, your ribs hurting. You breathe a sigh of relief and, at the same time, shock when you see Galadriel's motionless body on the ground, her arms stretched out at unnatural angles.

Without wasting any time, you rush to her, lifting her head so that you can gently place it on your lap. Loudly, you call out to the others that you have found her.

Her face is covered in soot and blood, her eyes closed. As you look at her like this, you once again realize how truly beautiful she is, even on the treshold to death. Your thoughts make your heart ache deeply, because how could Elrond not take a liking to her?

"They will be here soon", you whisper encouragingly, although you are not even sure she can hear you and your voice sounds anything but heartening. Your gaze lands on a large wound on her shoulder, the source of black streaks that are running across her armour. Carefully, you lift her armour with shaking hands and recoil in shock, as if you burned yourself, when you see a dark mark carved into her skin.

You don't get the chance to think about it any further, however, when Arondir and the High King finally arrive at your side. You let Gil-galad help Galadriel and take a few steps back, giving them enough space. As you do so, a light catches your eye, coming from under a branch. The relief you feel deep inside when you spot Nenya is overwhelming.

The High King tries healing Galadriel with the help of his ring. In Quenya, he orders her to step back into the light and leave the darkness behind her and her soul. With tears in your eyes, you watch as Galadriel takes heaving breaths, her eyes blinking violently, but she doesn't come back. Every passing second, she leaves the light a little more.

When you hear footsteps, running quickly at first and then slowing down abruptly, you don't have to turn around to know that it is Elrond.

"We're losing her", Arondir says and looks around helplessly. You see as much pain in his eyes as is reflected in yours and Elrond’s.

When you look over at Elrond at last, your heart stops beating for a moment. You thought you had already seen him at his lowest, where things couldn't have gotten any worse, completely devastated, but the way he is looking at Galadriel right now convinces you otherwise. The sadness that adorns his battle-torn but still beautiful features brings even more tears to your eyes.

His heart seems broken, crying for Galadriel.

"The darkness is too powerful. I cannot save her", the High King utters in defeat.

Even though it is only for one short moment, you hesitate. You hesitate to give the ring to Elrond, afraid of what might happen then, that your heart will crumble into even more fragile pieces.

"You can", you hear your own voice from afar and give Elrond the ring that you lost earlier. Elrond's eyes suddenly become clearer, brighter as he takes it, feeling it in his palm. But his eyes tell you that he is afraid, too. Afraid that he may not be able to save her. He fears he might lose her.

Gathering all your remaining strength, you force an encouraging smile onto your face, nodding and indicating that he should go to her. Elrond doesn't return your smile, he still looks at you with so much suffering in his eyes, but his facial features are more at ease now as he nods back at you. His way of thanking you.

"We can", he states, to convince himself once again before he puts on the ring.

════════════

You stare at your own reflection, which looks up at you from the quiet water of the river. You dip your fingertips into the water, the waves that result distorting your face. The wounds that covered your face have been cleaned and treated, only slight cuts still visible. There is nothing to do but rest and reflect while everyone waits for Galadriel to awaken.

You are not startled when you suddenly see another reflection, a face above your own, for you have heard him coming.

"Galadriel has awakend", Elrond lets you know and elicits nothing more than a nod from you. "She is up and well."

"I'm glad", you reply and see his brow frowning, his eyes growing sadder in the reflection of his face in the water. Which surprises you in all honesty, because he should be filled with happiness right now. You may have lost the rings for men and many of your elven friends have fallen, but in the end you are alive and safe. Galadriel is safe.

In fact, you admit that you feel relief that she seems to be doing well, but it somehow still hurts just thinking about the kiss they shared.

"May I.. May I have a moment of your time?", Elrond asks you now, after a few seconds of silence, filled only by the chirping of birds and the rustling of the trees around you. This place is truly a sanctuary.

His voice sounds so fragile that you can't help but raise up and turn to him, folding your hands in front of your lower body.

"I bestowed the ring upon you as a token of my faith in you", Elrond explains and you notice from the small wrinkles on his forehead that he is having difficulty finding the right words.

Meanwhile, you just want to leave. You can't listen to him express his disappointment about your actions. After everything that has happened, you're just not strong enough anymore. Your heart is not strong enough.

"I entrusted you with it because I didn't trust myself", he continues, looking into your eyes, but you avert them and focus on the grass on the ground. "Because I knew that, if the situation occurred, I would have acted the same way you did."

A look of surprise crosses your face as you lift your gaze and meet his glistening eyes.

"If the roles had been reversed, I would have given up the ring, too. For your life", Elrond states, his eyes solely focused on yours. "Because when it concerns you, I'm simply too weak. You are my weakness. By giving Nenya to you I thought I could prevent myself from losing it. Instead, I placed the burden upon you."

Your heart beats loudly in your ears, not quite understanding what he is saying.

"But Galadriel-"

"What you saw.. It was a distraction. Galadriel is merely a good friend, whom I love differently", Elrond explains and his voice tells you how sorry he is. "I gave her the pin off my shoulder piece to give her a chance to escape. I couldn't guarantee that it would work, but I took the risk. And I was willing to hurt you by doing so."

He carefully reaches for your hand and you let him take it, continuing to stare at him with glassy eyes as he speaks, your throat dry.

"I am deeply sorry for any pain my actions have inflicted upon you", he apologizes sincerely and lowers his head in regret, some of his brown curls falling into his face. "I couldn't even look at you after that because I could see exactly how badly I had hurt you."

"E-Elrond..", you get out, but you don't even know how to continue or what to say to him. Your emotions are all over the place because you have wanted to hear these words from him for so long, but on the other hand you feel sad because he suffered as well. And if there is one thing you hate more than anything else, it is seeing those you love hurt.

"Another weakness on my part was not telling you about my true feelings earlier. It was unfair since you have always given me nothing but sincerity and affection. My love, I hope you can forgive me and overlook my weaknesses", he says, his voice getting quieter and more humble towards the end, his hand squeezing yours tightly as if you could run away at any moment. What he doesn't know, however, is that with every word he is mending your heart a little bit more.

"I remain hopeful that you will return my love, despite what happened."

He stands before you, probably barely able to stand after days of constant fighting, and pours his heart out to you. He is still in his armour, his face scarred by battle. And you can't help but admire him for it.

Because what he is doing right now is braver than anything he has ever done before.

Without saying a word, you finally pull him towards you and wrap your arms around his neck tightly, his armour pressing against your chest. At first, Elrond didn't expect such a reaction, which is why it takes him a moment until his muscles relax, the burden falling from his shoulders, and his arms sneak around your waist.

"Sometimes I really hate you, Elrond Peredhel", you say against his neck before pulling away from him, hitting his chest plate once to get your point across. Laughing, he takes a step back and protects himself with his arms in front of his chest. You laugh too, but only for a moment until Elrond's smile disappears again as he looks at you.

"Your beauty is truly captivating", he smiles softly and slowly steps closer so that your bodies almost touch. His hand reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your pointed ear as he looks back and forth between your eyes, his fingertip gently running over your skin from your ear to your chin. His touch leaves a trail of warmth. A smile twitches at the corner of your mouth and your gaze wanders to his lips.

The world stands still for a moment, all the events of the last few hours forgotten, banished from your thoughts to enjoy this one moment.

When Elrond's lips gently connect with yours, your patched up heart feels like it's about to jump out of your chest. Elrond's hand on your chin pulls you even closer to him, but he does it in such a gentle way that your cheeks turn red. One of your hands searches for support on his armor because your knees feel like they are about to give in. But you know that Elrond would be there to catch you. Your knight in shining armour.

You never want to stop kissing him. How many times have you dreamed of this moment, imagined what it would be like. All your expectations are being exceeded right now.

When Elrond pulls away from you so you can both catch your breath, he leans his forehead against yours gently. You immediately miss the feeling of his lips on yours.

"My love", Elrond whispers against your skin, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. His cheeks took on a shade of red after the kiss and you are certain that his heart is beating against his armour just as fast as yours. Gently, you cup his heated cheek and run your finger over his skin, being careful not to touch any of his wounds. Then you can't stand it any longer, pull him even closer to you and kiss him again, which elicits a surprised gasp from him. Both of you smile into the kiss as he leans in even more.

If it were up to you, this moment would last forever - just you and Elrond and your love for each other. But you know that this is just wishful thinking, that you have tasks to complete, duties to fulfill. After this moment, the world will continue spinning, wars and battles will be fought, history will be written, but now you know that whatever happens, Elrond is by your side. For eternity.

[coupsiedaisee]

jump then fall | issue 02 | c.sc

when trying to unearth hogwarts' resident Golden Boy™ choi seungcheol's secret girlfriend, leads to the proposition of a lifetime

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader genre: hogwarts au, fake dating au, fluff, angst wordcount: 7.9k masterlist

BREAKING NEWS! LOCAL CLAW EMBROILED IN SCANDAL WITH BELOVED LION?

To say this was going poorly would be an understatement.

One week. You had been following Seungcheol for one week, and nothing. You had nothing to show for it.

Oh, you had photos, two whole rolls worth. 

A snap from the back of Transfiguration. Seungcheol sported a bright smile as he turned a raven into a textbook. His partner, a quirky Hufflepuff by the name of Claire Dobson, sat next to him, clapping enthusiastically. 

A click from behind one of the suits of armour lining the hallway. Seungcheol leaned up against the wall, listening to fellow Head Girl, Mythili Mahendran, as she spoke fervently, her arms waving about with each word. He had a reassuring grin as he nodded along, eyes never once leaving her face.

“The only thing this kid is doing is buying a one-way ticket to Burnt-out-Ville,” you say, slipping the last bit of film out of the developer potion and hanging it to dry. 

On it, a clear snapshot from behind a shelf in the herbology section of the library. Seungcheol’s draped over Joshua’s shoulders, eyes crinkled into half moons as he bursts out laughing, his pearly whites on full display. Jeonghan sat across from them, a disgruntled sneer on his face.

“Maybe he’s sneaking off somewhere at night?” Soonyoung leans against the wall of the dark room, the deep red light reflecting off his face. 

“Where,” You shake your head, “Or even better, when? I’ve been following him day and night like his bloody shadow! Golden Boy couldn't even take a piss without me knowing.” There had been hardly enough time for you to finish most of your assignments this week. Not to mention, the 2 feet on Unbreakable Vows you hadn’t even started.

“I’m telling you Hosh,” you start unclipping the dried photos, sorting them into piles. Seungcheol in class. Seungcheol at the library. Seungcheol in the Great Hall. “Perhaps Raveena’s got it wrong.”

“Impossible,” Soonyoung scoffs. “Pudding’s the best there is.” 

You shoot him a look, “No one is perfect. She was bound to pick up a weird rumour eventually.”

“She’s never gotten a tip wrong.” An unspoken yet hung in the air. 

Raveena was a capable girl, there was no doubt about that. But, you knew a lost cause when you saw one. Soonyoung, despite being as stubborn as a bull, would eventually come around. 

Right?

Soonyoung chews his lip before pushing himself off the wall. “There’s always tomorrow I suppose.” He was halfway out the door before it registered.

“Tomorrow?” You ask.

“Did you forget?” Soonyoung feigns surprise, and you dread his next words.  “First Hogsmeade weekend, no better time or place for lovely couples to have a cute little date.”

You resist the urge to drown him in one of your tubs of developer potion. 

“I haven’t even begun to research that Defense essay that’s due Monday. Not to mention, the ten million other things we need to study.” You slam the canister you were holding down onto the counter, exasperated. “Or did you forget we’ve got N.E.W.T.s this year?”

Soonyoung pouts, shaking his head. He fiddles at the chipping wood on the doorway. “Come on Wallflower, I’ve even got disguises for us!“ 

You loved your best friend. Truly. With all your heart. Yet, at his core, Soonyoung Kwon was a Grade A schemer. A Slytherin through and through. 

“I promise, I’ll help you with your essay when we get back,” says Soonyoung. He turns on his puppy dog eyes for extra effect. “I’ll even throw in sweets from Honeydukes! Whatever you want, it’s on me.”

You were running low on sugar mice and you did eat your last pumpkin pasty during Seungcheol’s prefect rounds the other night. 

“Fine,” you grumble, drying off your hands. Whipping around, you stab a finger in his direction, “But this is the last! If we come out empty-handed, you’re going to drop it. Promise?” 

Soonyoung put his hands up, “Swear on my Nan’s grave.” He makes a crossing motion across his chest and points up at the ceiling, sending a wink your way. 

He dodges the towel you chuck at him, before bidding you a good night, leaving you alone to ruminate on a certain Gryffindor Captain and Head Boy. 

Soonyoung waits for you in the entrance hall the next morning.

You curl your lip, looking him up and down. He wore thick brown robes with a gold monogrammed “SK” on the chest, a stark contrast to your plain, faded, and navy ones. On his head, sat a matching brown deerstalker, his blond bangs poking out from underneath.

“What's with the hat?” 

Soonyoung grinned, sticking out a small bag. “Disguises!” 

Inside, you found some sunglasses, a couple of stick-on fake moustaches, and a cheap-looking wig. 

“I wanted you to have the first pick,” Soonyoung says as you decide on a pair of matte black sunglasses and a bushy chevron moustache. 

He grabs a handlebar moustache and brown tortoiseshell sunglasses for himself, “How do I look?”

“Like you’re about to solve a murder,” you say dryly. “All you’re missing is a magnifying gl–” 

“Do not underestimate your friend so.” He fishes in his robe pockets before pulling out a gold-rimmed magnifying glass. 

Holding the glass flat in your direction, he presses down on a hidden button in the handle. A bright light flashes along with a loud clicking noise. You throw your arms up to cover your eyes.

“Merlin,” Soonyoung scratches his head, peering at the glass befuddled. “I thought I’d turned that off.”

Snatching the device from his hands, you weave an arm around his. “I’ll fix it on our way. We’ve got to get a move on if we want to get to Hogsmeade while he’s still there.” 

“You’ve got your camera?”

You scoff as you pat at your chest, where there is a barely visible small bump under your robes. “Of course, I’m no amateur.”

The path up to the small wizarding village is free of any students. Most tend to head up earlier, wanting to make the most of their rare reprieve from school. 

This was fine with the two of you though. It allowed Soonyoung to ramble about a few other stories the team was working on that week, while you fixed his magnifying glass.

It’s easy, nothing a few modified silencing charms and an expungement charm couldn't fix. As for your own camera, all it needs is a well-placed disillusionment charm, and it’ll disappear against your chest.

“So, where shall we begin?” you say, as the two of you enter the village. “You think he'd have taken her to Three Broomsticks or the Hog's Head? I'm leaning towards Three Broomsticks, less creepy, more casual.”

“I think I know exactly where they would’ve gone,” Soonyoung says with a terrifying twinkle in his eye.

There was absolutely nothing that could’ve prepared you for Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.

Bright fuschia painted the walls of the small teahouse, burning into your irises along with the hot pink paper lanterns and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. 

The two of you find an empty table in the corner, huddling around a purple lace-covered table. 

While you sat with your back to the shop, Soonyoung had a perfect view of the front door, as well as the massive window next to it, allowing a full view of the main street through Hogsmeade.

Despite the overwhelming crowd in the tea shop, Seungcheol was nowhere to be found.

You watch as a couple walks past the window, bundled in warm robes and holding hands, before turning back to Soonyoung. “Shouldn’t we try to go and find our Golden Boy?" It was sweltering inside, as though there were one too many heating charms in place. "Rather than just, waiting around for him to show up?” Your mustache itches and you refrain from ripping it off.

“You wouldn't be aware Wallflower–," A server comes by, setting down two hot pinks mugs filled with a questionable brown liquid. Soonyoung smiles a soft thank you before nudging you under the table with his foot. He tips his head towards the server with an expectant look, but you can’t stop staring at them.

It was Seokmin Lee, a 5th-year Gryffindor, wearing the most atrocious outfit you'd ever seen. He's got on a mauve velour muggle tracksuit and, over it, a hot pink mug costume, much like the mugs he’d just set down. 

Soonyoung kicks you under the table again, this time harder. You yelp at the pain shooting through your shin, quickly recovering though, and wince out a meek thanks. An eye-crinkling smile graces Seokmin’s face, coupled with a bright chirpy you’re welcome as he sashays away.

Soonyoung takes a sip of his drink, and you mirror him, only to gag immediately. It tasted like someone had poured developer potion down your throat.

"You wouldn't know, Wallflower," Soonyoung starts again, "but this is the cool and hip place to take your dates.”

A golden cherub flies past, throwing pink confetti in your direction. Some of it falls into your drink. “Hoshi, if anyone took me here for a date, I’d probably drown them in the great lake.” You grimace as the couple next to you starts snogging.

He wasn’t wrong though. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d gone on a date.

Soonyoung starts to say something else when his eyes widen at something, or someone, behind you. “Over there! Over there!” He shakes a finger at the front window and you turn to see Seungcheol walking past, flanked as usual by Joshua and Jeonghan. This time though, they’re joined by a fourth boy, dark-haired and lanky, with thick-rimmed glasses.

Soonyoung scrambles to get up, digging through his robe pockets for some sickles before throwing them on the table, and dragging you out of your chair. 

The two of you hurry out, following them down the mildly crowded village path. Hiding behind other students and in nearby alleyways when necessary. 

"It looks like they're heading into the Weasley’s joke shop." You're crouched behind the postal building with Soonyoung nearly sitting on top of you.  The two of you peer around the corner, watching as Seungcheol and his friends file into Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. “Come on then, let’s go get our Golden Boy.”

It’s loud inside the joke shop, and you lose the boys amidst the sea of brightly coloured merchandise and robes.

“Let’s split up?” You suggest. Divide and conquer. Soonyoung nods in agreement, slinking away and disappearing behind the love potions. You take your camera out, giving it a silent tap. It turns invisible against your chest.

Ambling up the stairs to the second floor, you pass the small section of muggle magic tricks and turn the corner into the sweets section. There, you find your Golden Boy past the Canary Creams, perusing the Skiving Snackboxes. He’s got his back turned to you, giving you a full view of his deep russet robes, and not much else.

Quickly, you hide behind a cardboard display filled with edible dark marks. Peeking out from above, you watch as Seungcheol bends down and picks up a snackbox, pushing his wire-rim glasses further up his nose.

He reads the side of one of the boxes before reaching into his pocket and taking out a piece of paper. Slightly leaning over the display, you crane your neck trying to get a glimpse. Before you know it, you lose your balance, tipping the display over and sending yourself flying to the ground.

“Shit, shit, shit-”

At the sound of the loud crash, Seungcheol spins around, immediately running over when he sees you on the ground.

"Are you okay?" Seungcheol peers over you, concern written all over his face. 

You lay surrounded by the edible dark marks, not making a move to get up. All you wish for at this moment is for the ground to split in half and suck you right in. 

"Here, let me help you." Seungcheol holds his hand out to you, expectant. For a moment, you’re compelled to take it. But then you think of his skin touching yours and you start to feel your heart speeding up, your breath quickening, and the feeling of panic crawling up your throat. 

Merlin, not here. Not now.  

You lean up on your elbows, staring at his hand, hesitating. He looks so worried though, with his eyebrows furrowed and his forehead wrinkled. So, you push down any feeling of trepidation, and you take his hand, letting yourself be pulled up. You don't think about how warm and calloused his hands feel and you definitely don’t think about how equally warm your cheeks were getting. 

This could not be happening to you right now. Did he see your camera? Feeling the weight of it around your neck, it takes everything in you to not peek down and see if the disillusionment charm is still in effect. 

Soonyoung's sunglasses sit askew on your nose and the moustache was beginning to slowly peel off as the adhesive charm weakened. You must’ve looked like Hogwart’s resident basket case about now. The next coming of Moaning Myrtle. 

"You alright there?" Seungcheol asks. All you can do is nod dumbly in response. You could feel your heart thumping loudly in your chest, the erratic beating pulsing in your ears. 

He bends back down to pick up the fallen display and candies while you hastily fix your glasses and moustache, willing the other half to stick back on. 

This is just your luck. Three years of following people around and this was the first time you'd ever been caught. You were going to kill Soonyoung. This was, after all, his grand idea. 

Actually, no. You were going to do something worse than avada kedvra him. You were going to stick his precious gobstones set into a cauldron of boiling–"Are you sure you're okay?"

You snap out of your premeditated murder planning, "What?"

Seungcheol’s looking at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. "Did you hit your head when you fell?"

"What?" You repeat like an idiot. "Oh, no, yeah, I'm good." You smooth down the top of your hair, "Haha, see! No head injury!" 

If you were hoping this would ease Seungcheol's worry, you don't think you were succeeding. New creases appear on his forehead the longer you speak. 

“Look, I am as fine . . .” You search for the right words, the ones that would make his worry go away, “ . . . as a flobberworm," you finish lamely.

The fake moustache slowly starts peeling off once more and you fight the urge to rip it off and incendio it into a pile of ashes. Instead, you plaster a smile on your face, putting two thumbs up as a consolation.

However, it did not have the intended effect. Somehow, Seungcheol Choi managed to furrow his eyebrows even more. He stood there staring at you with his arms wrapped around each other as if you were a child and he was wondering what to do with you.

At this point, you were wishing you’d had hit your head. Much better explanation for all this than, you were just like this. 

Finally, Seungcheol nods, seemingly satisfied. "Be careful then, and watch where you're going." He reaches out to you, taking your sunglasses, and pushing them up into your hair. If you weren't frozen out of embarrassment, you might've flinched. "Let's keep the sunglasses for the sun, yeah? You could've seriously hurt yourself." 

Your mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, no sound coming out.

Seungcheol puts his hands on your shoulders and you swallow hard, tensing up as he pats your shoulders down. "I'll see you 'round then?" You nod back, feeling much like a bobblehead today, and Seungcheol turns around, heading back down to the main floor.

You just stand there, unsure of what to make of what had just happened, and give yourself a moment to get your heart rate back to an acceptable one.

Downstairs, you find Soonyoung by the pygmy puffs, chatting with a short red-headed boy. You grab him by the collar of his robes, dragging him outside and tossing him into the cold air.

“Woah, Wallflower,” Soonyoung stumbles a little, trying to find his footing. “Is everything okay?”

Ripping off your moustache, you push it forcefully into Soonyoung’s chest. It sticks for a brief moment before falling to the ground. “I’m keeping the glasses as commission,” You snarl, yanking them off your head and stuffing them into your robe pockets.

“What happened?” Soonyoung still looks bewildered. “What's going on? 

“My luck. My wonderful luck is what happened.” You curl your fingers into fists before releasing them along with a deep breath.  

Soonyoung still looks perplexed. “Did you find-”

“Oh, I found him all right.” You mutter, fluffing up your robes. “Whatever, it doesn't matter.” You clear your throat. “You promised me anything from Honeydukes and it’s time for you to cough it up, buttercup.” 

You start walking towards the sweet shop as Soonyoung stomps behind you, grumbling something about you eating him out of house and home. 

Honeydukes was your second favourite place in the world (your precious dark room being the first). The air smells sickly sweet as you walk in, a mix of baked goods, chocolates, and sugary goodness. You grab a basket by the door and begin perusing the aisles. Soonyoung needed to pop over into another shop, leaving his coin bag with you.

Soon enough, you've filled up your basket. You were currently contemplating whether to stick the Fizzing Whizbees you’d grabbed for Soonyoung on top of the basket, and risk crushing the pumpkin pasties, or just hold the box under your other arm. You decide on the latter, but the basket still ends up being heavier than you’d expected. 

Maybe you’d gone a little overboard with the extra box of sugar mice and maybe the third box of licorice wands was unnecessary, but when Soonyoung was indebted to you like this, you couldn’t help but take advantage

You hold the Fizzing Whizzbees under one arm, groaning as your other arm trembles under the weight of the basket.

“Need some help with that?” says an all too familiar voice from behind you. You nearly drop the basket on your foot.  

This couldn’t be happening to you. Not again. Not so soon.

Familiar russet robes flash in the corner of your eye and Seungcheol’s before you, grabbing the heavy basket out of your arms like it was a cloud. You trail behind him like a lost puppy as he leads the two of you into line.

Seungcheol lifts the basket up and down like a dumbell. “What’s in this anyways? The whole store?”

You hold the Fizzing Whizbees box closer to your chest like an emotional support item before shaking your head. “Just restocking. Hosh–Soonyoung owes me. Some pumpkin pasties, licorice wands–" you start listing off, counting on your fingers, "–chocolate frogs,  jelly slugs, exploding bonbons, sugar mice–oh bludgers, I meant to grab sugar quills!” You look behind you, forlorn. 

There were quite a few late nights coming up for you this week and you weren’t sure how you were going to get through them without your favourite sugar quills. 

“Did you want to go grab some?” Seungcheol asks, eyes following yours to the back of the store. “I’ll hold your spot in line.” 

"No, it's alright," You say dejectedly, tightening your hold around the whizbees. “This is probably more sugar than I should be allowed anyways.” Seungcheol nods, nudging his glasses up with his knuckle. 

The two of you finally make it up to the front counter where he sets the basket down. As the cashier starts to take items out to bag, you dig your hands in your pockets to fish out Soonyoung's coin pouch.

Seungcheol chats with the cashier while they finish bagging your items into two bags. You don’t follow their conversation as you search through Soonyoung’s coin bag for some galleons, catching only mentions of Quidditch and Gryffindor. As soon as you pay, Seungcheol grabs both bags.

“Oh you don’t have to–” You try taking the bags back from him, but he holds them away from your hands.

Seungcheol clicks his tongue at you, “Now, what kind of Head Boy would I be if I made you carry this all the way back to school?”

You frown, “It wouldn’t be all the way to school. I’m meeting Soonyoung at the Three Broomsticks.”

“Even better, that’s where I’m headed anyways.” Seungcheol starts down the road without waiting for your response, leaving you to jog behind to catch up. 

Inside, the inn’s warm and toasty, a fire burning in the corner. Seats were already filling up with students finishing up their day. Seungcheol finds you an empty booth in the corner for you to wait in for Soonyoung. He puts the bags on one side, motioning you to slide into the other.

“Thanks again Seungcheol. You really didn’t have to–”

Seungcheol chuckles softly, adjusting his glasses, “It was my pleasure.”  He sticks his hands in his robe pockets, lightly rocking back and forth on his feet. For a moment, it seemed as though he looked shy. “I hope you enjoy your sweets, I’ll see you ‘round.” And with that, he left to go join his friends, seated on the other side of the inn.

By the time Soonyoung comes strolling in, you’ve already downed two hot chocolates. Now sipping on a third, you’re fiddling with your camera to pass the time. Trailing behind Soonyoung was Raveena, sporting a bright blue beanie and her usual coke bottle glasses. 

“Kneazles, what’ve you got in here Wallflower? The entire shop?” Sooyoung takes your sweets haul and sets them under the table so he and Raveena can slide into the booth.

You sip the last of your hot chocolate, before reaching into your pockets and tossing him his coin bag, “You said anything, and I took you for your word.” 

Soonyoung catches his coin bag with a gasp, “It’s so light, I’ve been swindled!”

“Hoshi here tells me you two almost caught–” Raveena looks shifty-eyed across the inn before lowering her voice, “–Seungcheol, with his girlfriend this morning.”

You give Soonyoung a pointed look, “He told you wrong. We’re about as close to getting a photo as catching a pixie in a knapsack.”

The three of you glance over across the room to where Seungcheol sits with his friends. He has an arm slung over Jeonghan's shoulders as the two of them were open-mouth laughing at something. 

You’re filled to the brim with a fourth warm hot chocolate when you excuse yourself to grab another drink. “You two want anything?” They both shake their heads.

As Madam Rosemerta finishes up with another customer, you feel someone come up next to you at the bar.

"Fancy seeing you here,” drawls a familiar deep voice.

You turn to see Seungcheol sliding up to you at the bar. He’d shed the robes and was wearing a green Holyhead Harpies hoodie, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

You squint up at him, “Do I know you?” 

He drops his mouth open in fake aghast, glasses sliding down his nose. “Have the last seven years meant nothing?” he says, holding a hand up to his heart as if you’d shot an arrow at it. 

You stifle a giggle behind your hand and a cheery smile spreads on Seungcheol's face. 

Madam Rosemerta swishes past, juggling multiple empty goblets, “I’ll be with you two in just a mo’!”

“Not a problem Rosie!” Seungcheol calls out. He leans back against the bar, elbows resting on top and showing off his sturdy forearms. 

You cast your eyes elsewhere, wondering if Seungcheol was aware of just how attractive he was. No longer was he the bumbling little first year you'd met seven years ago. After all, there's a reason a photo of him with a rumoured beau would be the scoop of the paper. 

You glance as he adjusts his glasses and runs a hand through his hair. 

“How're the first weeks of classes going for you by the way?” he asks, crossing his arms. Ever the Head Boy. 

“It’s N.E.W.T.s year, obviously you know how it is.” You sigh dejectedly, “I haven’t even outlined that massive defense essay.”

“Oh yeah. I mean, three feet? On Unforgivable curses?" he says, sounding exasperated. “As if we don’t have eleven other classes to do work for.”

“That’s what I said!” Very few students take all 12 N.E.W.T.s. There are four in your graduating class. At least, used to be four. You’d almost forgotten about Jake Sim dropping out of Arithmancy this week, making it three: Yourself, Seungcheol, and Mythili, the Head Girl.

The conversation settles back into a comfortable silence.

Madam Rosemerta comes up to the bar, “Alright dears, what can I get you two?” 

“Can I get a round of warm butterbeers for the table? And whatever the lady wants," He tips his head at you. 

You already had so much hot chocolate, now you wanted something different. And cold. “I want something colder but I’m not really feeling butterbeer?" 

“I know just what you need," There’s a glint in Seungcheol’s eyes. "Get 'er one of my usuals, please.” 

“Of course! Let me know where you’re sitting dear and Lysander will bring it over to you” She gestures at the silver-haired barback behind her.

Seungcheol throws a couple of sickles down on the bar, “Thanks Rosie, these are for hers too.”

“What? No, Seungcheol–” you stutter, but he just shoots you a cheeky wink.

“Just make sure you enjoy it.”

You got back to your booth and not soon after, Lysander comes by with the reddest drink you’d ever seen. “Cherry soda?” You raise a shy hand and he sets it in front of you “Anything else I can get for you?”

“I think we’re good here. Thank you!” 

The drink came in a glass goblet with a small paper umbrella sticking out on top. You take a sip, humming with a shiver. The ice felt good, and it was just the right amount of sweet versus tart.

“No hot chocolate, Wallflower?” Hoshi says, chewing on a fizzing whizbee. 

“I just wanted to try something new.” You say, taking another sip. “Seungcheol recommended it.” 

Raveena perks up, “Did he now.” She leans forward in her seat. “He’s not onto you, right? He wasn’t asking about why you lot were stalking him?”

“Following, Raveena!” Soonyoung exclaims. “We were following him, not stalking.” 

Raveena scrunches her face, “Mm, yeah, that’s not really any better Hoshi.”

“Fine, we happened to be in Hogsmeade, in the same shop, at the same time as him.” Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “As was like, half the school. So really, we were doing nothing weird.”

It seemed Soonyoung wasn’t done there though, turning to face Raveena. “And you know what, I don’t like what you’re insinuating Pudding. Not very team player of you.”

“Ooh, someone’s a little touchy about this. You’re awfully defensive Hosh. One would even say you’re project–”

“Enough you two. You–,” you point at Hoshi, “it was stalking. We were stalking him. What we do is honestly kind of creepy. We should really be called The Creepy Whistler. And you–,” you point to Raveena, “Don’t egg him on. We both know I’m the one who won’t hear the end of it.” 

You pick up the paper umbrella, twirling it in your fingers. “He was just asking me about classes. We’re both taking the same N.E.W.T.s after all.”

“Good, that’s good,” Raveena says. “He’s not onto us. Means he’ll put his guard down, eventually. We’ll get our moment.” Soonyoung pops another whizbee in his mouth, nodding along.

“I know today was a bust. But, I have something that might cheer you up.”

You were back at Hogwarts, sharing a table at the library with Soonyoung, who had promised you he’d help with your essay for DADA.

He digs into his bag, coming out with a can of something.

Upon closer look, you nearly shriek, "You did not!"

"I did!"

 You grab the canister, "You did not!"

"I did!" He says gleefully. Someone two tables over shushes you guys.

You turn the canister over in your hand, eyeing the back excitedly. It’s lime green with black text made to look like it was sprayed on. The text reads Glow Ho! Camera Flow and attached to the side, a small cylinder of film.

"This has been sold out everywhere." Not to mention expensive. But if anyone could afford it, it would be Soonyoung. One of the many perks of being the heir to  Madame Kwon’s Publishing Company. They publish most of the textbooks used at Hogwarts, not to mention the international best-selling series, Madame Kwon’s Magical Adventures. 

"How did you manage to get your hands on one?" You narrow your eyes at him. “Hoshi, why did you get me this?”

"You've been putting a lot of work into the Whistler, on top of having way more N.E.W.T.s to study for than me." He continues when you don't seem convinced. "And I know you've been barely sleeping, following Seungcheol around–"

"But that’s what the Honeydukes was for." You set the canister down on the table, pushing it away from you. "What is it that you really want?"

"Look,” Ah, there it was, “I know we're both super busy, but I wouldn't ask if I wasn’t desperate.”

"Just spit it out. What. Do. You. Want?"

He sighs, "You know how I take photos for the Quidditch teams?" Of course you do. You were the one who taught him how to work a camera specifically for sports shots. Something you did so you wouldn’t be tasked to do so.

"Yeah? What about it?" you say, not liking where this was heading.

"Could you take over for me for the next few weeks?" You groan as he goes on. "Both the gobstones club and the chess club increased their meetings and between that, N.E.W.T.s, the Whistler, not to mention the ten million apprentice applications I have to do, I just don’t have the time. Oh please, Wallflower? Please, please, pleaseeee," he pleads. 

You wince and try to stop him as he starts vibrating in his seat. "Merlin, okay, fine. So what, just take some photos at their games?" Hoshi grimaces. "No, no, no! No more!” you hiss. “What else could I possibly do for you?" He was already asking for so much.

Yet somehow,  you end up on the grassy quidditch pitch at dawn the next day. 

It is cold, it's wet, and it is foggy as hell. You could not fathom why on earth the Ravenclaws were practicing at this ungodly hour. The morning fog mists on your cheeks like small pinpricks.

"How did they turn out?" asks Olivia Prewett, a tall, broad gal who is Ravenclaw’s team captain and sole keeper.

You pop the film out of your camera, sticking it in its temp-controlled tube. "I think they should be good. I'll let you know when I figure out my schedule to do the team photos." You stick the tube into your bag before popping another roll of film into the camera.

"Sounds good, just keep me posted." She gives you a faint smile before turning to look at the hubbub across the field. "Looks like Gryffindor's taking over next, you gonna be good?"

You nod, body shivering as a gust of wind blows through. On the other side of the field, the Gryffindor team was starting to set up for their practice as the Ravenclaws cleared out. 

Seokmin Lee runs by, yelling, "Prewett, Prewett, let's do itttt!" He shoots finger guns at Olivia as a boy behind him struggles to carry both their brooms, nearly slipping a few times on the muddy pitch, "Aw Boo, don't get my broom muddy man."

Seungcheol jogs up to the two of you. “Prewett,” he nods.

Olivia nods back, “Choi.” She turns back to face you, "Make them look bad for me, will you?" You smile back, nodding.

"Alright?" Seungcheol's wearing the same green Holyhead Harpies hoodie from yesterday.

"H-hi Seungcheol," You say, teeth chattering. The thin jumper you had on does nothing for the windchill and you rub your arms trying to warm up.

"You seem a little cold there." Seungcheol looks you up and down as you tremble a little.

"I-I'm f-fi–," You clear your throat before trying again, "I'm f-fine."

Seungcheol pulls his hoodie off over his head, mussing up his hair, before holding it out to you, shaking it when you don’t move to grab it.

You tentatively take it from him. The sleeves fall further past your own arms and you have to scrunch them up by your elbows so you can hold your camera.

Practice goes by pretty quickly, and by the time Seungcheol lands in front of you again, hopping off his broom, you almost forget you can no longer feel your fingers. 

“Got what you needed?” 

“Yup, this should do it,” you say, popping the film into another temp-controlled canister. “I'll let you know when me or Soonyoung are free to do the team photos.” 

You grab the bottom of Seungcheol's hoodie, intending to pull it off, when he stops you, putting his hands on yours. 

You flinch, taking a step back and Seungcheol yanks his hand back, like he touched fire. He rubs the back of his neck abashedly, “You, uh, you can keep it.” His cheeks were rosy, from the cold, or something else, you weren't sure. “It's not warming up anytime soon, you'll need it if you're photographing the ‘Puffs” 

“Oh.” You grip the edges of the hoodie, fingers clenching at the soft fabric. “Um, thank you?” 

Seungcheol throws you a sheepish grin, before turning around and running to join the rest of his team. 

When you wake up the next morning, you feel tired and groggy, shoulders aching a little. 

Seungcheol's hoodie sits washed and folded neatly on your bedside table. You eye it apprehensively as you get ready for class, deciding to shove it down into the bottom of your book bag on your way out the door. 

You meet Soonyoung down in the dungeons. He’s leaning against the wall, at the end of the queue of students waiting to be let into your double potions class. 

“Morning Hosh,” you stifle a yawn behind your hand.

“Morning Wallflower. Didn't think you were going to make it.” He says, pushing off of the wall and handing you a small thermos. A strong scent of Nocturna Brewery’s coffee wafts through the air. “Missed you at breakfast this morning.”

“Was up all night finishing that defense essay.” You take a sip from the thermos, humming as the bitter taste zings through you, waking you up a little. “You didn’t think I’d leave you stranded in potions without me, did you?” It was your strongest subject, the only N.E.W.T.s Soonyoung was taking where he’d barely scraped by. 

As the classroom opens up and students file in, you and Soonyoung try to find an empty table, heading into the back of the room. You ignore Seungcheol and his friends as you pass by them in the front row, the green hoodie weighing heavily in the bottom of your bag. 

The two of you squeeze into a table along with Tabitha Heathcote, a Gryffindor girl with a strong aversion to you, and her friend. Mary? Minnie? 

There’s a small tussle as Soonyoung tries to set his bag on the table where Tabtiha’s got her elbows spread wide out, one that Soonyoung eventually wins. Tabitha scoots over with a grunt, disgust never once leaving her face.

Tabitha has never liked you, especially since the incident in your fourth year. While being in different houses helped you avoid her a good amount of the time, being the same year meant you were forced to see her in class on the daily. There wasn’t a moment she was around that she wouldn’t make clear how much she absolutely abhorred you. 

You get settled, pulling out your books and setting up your cauldron and scales. Already on the board is today’s potion assignment and it doesn’t take long before you two get started making it. 

“I know you said not to bring it up anymore–,” Soonyoung starts.

“Soonyoung, if you don't want me to stick your head in this cauldron, I suggest you don't finish that sentence.” The cauldron in front of you bubbles in agreement as you pour crushed red beetles in.

Soonyoung throws his hands up in defence, “No need to get violent, Wallflower.” He leans sideways against the table, "I just think we should review what we have, to make sure we've followed every thread and haven't missed anything."

You sigh, cracking your neck. “Hoshi, unless Seungcheol’s secret partner is Jeonghan, Joshua, or that sixth year that's always with them, then I haven't missed anything. I was on his ass for days. If he was meeting someone in secret, there's no way I wouldn't have caught it.”

He paused to think before asking, “What about Mythili?”

“Mahendran?” 

“You had a lot of photos of him talking to her.”

“Of course I did,” you say, irritated. “She's Head Girl, you dolt. I'd be worried if he wasn't talking to her.”

“See!” Hoshi points accusingly, “It’s the perfect cover for secret dating."

“Yeah, it would be,” You crush a sopophorous bean dangerously close to Soonyoung's fingers and he yelps, pulling his hand away, “If only she didn't have that on again, off again thing with that sixth year, Seokmin.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Soonyoung leaves for a moment to go grab more crushed beetles as you stir your potion absent-mindedly. Your eyes wander to Seungcheol, sitting two rows ahead, in his own bubble of a world with his friends. 

Joshua’s lounging in the chair next to him, as Jeonghan dangles dead flobberworms out of his nose, pretending they were bogies. Seungcheol is the only one diligently stirring his potion. 

Soonyoung comes back with a small vial of crushed beetles, shaking it in front of your face. 

You pour it in, stirring counterclockwise as the potion turns a pretty lavender hue.

“Did you get any photos of him when we were in Hogsmeade?”

Your mind flashes back to the accident inside Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. You shake your head, huffing, “No, nothing.” 

Soonyoung purses his lips, “Was there no one who he seemed to spend more time with?”

You sigh, exasperated now, “Hoshi, unless Seungcheol is dating me, there was no one else.” 

There’s a loud scoff from the other side of Hoshi. Tabitha’s stirring her potion, a look of disgust still on her face. “As if anyone would think you were dating Seungcheol,” she sneers.

Soonyoung and you share a look, silently electing to ignore her. But Tabitha seemed to have other plans today.

“After all, why would Seungcheol want to date someone like you?” Your fingers tighten around the ladle as you continue stirring. Two stirs clockwise, five stirs counter-clockwise.  

“You're not much to look at–,” You don’t want anyone to look at you. And certainly not Seungcheol for that matter.

Tabitha continues, “–you have no friends except for that half-wit,” waving a hand at Soonyoung. He puffs up, ready to send a fiery retort back. You shake your head with a small don’t, and he deflates. 

“–not to mention, I don't think he'd want damaged goods." You freeze, ladle paused on your fourth and a half counterclockwise stir. 

Soonyoung sucks in a breath, and Tabitha’s friend gasps. There’s a buzzing in your ears as your mind goes blank.

They say hindsight's 20-20. You’ll look back on this not being your brightest moment, nor your proudest. 

"And what if I was?"

"What?" asks Tabitha, confused. 

"And what if I was?" you grit out again. Your ladle’s been abandoned in its cauldron. Hands on your hips, you fully face Tabitha. 

Tabitha lets out a laugh as if she can’t believe you, “Was what?”

"Dating Seungcheol" You sound petulant, like a child not getting what they wanted, but you don’t care. A myriad of hexes danced on the tip of your tongue. You don’t even remember picking up your wand. Soonyoung watches, mouth agape and head turning quickly between you two like he’s spectating a quidditch match. 

"Fat chance." Tabitha spits out, voice laced with venom.

"Well, I am," you snap. At this point, you have some forethought to whisper,  hissing quietly, "I’m Seungcheol's girlfriend."

Soonyoung, however, did not receive the memo, losing all sense of decorum. He shrieks, louder than Moaning Myrtle, his voice echoing through the classroom, ricocheting off the walls, "You're dating Seungcheol?"

Time stops for a moment as a blanket of silence falls over the classroom. All the students stopped talking, and all you can hear is the quiet bubbling of the cauldrons. 

Then there’s an uproar as chattering breaks out amongst the students.

Your eyes widen at the realisation of what you'd just said, whipping past Soonyoungs to connect with two equally wide dark brown ones at the front of the classroom.

Soonyoungs hands fly to cover his mouth, having surprised even himself. 

He goes to shove your shoulder lightly, as if to ask mate, what the fuck?, and you lose your balance, knocking into the table. 

It happens faster than either of you two could react. 

The cauldron wobbles before tipping over and spilling itself all over the table and onto your arm.

You yelp as the lavender potion bubbles over your robe sleeves, seeping through the fabric and onto your skin. Squeezing your eyes, you cry out. The pain’s searing as the unfinished potion burns through the top layer of your skin. 

Soonyoung starts panicking. "Augmenti! Augmenti!" he wails, but the water spurts out of his wand in all directions but onto you. Tears gather in your eyes as you start to see white, and you can feel your head beginning to pound as the pain takes over. 

Suddenly, someone is guiding you. Two firm hands lead you around the table and out of the classroom, one on your back, and the other helping to hold your arm up. You let yourself be blindly led down the corridor as tears stream down your face, letting out sobs as the pain in your arm increases.

Your unknown saviour gently pushes you along, all the way to the infirmary. 

They sit you down on what you assume is one of the hospital beds as Madam Pomfrey rushes over, immediately fussing over your injury. She conjures up a salve for the burn and forces a tonic down your throat for the pain, or your nerves, you weren’t sure. 

Soon after, the pain starts to dull and the tears begin to slow. You hiccup from the crying, slowly rocking in your seat.

Feeling better, you turn to thank your classmate, who you were clearly traumatising and would probably never be able to face ever again, only to be met with the worried doe eyes of Seungcheol Choi. You don’t know why, but it makes you crumble and your eyes start to well with tears again, lower lip trembling intensely and threatening to let out a low pitched wail.

Seungcheol falters. "Hey, hey, it's okay, you're okay," he reassures you with the softest voice you'd ever heard him use. "Does it still hurt? I can go get more salve from Madam Promferey." He made to get up, but you shook your head vigorously, not wanting an audience for what was seemingly going to be your downfall. 

He seems to hesitate for a moment before asking, carefully, "Is it maybe what Soonyoung was yelling about? Before the accident?" This only sets off your waterworks once more, and you start blubbering.

"I don't know why, o-or how. It just came out. I swear, I didn't mean–oh merlin, if I could take it back–don't know what I was thinking–" You start to hyperventilate, your chest heaving up and down, breathing becoming ragged.

"Hey! Hey, it's alright," He was rubbing your back now, in a soothingly slow up-and-down motion. You'd almost forgotten his hand was even there. "I'm not mad. I promise I'm not mad."

Seungcheol was too nice. Much too kind. It only made you cry harder though. What were you thinking?! Telling Tabitha you were dating Seungcheol. Where did that even come from? If you weren't absolutely positive Seungcheol was not currently dating anyone, you'd feel doubly dreadful about what you'd done.

Rumours spread like wildfire in this godforsaken school. 

You hear the class bell go off and your stomach drops. There was no stopping it now. Your classmates would move on to their next class, and a few minutes of passing time would be all it takes for everyone else to find out what had happened. You know Seungcheol knows this, yet here he was, still being so sweet to you. 

Maybe it’s because he knew. Knew that when you'd eventually have to reveal the truth, you wouldn’t be able to even lift your head at this school for the rest of the year. 

Your lower lip still trembles, but you’d reduced your blubbering to just quiet sniffles now. You take this moment to glance at Seungcheol, who’s still rubbing softly at your back. It was surprisingly soothing. Any other time, it would've made you flinch, moving as far away from him as possible. Worry fills Seungcheol's big brown eyes, his eyebrows intensely furrowed.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. Seungcheol begins to pat softly at your back, like he’s calming a baby, and he pauses for a moment. 

"Hmm, what’s that?" 

You cast your eyes away before saying with a hiccup, "I-I'm sorry." You use your good arm to wipe away at your runny nose and your tear-streaked face.

He hums, thumb softly stroking you. 

"What if–," Seungcheol takes a deep breath, as if what he was about to say was the most important thing you'd ever hear. 

“What if,” He starts again, ”I had a mutually beneficial proposition?"

You whip your head to face him, furrowing your brows in confusion. 

Seungcheol takes another deep breath, as if bracing himself. "Look, you're a reasonable girl, I'm a reasonable guy. You look like maybe you need some downtime from the Whistler, and I would love it if my, ah . . . admirers, would get off my back for two seconds so I could focus on what really matters."

"What really matters?" You shake your head in disbelief, eyes widening, "And how do you know about–"

"Quidditch," Seungcheol cuts you off, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "Also, you and Soonyoung are not nearly as subtle or discreet as you guys think you are," he says with a small knowing smile. A faint dimple creases his cheek. 

He runs his free hand through his hair, "Look, I need to focus on school this year, you understand that better than anyone." You did, 12 N.E.W.T.s were no joke.

The only problem is, Seungcheol is starting to sound a lot like Soonyoung before one of his schemey schemes. 

You narrow your eyes at Seunghceol, the same way you would if you were with Soonyoung, "What exactly is this proposition of yours?"

Seungcheol clears his throat before revealing his earth-shattering proposition.

"Let's date."

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO CTRLALTDAISEE I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS, OR REPOSTING OF MY WORKS ON THIS OR OTHER OTHER WEBSITES

[loveinhawkins]

Eddie is writing new song lyrics. Dustin discovers them on a random Saturday when they’re having pizza at Steve’s; Eddie asks Dustin to get one of his old campaign notes, and Dustin reaches for the wrong journal.

“Oh, not that one,” Eddie says with a shrug, but his eyes go a little thoughtful at the sight of it in Dustin’s hands. For some reason he pauses, and then he says, “You can still read it if you want, man.”

And Dustin stares at him, certain it’s a trick, because Eddie is notorious for ensuring that any potential Hellfire spoilers are kept under lock and key. But then he opens the book and reads.

And he gets it.

The lyrics are clever, because they hide under metaphor, apocalyptic imagery and all that stuff, but it clicks when Dustin gets to a verse about a tune echoing through a mall, ‘and it’s a song you know, you’ve known it all your life,’ and he’s suddenly thrown back to when he explained how Steve worked out the location of the Russian code, and Eddie was taking it all in, eyes as round as pennies.

Dustin sets down the notebook and says, “It’s about us.” It’s not a question.

Eddie nods. “Yeah.”

“You make it sound a lot more poetic than it actually was,” Dustin says.

But Eddie doesn’t tease back, just gives a contemplative little smile and says, “Really? I don’t think so.”

And that’s as far as they get in talking about it, because Eddie suddenly glances away, and his smile changes ever so slightly, gets softer around the edges. He turns back to Dustin and mouths, Look.

Dustin does. Steve has fallen asleep, curled up in the corner of the couch. His head is just barely resting in his hand, nodding forwards precariously every so often.

Dustin hears Eddie give an almost silent tsk, which is funny; he must have picked it up from Steve. He quietly goes over and moves Steve with a gentle touch until Steve’s head is resting comfortably against the cushions.

Steve murmurs wordlessly, eyes closed, then settles back into sleep.

Eddie catches Dustin’s eye; he mimes, Shh with a wink.

And something in the back of Dustin’s mind falls into place. …Huh.

There are days when Eddie has the journal and days when he doesn’t—he cycles through notebooks constantly, most of them having been started with a specific purpose before devolving into chaotic scribbles for anything and everything.

But this one stays consistent.

And whenever he does have the journal, he lets Dustin open it to any random page and read for as long as he likes.

It doesn’t exactly take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that a verse waxing lyrical about a protective soldier finally laying down his armour and resting is about… someone in particular.

And that makes Dustin wonder whether ‘and it’s a song you know, you’ve known it all your life’ isn’t just about a mechanical horse playing Daisy, Daisy. In fact, maybe it’s not about that at all.

He doesn’t mention anything, just says that Eddie’s writing is good when he hands the journal back over. It’s hardly a major compliment, except every time, Eddie says, “Thanks,” in an almost uncertain tone Dustin’s never heard before, like just hearing that’s really touched him.

And then one day Eddie loses the journal. Dustin doesn’t realise what’s wrong at first, just knows that Eddie is agitated, rooting around in the back of the van when Dustin sidles in for a ride home after school.

Dustin sees movement outside, and he looks up to see one of the substitute teachers who’s always got a stick up her ass standing at the school entrance. She’s holding Eddie’s journal.

“Uh, Eddie?”

“What?” Eddie snaps. Then he follows where Dustin is looking. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ.”

But he doesn’t let any of his irritation show when he hops out of the van and heads for the teacher.

Dustin knows Eddie talks a good game when it comes to sticking it to authority, all I’ll flip him the bird and so on, but there’s none of that arrogance now. Dustin can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can read the body language, the teacher’s tight-lipped smile, the way Eddie has crossed an arm over his chest self-defensively; he looks suddenly very young and unsure of himself.

The confrontation ends with the teacher handing Eddie the journal—more shoving it at him, really. Eddie gives her a curt nod before he heads back to the van, slamming the door shut as he gets inside.

He throws the journal in the back, and Dustin, who has carelessly destroyed countless textbooks, somehow finds himself saying, “Watch it, dude! You’ll rip it.”

Eddie doesn’t reply. He reverses out the parking lot and makes a turning for Dustin’s house, grinding his teeth.

The silence goes on until it’s unbearable, and Dustin tentatively asks, “What did she want?”

Eddie laughs, a nasty, thoroughly unconvincing sound. “Oh, ya know. Just returning lost property. Good fucking Samaritan.”

When he gets home, Dustin finds a note from his mom, that she’s over at his aunt’s and there’s some leftover pasta in the fridge. Dustin checks, and there’s easily enough for two.

He runs outside thankfully before Eddie has gone.

“You can’t expect me to be left in the kitchen unsupervised,” Dustin says. “I might burn it down.”

Eddie snorts. “From sticking pasta in the microwave?” Then he seems to hear himself and adds, “Yeah, somehow wouldn’t put it past you, Henderson.”

So they end up eating lasagne straight out of the dish together, playfully battling for the last slice like their forks are swords.

“What did she really want?” Dustin asks eventually. He can’t help but notice that Eddie had brought the journal in with him, keeps tapping his finger on the cover uneasily.

Eddie sighs, rubs a hand down his face. He nods down at the journal. “I’d left it in a classroom that some middle schoolers use for Drama Club. Apparently there’s some concerns about the appropriateness of—”

“That’s bullshit!” Dustin says. “Why would she even—”

“Dustin,” Eddie says very quietly. He closes his eyes. “You know why.”

And Dustin does. That’s why he’s so damn angry.

Because some of the lyrics (not all, but some), are love songs. And a good number of those are unambiguously from the point of view of a boy, speaking to another boy.

Eddie sighs again, presses a thumb into the inner corner of one eye. It looks like he’s warding off a headache. Dustin knows that he isn’t.

He could say I don’t care that you’re gay, but that doesn’t sound quite right; it isn’t about not caring, it’s about…

“You know I like you, right?” Dustin says.

Eddie gives a choked little laugh. He drops his hand, opens his eyes and says, with a faint smile, “No shit? I guessed you wouldn’t share lasagne with your mortal enemy.”

“True,” Dustin concedes. He presses on. “But I meant, like…” He bats Eddie’s hand away from the journal so he can tap it instead. “Like this. It’s all a part of you, and you’re really cool, so that means—like, it’s all cool. It makes you, you. You know?”

For a long moment, Eddie just stares at him. “You said you so many times, I don’t think it’s a word anymore,” he says, but he’s blinking a lot, and Dustin sees his lips quiver. “Um. Thanks.”

He still sounds sad which absolutely will not stand. Dustin gives him a few seconds of reprieve, before he launches at him with a karate style chopping motion.

Eddie chuckles. “You little shit!”

And they tussle until, breathlessly laughing, they’re both stretched out on the couch on their backs, side-by-side.

“You should let Steve read some,” Dustin suggests.

Eddie’s laughter trails off. “Mm,” he says, non-committal.

“I mean it!” Dustin recalls a verse he’d read only a couple of days ago, one that wasn’t dressed up in symbolism.

And you want to tell him you’re enough just like this darling, you always have been

“I don’t know,” Eddie says. “So far that stuff’s had an audience of one, and I think he might be a bit,” Eddie gestures with his thumb and forefinger, “biased. Being family and all.”

Dustin smiles, feels a proud little glow in his chest. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’ve seen Steve hiding love poetry books. Like he underlines that shit. It’s embarrassing.”

Eddie cackles. “Well. Some of my shit’s embarrassing so…”

Dustin claps his shoulder gravely. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna be the one to say it.”

Eddie pushes him nearly right off the couch; he pulls him back before he can fall. “Oh, fuck you.”

They’re quiet for a bit, and then Dustin suggests a movie, and when he’s putting the VHS in, he catches Eddie watching him with shiny eyes.

“Hey,” Eddie says. He smiles. “I love you.”

And God, it’s so much better hearing those words like this, with Eddie in front of him, safe and whole.

And Dustin doesn’t need to rush his reply this time. He picks up the journal and passes it to Eddie, careful of the binding.

“I love you, too,” he says, and the proud glow in his chest feels even stronger. “Now get writing, Shakespeare.”

[milfsloverblog]

Oooh. How about a fic where the reader gives Brienne her favor at every melee and Brienne is just clueless

Tokens of Devotion

Brienne of Tarth x Fem!reader

A/N: I started writing this so many weeks ago, sorry it took so long anon! I hope you’ll enjoy what I did with your request, it was a lovely idea!!<3

Brienne could hardly believe it the first time she’d seen you waving a ribbon at her, calling her name in the hope of catching her attention.

“Me?” She mouthed, pointing at her breastplate.

“Yes, you!” You nodded and waved the blue ribbon more vigorously.

The woman hesitated. What if this was some sort of sick joke? What if once she’d get close to you, the whole crowd started laughing at how much of an imbecile she was for thinking a lady would ever give her, Brienne the Beauty, her favour.

“Please!” You insisted, knowing the mêlée was about to start.

After a few more seconds of hesitancy, Brienne eventually made her way to you. She kept her head up and her shoulders straight, readying herself for the inevitable mockery.

“Thank you,” you said when she was finally close enough. “For a second I thought I would have to give my favour to another knight…And I really did not want to.”

The tall woman dared to look at you then and the beauty of her features nearly made the ribbon slip from in-between your fingers. It took everything within you to tear your eyes away from her face and tie your favour to her pauldron.

“I should be the one thanking you, my lady. I will fight for your honour.” The blonde said, letting her eyes roam on your face while you looked down at your working hands.

You knew it was simply a polite way to address you, but your heart fluttered anyway. Oh, to be her lady.

Your fingers lingered on the steel of her armour for a couple of seconds too long before you eventually pulled away.

“May it bring you luck.” You gestured to the ribbon.

“It already did.” Brienne said, giving you an awkward nod before walking away back to the field, her heart beating loudly inside her rib cage. Her very first favour. She would carry it proudly, and she would make sure to be victorious.

The mêlée lasted for over an hour, men falling left and right, some being disarmed and others simply yielding to their opponent.

“Yield!” Brienne barked at the last man standing, still firmly holding her sword in front of her.

It had been the two of them for a moment now, Brienne’s muscles burning and begging the knight to let go of her sword. But she wouldn’t give up, she didn’t want to disappoint the lady in the crowd who was rooting for her.

“I yield.” The knight spat the words out after another couple of minutes, being too exhausted to keep fighting even if it meant losing to a woman.

You loudly cheered when Brienne was announced victorious, louder than anyone else in the crowd did. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach at the thought that maybe your favour had given her the strength to win. Not that you doubted she would have won anyway.

Brienne removed her gauntlets and her helmet, slicking her short blonde hair back before she made her way over to you again.

“I knew you would be victorious!” You said excitedly, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress to prevent them from reaching for the tall woman.

“Well, I had to fight for both your honour and mine, didn’t I?” Brienne pushed a shy smile and offered you her hand to shake. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Thank you, Brienne of Tarth.” You smiled and gently grabbed her hand, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss on it instead of going for a simple handshake.

Brienne was left at a loss for words, her cheeks taking a pinkish colour as you let go of her hand. No one had ever done that before, certainly not a woman.

“Well, I suppose there will be people waiting to celebrate with you at the tavern. Until we meet again!” You winked at the knight, disappearing into the crowd before she could say anything else.

Brienne stood there for another minute, dumbfounded by the whole scene that had just happened until she was practically dragged to the tavern to celebrate.

She found that drinking did not help to forget the feeling of your lips on her hand, if anything it only made it worse.

When she showed up to the next melee a month later, Brienne wasn't expecting to see you. Not that she wasn't wishing to see you again; she simply didn't think you would come back for her. Why would you?

How wrong she was, she realised when she heard the familiar voice calling her name. There you were, a smile that reached your ears as you waved something that, from afar, looked like a piece of fabric.

Four long strides were enough for Brienne to be standing right in front of you, your heart once again starting to beat uncontrollably fast when you noticed that your previous favour was still tied to her armour.

“Well, will you start collecting my favours then?” You joked, showing her the piece of fabric that you were holding.

Brienne looked away for a second, desperately trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. She had thought about removing the ribbon from her pauldron, but couldn’t find the courage to do it. Not when she was reminded of your face every time she’d look at it.

“It was only a joke. Although I would not mind seeing a collection of favours on your armour. Only mine, though, or I might get jealous.” You smiled at the blonde. “Will you accept my favour, Brienne of Tarth?”

“Of course, how could anyone decline such an offer?” She nodded and took another step closer. Looking down at your hands she noticed that the piece of fabric matched your dress, raising an eyebrow to silently question you.

“I lost my ribbon on the way here.” You admitted. “So I ripped a piece of my dress.”

“My lady, you didn’t have to! You shouldn’t have!”

“Oh, but I wanted to.” You looked up into her blue eyes and pushed a soft smile.

Have you ever been told how beautiful you are, you wanted to ask, how looking into your eyes feels like swimming in Tarth’s sapphire water?

“The mêlée is about to begin, my lady.” Brienne snapped you out of your thoughts, her hand gently wrapping around yours.

“Yes, yes of course. I apologise, I was…” You shook your head and chose not to finish your sentence.

You quickly tied the piece of fabric to her pauldron, right next to your previous favour. And it felt right, seeing a piece of your dress on her armour, knowing that you two were now matching.

“Think of me.” You whispered and let go of her before taking a step back.

Brienne swallowed thickly and quickly walked back to the battlefield, her mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. She wondered for a second if you had cast a spell on her, if the ribbon and fabric tied to her armour were enchanted with a love spell.

The woman was brought back to reality by the tip of an opponent’s sword nearly poking her breastplate. She quickly parried the sword away, moving swiftly to avoid a counterattack.

You watched her fight for what seemed to be hours, cheering every time she landed a successful strike or avoided a blow. It almost looked like a perfectly rehearsed dance, the way she moved around effortlessly.

You could only imagine what she looked like under her helmet as she fought, snarling and groaning from all the effort. Your mind wandered and for a second you imagined her on top of you, groaning and sweating from another kind of effort.

It was only a silly girl crush, something that would pass in no time. At least you hoped it was. You’d heard about the rumours saying Brienne had had some sort of intimate relationship with Jaime Lannister. You knew you could never compare to the most handsome man in Westeros, if he was her type, you simply had no chance with her. It was only a silly girl crush anyway, it would pass in no time.

You were lost in your thoughts when Brienne was declared victorious, the crowd loudly cheering for her.

The knight removed her helmet and immediately turned to look at you, her eyebrows knitting together when she couldn’t find your face anywhere in the crowd.

-

“So, Brienne, tell us about the girl?” Tyrion asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“What girl?” Brienne huffed a little too defensively.

“The girl.” He insisted. “Don’t act like you have no idea what I’m talking about, you’ve been fidgeting with that piece of fabric since we’ve sat down.” He said, pointing at the favour on her pauldron.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Is it about my brother?” Tyrion smirked.

“Tyrion-“ Brienne warned him but to no avail.

“Oh come on! He chose Cersei’s cunt, you will have to get over it someday.” He shrugged.

“Shut your mouth!” Brienne barked and slammed her hand on the table, the whole tavern going quiet for a couple of seconds. “This has nothing to do with Jaime. I don’t know what you think you saw about that girl and me. Nothing is going on.”

“Oh, really? Is that why she always is the loudest cheer in the crowd? Or why she is the one you immediately looked for after your victory?” Tyrion cocked an eyebrow.

“I said I would not be having this conversation with you.” The tall woman hissed and emptied her cup before storming out of the tavern.

She almost felt like ripping the ribbon and fabric from her armour right there and then, grabbing them and being about to yank them off when she suddenly remembered how bright your smile was every time she’d acknowledged you.

She didn’t want to feel these things again, not after Jaime. She never wanted to feel these things again, and yet...

Love, what a disease.

“Brienne?” The tall woman’s back immediately straightened when she heard her name being called.

“My lady…” She turned around, her hand still firmly gripping your favours.

“Are you alright? You look…upset?” You took a step closer, gently wrapping your hand around hers. It was almost comical how small yours looked next to hers. “Would you like me to take these off for you?”

“No, no, I-“ Brienne closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “Why are you doing this?” She asked looking at you.

“I’m sorry?” You frowned, confusion painting your features.

“This,” she said. “Acting like you care. Acting nice. How long will you keep the joke going? How long until you admit that you’ve been taking the piss out of me?!”

“Taking the piss out of-“ You huffed loudly. “You think I’ve been mocking you? Why on earth would I do that?! Why would I rip a piece of my most beautiful dress to give you as a favour? All for a joke?!”

“If not for a joke, then why?!” You could hear the pain in her voice, how it slightly trembled no matter how hard she tried to keep her composure.

“Because I like you.” You admitted in a whisper. “And I’m no Jaime Lannister, I’m no prettiest woman in Westeros, I’ve got nothing to offer you but those silly little favours. Those, and my devotion. I would never, ever be cruel to you.”

You barely had time to register Brienne’s hand cupping your cheek and pulling you into the softest kiss, her body trembling as if she was still fearing that this was all a joke. So you kissed her back with all you had, arms thrown around her neck to hold her close.

“It’s enough,” Brienne whispered when she pulled away, her forehead pressed against yours. “Those silly little favours and your devotion, it would be more than enough.”

“Good.” You smiled, taking her hand in yours. “How about we share a drink, mh? To celebrate your victory.”

Brienne nodded, her fingers intertwining with yours as she led you back to the tavern, holding the door open to let you in.

Tyrion grinned like the right imbecile he was when you sat down in front of him with Brienne. He introduced himself before turning to look at the woman by your side.

“Much more pretty than Jaime, if you ask me.” He smirked and pointed his chin at you.

You saw Brienne nod in agreement and looked down to hide the blush creeping on your cheeks.

Isn’t it crazy, you thought as you fidgeted with the ripped fabric of your dress, what those little tokens of devotion could lead to?

[vivwritesfics]

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Three - Gasping For Breath

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

1.7K

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this (like seriously Ken tries to kill her in this one)

Series Masterlist

The stairs to the apartment were even worse in the dark. If she didn't already have which stairs weren't entirely stable memorised, she would have been falling through the floor. 

The apartment was dark when she pushed open the door. Part of her hoped that Ken had gone to bed, but a bigger part of her knew it would have been too good to be true. 

Hanging her jacket on the back of the door, she carefully placed her bag on the sofa and started moving through the apartment. So far so good, she allowed herself to think. 

But, of course, nothing is ever easy. When somebody cleared their throat, she jumped out of her skin, nearly falling to the floor. "Jesus, Ken," she muttered as she straightened herself up. "You scared the shit out of me."

She looked towards the kitchen, where he was sitting in the darkness. She could hardly see him, but she didn't dare move to turn the light on.

"Why are you sneaking in?" He challenged, his voice calm. And that frightened her the most. 

"I didn't want to wake you up," she answered quickly. "In case you were asleep." 

Still, he stared. His face was blank, unreadable. "So, you weren't with anybody?"

She shook her head. "I just lost track of time at the cafe." 

Suddenly he was on his feet, striding towards the window. He moved the curtain to the side slightly and looked out onto the street below. 

It was fine, she said to herself. Bob was a friend and he was probably long gone by now. 

When Ken laughed, her stomach dropped. "Is that the fucking guy from The Hard Deck? The Hangman guy?" He yelled as he turned towards her, spit flying everywhere. 

(Now, dear reader, I feel as though I owe you some context. You see, Bob was in The Hard Deck on the night that Jake flirted with her. He was absorbed in another conversation and didn't see her, not until this stranger was swinging at Jake and Bob had to step between them. Still, Bob didn't notice her, but she didn't notice him. They were too wrapped up in their own distress. So, when Ken saw Bob looking at the apartment building as he walked away, he got the two aviators mixed up.)

"What?" She stared at her boyfriend with furrowed brows. "Ken, that's not Hangman."

"But you were with him." 

She scrambled to find words, tried to work out what wouldn't get her into trouble. But she couldn’t lie to him. He'd know instantly and it would only make things so much worse. "I mean, we met at the café, but I wasn't with him." 

Ken laughed again, but this was bitter. "Somehow, I don't believe you."

When he strode over, she couldn’t stop her body from flinching away. "I never pegged you as a slut, Barbie," he said as he forcefully grabbed her cheeks. 

"Ken," she tried to say, but it didn't come out right, not with the way he was holding her. "Please."

Her cries fell on deaf ears. He moved his face close to hers, almost like he was going to kiss her, but then he pulled away. "I don't kiss sluts, Barbie," he said and let go of her face, pushing her to the floor in the process.

She sniffed, but she didn't cry. Not when she had endured worse. "I'm not cheating on you," she whispered. 

Ken picked her up. It wasn't loving. It wasn't her knight in shining armour scooping her up off of the floor and carrying her away. No, just as he had done the night before, he wrapped his fingers around her hair and pulled her to her feet. She cried out as she struggled to stand, but Ken ignored it. 

"Bedroom," he said, voice demanding as he let go of her. "Now."

She walked into their bedroom and stripped off her clothes, just as she was expected to do. When Ken came into the room he pushed her down and flipped her over, forcing her to lay on her back and face him. 

"You know I hate having to remind you of who you belong to, Barbie." The way he said her nickname, it was patronising. Like she really was just a toy for him to play with. 

As he undid his belt and freed himself from his jeans, she felt physically sick. He leaned over her, pushing in with no regard for her comfort or pleasure. 

Tears ran down her face, but she didn't sob. She couldn't look at him, and that only made him angry. "Let me see you, Barbie," he growled as his hands wrapped around her throat. 

Ken never squeezed. He never ever caused her harm like that. But today was different. Today his grip was tight as he held her neck, like he was trying to cut off her air supply. Like he wanted her dead. 

Suddenly she was gasping for air.

Desperately her hands clawed at his wrists, trying to get him to release her. "Ken!" She tried to gasp, but he sped up his thrusts. "Ken! I-" 

His grunt grew louder and he moved faster, his hips snapping until finally, he finished, climaxing inside of her. He released her neck and tucked himself back into his jeans, leaving her there, gasping for breath. 

On shaking legs, she crawled to the bathroom and reached into the cabinet for her birth control. As soon as she had swallowed it, she climbed into the shower, where she let herself cry. 

***

"Baby On Board!" Jake shouted the moment Bob walked back into Natasha's condo. "We were just about to send the police out looking for you!" He shouted with a laugh.

He hadn't thought about how much his friends would have worried about his disappearance. His hands were in his pockets as he made his way out to the back porch, where Jake and Natasha already had a beer each. 

"Sorry," he said, accepting the bottle that Natasha passed him from the box beside her. "Got caught up with something."

"And you didn't even bring back the coffees." Natasha and Jake didn't mention that, when Bob hadn't come back for an hour or answered their texts, they had turned to the coffee machine. It wasn't as good as the cafe coffee they had been promised, but it would do. 

Natasha looked at him, eyebrows raised (although it wasn't the easiest thing to see beneath the lights strung up above them). "Is it a girl?" She asked. 

Bob blushed deep crimson, and that was answer enough. "Our Baby On Board has a girlfriend?" Jake called, tipping the top of the bottle towards him. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"She's not my girlfriend,” Bob mumbled as he sat between Jake and Natasha. 

Jake and Natasha looked at each other. "But you want her to be, right?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Bob took his first sip of beer. "I don't know," he said once he had swallowed the mouthful. "I mean, I've only just met her and she's got a boyfriend."

"So?" Jake replied and Natasha glared at him. 

"Tell us everything," she said to the Weapon Systems Officer. 

So, Bob told them everything. He told them about the day before in the cafe, where he had knocked over her drink and ruined her notebook. He told them how she had run to work when he tried to apologise. He told them about the replacement notebook and how she had invited him to sit with her. And he told them that he had walked her to her apartment. 

"She sounds great," said Jake as he finished his drink and reached for another. 

"Yeah, perfect," Natasha agreed. "Apart from the boyfriend."

"We're hating him for you," Jake continued. 

Bob shook his head. "We can't just hate him. What if he's a really nice guy?" He suggested.

A scoff left Jake's lips. "He's with Baby Bob's dream girl. That's bad enough for me," he said, reaching past Bob to fist bump Natasha, who nodded in agreement.

Bob held his hands up in defence. "All I'm saying is, if she's with him, he must be great." He sipped his drink. "Besides, I think she's just looking for a friend."

"Are you okay just being that friend?" Natasha asked, her tone comforting. 

Bob nodded his head. "Yeah, I am."

After the one beer Bob said his goodbyes. He climbed into his truck and set off to his own place. Just like he had said to Nat and Jake, he was okay with just being her friend. Even if he couldn't get their interactions out of his head. Even when he pulled into his driveway he was thinking about her. Thinking about the way she laughed at him, a laugh that lit up the room. The way her eyes seemed to shine when she told a story from her childhood. The way her emotions seemed to get the better of her when she briefly mentioned her story. 

He thought about her apartment. It wasn't the nicest San Diego had to offer , definitely run down and cheap. From the little he had seen of the inside, the stairs would never pass any kind of inspection. 

"Frodo!" He called when he opened the door to his two bedroom house. 

Once Bob had completed his second stint at Top gun and had permanently relocated to San Diego, his mother had been so worried about him getting lonely. So, to ease her worries, Bob got a cat. Frodo had the life of luxury, more toys than he would ever play with and the best food Bob could get. 

He found Frodo asleep on his bed, his black hairs covering the comforter. Not that Bob minded too much; it was Frodo's home as much as it was his. 

She hadn't told him her name, Bob thought as he filled Frodo's bowl (as soon as Frodo heard the cupboard containing his food open, he went running). She hadn't told him her name as he was smitten. 

He just had to hope she was at the café again tomorrow.

Taglist: @biancathecool @not-nyasa @burningwitchprincess @darksparklesficrecs @primroseluna @littlemsbumblebee @wretchedmo

[momojedi]

— LOSS topic. hunter x gn! jedi! reader

**

type. one shot note. this is just a small drabble while i finish all the other requests i've gotten! yes, another tlou reference. my fist hunter fanfic and obviously its angst, ugh. this is set a while after omega's abduction. tech is alive. reader met the remaining batch while they were out scavenging for any intel on omega's location - they don't know about who they're looking for specifically, not her importance. warnings. angst, argument, hurt/no comfort, kidnapping word count. 1,135

star wars masterlist || pinned post

10%

I feel the familiar knot of anger boil in the pits of my stomach. It's been a little over a month since I decided to fall in with the three mercenaries that had happened to go after the same bounty as me. It was only when we had settled on splitting the credits that my blood had run cold the second their helmets were off. It had taken Hunter a lot of patience and persuasion to finally get me to lower my lightsaber.

Hunter and I had quickly clicked from then on. But as time passed, I noticed more and more how protective he became of me, giving me little room to breathe and jumping in to defend me despite knowing I could handle myself. When Tech told me about Omega, the girl they'd ben so invested in finding, my heart broke for him. A father figure and his daughter separated by a gruesome Empire? I quickly took pity on him, tried to accommodate his behaviour but when he'd taken a blaster shot for me during a difficult mission, I cracked. I'd screamed at him, scolded him for putting himself in danger for me before storming off, the desperation in his eyes burning itself into my mind.

I've been hiding in the Marauder ever since, trying my best to avoid Hunter in the guise of assisting Tech and Echo in their research while listening to Wrecker's quiet chewing as he devours ration bar after ration bark, much to his brothers' annoyance. But of course, he won't let that slide.

"[Name]?" I bite my tongue when I hear the creaking of the metal steps under his weight as he steps into the shuttle. I'm not sure I can stand looking at his hurt expression, nor the dent in his armour where the shot had hit. So, I sigh.

"I know about Omega, Hunter."

Hunter freezes when her name falls from my lips and suddenly the air grows tense. "What?" His voice is shaking, as if it were still trying to grasp a sense of understanding on what I just said. I sigh, setting down the datapad as the download I was previously supervising proceeds.

20%

"Tech," I explain, rising from my seat and motioning toward said man who curiously enough started burying his face in his own datapad, "he told me about her and━" "[Name]." I stop dead in my tracks. Never has my name been spat harsher than it now. Hunter's eyes are shut, brows furrowed as he speaks with a precision that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. His tone is dangerous, almost threatening when he finally opens his eyes again, the usual warmth in his gaze gone.

"You are treading on some mighty thin ice there."

I bite my inner cheek, letting out a deep sigh before crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm sorry about her, Hunter, I really am," I hesitate for a second before meeting his eyes again, "But I have lost people, too."

30%

Hunter stares, a cold and piercing glare that I hardly withstand. He's seething, fists clenched at his side. Then, he opens his mouth and my heart stops━

"You have no idea what loss is."

My mouth goes dry. Echo takes in a sharp breath. Tech awkwardly clears his throat. The loud clang of Gonky landing on the ground makes it clear even Wrecker is taken back.

"What?" It's more of a heartbroken grasp for reality than a question but I speak it anyways. Hunter remains quiet. "Hunter, I... Are you serious?"

40%

I didn't break away from society, didn't remain on the run, didn't lay low for months to be met with this. I know Hunter's words are lead by pure despair and fury toward the Empire, yet they still affected me. And so they did, badly. Echo set his healthy hand on the sergeant's shoulder. "Hunter, I think that's enough━"

"No," I bark, dashing forward and driving an accusatory finger into Hunter's chest plate, "No, you listen here and you listen good. Everyone I have ever cared for, my master, my troops, my friends - all of them have either died being slaughtered by the Empire, or left me." A familiar wetness forms in the corner of my eyes as I blink back the tears. "All except for you!"

50%

I swallow the lump in my throat as my voice breaks into a sob. "So don't act like you can't be taken away from me, too, because truth is, it just hurts me more."

Silence fills the Marauder once more. I can practically feel the tension radiating off Hunter as he watches me. Finally, he moves, but his action brings more harm than good. He turns away from me. Before disappearing into the cockpit though, he halts and faces the side to look at me over his shoulder.

"You're right. I don't have to protect you. You're not our family, after all," he stops, letting the words sink in. Then, he shoots his final bullet, sure to leave a deep scar, "We're dropping you off on Koboh. From here on out, we'll be going our separate ways."

Download cancelled!

Then, the door slides shut behind him. I remain frozen on the spot, the stares of the other batch members fading into the background along with the datapad subtle beeping as the download stops. Echo is the first to move. "I'll go talk to him." When he too disappears into the cockpit, Wrecker is the second to find his voice. "It'll be fine," he tries to reassure me, laying a comforting hand on my back, "it's a hard topic for him, just ... give him some time."

The air around me suddenly feels stuffy, rendering it hard to breathe. I barely excuse myself and leave behind a confused Wrecker and a perplexed Tech as I rush outside. I don't hold back, stumbling through the woods, away from the shuttle, from the Batch, from Hunter. Away from everything.

It's only after nearing a cliff at the edge of the forest that I stop, catching my breath and falling to my knees. My stomach churns as I feel my world fall apart. The last time I've felt like that, I watched my fellow Jedi be slaughtered by their own men. I bury my face in my hands, salty tears clinging to my palms.

As my surroundings are darkened, I barely detect the imperial shuttle closing in on me from above. Only when the lamps power on, throwing a blinding light on me, I look up before swiftly being caught off-guard as the electrified net lands on me, partially knocking me out. Steps. A shadow looms over me, modulated voice barely drowned out by the shuttle's noise.

"Sir, we found the Jedi."

[deathbxnny]

☆《Returning home to you.》☆

-----♡

A/N: I've been in such a writing mood today, so don't mind me~

Summary: HSR characters return to you after a long mission/trip/day of work.

Characters featured: Kafka, Blade, Welt, Jing Yuan, Gepard

Content: Fluff and nothing else really(?), sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not really proofread, so I apologise for any mistakes.))

-----♡

》Kafka

The work of a Stellaron hunter is difficult and time consuming. And so, whenever Kafka comes back home to you, after a month long trip into far away galaxies, she hardly ever leaves your side after. She clinges to you, teasing you with sweet words, asking you if you've missed her. And she knows you have, as she also missed you dearly.

She sighs in satisfaction, when she finally gets to hold you in her arms in bed, her face burried in your hair, arms wrapped tightly around you. She whispers soft apologies in your ears, swearing that she had done everything she could to come back to you as soon as possible. Her voice is slow and gentle as ever, so soft and loving just for you.

She hands you gifts and trinkets as an apology, smiling with an amused and content in glint in her eyes, as you happily thank her for them. She spoils you rotten and enjoys every moment of it.

Coming home to you is by far Kafka's favourite thing, even if she sometimes wishes, that she'd never have to leave you in the first place. But seeing the excitement and happiness in your face, after a long time of absence, makes it nearly worth it.

-----♡

》Blade

Blade tries to seem unaffected, indifferent. But it's hard to keep up, when he finally sees you again after so long. He says nothing of how much he missed you, how much he yearned for you. He doesn't know he'd even begin to phrase this deep passion and love he had for you.

And so, he shows it by gifting you trinkets, pretty clothes or just gifts that reminded him of you. It's his way of apologising in a way. To silently show you, that he did think of you, whilst he was away. He always thought of you, one way or another.

The way he holds you also tells you more than enough. His hands on your waist or his arms around your body are tight and desperate, a quiet confirmation that he did miss you. Horribly so.

He tells you about small details from his missions, people that bothered him, perhaps even a mention of Kafka's shenanigans or the capture of a Stellaron. You listen with interest, even if most of it is vague for your safety. He doesn't want to speak about the gory details with you.

When you were about to fall asleep, safely tucked away in his arms, you could've sworn that you heard him tell you that he missed you. But you can't be for certain, especially not if he denies it so stubbornly as he always does.

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

He demands kisses and hugs from you the moment he steps through the door. He's exhausted, yet saved the last of his energy just for you. After such an seemingly endless day at work, he wants nothing more than to be doted on by his dear S/O. Which you ofcourse don't mind doing.

You help him out of his armour and help him get into something comfortable, before he asks for you to cuddle him. He just wants to hold you close and forget all his troubles and duties for just a moment. Being a general demands so much from him and you are one of the few things that bring him solace.

He nearly dramatically tells you about his day, his hands absently trailing along your curves in comfort. Eventually he just falls asleep mid sentence, his head burried in your hair, the familiar scent lulling him into a peaceful slumber only you could provide him with. His grip is tight and secure even in his sleep, that's for sure.

Sometimes he enjoys cooking for the both of you, even if you insist that he should rest and that you can do it for him. He just finds it relaxing to do mundane and domestic things with you. It was his way of resting and you eventually just learn to go with it. You don't mind anyways, ofcourse. Spending time with him is something you love doing the most.

-----♡

》Welt Yang

After a long mission that kept him away from the Astral Express for a while, he practically fell into your welcoming and gentle embrace. His hands find your hips, holding you close, as he whispers of how much he missed you into your hair.

He tells you many stories of his travels, about the things he experienced when he was away. And you listen to him with curious eyes, your body curled up into his, as you both of you sip on some warm tea.

He in turn listens to you talk about what you've done in his absence. No matter what it is, he'll always listen intently, never missing a single detail, no matter how mundane it is. He keeps everything stored in his mind an heart, your voice enough to bring him joy.

It fills him with warmth and happiness to know, that he always has someone to come home to now. A person he'd protect with his life. He sometimes just stops mid sentence just to tell you how happy he is. How glad he is to have you.

He'll keep you close to him, your head resting against his chest, as you both relax and watch the stars together. You don't need to say anything, basking in eachothers presence at last is more than enough. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

-----♡

》Gepard Landau

He never comes home without something to give to you. He knows, that his work and duties as the captain of the Silvermaneguards can be alot of strain on a relationship, which is why he makes sure to put a smile on your face everytime he comes back. He gets you flowers most of the time, one's that remind him of you. Once you smile, he can finally allow himself to also relax.

He's not the best with words, often times getting too flustered to actually tell you how much he missed you. Not that he needs to say much with how tightly he hugged you. He's just glad to be home with you.

He's used to being busy all the time, so expect him to still clean or cook with or for you. You're probably going to have to restrain him to the couch to make him stop or just join him in bed for a well-deserved cuddle session. You can always just do your chores tomorrow, once he's well rested.

Gepard tells you about some things that happened out on the front lines, yet nothing disturbing or worrying. The last thing he wants is for you to feel worried or scared about anything. He'll always protect you after all. He listens to you ramble about your day, about how you visited Serval or how you saw a cute dress in a shop. He listens to everything you say.

He falls asleep pretty fast in your warm embrace. He doesn't try to, but he can't help it, when you're so comforting to him after such a long day.

-----♡

A/N: Thank you for reading! Requests are also open!<33

[parvulous-writings]

no idea if nail polish exists in the 5e world, but it does now. how about a chill day for the companions where everyone does their nails? or is tav/durge doing the painting for everyone?

Summary: Camp has a nail day!

Warnings: Minor spoilers for Shadowheart's various arcs, same for Karlach. One swear word.

Notes:  if it doesn't exist, it sure as hell does now! Also apologies that this took so long - New year is a busy time at work, and I've got a minor injury with my hand, so I'm working as fast as I can, but it's a little slower than normal!

I've included all the recruitable companions, besides Minthara, who is not included purely because I cannot accurately write for her just yet!

My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my image

Time on the road where everyone is able to relax is very scarce commodity, so when it does crop up, you're always the first to suggest grabbing it by the horns and making the most out of the day - not by training, or planning your next moves, but typically with something more laid back.

You're camping close to Rivington when you get the first day-long break in weeks, so that morning you venture into town to have a quick browse of the stalls; perhaps you can find some food that will remind the various Baldurians in camp of their home? As you're starting to make your way back to camp, something catches you eye - a nail polish kit, going for quite cheap. You can hardly restrain yourself from buying it- you already know that it will bring a lot of much needed joy into camp.

Astarion is quite intrigued when you announce the spoils you've returned with. For too long he's craved petty vanity again; and even if he can only get it from painting his nails, he's willing to grasp at that chance. "What's this?" He hums, peering over your shoulder, trying to get a good look at all the colours that the kit contains, as well as the equipment. The first thing he does, given the chance, is start tending to his nails - cleaning under them, pushing back the cuticles, trimming and filing them into shape, the works. He spares no time making sure that everything is as he envisions. Sure, the colours he eventually settles on may not match the rest of his armour, but his new manicure matches his more comfortable clothes, so that's good enough for him.

Gale is... Unsure if this is the right kind of thing for your journey. "We have many more pressing matters to worry about, besides our appearances." He practically grumbles to you. "Might I suggest actually focusing on planning our next move?" It doesn't actually take a lot to convince him to sit down and let him do one hand of nails on him. You paint his nails a lovely shade of dark navy blue, which looks black in the shade, but blue when hit by light. You start speckling dots of white here and there to make them mirror the night sky, when Gale tells you he'd like to do his other hand himself. Of course, you let him, and about twenty minutes later, he's back to proudly show you his work. It's a lot shakier than the side you had done, but he looks so proud of himself for being able to emulate your skill even a little bit, you don't even nitpick in a teasing way. When it inevitably starts to chip away, he's absolutely devastated, but doesn't say anything until you all get an opportunity to rest properly again.

Justiciar!Shadowheart instantly dives for the black varnish. Nothing more, and nothing else. She doesn't dwell on it, but in some vain way, she feels like she's carrying a part of her goddess' revered darkness with her, even if it will chip away eventually. That just reminds her that everything on this plane is fleeting, and finite, always eventually consumed by loss. Selunite!Shadowheart adds a little more colour to her nails - dots of white, or purple are incorporated, intricate little designs that pay homeage to both her life as a Sharran, and her family heritage as Selunites. She takes great pride in the designs she makes, and often spends a very long time making sure that they are just like how she imagines in her head.

Lae'zel doesn't particularly like painting her nails - she feels it takes away from her aura of formidable warrior. She will, however, sharpen her nails on a regular basis - just as a back-up plan if she loses her weapon, or perhaps gets caught by surprise and needs to scratch out some eyeballs.

Karlach pre-upgrade loves to watch you do your nails. As in, she will actively sulk if you don't let her watch, or have some tiny level of input. She'll huff and pout, but eventually goes to sit elsewhere with a quiet "fine, whatever.." Post-upgrade Karlach is so eager to have her nails done, she's bouncing back and forth on her feet. She can't decide on a single colours - especially not by herself. "They all look so pretty!" She exclaims, waving her hands about in glee. So, unable to make a decision, she takes her favourite colours, and has all of them on her fingers - repeating a similar process on her toes with her second favourite colours. "This is the best thing we have ever done! ... Besides beating the shit out of Thorm... so, the second best thing!"

Wyll tidies his nails - similar to Astarion. He wants them to be a much nicer shape than they have been up to this point - makeshift files had not been too kind on his nails, and he was tired of catching them on things. He takes great care in shaping them and removing any chips or quicks - it's an activity he takes great pride in, and he'll happily do the same for you if you ask him to! As for colour, Wyll likes to go for a clear coat, purely for protecting his nails; though he has been known to paint his nails black, for dramatic effect. He loves his nails - not to the point that he preens them at any given moment, but enough to give them the time and care they need to keep healthy.

Halsin doesn't particularly like the idea of polish. Sure, it looks pretty, but he'd rather not wear it himself - there are other ways, he's found, that you can change the colour of your nails. (When you ask him what he means, or even to just elaborate a little bit more on how he knows this, he simply replies with "I once had a... Somewhat rebellious streak in my youth.") So it's likely that the only thing that he uses in this particular kit is the file and buffer - which looks absolutely tiny in his hands, it's quite funny.

Minsc doesn't do his own nails - at all. He won't even file them, he just either bites them or they snap off (usually it's the former). Instead, he takes care of Boo's claws. "Now, now, my friend. Do not call me strange - if I do not care for Boo's mighty claws, then who will? The paws of justice must be well cared for!" Insists that every few days he must re-file and re-buff Boo's nails, and will not take no for an answer. He also tries to convince you that Boo is trying to tell you the same, but by the way the little rodent's head shakes when he sits on Minsc's shoulder tells you otherwise.

Jaheira almost laughs when you suggest doing her nails. She wants to them herself, but, eventually she does ask you to help her. "It seems I'm a little out of practice.." She chuckles. "Perhaps some company wouldn't be so bad... If your offer still stands, of course." She LOVES having green nails. Sage green is her favourite, but she likes all of them really. Sometimes, if she's feeling particularly happy, she'll let you paint little golden leaves on her thumb - but that can be a rare occasion, because she doesn't want such skill to always go to waste.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Pairing: Bucky x reader (No gender mentioned, but reader does wear a dress)

Words: 1.6k

Summary: You and Bucky are forced to work on Halloween and even when cosplaying as lovers you only seem to bicker.

Warnings: it gets just a lil goofy. If you’re not down to clown kindly exit my circus. Reader is a bit of a hellion. No use of y/n. Not that much plot rip. Lemme know if I missed something.

A/N: Started this last year but didn’t finish it in time. Originally this was like 70% different but then I had to scrap a bunch of stuff and now it’s this I guess.

Dividers by: ME :) pls enjoy

“Who am I supposed to be?” Bucky asked. 

“You’re kidding, right?”

He lamely gestured to the outfit. “A pirate?” 

“You’re Westley!” 

“What’s a Wesley?”

“No, West-ley!” You handed him the final piece of the costume. “From The Princess Bride!”

Bucky eyed the black mask skeptically and quickly tied it around his head.

“And you’re the Princess Bride?”

“In fact I am. I’m Buttercup!” You watched the scarlet dress twirl behind you in the full length mirror.

“Her name is Buttercup?” 

“I’m not appreciating the judgement in your tone. It was either this, or eggs and bacon. Would you like to be bacon?”

“This is fine.” 

“That’s what I thought.” You studied your costumes and scoffed. “I mean you’re practically wearing what you wear anyways. All black. Except instead of a gun you have a sword and you get a cute little bandana to wear on your head.”

You made the perfect couple. Bucky looked dashing as always in his pirate getup, and your smile rivaled the shine of your gold tiara. 

Neither of you thought you’d be spending the holiday with each other, but duty called. Your mission? To infiltrate a rich kid’s Halloween party and snap some photos of his gazillionaire father’s files. Why? Boring shit, bad guy did bad thing, yadda, yadda.  

You pulled up to the English country manor in one of Tony’s convertibles and gaped at the view. The large house sat upon a hill and was framed by flourishing gardens, illuminated only by the inside lights. You could hardly imagine how green and lush they looked in the daytime. 

“Are we clear on the plan?” Bucky asked as he opened your car door for you.

“Yes. Enter the party dressed in costumes,” You took the gloved hand he offered and stepped out.

“Locate the main office. I’ll be watching your back.” Bucky continued, the two of you starting your journey to the entrance.

“I pick the lock,” you nodded as you looped your arm with his.

“You’ll grab pictures of the files,”

“And then we’ll go back to the ground floor and party.”

Bucky stopped so suddenly that you went lurching backwards.

“That is not the plan.” 

“I’m officially adding it to the plan.” You said, removing your arm from his and continuing to walk.

“You can’t do that,” he grumbled, hand shooting out to grab yours before you could get too far.

“C’mon Buck!” You turned around to face him. “When was the last time you went to a Halloween party?”

“I don’t know.”

You stepped closer to him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“We deserve to have a little fun if we are forced to work on Halloween. Besides, I thought we were spies. You really think our chances of getting caught drastically increase if we hang around for a bit? You think we are that bad at our jobs?”

“But—”

“Fine,” you smirked, “we party first. Blend in. Then we get to business.”

His black mask only amplified his unamused glare.

“Ugh. Okay, we’ll play it by ear. Agreed?”

“Fine.” 

Unfortunately for you, there was very little partying to be done. Bucky gave you five minutes amongst the flood of witches, ghosts, cowboys, and angels before dragging you off to the west wing of the estate. 

You followed the large hall to a set of stairs, and ascended to the second floor. 

“I think this place used to be a castle,” you whispered, eyeing the strange suits of armour lining the hall.

“Focus.” Bucky said, five paces in front of you.

You skipped ahead and spun to face him, “I’m the most focused person in the world right now.”

You continued to skip backwards all the way down the hall until you reached the study doors. 

“All right,” you smiled after picking the lock with a single bobby pin, “be a good watch dog for me.”

Bucky grumbled, but you shut the doors behind you too quick for him to lodge an official complaint.

The study was as elegant as to be expected with a house such as this. The glass balcony doors in the back of the room stretched all the way up to the coffered ceiling, and towering bookshelves stacked with ancient spines lined the walls, but what caught your attention was the mahogany desk in the middle of it all. 

You made your way behind the desk and promptly began opening the drawers. 

It didn’t take long to find what you needed. 

Just as you snapped photos of the the final file, Bucky came bursting in and locking the door behind him. 

In the time it took him to warn “He’s coming, we have to go,” he had made it across the room to the balcony doors, wrenching them open, and dragging you with him. 

The exact same moment you shut the door came the creaking of the study entrance. Bucky yanked you away from the window and into his chest as he pressed his back against the stone wall.

“That was close,” / “Stop manhandling me—” you said at the same time.

“Manhandling?” Bucky whispered harshly into your ear, releasing your waist. “If that means saving your ass, then—”

“I can cover my own ass.”

“Is it really so hard for you to say thank you?”

“I can cover my own ass, thank you.”

“Do you want us to get caught?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“I don’t think it is when you keep acting like this.”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

“Oh my g—”

“Keep your voice down or he’s going to hear us, stupid,” you shoved your palm against his mouth.

He squeezed your wrist and yanked it away from his mouth.

“Don’t you fucking ever do that again.” He snarled.

He caught your smirk and the twitch of your hand and pushed you away before you could shush him again.

“What did I just say? Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“I listen to you.”

“If you listened to me you would leave me alone.”

“Is that right?” You asked, a glimmer in your eye.

“Yes.”

“As you wish,” you said, and backed up against the balcony railing.

“What—” he began, but you were already hurling yourself over the ledge.

Bucky ran to grab you but could only look on in horror as you catapulted a full story to the lawn below. Instead of stopping where you fell, the steep hill sent you tumbling further away.

Bucky cursed as he launched himself after you, hitting the ground with a harsh thud, and rolling after you in stupor.

A chorus of grunts and oomphs echoed into the still night as the two of you tumbled down the ridiculously long hill. 

Rolling,

Rolling,

Rolling,

Bucky finally reached you at the bottom after what felt like minutes of nauseating turning. It took him only a moment to hoist himself up and run over to you, motionless on your stomach.

“Are you okay? Please, please,” he kneeled by your side and anxiously rolled you onto your back. “Look at me,”

“I’ve got grass in my mouth.” You mumbled, peaking an eye open at the dishelved man above you. His bandana was missing and his v-neck was ripped a little wider from the fall. Not to mention the literal dirt on his cheeks.

Bucky flashed a quick look of relief before turning red. He stood up and ripped the mask from his face. He furiously threw it to the ground and began to storm off.

“Where are you going?” You called, struggling to get up.

He halted. You watched in curiosity and unease as he balled his fists. He relaxed them, and tightened them again as he whirled around to face you.

“What were you thinking?”

“I was just doing as you asked,” you shrugged nonchalantly, steadily sitting up.

“I didn’t mean to throw yourself from the balcony! You could’ve really hurt yourself,”

“You didn’t have to come after me. You could’ve really hurt yourself, too.”

“Yes, but my body is made to withstand that kind of fall, yours isn’t.”

“I’m not w–”

“I know you’re not weak! Do you really think I’m calling you weak, or are you just arguing to argue?” 

You looked down at your muddied shoes and mumbled something.

“What?”

“I said,” you began, but the rest of your words were incomprehensible. 

“I can’t hear you,” 

“I said!” You swung your gaze up from the ground, “I don’t know how to talk to you! Okay?” 

“What are you even talking about?”

“You only seem interested in talking to me when we are arguing. Otherwise you act like you hardly know me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? When was the last time you started a conversation with me that wasn’t work related or related to something I had done to piss you off?”

“...”

“Exactly.”

“What,” he scoffed, “so you decide to throw yourself off a balcony?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to act like you care about me,” you said. 

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I never said it was reasonable.”

“So if I tell you I care about you, you'll stop fighting me on everything?”

“Bucky, stop,” you groaned.

“No, I’m serious. Is that what it takes?”

“It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just say you care about me because I want you to. Then you’re just saying it to placate me.”

He sighed. 

He turned around and scanned the grass. A moment later he was picking up his mask and brushing off the dirt before retying it around his head.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on,” was all he said.

You followed him back up the hill as he led you to the back entrance of the party.

“Where are we going? I thought we are leaving.”

“You said you wanted to enjoy the party, didn’t you?”

“But—”

“You have thirty minutes. Okay?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why do you think?”

You softly smiled. “Thank you, Bucky.”

Before he could respond, you had placed a quick kiss to his cheek and ran off into the crowd.

“As you wish.” He mumbled, fingers grazing lightly over the spot you had kissed.

A/N: If you made it to the end thank you so much. Please let me know if you liked it. I have anon on for my inbox if you're shy or if you ever have an ask :)

[thebetawolfgirl]

His Chosen Queen

Pairing: Timmy x Reader

Warnings: Smut, soft Hal.

A/N: I wrote this at midnight so I might be rushed in some places because I was so tired!

His Chosen Queen!

Hal had chosen his Queen, she was the love of his life and had been with him from before he became King, she was there during his wild days as the young prince, although while the other women he went with were more interested in his title, y/n couldn’t care less. He was utterly fascinated with her because she wasn’t hanging onto him like the other women, she would always serve him with a smile, and she would always ask him how he was and he knew she meant it and genuinely wanted to know how he was doing.

When his father passed away, he went straight to the pub to drown his sorrows even though he knew he now had duties as the newly appointed king of England, he just needed some time to himself to process everything, it was very quiet in the Inn and the moment he stepped through the door he felt soft gentle arms wrap around him, and a voice of an angel.

‘I am so sorry, my lord. Your father was a good man and a wonderful King.’

He wrapped his arms around her back, and buried his face in her neck inhaling her unique scent, she smelled of fresh cotton and rose oil, she felt so soft, he thought as she pulled him upstairs and just sat with him on the bed as he cried.

He began inviting her to the castle and spending time with her immediately after his coronation as King, his council didn’t get it. They had tried to recommend several eligible ladies, princesses and Duchesses but the King wasn’t interested in them, he just wanted y/n, so one night after a beautiful meal and a walk around the grounds he proposed to his lady and was overjoyed when she accepted his hand.

After their wedding y/n insisted on going outside to greet the people and Hal would do anything for y/n so they went out and greeted the people of the Kingdom.

Hal watched his new wife with the people, he watched as she hugged the children and spoke to the elderly, some of them regulars from the Inn, she truly was a Queen of the people and she had won over their hearts.

They spent nearly every day together when he wasn’t doing his royal duties for the Kingdom, which was thriving under the new king and queen, there was hardly any poverty amongst his people now, since y/n had began to work with the local farmers to provide enough wheat, grain and barley for everyone. Y/n made sure everyone had their fair share of everything and the people loved her for her kindness and her intelligence as well as her beauty.

The King was still ruthless and somewhat merciless towards those who would choose him as their enemy, and some even went as far as attempting to attack his queen, but she never feared because she knew he would always protect her.

‘I will protect you with my life, y/n! You are my Chosen Queen.’

She smiled and lay her hand on his cheek in one of their rare moments of privacy and he melted against her like ice under the blazing sun.

‘Then I have no fear of being harmed my Hal. For I have my Knight in shining armour. Many people would not have approved of your choosing a commoner as Queen-‘

‘Name them and I will have them all hanged.’ He glared looking around them pulling her close.

She chuckled and brought him back to her by taking his face in her hands and stroking his cheeks. ‘There are no enemies in the castle my love, be at peace.’

She nuzzled his nose with hers and watched his eyes soften again.

‘Let us retire to bed my King.’ She whispered and took his hand in hers and pulled him upstairs.

Hal was sitting on his large bed staring at his wife watching her getting undressed and leaned forward to pull her towards him by her hips and rested his head on her stomach closing his eyes.

‘My Queen.’ She ran her fingers through his short hair smiling.

‘I am not Queen yet, my love.’

‘You are MY Queen. Queen of my heart, Queen of my mind, Queen of my soul! You are the air I breath, through my lungs. You are the blood that runs through my veins.’

He slides his hand up her thigh pulling her to sit on his lap letting her wrap her legs around him while he pushed her underdress from her shoulders,

‘Don’t stop my king, what else am I to you?’ She whispered against his ear her long hair falling into her eyes.

His breathing hitched as he untied the lace in front of her gown slowly.

‘You are the music i hear in my head at night, you are the birdsong in the morning. You are the voice of an angel that takes away all of my fears,’

She lifted his shirt over his head tossing it aside and ran her fingers up and down his chest before moving sideways and falling back against the bedsheets and pulled him on top of her.

He had slid her gown down to sit around her hips and placed open mouth kisses up her torso watching her eyes close as he reached her breasts and wrapped his tongue around one nipple and sucking gently while rolling the other between his fingers before switching to the other with his mouth, he trailed his tongue along her collarbone before capturing her lips in his.

He moaned feeling her tongue dancing with his and deepened the kiss passionately. She slid her hands down his body and reached for the strings that tied his pants together and pulled them free before sliding her hand in and wrapping her fingers around him making his hips to rut forward against her hand moaning.

She began stroking his hard length sliding her hand up and down him as she moved her head and kissed down his jaw leaving gently nips along his neck causing him to whimper and let his head fall against her throat and dig his fingers into the sheets just by her head.

‘No! Not like this.’ He growled hoarsely and gently pushed her hand off him before ripping the rest of her gown off and grabbed her legs to wrap around him as he ran his cock against her opening teasingly making her groan before pushing into her slowly, both their eyes rolling back into their heads.

He set a steady pace thrusting into her hard and deep and leaned down to kiss her lips as she pulled him down on top of her deepening the kiss, causing his cock to go deeper into her making them both moan.

She wrapped her arms around him holding him close as he thrust into her, the only sound being their breathing and contact of skin against skin, he thrust deeper nearly slamming into her as he slid his arms under her body pulling her close against him panting into her shoulder feeling his hair sticking to his forehead and neck.

‘I’m close my King.’ She muttered breathlessly against his ear as her body jerked upwards from the force of his thrusts, he raised her legs up nearly around his chest and slammed harder and deeper making her scream his name beneath him and came undone around him, he watched her in awe as she came around him his eyes never leaving hers as he came straight after her before collapsing into her arms moaning and whimpering her name like a prayer over and over again.

‘Y/n, y/n y/n, y/n. My Queen y/n.’

He lay in her arms, both drenched in sweat and tangled in the bedsheets trying to remember how to breath again. He buried his face in her neck as she lightly ran her fingers down his back, she turned and lay small pecks against the side of his head earning a nudge and a nip against her neck, she lifted his face and gave him an open mouth peck against his lips which he deepened pushing his tongue into her mouth.

She returned the kiss pushing him onto his back and gently held his face between her hands as he wrapped his arms around her back and just lay there letting her kiss and nibble his lips. She pushed his hair from his face with her fingers before breaking the kiss and laying her head on his shoulder.

‘Sleep, My king. We have the rest of our lives to make love and be together forever.’

He smiled and closed his eyes holding her close and pulled the bedsheets around them falling asleep.

@sufferingstarlight

@gatoenlaciudad

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@minnypress

@tchalamess

@tchalamss

@mel-vaz

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY: Grim Tales

Bargain

Blake could only watch in horror as Jaune was stabbed through the heart by Adam's blade. Seconds felt like an eternity as he was pushed to the floor and his once vibrant blue eyes had suddenly turned dull. She screamed out his name, crawling to him in desperation.

Blake: *reaches to Jaune* Jaune! No! Please. *shakes him* You can't do this to me. No. Please no. *cries* Jaune!

Blake looked at Adam and raised her hand. A small, purple coloured magic circle appeared and a panther-like shadow beast emerged, lunging at him. Adam scoffed and simply cut it with his sword. Blake momentarily left Jaune and drew her tantō, whispering a spell to enchant it. It glowed purple and she charged towards him. Her attacks proved fruitless, as Adam's swordplay was devastating, yet refined. Each blow she tried to land was effortless parried. Seeing an opening, he grabbed her by the throat and hoisted her up.

Adam: Did you honestly think that you could beat me with that pathetic excuse for magic?

Blake: Ack! Y-You monster! *stabs Adam's arm*

Adam barely had a reaction, not even a flinch. Instead, black liquid began to seep out of the wound and seemed to shift. It began to crawl up and down his arm, slowly enveloping him until it spread all around his body and transforming into jet black armour. Blake was horrified.

Blake: Adam... what have you done?

Adam: *chuckles* I have surpassed the weakness of humanity. I offered you a share and what did you do? Cast me aside like I was nothing. But I don't need you or the White Fang anymore. I'm part of a new era, one where I'm promised the rightful title of ruler among you and the Faunus.

There were no words left for Blake to say. Her best friend, her brother, was gone. It may have Adam's face and voice, but not his soul. For the first time in her life, she felt truly defeated. Adam grabbed the tantō from his arm and stabbed Blake right in the abdomen.

Blake: AAAAAAGH!!!!

He threw on top of her dying husband and slimy, black wings protruded from the back of his armour. As flew off into the night, Blake reached to Jaune's cheek and stroked it.

Blake: Forgive me, Jaune.

* * *

The voice of Blake was ringing in Jaune's ears. He tried to open his eyes, but he could feel an intense, burning heat that kept them shut. Blake's voice began fading and in its place was a deep, sharp growl.

???: Jaune.

Jaune: Wha? What the-?

???: Jaune Arc.

Jaune: Who are you? What's going on?

???: Open your eyes.

Jaune slowly opened his eyes and found himself in a dark, desolate landscape. Volcanoes were erupting and the sky was a deep red. Surrounding him were all types of Grimm, hungry and itching to kill. Jaune jumped back and tried to reach for his sword. But it wasn't there.

Jaune: What the hell? Where's Crocea Mors?!

???: Even if you had it with you, I doubt you'd be able to fight all of us by yourself.

Jaune turned around and saw a large, indigo dragon-like man sitting atop a black, bony throne. The Grimm growled gently and all bowed their heads to it. Jaune couldn't believe it. He was the presence of the progenitor of Grimm.

Jaune: Y-You're the God of Darkness.

GOD: Indeed I am. Though you'll forgive my curiosity as to why a man of your virtous character ended up here. You're far from perfect, but you hardly belong in the Land of Darkness.

The God of Darkness stood up from his throne and approached the young man. Jaune slowly backed away, terror coursing throughout his body. The dark dragon stared deep into his eyes with intense focus, not even blinking once.

GOD: Oh... now this is interesting. In your heart lies vengeance and a deep desire for bloodshed. Oh we could use that *chuckles* Someone has wronged you.

Jaune: I... I... I remember being stabbed in the heart. By... *gasps* Adam!

GOD: I know him. One of my finest soldiers. Or at least he used to be. *walks to throne* Tell me, boy, how much do you desire Adam's head?

Jaune clenched fists. He thought back to all the times he and Blake were pursued by Adam. Countless deaths of innocents had followed him, including that of the White Fang. To see him betray his own family like that, who raised him, cared for him and taught him the ways of a Magic Knight, made Jaune furious. And now he had taken him from his beloved wife and son. Tears ran down his face.

Jaune: I'll do anything. Anything.

GOD: *smiles* I see. I can offer you a chance at revenge, a chance to see your family again. But, I require something in return. You must serve me. You must become my Grimm Knight, slaughter my enemies and become my weapon! *clenches fist* In exchange, you shall be stronger, faster, more dangerous than you will ever become with your pitiful human magic. Will you do it?

Jaune: I will! Whatever it takes, just promise me that I'll see Blake and Anthony again!

GOD: It shall be done. But swear your loyalty to me first.

Jaune didn't hesitate to bend the knee.

Jaune: I Jaune of House Arc, hereby swear my loyalty to you. I will be your weapon to vanquish all who stand before you. I will be your servant of darkness. I will make Adam pay for what he did to me.

The ground below him cracked and hundreds of small tendrils latched onto him, piercing bits of his skin. Jaune grit his teeth as he tried to bare the pain. The tendrils shifted into dark armour and his chest bore an emblem of a dragon's skull. Jaune's once luminous, blonde hair had now become white as a ghost.

GOD: You now serve me. Rise, Wyvern.

Jaune rose his head and gave a threatening, guttaral roar. His journey to retribution had begun.

[unicyclehippo]

touch

‘you know i’m like this all the way down, don’t you? it isn’t - it isn’t an act, i do laugh it off sometimes dear, it can be terribly funny but. i am like this. forever. and it’s—could you—do you think you might be able to withstand that for a long time? i should like to be with you for a long time but it would depend on - on when you get exhausted, you see, because i must live with this or - ha - not live with, i suppose, but survive, contend, with this for however long i shall live but you, well.’ laudna’s twists her face into graceful acceptance. soft, understanding, hardly sad at all. it’s very easy to do, once you have the trick of it. ‘you needn’t. deal with this. the bark and the hair and the nails. the popping joints. the ichor, the aches, the smell, the stares, the rot.’ the word drops between them, gross, embarrassing, like she’d spat by accident. her teeth are hatesharp in her mouth. ‘the teeth,’ she adds.

imogen looks up from the book she studies with such careful, wonderful intent. so smart. she quirks a brow, amused. ‘i know what you are, laud. you forget we’ve been travellin’ together awhile now?’

‘no, no.’ her stomach twists, her hands twist, knot, roots. so is she, rooted in place. ‘i know, dear, i only mean to remind you—should you need a moment to yourself, or, or should something in particular sicken you—‘

‘laudna.’

she sinks low. imogen isn’t listening. of course not. she is kind. she lo-hmm. yes, well, laudna can surmise imogen likely loves her. which is, well, lovely! but they haven’t been in love for very long and laudna has never done it before, romance, love, but she knows herself. how she clings to things. she knows herself. love to her is like…tar. sticky and black, bubbling and pouring up and up around their ankles their calves their knees her beautiful knees. if imogen doesn’t know that now then gods help her, what if she drowns her—them—in it? and she would, imogen would stay with her she would be pleased by it, even, because she loves her, but there is something wrong with it. impossible to know if it has always been this or if it’s all the death and the accessories she’s obtained through it—lady d, trauma, blah blah blah—but she thinks she has a capacity for love like a pyre, grease-fire and rising choking smoke; like a hungry dog, snapbite shut around the hand outstretched. and she knows what she wants for imogen, the kind of love she deserves, and how far it is from what she has to offer.

‘what are you afraid of, honey?’

laudna nibbles at her bottom lip. she takes up the bone she has been carving and turns it between her fingers, not wanting to see the moment imogen sees her, maskless, exposed.

‘i want to hold you until we both die,’ laudna says, sad and sweet. ‘i want to lay down in a grave with you side by side and i shall never move again and every worm that comes to eat us up will be little versions of us, because they’ve fed on us, and they will be in love and they’ll feed all the farms and chickens and we’ll be a thousand souls in love. i want to open up your scars and see what is under your skin, what your magic does under there. i want,’ she says, and folds her elbows close to her rotten chest, folds herself small, words small, so not a page stirs, not another soul could be stirred by what she admits. ‘i want to taste it. i want to grow into a tree and grow around you like armour like a second skin so you are always safe and maybe grow taproots, grow into you. through you. i want you as part of me forever. i want to touch you, i want to always be touching you, i want you to never be able to move without feeling me beside you, i want you to crack me open and see how vile it is inside of me and plunge in neck deep and when you struggle to get out, i want to hold on.’ she pauses. ‘i want to dislocate my jaw.’

imogen sits very still. her eyes very dark. she lets out a slow breath, pink tongue flicking out to wet her lips. ‘what-‘ she clears her throat. ‘what does that last one have to do with me?’

‘it doesn’t really. but. i’ll always be quite horrible to be around and i want you to be with me anyway.’

[honeydewdelight]

LGBTQ+ HEADCANONS

Main six and more let's gooooo

Twilight Sparkle

Asexual

Although homophobia and transphobia is rare in Equestria, asexuality it also not often talked about

Twilight struggles with romance in her late teen and early adult years.

She felt like there was something wrong with her, but couldn't pinpoint what it was. The idea of relationships was so strange to her, but romance seemed to appealing. She didn't get it.

One day she went to talk to Shining Armour about it

Shining is a beegg!! Ally!! But knew this was outside of his area of expertise, so asked Cadence about it

Cadence went to Twilight and they talked about it for hours. She explained it all to Twi and made her feel so loved, normal, and beautiful.

After that, the pressure of relationships went away, and she wouldn't focus on it for another few years. Putting her studdies first, and later putting her friendships first.

Rainbow Dash

A big gay is what she is

Lesbian

Uses She/He/They

Gender? I hardly know her

Gender? Take her out to dinner first

Okay I'll stop

Applejack

Another big gay

Experimented with gender but just prefers she/her

Not really confortable with labels

Pinkie Pie

Pan

She's literally pan colours what else did you expect

Uses she/they

Fluttershy

Trans

Wears tail extensions (canon)

When she was a filly, she couldn't figure out why she felt so bad about herself all the time

Rainbow Dash helped her big time, gently pushing her to explore her gender

Transitioning in Equestria is pretty easy, blablabla something with magic n stuff

Rarity

Your honour, she is bi

CANON and you can't tell me otherwise, she WILL flirt with anyone

Bit of a disaster bi

Demisexual and very confident about it

Hopeless romantic

Loves to dable in romance but ultimately loves being independent above anything else

Never really stays in long term relationships

Often the one to break up

But she does it with such grace and elegance?? Most of her ex-partners stay friends with her. People dont know how she does it

Bonbon and Lyra

Your honour, they are married

Lyra is lesbian

Bonbon is bi

Discord

Gender? I hardly kn-

Uses he/him because that's what people use and he rolls with hit but his species literally doesn't have a concept of gender

Fluttershysexual and Fluttershysexual ONLY

Cadence

Big pansexual

Anytime any media has any sort of princes of god/goddess of love I just can't see anything other than pansexual

You're telling me a PRINCESS of LOVE would only feel that love for 1 gender?

She is very confident in her identity, even though she never necessary got to experiment and explore with it since shining armour was her first big crush, and they have been together ever since

Is extremely educated about LGBTQ+ Identities and matters

Maybe I'll talk about some more later on^^

[happyhauntt]

keep my hand in yours — nikolai lantsov

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: nikolai sees anya all dressed up for the first time since they were children. he doesn't handle it well.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: fluff fluff fluff, references to other oneshots in this series but can be read as standalone, fluff, pre-established relationship, i've made anyalai suffer enough and i needed to throw them a bone with a fluffy adorable oneshot so here we are. title from 'everywhere everything' by noah kahan (aka anyalai anthem tbh)

─── word count: 2.4k.

     As a child, they teach you that staring at the sun for too long will make you go blind. Nikolai always was a reckless child, and Anya has certainly been the centre of his universe for so long now, he can hardly remember a time when she wasn't.

     Nikolai knows he is in love with Anya Kamenev. He knows it like he knows blood is red, like he knows the feeling of a rifle in his hands and the salty sea wind on his face. He knows it like he knows his heart must still be beating, because if it had stopped, he would be dead.

     And yet now, as she emerges from the dressing room, he fears that everything he'd been so sure of is false. Blood is green and the sky is pink and his heart must have stopped beating entirely, at least for a moment, this moment. He wonders if this is heaven. He wonders if this is a dream, if he died on the battlefield. He wonders how he ever got this lucky.

     "You're staring, Nik." Anya's voice is flat, eerily calm, even as she smooths her hands down the front of her dress, nervously seeking nonexistent creases. Her shoulders are squared, chin held high as she meets his eyes. She's already wearing her confidence like armour. A soldier preparing for battle. This night will be spent fending off thinly-veiled barbs and passive-aggressive insults from Ravka's elite. Everyone who thinks she isn't good enough to be queen. Everyone who thinks this is a mistake.

     Anya's knee gives an indignant twinge. She already knows that the heels she picked out will be giving her grief this evening, but she'd insisted on them. She didn't want to be seen as weak. Anya has been smiling through the pain for years now, and an evening spent dancing and mingling in heels won't make her old injury any worse.

     She hopes.

     It takes him a moment to find his words. “How can I possibly look away?” He manages a raspy, strangled murmur as his eyes trail over her figure. Any further capacity for speech fails him completely. How can he possibly form a coherent thought when she looks like that? Watching him with narrowed eyes, and that defiant tilt of her chin, and the way the neckline of her dress is high and modest, allowing him the tiniest glimpse of her collarbone.

     His mouth goes dry. He feels like a parched man, condemned to wander the desert for eternity, only to stumble upon a lush green oasis. He is utterly ruined by her, and Saints, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

     Anya huffs, casting her eyes to the ceiling before she trudges over to the floor-length mirror, surveying her own reflection with a critical eye. She's always been pretty, that was never the issue: peaches-and-cream complexion, rosy cheeks and wavy blonde hair, she was lauded for her looks even as a little girl. That one will be a beauty, they’d whisper to her mother, who’d respond with a demure smile to mask the frightened glint in her eye.

     There are scars, now, littered over her skin. Little white slashes over her collarbone, her arms, almost silvery in the candlelight. The dress Genya chose for her is emerald green satin with the hem trailing on the floor. The Lantsov emerald rests on her ring finger, while diamonds glisten at her throat and a small kokoshnik tiara rests in her hair.

     She still feels pretty. That was never the problem. But her eyes are weathered now, older and wiser and yet, somehow, altogether more foolish for agreeing to this. She still looks like a soldier. She still feels like— well. She doesn't know anymore. Maybe that's the point.

     Nikolai wrests himself from his stupor and joins her at the mirror. He stands behind her, rests his hands on either side of her waist. He's taller than her, even with the heels on, and he leans down so his mouth hovers near her ear.

     "It turns out that I'm marrying a Saint after all." His breath is warm and so are his hands. She can feel the heat of them through her bodice.

     Anya clicks her tongue, feigning irritation. When her gaze meets his in the mirror, his lips tug into a playful grin.

     "You are an insufferable flirt," she says, but she leans back against him all the same, allowing herself to sink into his embrace for a few moments.

     Nikolai's grip on her waist tightens. He drops featherlight kisses behind her ear and down her neck. "And yet you agreed to marry this insufferable flirt."

     "This is only the engagement party," she reminds him. "There's still time to change my mind."

     "And would you?"

     He thinks of that a lot. The idea of losing her sends a bolt of fear through him. He'd sooner face a thousand bloodthirsty pirates with nothing but his bare hands. He'd meet the Darkling in the Fold and spend the rest of his days living as that winged monster again, and it would scare him less than losing her.

     It took a long time for her to agree to marry him. He's been proposing, in some form or another, since they were seventeen years old. When she kissed him for the first time in a medik's tent, when he left for his apprenticeship and promised he'd come back for her, when they'd lain together in his cabin aboard the Volkvolny for the hundredth time and he'd known there would never be peace in his soul if she wasn't his.

     But she hadn't been his. Not really.

     He would risk it all for the country that abandoned her, and for a long time, that had been a crack between the two of them that could not be repaired. Like the Shadow Fold splitting his ravaged country in two, they had been at odds, stuck on separate sides of a great divide. He would always be a prince. He would always love Ravka.

     She would always love him, but Ravka had lost her loyalty when she rotted in that cell.

     Things are different now. He is the King, the Fold is gone, and there is hope, finally, for some real change in their country. Anya might have been betrayed by Ravka, but she loved him. She loved him. And under Nikolai's rule, things would change. Things would heal.

     Anya could heal, too.

     When she finally agreed to marry him, he'd wept. He’d held his breath for days and waited for the penny to drop, for another inexplicable thing to keep them apart. One of them was always leaving. And to rule over a country she'd once despised, where the nobility hated her...

     He wouldn't blame her for running. He just wishes he'd be able to run with her.

     His gaze is wide open, searching. Her own features soften as she looks at him, and she shakes her head slowly.

     "No," she says. "I wouldn't."

     He tilts her chin up and kisses her like he’s drowning, like she is the first breath of air he's ever had. His grip on her waist tightens as she sways a little, and a golden warmth slips through her strong enough to make her knees feel weak.

     When she pulls herself away from him, he tries to follow her. A frustrated groan sounds low in his throat.

     "Careful," Anya says with a teasing smile. "If you ruin my hair, Genya really might kill you."

     She turns back to the mirror, inspecting her appearance once more before reaching up to straighten her kokoshnik. Nikolai holds her tightly from behind, both arms tangled around her middle, chest flush against her back. His chin rests lightly on her shoulder.

     A tremor ripples through her and he knows, without knowing, that her knee is bothering her. He shifts himself to take more of her weight, just for a moment, and her grateful sigh is like a balm on every wound he’s ever had.

     His moss-and-honey eyes lock with hers in the mirror once again. An adoring smile tugs at his mouth. "You wouldn't protect me?"

     Anya laughs. "I sat for hours as she tortured me until I looked perfect. I'd help her."

     "My vicious girl." He says it like a prayer. A moment of silence passes before a crease forms between his brows. "Do you remember that last birthday of yours, before we enlisted?"

     Anya hums distractedly, fiddling with her sleeves. "My sixteenth, yes. My parents threw a massive ball and invited— well, more people than I've ever met in my life. They were hoping to secure a match for me, I think. Or at least start sniffing out potential suitors. Why?"

     "I think I fell in love with you that night."

     Anya raises an eyebrow at him. "No, you didn't."

     Nikolai presses a kiss to her shoulder, just above one of those tiny silver scars. They'd barely known each other, then; childhood acquaintances turned into almost-strangers. Her parents had kept her sequestered to their estate as she grew older, to hide that she was Grisha. By her sixteenth birthday, he'd seen her perhaps three times in as many years, and whatever friendship they'd been able to muster up as youngsters had died.

     But he remembers that night. Almost like it was yesterday, the memory of it dances through his mind with startling clarity. "You entered the ballroom, and you must have been nervous but you couldn't tell. You held yourself with all the grace and dignity of a queen, even then."

     "A decade of governesses bullying manners into me might've had something to do with that," Anya grumbles.

     "Hush," Nikolai says with a huff of laughter. "I don't think I'd ever seen anyone so beautiful. All that time growing up at court, all those noble ladies in their pretty dresses and furs, but I'd never felt this way before. It was like watching a sunrise for the first time."

     Anya sniffs. "Nikolai." Her voice is a stern, if slightly wobbly, warning. "If you make me cry before we even make it out of this room, I will make sure Tamar tells her most embarrassing story about you as a toast."

     "And it would be completely worth it, Nastya." His smile grows ever wider. "And then I had to watch you have the first dance with Vasily. I'd never been so jealous in my life."

     His older brother might have been a swine, but Nikolai cannot help the odd fondness he has for Vasily's memory. Had he lived, Nikolai isn't sure whether that affection would still exist, but there is little point in despising a ghost. There's not much more damage they can do.

     Even so, the memory of his lecherous hand lingering a little too low on Anya's hip makes him feel like a viper has curled up in his belly.

     Anya gives up on fiddling with her appearance and sighs, leaning her head back to rest against Nikolai's chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat is a comfort. "My parents insisted. He was the Crown Prince, I could hardly refuse!" Anya shudders a little as she recalls his touch, the way he'd leaned in close and whispered compliments in her ear that had left her feeling slimy.

     "It was torture. Pure torture." With a gentle push, he spins her in his arms until they're nose-to-nose. Anya's hands curl around his neck. Her fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I didn't know, then, what it meant. I was so alarmed by those feelings. I didn't understand what you would mean to me. But I fell in love with you that night. I'm sure of it now. One look at you and I was doomed forever."

     "Oh, how charming!" Even as she teases him, Anya's heart does somersaults in her chest. "You did dance with me that night, you know. You stepped on the hem of my dress."

     "I was so worried you could hear my heartbeat."

     "You couldn't tell. You were your usual charming self, all suave and unbearable, flirting with all the girls." Anya smiles, all soft at the edges.

     "What can I say? I was a foolish boy," he says.

     Anya laughs. "Was?"

     Nikolai growls low in his throat and picks her up by the waist, spinning her in a slow circle. "Alright, alright," he murmurs. "But I like to think I learned my lesson in the end."

     She runs her finger along his jawline and says softly, "And I learned mine."

     They might have stayed there forever, bodies pressed tight together, his gaze so intent and earnest that the world around Anya falls away. The warmth of him swallows her whole, and she thinks she wouldn't mind a forever just like this. Just the two of them, and a quiet room, and his heartbeat thudding beneath her palm.

     An insistent knock on the door drags them back to reality, followed by Zoya's sharp-tongued demand that they hurry up, or they're going to be late.

     Nikolai doesn't look away from Anya as he settles her gently back on the ground. His hands still linger at her waist. A slow, lazy smile pulls at his lips. "I suppose it's rude to be late to your own engagement party. Should I be concerned that your speech will flatter me terribly? Is it filled with praise and adoration about my dashing good looks and genius?"

     Anya almost snorts, pulling herself out of his grip. "I'd say it's filled with my exasperation at your recklessness, your daring, your inability to keep your hands to yourself—"

     "—and my dashing good looks." He reaches for her again but she dodges his outstretched hand. "Can't a man kiss his future wife?"

     "That man won't make it to his wedding day if he keeps testing Zoya's patience." She shoots him a warning glance, though the effectiveness of it is ruined by the brightness of her smile. Once, not so long ago, he feared he'd never seen her shine like this again. "I promise to include your handsomeness in my vows if you get a move on."

     With a chuckle, he joins her at the door, their fingers threading together. She kisses the corner of his mouth as a reward, and then the pair of them stumble out of their room and into the rest of their lives.

[delicrieux]

𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫, 5. year one: early september, 1972

pairing for this chapter—f!lestrange!reader x regulus black warnings for this chapter—none word count—1.9k

the woes of the first week.

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | ttp masterlist | < back | next >

 “how is she?” you inquire.

evan remains quiet for a few moments, the very picture of misery. sad eyes pour down the letter held between steady fingers, toast and marmalade untouched by his elbow. he had read it trice and still remains unsatisfied. if you weren’t as tired, you’d snatch it out his hands to inspect it yourself. unfortunately, both of you seem to have been tormented by a sleepless night.

“completely bedridden,” he surmises. there’s a pinch between his brows that will become routine when he’ll be faced with something inconsiderate. you know upon notice, and it feels as though you always knew, “from a common cold.”

hardly a novelty, “hope she gets better soon,” she never does, and anyone but evan would scoff at the words. you wonder if he ever tires of hearing them. a porcelain cup between your palms warms you – black tea and balmy fumes against your skin, “how’d she catch it, anyway?”

“exploring the garden,”

“thought she wasn’t allowed to do that.”

“you’ve met pandora,” he grumbles, folding the letter neatly before hiding it inside the inner lapels of his cloak. close to the heart, where all important things should remain, “a rambunctious child,” he says, as if he isn’t one. the miasma of his father’s perfume doesn’t enfold him. he seems particularly young in the pale morning light, “don’t think she realises the consequences.”

no, surely she does not. sickly and dream-like, pandora rosier speaks little and feels too much. the sight of a butterfly’s torn wing had distraught her so horribly that she fell comatose for a week before she awoke mid-winter with a terrible headache and no recollection of the occurrence. mrs rosier had forbid anyone to speak of it, and pandora was no longer allowed to play in the manor’s garden without an escort. every space needed to be scrubbed and tailored before she was to step foot in it.

not that it helped much. once, pandora told you that she saw mirages in the dancing dust. you thought her terribly stupid and suggested to play dolls instead.

“how will she fare, i wonder,” you think yourself sounding very diplomatic, like mrs rosier when she masked worry with a pinched lip and a slight raise of a brow. your weathered gaze sweeps the sleepy gaggle of children seeking breakfast in the great hall. today, it is much less impressive than the night of the sorting, “hogwarts is hardly up to standards.”

truly, headless ghosts and moving armours, twisting staircases and wailing portraits, not to mention the great expanse of rolling hills and the murky depths of the black lake, still as glass against the trees when you peeked at it this morning. you imagine pandora would faint at the sight of a ripple, or burst into tears upon a still portraits sudden, uncanny movement.

evan must have considered this for far longer than you have. he shrugs. either he doesn’t want to say or he doesn’t want to speak of this further. both fit you fine, for your interest in young pandora goes as far as politeness wills it.

“where’s regulus?” he switches topic idly, pouring some milk into a steaming cup that appeared by his right hand no sooner than he moved it.

“how should i know,” perhaps a tone too petulant for such an offhanded comment, “sleeping, probably.”

he tuts, “surprised you’re awake.”

“i'm very diligent and studious,” you remark, which only earns a quiet chortle. a year ago you would have smacked him. perhaps you haven’t changed so much, because he nurses his shoulder with a glare pointed in your direction, “don’t pout, you look like a pug.”

whatever else he was going to mumble is lost under the threat of more violence. perhaps he has no fight in him. it is very early. you would say you awoke at sunrise, watching it gleam through the water and onto the cold tiles of the slytherin common room. but that would be a lie. you hardly slept at all.

there was no clear reason for it, not that you could name. a restless uneasy spiked once you laid your head down on the cool pillow. your eyes didn’t close, even when they grew heavy from each slow blink. they got used to the dark. you could outline the faint silver embroidery of the curtain around your bed. hear matilda’s hushed breaths and marzy’s quiet snore. the overhead gurgle of pipes. the groan of old wooden structures as you moved, and the rustle of linen sheets. all these sights and sounds distracted you. you kept thinking, but it was too fragmented to understand. at once there was the pungent burn of a record and melted lemon fudge on your tongue.

you wished, for a moment, to find regulus, though you were unsure of what you would do once you located him, nor why you wanted it in the first place. this thought soon warped into a bitter ache because he hadn’t searched you out first. he should know, of course, when you’re unhappy, and he should do something instead of sleeping soundly as if to mock you.

“have you spoken to slughorn?” evan pulls you out of your musings. like a true gentleman, he keeps his elbows off the table and speaks only when he’s done chewing.

“he invited regulus and i for tea and biscuits,” you recall. evan hums in agreement.

“i've got tea with him today. with barty.”

“matilda and marzipan are scheduled for tomorrow, i think,” you say, “curious what to expect?”

“i assume praises about our good blood and magical potential?” he raises a brow with a sideways glance.

you smile, “it’s not so horrid. you can tune him out after the first ten minutes, he hardly says anything worthwhile after.”

the head of your house, the esteemed potion and poison pioneer and rigorous socialite, horace slughorn, is a well-known figure to you outside of the classroom. an invitation is always extended to him during particularly big socials, and he’s always delighted smarmy around the upper echelon of the wizarding world. while his focus then was mostly directed at figures such as your father and others of equal importance, he always gave you a caramel toffee once you were instructed to say hello.

now, of course, you are very much important, a star jewel in his collection of significant children, and he extended his summons to you and regulus personally, and wanted just the two of you alone. you suppose slughorn split you all into pairs so he wouldn’t run out of compliments. you adore being adored, though his praises had felt a tad shallow, and the tea too sweet.

“when’s it, anyway?”

“after dinner,” evan sighs; more students pile into the hall.

“don’t sound all that enthusiastic.”

“can you blame me?”

you make a face, stuck somewhere between scrutiny and pity. no, you can’t really blame him, but that doesn’t mean you shan’t.

thankfully, the conversation melts to silence as you spot a disgruntled and sleepy bartimus and a much more composed regulus. they enter together, seemingly engrossed in a hushed conversation that doesn’t bode well for either, but they lighten up marginally when they see you and evan, pristine even in these unforgiving hours.

“blimey,” barty all of throws himself into a nearby seat, and the table sprouts a hearty breakfast to feed the insatiable crouch stomach, “this toad,” he points with his thumb at regulus, who, still adoring a slight frown, takes a seat beside you. naturally. barty will likely tease him once he’s done cowing over his woes, “woke me at the crack of dawn, moaning about how we’ll be late. we’ve got history of magic, for merlin’s sake. coulda slept in fine and missed zilch.”

“tragic.” is all evan says.

“did you get here early?” regulus greets instead of a good morning. he seems a tad weary, but is, overall, managing quite better than either you or your sombre seatmate. he leans a little, and you lean back, to catch evan’s gaze, “thought i heard the door opening.”

“clearly,” seems rosier’s potency for polite conversation has gone down drastically since your chat. perhaps he’s grown bored, or more tired, or is simply fed up at the sight of barty scarfing down his meal, “you know no one’s gonna take it from you.”

“i'll take from you, though,” barty says, pilfering some toast from evan’s plate.

“did you get a chance to visit the library?” regulus asks, once again, evan.

“shall we switch seats?” you inquire pointedly.

regulus spares you a glance, “i'm fine here.”

if you could roll your eyes more they’d lodge into the back of your skull. the morning is saved, however, by marzy and matilda entering with their arms linked. you spring up, grabbing at your book bag, much to the startle of the boys.

“leaving us for girls?” barty accuses.

“i’m a girl,” you huff, greatly insulted by such a statement, “and i'd much rather enjoy my breakfast with pretty company instead of this sorry sort,” before you can so much as make it a few steps, regulus pipes up.

“will you sit with me at history?”

you frown, “absolutely not!”

you do. and what is worse, you are dragged into the front row. barty and evan sit in the back, no doubt by the former’s request – easier to sleep, or cheat, out of the professor’s peripheries. marzy and matilda sit somewhere in the middle, and the rest of the company is largely unfamiliar to you – some pale-faced ravenclaws and still sleepy hufflepuffs, a few gryffindors with an abundance of school supplies taking everything out with as much volume as expected. this year’s crop of first years is, overall, quite small.

regulus takes out his quills and parchment. hogwarts: a history lays under the sunrays as you stare, willing it to catch on fire. what a feat that’d be, wandless magic on your first week with only a few simple charms under your belt. perhaps you’d be so revelled that the faculty would let you skip this course entirely. no such luck.

regulus nudges you with his elbow, feeling particularly pesky today. you don’t react, opting for scribbling the date on the top of your yellowed paper. he gives you a few moments before he does so again. you write your name. hear him sigh. good, he should feel bad for what he’s done.

“are you angry with me?” he asks quietly, minding the loud conversation just behind you, “i'm not sure what i’ve done to upset you.”

in all fairness, you’re not quite sure, either. the complexities of your mind have yet to be sorted into the words familiar to you. all that you do know is that everything here feels strange, and if you knew the term for it, perhaps it would be called homesickness.

not that you’d ever tell him. regulus changes a bit if front of evan and barty, but such was always the case, only never so apparent. perhaps you have been grieving this difference since you got here. that things will change, and that they are changing, and that you’re changing, as well. you feel as though you should be spared such a premonition. you’re too young to be so self-aware.

“it’s nothing,” you decide to forgive him for his mishaps. he is just a boy. your stupid regulus. your offering of peace is a smile. momentarily, he seems struck by it, looking at you even when you turn back to your parchment and the quirk of your lips melts into a placid line.

somewhere, a thread is weaved.