#enough to overlook all the times he lied to their face because they trusted that he could find the correct answer regardless

[pocasu]

soleum you're soooooo loved (unfortunately not just by the people in his life, but by the horrors as well)

[ashdreams2023]

Hello again! I was wondering if you still do requests and if so, can I request a Severus x reader but platonic? Like we've all read Sev being like a guardian of sorts to students but what if reader is like the prof that cares for Sev when he was a student? Like Severus' favorite teacher is reader cause not only is she smart and teaches well but she has a soft spot for Sevy and is one of the profs that punishes the marauders every time she catches them bothering Snape. Snape can see her as a mother figure that even up to the point that Sev actually became a teacher he still goes to her for his problems and she just babies him lol. (Reader was once the youngest teacher to teach in Hogwarts before Snape took that role)

Alright alright gonna do this now!

Platonic Severus snape x fem reader

All my respect

Severus had a rocky relationship with adults from a very young age that’s for sure, his home life and neighborhood left little in his faith for grown ups.

It was a rocky two first years when he couldn’t even trust his head of house let alone another professor, he felt uncomfortable if he had to seek his head of house for help, he preferred to suffer in silence, even if it meant having to sit in aching bruises from his bullies until he learned how to brew a cooling balm.

No one did a thing to genuinely help him, no one, he hated how everyone overlooked him, how They saw him just as a weird kid who others avoid for no reason but that they didn’t understand him.

That continued until his third year, after a brutal beating from Sirius and his wand almost snapping in half, he remembers it very clearly he was sitting in the hall feeling the entire world was against him.

Then you came, young looking and worried, at the time you were only 28 years of age, he knew you were the new hired substitute professor for charms.

He expected to be scolded and sent to his dorm but instead you kneeled down and without even asking a question tended to his injuries self, he flinched when you first touched his face but that didn’t stop you from applying some healing balm and checking his medical chart with your wand.

He was speechless to say the least, no one ever cared this much about him…even his mother…

"Tell me who did this to you and I don’t want any lies little boy" you tried to sound firm but he could tell you were still panicked about his state and what you saw on his medical charm, he was a scrawny malnourished boy "you can tell me, you’re not gonna be in trouble I promise"

Next thing he knows points have been deducted from the lions and he’s all healed up. Although that still didn’t make him trust you that easily.

But it kept happening, you stopped whoever was bothering him, looked out for him when he seemed a little off and much more, you didn’t rest until you got the marauders suspended from hogwarts for a whole semester because of that idiot and deadly prank.

You scolded him still but always with a gentle hand checking if he’s hurt or hiding an injury like he sometimes did.

"One of these days you will kill me with a heart attack!"

"They started it!"

Heck you even helped him get some rare plants for his potion making and recommended him to higher education, even after he messed up and used that awful name, you believed him, you saw the good in him and stood by his side.

He can thank you a million times but he still feels like it isn’t enough, even now at 35 of age, you’re 50 and still working in the same school.

He comes to you for guidance, he has tea with you every other day and you sit there smiling fondly as he complains and rants about his day, just like the little boy you once knew.

"With all my respect to you mother but these kids are insufferable" it takes him a minute to realize what he just said and he blushes crazily but you chuckle.

"Oh please, you’re the son I never birthed"

Severus sighs still blushing slightly from embarrassment "Isn’t it too late for me to call my professor mum?" He used sarcasm to hide his embarrassment.

You sipped your tea and leaned back on your chair "I remember when you were just a little lad, sneaking around to brew your outrageous potions and getting burned then coming back to me with a pout and tear stained eyes demanding I give you my cooling balm"

He smirked crossing his arms "I can make it myself now, I don’t need to be babied anymore"

"Oh? So you don’t your favorite tea cup?" She laughed softly.

Severus frowned dropping his arms, his tea cup, the one you bought specially for him because the design reminded you of a cauldron, it was childish and looked out of place in your neatly organized cabin with all the good China sets.

But he still went for it, he wouldn’t pick that one round tea cup and take it for himself, you would tease him about needing a grown up one but he would defend himself saying he would do just fine with this one.

"Well, good to know some things just don’t change sevy"

"Don’t call me that I’m a grown adult! I’m taller than you!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night sevy" fighting you was useless, he should’ve known better but he always felt light, he breathed out and let a small smile creep on his lips.

[writeforfandoms]

The Name of the Wind 3

Find the series masterlist

I know this is a bit late BUT this is still for @glitterypirateduck challenge. This is not the last chapter of this story, but it is the last chapter that will be using prompts from the challenge. This chapter used "Do you trust me?"

Warnings: Swearing, wooing, someone is a little oblivious, flying, dragons. Oh, and two new/familiar characters show up.

Word count: 1.8k

Weeks passed. You learned your way around and met the other people who lived there. Not just the riders, but the kitchen staff too. You learned how everything worked, when to eat, where to wash up. Everything. 

It was different from how your life had been before, but different didn't mean bad. Not in this case. 

You never heard another word about your would-be husband. And you certainly didn't ask - that would be inviting trouble. 

The hardest thing to adapt to was the most integral part of your role here. 

The dragons. 

Caba was very calm every time you interacted with him… which was quite a bit in the beginning, as Alejandro used him to demonstrate how the harnesses went on and where they wore the most. Caba didn't mind being used as a show model, remaining calm around you. 

Unfortunately, that could not be said of every dragon. 

The youngest dragon in the garrison, a blue female, actually knocked you off your feet when you met her. Her rider was apologetic, helping you back to your feet. The freshly-chastened dragon drooped like a misbehaving pup while Caba oversaw the fitting process for her harness. 

You did not get knocked over a second time. But it did take multiple washes to get all the mud off you later.

After that little incident, Caba or Alejandro was around for every new dragon you met. You weren't sure if you were flattered, or disgruntled. 

Perhaps the most interesting thing to you was how self-contained the garrison was. Supplies came from the capital regularly, but the garrison otherwise seemed to be run by Alejandro. He oversaw everything, from training to rotations to travel. He didn't seem to need to ask anyone above him for anything, which seemed both curious and, if you were being honest, appealing. 

An honest man, with a sense of humor, who treated everyone well and didn't place himself above the others? And one who was also competent and ran his garrison well? 

Honestly, you were surprised he didn't have a spouse already. 

(He didn't. You knew because you'd caught some of the younger riders gossiping.) 

You were, however, surprised when he approached you after breakfast one day. You didn't always sit at his table, only sometimes. Usually when he or Rodolfo flagged you down. This was the first time he had approached you, usually summoning you to his side instead. 

“How much work do you have today?” He asked, walking next to you as you put your dirty dishes in the bins. 

“Not a lot, nothing urgent,” you responded slowly. You had a custom order you were excited to work on, but that could wait another day. Especially if Alejandro needed you for something. 

He flashed a grin at you, nearly making your knees wobble. “So you have time free.” 

“I do,” you agreed, eyeing him. “Why?”

“Do you trust me?” He stopped in the hallway, turning fully to face you. 

You nodded slowly, looking at him. “I do.” 

“Meet me outside in twenty minutes. Wear something warmer.” He held your gaze, magnetic and unavoidable. 

“Okay,” you agreed, soft and a little surprised. But you hadn't lied. You did trust him. 

At least enough to trust that he wouldn't toss you out of the overlook, or anything like that.

It took very little time to grab a warm coat and gloves, since you weren't exactly sure what you were going to be doing. The walk outside was full of the typical bustle of the garrison - you passed riders going every which way, and as you passed near the kitchen, the chatter and chinking of washing reached your ears. 

It was amazing to think about how quickly this had become home to you. 

Alejandro stood outside next to Caba, waiting on you, dressed in his riding leathers. You allowed yourself only a moment or two to let your gaze wander over the well-fitted leathers before looking to the dragon instead. 

To your surprise, he wore a modified version of his harness. 

“We don't need the full harness,” Alejandro said, having correctly guessed your line of thinking from the surprise in your face and the line of your gaze. “Not for this.”

“And what is this?” You asked hesitantly, stopping in front of him. 

Alejandro grinned, bright and pleased, with only a little humor. “You said you trust me.” 

“I do,” you reiterated, only to squeak when Alejandro grabbed your hand and pulled you to Caba. “What–?” 

But Alejandro offered no answer beyond stopping next to Caba, who had obligingly laid down to make his shoulder not entirely out of reach. Alejandro knelt and patted his thigh. 

���You can reach the straps to help pull yourself up,” he offered, watching you. “It is easier if you have a boost to start.” 

You stared at him for a moment before turning your gaze to the dragon. “What?” You squeaked. 

Alejandro did his best not to laugh at you, lips clamped together even as his shoulders shook. “Up you go,” he encouraged, hints of laughter in his voice.

You thought about protesting, but, well. You did trust him. So you took a deep breath and used his proferred thigh as a step up. Your ascent up Caba's shoulder was not graceful, but you also didn't slide back down. You'd take that as a good thing. You felt very high up, sitting on his back as you were. 

Alejandro climbed up after you, making it look easy. He sat behind you, his thighs bracketing yours. You swallowed, suddenly quite warm. 

“Hold here,” Alejandro murmured, low and close to your ear, reaching past you to pull on a strap. You grabbed it tight, partially to hide the shaking in your fingers. “Don't worry. I won't let you fall.” One of his hands settled at your waist. You sucked in a sharp breath, partially disguised by the sudden movement under you as Caba got to his feet. You rocked with the movement, startled. 

Caba didn't give you any time to adjust, though. He just started away from the garrison, using the open flat space to gain some speed. Massive leathery wings snapped out at his sides. You squeezed the strap tighter at the first sweep of those wings, feeling unsteady but for Alejandro's solid presence at your back. 

One more downsweep and Caba launched into the air, the pressure pushing you back against Alejandro. He held firm, his grip on your waist reassuring. 

Caba leveled out soon after, the pressure easing. Wind whipped in your face, cold but clear. You blinked rapidly as you adjusted, breathing in slowly. 

Alejandro squeezed your waist gently, His head close to yours as he shouted to be heard over the wind. “Look now.” 

You did, and gasped. From here you could just barely see the coast, blue stretching for miles and miles. The river valley below seemed very far away, though the river sparkled where it came down from the mountains and snaked across the land. You couldn't look down for long, though, before you started to feel dizzy. 

But you didn't fear falling. Not with Alejandro pressed up close behind you as he was. 

It didn't take long for your nose to go nearly numb, the cold wind seeping your warmth. No wonder the riders all wore leathers and fur up here. Your hands did go numb, fingers still clenched tight around the strap. 

“See? Not so bad, hmm?” Alejandro sounded smug, his voice rumbling against your back and in your ear, even as his breath warmed your skin. 

You just laughed, leaning back slightly, trusting him to keep you safe. 

And he did. 

You had no idea how long Caba flew the two of you. But he didn't go far into the valley before turning for the coast, making a big loop. From this height, you could see the town you'd left behind weeks ago, as well as a couple other garrisons, notable from the other dragons in the air. From this height, everything seemed small, even your lingering worries. 

Eventually, he angled back towards the garrison, gliding down at a gentle angle. Alejandro's hand at your waist encouraged you to lean back further, your back pressed to his chest, until Caba landed. The big dragon chuffed and continued walking, wings setting against his back again. 

You blinked, confused, but Alejandro just chuckled. “You're back early,” he called to someone up ahead, the hand on your waist tightening briefly. 

“For once,” another man called back. You spotted a dark-haired man standing up ahead, another scruffier man by his side. Caba stopped a short distance from the two, and Alejandro swung one leg over to face them. He did not get down, however. 

“Need a ride back to the capital, then?” 

“S'pose so,” the scruffier man answered, gaze on you. “You offering?”

Alejandro chuckled. “I will arrange it,” he said, though you noted he didn't offer to do it himself. “Come inside, have something to eat.” 

“Gonna introduce us?” The scruffier one asked, still peering up at you. 

“If we see you at dinner.” Alejandro didn't offer anything else as Caba started walking again, leaving the two men behind to make his way back to the cavern entrance. 

“Who were they?” You asked, undeniably curious now. 

“Nobody of import.” Alejandro waited for Caba to lay down again before he slid down the dragon's side. “Here. I'll help.” He held his hands up to you, watching closely. 

You eyed the distance down, biting your lip. He hadn't led you to harm yet. It did take a few moments to unclamp your hands, fingers aching from being locked in position for so long, but then you carefully swung a leg over and slid down. Alejandro caught you, making sure you didn't land too hard and holding you upright when your knees wobbled. 

“Alright?” He asked quietly, giving you a quick once-over. 

“Yeah.” You smiled up at him. “That was… incredible. Thank you.” 

“I will take you as often as you wish.” His smile was smaller than usual but brighter, happier. 

“You don't mind?” You couldn't help the note of hesitancy, of shyness. 

“Not if it's you.” He leaned closer to you, until you were firmly bracketed between Caba at your back and Alejandro at your front. 

Your breath caught in your throat. He was so close and so warm. 

Caba rumbled, something you felt more than heard, vibrating against your back. You startled, turning your head to try to figure out what was going on. 

Alejandro sighed and backed off. “Sit with me at dinner tonight,” he invited, gently taking hold of your hand, rubbing some of the ache from your fingers. 

“Okay,” you agreed, a little dazed still. 

He smiled again, that small but sincere smile you were quickly becoming attached to, and took a step back. Another, and he released your hand, and turned to go. 

You stood there, needing Caba's silent support, for longer than you wanted to admit.

[carbohydratedfella]

Image by @/springhrtrap

Part 1: (link)

Steve Raglan/William Afton x Male!Reader

>> Pre-cannon (Before Mike started working for the pizzaria). Mostly William's perspective of part 1.

>> ? words.

>> CW/TW: Mentions of murder. Sugestive in some parts but nothing much.

...

After the pizzaria closed It was like there was a empty wound in your heart. You missed your tiring and yet fun job, your co workers...

...and god you'd rather die than admit that but you missed William too.

You knew about his disturbung secret, his hobby If you will. And yet he simply allowed you to walk away freely, (and a warning).

And your hearts beats fast at just the memory of It. Not just because you most died, but because of the words he used.

"I'll miss you"

What the hell did he mean by that. Saying those words right after threatening to kill someone isnt really a good thing.

And yet the combination of his sweet voice and the comfort that his embrace provided still made your heart flutter.

Maaaybe you could overlook the murders. Just a bit.

...

>>Flashback to before the pizzaria closed

POV CHANGE: William

Loud cheering and the sound of children's laughter filled the atmosphere of the pizzaria

William had just finished another show while wearing the spring bonnie suit, It was heavy and a bit steamy, but he made It work.

Henry had told him that another employee would come to work in the Freddy's dinner that night, a new mechanic to assist them and that after the show, he had to meet him.

He walked into the room where he knew you'd be in, taking off the bonnie mask.

He laid his eyes on you and brought up his usual bright smile.

"New guy!"

The first meeting went nicely, and he had to admmit, you certainly caught his attention that day.

He couldnt help but from that day on, to notice the way you spoke, the way your arms flexed when you fixed an animatronic and the your eyes would focus on the task at hand.

He even caught you staring back at him a couple of times. It was cute.

Dammit those damn feelings started to take a toll on him. And yet he couldn't let those get in the way.

Specially given his...hobby.

He was a psycopath, a sociopath. Knew how to use his words and good looks to make people look way.

He was a horrible, disturbing man, with blood soaked hands.

And you?

Somehow your presence brought peace to him. Comforting.

Your hands were soaked with industrial oil, and hard work. Your strong hands fixing the animatronics, getting the gears back in place with a huff. He wondered what more could they do.

He felt guilty for feeling this way. For having these thoughts. But It only seemed to grow the longer you stayed in the same room with him. He could feel the heart radiating off of your body, and God, what he'd do to be able to feel your hands with his.

Using the excuse of "Just being a good boss" to spend more time with you. To aid you during work hours and "accidentally" brush his fingers against yours.

It was wrong. It felt wrong.

But he couldnt help It!

The way his heart would beat. Reminding him that hes alive. Was...good.

...

On the "last day" of the pizzaria he definitelly felt the small gloom forming in his heart.

Did he feel guilty? ...Thats debatable (he didn't)

It was his fault anyways, a inevitably outcome for his actions. Using the trust the children had on the Yellow Rabbit to lure and kill. At least he was smart enough to hide them inside the animatronics, somewhere the police they're never look.

He knew the souls would remain there.

But he had to at least get rid of the bodies, couldn't risk letting the expensive metal rust, what a waste that would be.

After all the employees had left, or só he thought, he started making his way to the back room where he had left the animatronics in.

Thats when he saw you. Slowly backing away from them. He couldnt see your face yet, and for a moment, completelly forgot why he was there in the first place.

You were stammering on your words, and he was simply smilling at you. Not really listening to a word you said. He glanced back at the animatronics, the chest cavity of one of them was open, and just like that, his murderous insticts kicked in.

Did you see anything? Was he that obvious. Argh! No time for that, he had to get rid of the evidence, the witness. You.

When he noticed you stepping away, he couldnt let you run, tell the cops, ruin his plan, he had to do something.

The most obvious plan was to kill you. Get rid of the body. Easy.

But when he cornered you, he saw you...weaken, pleading with your eyes to let you go free. It was a sight he never expected to see. It was a sight he never wanted to see.

Just kill him already.

Just one more victim.

No one will know.

His logical side kept screaming at him, and yet...he couldnt.

Despite his sadistic nature It seemed that there was a switch in his brain, that only you had acess to. And when he saw you there, scared, It pained him, just a bit.

He had you agaisnt a wall, knife ever so slightly digging in, eyes focused and somewhat pleading. He didnt want to kill you, but he couldnt let you leave either.

So when you eventually complied to keeping quiet, It was as If a huge weight was lifted off of him. Good.

He then did something he had dreamed of ever since the day he had met you, he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly, taking one deep breath.

He could smell your scent and god If he could he'd drown himself in It. He didnt want to let go. At all. So the moment you hugged him back he felt in heavens, as close he could get anyways

...

>> "present time"

POV CHANGE: YOU

Getting a new job was supposed to be easy, keyword, was

But somehow your vast knowledge in Animatronics and machinery didnt manage to keep you In a solid job, not one you enjoyed at least.

Running out of options, you decided to visit a local guidance counselor, Steve Raglan, he had a good reputation, and you had a good past, surely you'd be able to have another, better, job.

"Hello? Mister its your turn now"

The secretary called you, you then swiftly stood up, grabbed your back, and headed in Mr. Raglan's office.

Walking in you imediatly froze...was that...

"Oh! Hello there sir"

The man smiled brightly, interlocking his fingers and setting his elbows on the table, and If the sight didnt make your heart race maybe the uncanny resemblanse to you former boss did.

He looked identical. Yes a bit older, but that just added to the charm.

You blinked a couple of times then eventually sat down. You looked at the shiny name tag he wore, then back at his face.

He laughted

"Is there something on me?"

You moved your chair closer then carefully spoke

"...William?"

....

Author's Note: this took longer than I wanted but I hope you guys liked It tehe

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

the first blighter, following kastav

-

For three weeks now it's been the same nightmare. The dungeon, after Kastav, with all its dark wetness and pain, the ache of the gag in his jaw. He's waiting to die, in the nightmare, feeling the jagged edge of his own broken rib wearing a slow hole in his lung; he's abandoned, down there, Barfok must be somewhere nearby but he cannot feel her presence. In the nightmare he lies there for interminable time, until something-- the fear of dying alone, perhaps-- compels him to open his eyes. He opens his eyes and he's lying face-to-face with his mother, her blue irises dull as marbles, his father roaring through his heart, and he always thinks (just as he did when it happened) that someone has dyed his mother's fair hair the same colour as his, until he understands that, in fact, her head is red with her spilled blood.

Then the wetness of Kastav is the wetness of blood and the solitude is--

For three weeks now, Chemua has awoken suffocating. He spasms, he gropes around in his silk sheets until he recalls that he took nobody to bed last night, and by then he's sitting upright. He flattens his hand against the badly-mended ribs below his heart, still misshapen to the touch, and he thinks that the injury has rent his lung open before he understands that he's simply in a panic. Then it's gasping, swallowing, forcing himself through his meditations, muttering su'um, su'um as if he can use the thu'um to will himself to normalcy. Wondering, all the while, what sort of a Tongue so frequently finds himself unable to breathe.

Kastav. Kastav. One year out and the word is a shackles: Kastav. One of the most powerful men alive and he knows what it's like to be caged like a dog. Even his racing heart beats it-- Kastav, Kastav, Kastav-- louder than any meditation, until he can't bear to think it, any more than he can bear the memory of the imprisonment. Itching, restless to the bone, he rises and gets dressed.

It's cold comfort: that Mournhold is his, rightful inheritance that hardly wants him. There's a hidden passage just beyond his chambers and he knows the slaveways better in the darkness than the palace hallways in light. Still, he holds his fingertips against the wall when he traverses them, counting paces-- twenty, to a niche here, then a turn left, and a narrow staircase-- then he emerges from a tapestry, much as an assassin would, stepping into a long moonlit hallway with a broad door at the very end of it.

At that door stands a Shout on duty. He locks eyes with Chemua, long enough that Chemua can read his suspicion even in the dim; then Chemua turns and goes the other way, making the rest of his journey in the open. Wondering, all the while, whether the fear on his face shows.

Movement helps. So does being around people, though there are dwindling numbers whose company he can seem to abide. In the daytime there's always Amun-Shae, though Chemua finds her company embarrassing, he likes her patience and the wisdom of statecraft she shares. Then there's Nords: Fenja, Einhelf, Amornen, Eloja, men who are not friends because a Tongue does not have friends but who are trusted followers and overlook his flaws. The Daughters of Mephala who bed men for coin and the ale-daughters who bed a Jarl's son for favour and glory.

In the nighttime however, if he hasn't the foresight to bring someone to bed, there's no-one-- no-one but the empty hallways of Mournhold palace, and wary guards, and imagined assassins in every shadow. The ghost of his mother's blood soaking into the rug. His pace quickens--

--And then he's outside, in the courtyard, then passing through the public gardens with all their dappled shadow. The night is cold and dry, the sky clear, the stars violently yellow in their firmament. He's worn a cloak over the silken tunic and trousers, wrapping himself in it like a common thief, and it offers little warmth but compared to other places (High Hrothgar with its bitter blizzards) the city never manages to truly chill him. Chemua does not pause to check whether he is being followed. In the wake of the nightmares it is too easy to feel invisible (Kastav, dark dank Kastav where they lay forgotten) and though no handsome tall man, a fearsome Tongue no less, should ever pass through life with the sense that they are totally unseen, so he does. So he goes. Wondering, all the while, what sort of Tongue…

… Out in Mournhold proper, just beyond the gate in the Eastern district, there is a meadery adjoined to a tall wooden storeroom piled up against the palace walls. Even in these small hours the city does not sleep and Chemua finds the meadery open, its last few customers in low conversation. The barkeep knows him on sight-- there's a glass for him before he asks, but he does not take the drink, not tonight. He passes the counter, goes down a half-flight of steps and through a low wooden doorway, head ducked, down into a brick-lined cellar that smells richly of honey and is occupied by many vats.

He has to wonder about other people, sometimes. Such as Barfok, who was also imprisoned at Kastav, that odd ugly Skyrimisk woman a little older than he. Chemua doesn't like her, perhaps because there's something upstaging about her (what is the mother assassinated when he was a little boy compared to her family massacred before her eyes as an adolescent? His exile to Hrothgar compared to her years in the Vvardenfell wastes?) And still he wonders whether she, too, balks at cellars, and wakes up from nightmares every night, and wants to rip out her own heart at the thought of being caged. He suspects so. The letters she sometimes writes him are cheerful in a false, frantic way, making him suspect that his own attempts at normalcy are just as futile.

Other people, he wonders always about other people-- why not, because it always helps not to be alone. And here in this cellar he is not alone.

Chemua closes the door behind him and in that solitude he finally lets his mind turn to the chatter he's long tuned out.

The doorway he leans against groans the obnoxious groan of domesticated qethsegolle, the sluggish complaining of stone forced to be masonry. The cellar is lousy with it, a chorus of complaints that he's learned to tune out but never fully puts from his mind-- Mournhold itself is a riot of bickering, layers upon layers of architectural wrongdoing, three cities piled atop one another and none of them know how to get along. Even in the solitude of the cellar he can still hear the homesick whine of the Skyrim-pine that makes up the mead barrels, and the ecstatic gibbering of fermentation. Local honey and foreign yeast.

It is obnoxious. Walls do not mute the qethsegolle; somewhere deep below his feet is the unsettling chatter of the earth-bones the Dwemer broke here once (and mustn't they feel awful, tortured down there in the deep dark, bound, forgotten, their broken ribs wearing holes in their-- no.)

He shakes his head clear. He draws in a deep breath. He focuses his attention on the qethsegol that speaks in the corner.

We want the light. We want the light.

Behind a fermentation vat is a slapshod alchemy lab: a shelf of ingredients, a rough-hewn table stained with inexplicable substances. And atop the table are potted plants, some local and some foreign, some old and some young, all straining towards a tiny window set high in the wall. Their leaves are pale, their stalks wilting-- some of them are dying-- Chemua kneels before the table and rests his chin atop the wood, staring up through his eyelashes at the dirt-filled pots. The sad mewling of photosynthesis starved of its nourishment. Eyes unfocused, he listens to them-- We want the light! We want the light!-- the pained gasping of it, the desperation.

He lifts his chin from the table and says aloud: "Nobody is coming to save you."

He's spoken in Aldmeris but there's a note of the thu'um in it. Though the qethsegolle quiver, they fail to understand.

We grow towards the light, whimpers the notion of photosynthesis, We want the light. We want the light.

"So strain harder," Chemua tells it. "Tear yourself apart, if you want, it will come to nothing."

We want the light. We need more to live.

"Shall I carry you outside?" He rises off his knees, then sits in the chair. "Ah, but it's night-time, there's no light to be had. I'd be wasting the effort of saving you."

Barfok called him a monster. Said that his use of the thu'um was horrible-- that all he did was torture the qethsegol-- as if other thu'umcraft were based on anything less than brutal domination. Chemua himself has never considered his thu'um more than idle conversation, sprinkled here and there, perhaps, with a bit of cruel truth. It's all a moot point. He is certain the qethsegolle feel nothing comprehensible to mortals, and that if the Tongues believe they can converse, it is only because every other Tongue is as lonely as he is, starving to believe the world echoes them back. He considers this all a hallucination, his little nocturnal talks with the qethsegolle that govern plant growth, no more real than his nightmares. Still, it helps not to be alone.

When he speaks this time it's a real thu'um-- a single word of draconic that, in his tones, can be loosely translated as surrender, if surrender did not carry a connotation of peace. The desolation of something inevitably awful. Wide-eyed gasping futility. A stalk of wickwheat shrivels in on itself.

The qethsegolle of photosynthesis says, confused, Is there no light?

He still hasn't managed to find the words to get it through to them.

"There is light," Chemua replies in Aldmeris, "But not for you. You will never again taste the light, do you hear me?"

A hole in the world while the qethsegolle falls tremulously silent. It, of course, understands nothing but that single awful word. Then it starts up again, feebler: We want the light.

"You cannot have the light! You will perish down here."

We want the light.

"What for? What good will the light do you now? I've laced your soils with poison, you will perish within the week. The light cannot save you!"

We want the light.

"You may as well be dead!"

There was the thu'um in that, too, unrestrained in form, and Chemua feels reality rustle around him like a blanket. The world has noticed his heavy hand upon its flank for the briefest of moments and that awareness makes him feel naked. Deep beneath them, a pulse beats.

We want the light.

He clenches his eyes shut, turns his face towards the lamp on the wall, and sees through his eyelids the red of blood.

"No light," Chemua whispers. "You qethsegolle all died to birth this world. You're corpses. What for do you need the light? Shor sos nil. You should be rotting already."

And when he looks at the table again, he finds that they are; the air is thick with rot and the stalks of wickwheat are crimson and stunted in their pots. There is no more gibbering of photosynthesis. The world's murmuring makeup is all horror, mute bystander's gossip: the alchemy ingredients on the shelf questioning to each other whether it's true that they should be rotting, the yeast in the vats dying in their own alcoholic excrement. The cellar stagnant as a tomb.

He feels no better. This has not helped. Chemua rests his cheek against the rough-hewn table, closes his eyes, and waits like a prisoner for the morning.

[ernmark]

A second one for @cliozaur's prompt:

Hi! For the prompt (if you are still in a mood): Jean Valjean and Javert or John and Arthur in a really dangerous, life-threatening situation saying goodbye to each other, and we don't know how it ends for sure but there's a sliver of hope for them

(You know, what I'm finding from these prompts is that if two characters have a chance to say their goodbyes, they've probably got a chance to get out of it alive-- but they've got a very good reason not to take that opportunity. Which, let's be real, is tasty af.)

Fandom: Les Miserables

Characters: Jean Valjean, Javert

Rating: PG

"Merde," Javert hisses under his breath, and slams the door shut. "There's more coming from this side."

Valjean upends a table to pick it up-- because of course the difficulty in hefting six feet of solid hardwood is its unwieldiness and not its overwhelming weight, damn him-- and shoves it across the door. The Patron-Minette's toughs will have to break down the entire wall before they get through that door.

"From one barricade to another, eh, my friend?" he says, only slightly winded by the task.

Javert bares his teeth in a grimace. "I don't suppose you have another miracle up your sleeve for this one?"

"That depends. How many men are out there?"

"More than I have bullets."

Valjean's brows rise. "Would you shoot them?" For all Javert's ferocity, he's never killed a man in his life-- not directly, not with bullet and blow, though in these past months he has reconsidered how stainless his record truly is.

"For you?" Even as he says it, the uncertainty wells to the surface. He offers a grim smile. "I don't suppose you could shoot off their hats? Frighten them off like you did before?"

"These are hardly shakos."

"No."

But the truth of it is this: Valjean might not have the aim to blow off a knit cap, but he can strike the man beneath it without fail. And those who don't scatter under that first terrible volley would fall quickly under Valjean's fists and Javert's cane-- but most of them would never get up again.

And so he must ask himself, how many men would he kill to save Javert? And he knows without question: Javert is asking himself the same.

There's a crack of broken glass above them, and both look up. It seems their attackers have given up on the doors, and have opted to come through the upper story windows instead. Just a matter of time until they arrive.

But that has given Valjean an idea.

He hurries to the window at the back of the house, and-- yes, it overlooks the Seine directly. So there is still one chance.

Javert follows at his heels, follows his gaze, follows his reasoning before a word is said.

His face goes ashen at the sight of the storm-swollen waters. "You know I'm not a strong swimmer."

"I know." Valjean takes him by the shoulders and looks into his eyes. "But do you trust me?"

"With my--" Not with his life. If he follows Valjean into the water, that might very well be forfeit for both of them. "With my soul."

And dutifully he slips off the wool coat and boots that might weigh him down, while Valjean does the same.

Booted feet are trampling their way down the stairs. There isn't much time left-- just enough for a kiss, quick and desperate, before Valjean turns away and leaps into the river.

Javert can't help a gasp as he watches him vanish beneath the churning water, but he doesn't hesitate to climb onto the windowsill.

He always said that he would follow Valjean to the end, be that the gates of Heaven or Hell.

And he was never one for lies.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Fuck it, another discord ramble. This time on the menu we have Uncle Eden getting diddled by his yandere nibling. 100% not proofread lol.

Gn reader, noncon, brief choking, Eden is tied up and drugged, somno, psuedocest.

I'm imagining Eden sleeping at Bailey's for a week to take care of his precious kiddo, not allowed to be left alone because so many people would hurt them while Bailey is out of town. They refuse to go into the forest because they have work or college things to do, so Eden has to bite the bullet and come into town. It's all part of their plan, though. Getting the gruff man out of his comfort zone so that his sense of control is wavered. So that he relies on them for a sense of normality and trusts them because of it.

He insists that that stay home as long as possible. Walks them between places when they need to go anywhere. Goes to sleep after them, tries to wake up before them. They lean into it, playing as helpless and innocent while hiding exactly how like their dad they actually are. Because they have a penchant for manipulation, one that Eden overlooks due to his close proximity to them.

They thought they'd be content just recieving all of Eden's attention throughout the week, but as the days come to an end they have an itching under their skin. A longing for more of his touch beyond the chaste kisses to the cheek and platonic cuddles on the couch. They propose a meal. A nice one, in the dining room - they'll be cooking! A treat, a thank you for all Eden has done for them. Eden's steak gets a special seasoning - crushed up sleeping pills massaged into the meat. A pill in his whiskey just to make sure. It has to taste bad, Eden's face scrunches up when he takes a bite, but their bright smile keeps him from saying anything. He couldn't dissapoint them by insulting their gift.

The poor hunter finds it hard to stay awake in his seat, resting his head on his fist as he pokes at the veggies left on his plate. He fights the fluttering of his eyes, shaking his head each time they close. But he can't fight it forever. Soon enough, his eyes close properly and the fork falls onto the plate. Bailey's little demon spawn licks their lips as the slink from the room, fetching the rope from the kitchen and returning with a skip in their step as they tie up their dear Uncle.

They take care to stop him falling into his plate as they bind his legs and arms, using the final length to secure his torso to the backrest for extra safety. With all of the ropes it's hard to undo his pants. They have to cut them open, same with his underwear to get at what lies below. Their heart pounds, their mouth goes dry as their hands clam up.

Fascinated, they take his soft cock in their hands, playing with the length and marvelling at how it hardens the more attention they give. Eden lets out small puffs of breath in his sleep, his hips jolting when they pull at him a little to hard. They're quick to slow down again. They'd never hurt their dear Uncle. They only want to make him feel good. He'll understand when he wakes up - he has to.

It takes everything they have to tear themself away, but they manage after a few minutes. As quickly as they can they sprint to their room to uncover the bottle of lube they had hidden away; a sneaky purchase made at the pharmacy when Eden wasn't looking. They're back beside him in an instant, their pants being kicked off of their legs as they open the cap; curse when they release the safety thing is still on to stop leaks; remove the damn thing as they stand with one leg stuck in their pants; then finally squirt a large amount onto their hand as they slip a finger into their hole.

They consider spending longer working themself, but instead ignore the burning stretch as they get to three fingers as quickly as possible. There's plenty lube left on their hand when they're done, a hand that wraps around Eden half-hard cock and lathers it up as they ensure he's fully hard and ready.

It's been a while since they've had these dreams about Eden. The haunting dreams of his hands all over their body, his whispered words in their ear as he bounces them up and down on their lap. Every morning they'd awaken to nothing but disappointment. Sweet Eden wouldn't touch them. He'd never see them as nothing more than family. Not without some pushing, that is. He needs this. They're meant for each other, he just needs to have his eyes opened.

There's a few stumbles as they get into his lap, his damn thick thighs making them stretch to sit comfortably. They can't reach the floor with their toes as they sit there. A core workout, then. But worth it. With a long hiss, they raise themself up and slide down onto his cock slowly, gritting their teeth as the stretching keeps them from riding the hunter hard and fast as they want to do.

Leaning back onto the table with their elbows helps them find a rhythm when they finally reach the hilt, ignoring the slight pain as they desperately circle their hips and shamelessly moan. The moans are almost a performance - even as Eden sleeps. He'll wake up at any moment, he deserves the first thing he hears and sees to be enticing. With shaking hands, they take off their shirt, flinging it to the floor as they push Eden discarded plate back so they can lean further back into the table and quicken their hips. He's just so big - so filling.

They need more, they need this to never end.

Groans slip from Eden's lips, his head rolling to his shoulder as his eyes struggle to open. A frown turns his lips down, his brows furrowing as their name slips out on a quiet breath.

"Stop..." He tries, clearing his throat as he tries to move. Eden doesn't seem to notice that the ropes are their yet, brain too fogged up to distinguish between outside forces and the lethargy of his own limbs.

"Shh, shh, its okay," they insist, leaning forward to kiss along his jaw and wrap their arms around his wide shoulders. "I'm taking care of you, just let me do it."

The poor hunter still can't quite wake up, more whispers of their name and begging for them to stop as his head lolls forward to rest on their shoulder. His scent is intoxicating, his surprising assailant burying their nose in his hair, loosening the tie that keeps the longer length back to feel the tresses falling over their face. Despite his protests, they feel his cock twitch inside of them. They feel the slight kicks of his hips as they pepper kisses up his neck and suckle on the sensitive patches of skin behind his ear.

Audibly, Eden swallows. His body presses forward as the chair and ropes creak, his strength returning. Yet he remains bound, frustrated growls ringing in their ear.

"Come on, little one. This isn't like you... just let me out," he continues, breathless, yet his voice is losing the grogginess of sleep.

"I promise you'll like it," they return, their kisses coming back up his chin as they attempt to capture his mouth.

Eden is quicker than they expect, dodging the kiss and instead pressing his face to their neck. They chuckle for a second only to yelp when the feeling of his teeth digging into their flesh registers. It's not hard enough to bleed, not even to break the skin. Even now, Eden can't bring himself to hurt them.

They laugh, holding his head to their neck to encourage his biting, their fingers pulling at his hair.

Eden grunts again, his body tensing, his breath fanning across their shoulder, his- His cock spurting rope after rope of seed right into them as the large man shivers and groans.

They stop moving. Their eyes blink as they pull Eden away from their neck slowly, trying to meet his eyes as he attempts to keep his gaze distant.

"Eden?"

He swallows once more, redness creeping up his neck and colouring his cheeks. The silence fills the dining room, awkward and cloying. Slowly, they rolls their hips once more, the need in their gut still their even as Eden's cock softens inside of them.

"Stop!" he yells, eyes going wide as his struggles double in effort.

"No, it's okay, it happens-"

"Why wont you fucking listen?"

"You'll get over the sensitivity, just let me finish."

"That's not the problem!"

Tears gather in their eyes at Eden's denial. He's never yelled at them before. He doesn't have the wherewithall to dodge the kiss this time. They need it, they need him to stop talking, need him to at least pretend.

Eden tries to pull away as their lips meet, but they follow. He keeps his lips sealed as they lick at them. He keeps making muffled noises as they grind their hips harder once more.

Every time he attempts to get out of the chair they feel his muscled body press against their own, his hips sometimes meeting their own and making him hit deeper than before. They gasp, breaking the kiss, whining into another kiss as poor Uncle Eden focuses his efforts on struggling.

Doesn't he remember who taught them all those knots? He did. That's why they know they won't come loose.

Abruptly, Eden stops struggling. It brings hope, hope that he's finally giving in or just too burnt out to keep trying. God, it feels so good to be joined like this. To be this close as his sweat rubs off on them. To pet his chest and rake their fingers down his exposed chest hair, the buttons on his shirt coming undone in the struggle.

Maybe they should have paid more attention to Eden's change. In the end it didn't matter, not as that tightness in their stomach built ever tighter until it teetered right on the edge of snapping. Just a little more, just a few more seconds, just-

Eden's hand raising registers in the corner of their eye as they lean away to gasp for air. It strikes quickly, his large hand wrapping around their throat. It's too late, or perhaps just what they needed to push them over the edge and finish right then and there. It almost sounds like they're sobbing as they cum, the noises becoming strangled as Eden squeezes down on their throat. Insistent to drain bit of pleasure they can, they hurry their grinding, expecting to be pushed away.

They aren't. Eden's head rests against their shoulder, the hunter making another animalistic sound as he shudders. It's hard to giggle when he's choking them, but they feel the bubbling joy in their chest. He came again. Them finishing made him cum again.

Exhausted, satisfied and exhilarated, they let their body relax. Eden's grip in their throat loosens but his hand stays where it his, holding them. They choose to think of it as a loving embrace. This silence is far less awkward for them, more peaceful.

"... Let me out now. Seriously."

"So the past asks weren't serious?"

"Don't tease me, little one. I'm not in a good mood right now."

They tut, and just to be petty they stay right where they are for a few more seconds. It's also just nice to bask in the feeling of being like this. And their legs feel like jelly.

It's a struggle to get up, their mood right up high as they fetch their knife from their abandoned pants. Eden refuses to look at them as they undo the bindings, instead he glares at his whiskey and his plate, pupils flitting between the two as he tries to figure out which is to blame.

"I put it in both, just in case," they confess.

Eden lets out a heavy sigh. He swats their hand away as they go to move his hair behind his ear, stumbling to his feet.

"Did you have to cut up my clothes?" It's nothing but a mumble as he makes his way slowly upstairs. The drugs are still in his system, he likely needs more sleep. He's always grumpy when he's sleepy, he'll have a better outlook on all of this when he wakes up. They know this for certain.

They can't stop smiling as they clean up the dining room. Not when they know that they'll crawl into his bed and spend their final night alone together, in each other's arms, before their father returns in the next afternoon.

[cubitodragon-moved]

I feel like Forever will be the one to finally discover and intervene in regards to the soul vultures - and it’s not going to end well for him or BadBoyHalo when he does.

Q!Forever is so worried about Q!Bad, has expressed to multiple people that he knows how fragile he is. And I think many overlook that he told Bad that he remembered everything that happened while he was drugged. A passenger in his own body.

Meaning he knows what he said to Bad, that he likely remembers proposing - and he remembers the exact state Bad was in at the time. His language, his words, the tired stoop and how Bad was collapsing in on himself. Bad is coping just as badly as he is, on the opposite side of the pendulum’s swing.

He’s determined to give him a flower every day to cheer him up (no roses, yet), but he knows it’s not enough, he’s watching his friend fade away before his eyes and he’s scared. The affirmation room was a really wonderful gift, and I think it helped - emotionally. But it too is not enough on its own, a temporary harbour during stormy seas.

Action is what will truly bring change over words for these two - after all, actions are what have cause trust to waver, compared to words and prank wars and lies told with a straight face that both parties know are lies.

In addition, out of game, Forever (the CC) is essentially going to be offline for most of next month due to gatherings, conventions and traveling. so getting his character taken out of play for a bit in a manner that doesn’t directly involve the Federation this time seems likely - retreading the same ground is no fun. And Forever has also expressed excitement over Bad’s plans for Bad’s own character’s arc. They’re a pair of cheeky enablers, and they both love their complicated cat’s cradle tangle of a relationship that they’ve got going on - they wouldn’t indulge so fully if they didn’t. The CCs trust each other to tell a good story together, and I think that’s neat.

Which is why I think in trying to save Q!Bad from himself, Q!Forever is going to take a blow not intended for him. An action with a consequence neither foresee. Coupled with the morals balancing act Bad’s got going on with Baghera, I think the fallout of these respective efforts is going to be a shock to the BadBoyHalo core that finishes what his Skeppy-confided doubts started.

Or maybe it won’t. Bad is so unpredictable.

But so is Forever. And Forever considers Bad his family. That’s a powerful force - one Bad is going to underestimate, because I don’t think he’s had many people in his life willing to go that sort of distance for him.

I have a feeling that today’s streams are going to be interesting.

(Apparently first thing when I wake up and last thing before I sleep is when my brain goes off on meta tangents. Go figure!)

[unknownjpegs]

raspberry

Maran is afraid of the dark. He’s afraid of lots of things, actually. Heights kind of get them, if the dizzying drop beneath is vertigo-inducing enough. And he’s not fond of rats, even the dainty white lab mice that Ben rescues. He can’t look at a picture of the oceans frothy, churning waves without imagining what lies beneath out of sight.

That’s why the dark gets him as bad as it does, why it’s the worst of his fears. Scary enough as it’s defined — the absence of light. Much like the ocean, he can’t look the dark in its eye. He’s always imagining what lies within, what gazes back. Abyss, and all that. 

The hypotheticals are bad, but reality is worse. Maran knows without doubt what calls the darkness home. He knows that there are things that peer from the inky blackness. He’ll cold sweat if he thinks of the fact that those nasties have a privilege he doesn’t — they see him. They know he’s watching. 

Fear prickles his scalp, makes goosebumps raise to the skin. But so do more pleasurable things. So he doesn’t feel as bad as he maybe ought to when the wash of terror doesn’t stop in that tight clutch of his chest. He’s a bit embarrassed that it drips, thick and cloying, into his stomach. No matter is destroyed, after all; the fear changes states, but keeps its nasty little shiver.

*

The public park is a nice one, if not a bit off the beaten path. It doesn’t get much foot traffic because its hiking trails are notoriously difficult. Sometimes, at the time of the night Maran visits, dangerous. And yet, as he pushes himself to wind his way towards the overlook at the end of the trail, Maran feels only exhilarated. The fear is there, yes, but it feels…foundational. The base of a soup, rather than poison to avoid. Because he knows what waits in the darkness will be worth the twist of fear. Will make the fear sweet, will digest it, will transform it for him. And what’s stock without ingredients — he adds his clammy palms, sweat-slicked from the effort of the up-hill trail, the race of his heart and heavy breathing.

She stands too close to the cliff edge. Maran wants to call out and ask her: can you sense the fear? 

Can you tell it doesn’t bother me like it should? Can you tell me if that’s wrong? 

“You look lovely,” Maran calls from the edge of the clearing. The tree-covered trail opens into empty space, no branches or leaves to smudge out the stars in the sky or their neighbor, that white-gold hanging crescent. It shines brighter than usual and she stands out against the violet tinge of night. She looks better than lovely, but he doesn’t trust his vocabulary to offer a better word.

Despite her preternatural hearing, Nomi whirls as if caught off guard. Her eyes are massive in her face, shining rosy-pink instead of that vital crimson. She tilts her head and they catch the moonlight the way an animal’s would, glossing over in an eerie, beautiful sheen.

Oh, fuck, Maran thinks. Run. He imagines them watching him from the darkness. She begins to move forward, a graceful yet shy stride, and his brain screams it again, prey-fear dilating his pupils larger and larger. And although his knuckles tighten on the cooler in his hand, Maran can’t move a muscle. 

Even if he could…

“Wear those all the way up here?”  Maran tilts his chin, gesturing to the constricting fabric of her boots. His brain goes a bit fuzzy when he notices the gentle squeeze of them around her thick thighs, flesh rounded just above her knee. For some reason, he files that detail away instead of the dramatic slit in her dress that reveals more pale skin. 

Maran shivers. Lovely, spools through his head over and over. Punches of it to his stomach, his head, his chest. The word is dainty string wound into a needle; piercing and drawing and piercing and dragging, pulling taut. Sewing him up in it. Lovely. Sublime like darkness.

Nomi smiles at his tease, eyes softening. “Maybe.” She tilts an ankle, studies the heel of her boot. Maran does too — a bit obsessively. “They held up, huh?”

He glances around, almost not believing it. Almost wonders if her friends, the terrifying duo that shadowed her protectively day in and out, were waiting and watching. Obsessive in a different way — protective of their pretty, monstrous benefactor.

Maran’s eyebrows squeeze together, catching the thought and picking it out of his brain. Not monstrous. Benji wasn’t monstrous to him anymore. Nomi certainly couldn’t be.

“Alright, babe?” 

His eyes snap back up to her. She peers at him beneath round glasses that cause her eyes to seem even wider. And still they fit her well, sink demure and glossy into the set of her pretty, high cheekbones. Maran could just stare at her face forever; it’d been a shock when it turned towards him in the first place, and not just because of the fear. 

Oh fuck, he thinks again. This time, with more of that feeling. Chest tight, goosebumps, shiver up his spine. Oh fuck, Nomi. I’m not even scared — I just love you. 

“Aces,” Maran chirps back, his voice thin with nerves. 

*

Nomi watches him unpack the cooler with increasingly pink cheeks. The night watercolors them lavender and more than once he leans across the blanket he’s spread out to kiss the soft, peachy swell. She giggles and swats him away, but that only earns her face more attention. 

The pile of candy is split between them like negotiating each others’ share of a dragon hoarde. Nomi plucks more chocolate for herself, sneaks a few extra pieces when she thinks Maran isn’t looking. Really, he’s letting her. Maran would let her do so much. They talk for nearly thirty minutes before they even dig into any of it, hushed whispers from Nomi like they’ve an audience and Maran loud, boisterous: enjoying the solitary night, the privacy of the overlook. Their only companionship are the cosmos, and whenever she laughs at a shit joke, Maran kind of feels like turning his face up towards them and going: see? I did that. She likes me.

“Anything new?” Maran asks, helping her color-sort her Nerds with his fingertips. She pops all the purple ones into her mouth before answering, making him grin.

“You ask me that every time I see you, even if it’s a day apart.”

He ducks his head with a one-shouldered shrug, thumbnail flicking at the corner of a tiny chocolate bar’s foil wrapping. Raspberry. He hands it over to Nomi and she doesn’t hesitate to place it into her own pile. I’d like to taste that off you, maybe, if you’d let me, if I’m allowed. I ask that because I like hearing you talk. Like knowing what you’re up to, that you’re keeping safe.

“Waiting for the day you tell me somethin’ like, yeah Mar, went and did this little hack —” He gets a swat to the chest for mimicking her pretty voice. The sting makes him suck in a breath. “Uh, I — and then I’d see the news the next day is something real dramatic. Lone hacker crashes government database. Massive, y’know?” 

Nomi pops a piece of that chocolate into her mouth, which curls sweetly in amusement. “I’ve already done that.” She points at him with a slim finger. Her nail polish needs redone. The image of her sitting in his lap, leaned comfortably with her back against his chest, watching a show or movie or game drones on, her hand placed in his so he can fix up that color to one she likes. That won’t chip so easily, because he’d be careful. 

“Lots.”

“Lots.” Maran echoes solemnly. “Well that means you should take a break more often. Come out here, maybe. ‘Cuz I bet it’s nice to be nocturnal, get this sort of quiet.” He feels shy suddenly, but barrels forward. “If you ever want company…”

Nomi scoots closer to him on the blanket, bunching it beneath their knees. “Will you bring food again?” 

Maran lifts his eyes and meets hers, feeling his cheeks warm at the connection. Do anything you fucking want, Nomi, come on. Gotta know that by now. “Yeah, ‘course. Whatever you’d like.” 

Her eyebrows furrow together and lift, obscured by the messy blue fringe above. He worries for a moment that he’s crossed one of her lines and mentally replays the conversation, gaze flicking between hers as he tries to recall if he’s said anything, done anything that would —

Nomi leans forward and puts her palms to the blanket. Maran’s breath wheezes out of him so loud and fast that he can’t even think to the contain the soft noise. She only covers about a foot or two of distance between them, but watching her move with that grace? Makes him feel torn open. Like someone fed him metal and tossed him in an MRI; his insides are going to fucking revolt, bounce him around, cause him to fucking explode.

All of the thoughts and images and worries flit out of his skull when Nomi settles herself into his lap. Maran glances down at the splay of her thighs over his, that bit of soft, malleable skin above the top of her boot, and then snaps his eyes up to the night sky. 

“Holy shit.” He whispers under his breath, throat bobbing. He nearly jumps out of his skin when her smaller hands roam up his chest, palms flattened and delightfully cold even though his shirt. She rarely, if maybe twice, has initiated a touch between them. And now — and now —?

Nomi shifts in his lap slightly, forcing him to swallow a yelp when the sensation zaps into his stomach. She’s so fucking soft he can’t stand it.

“I want chips,” Nomi whispers. She tucks her face into his neck and Maran startles at the sigh of air over his skin. Goosebumps. “And that new flavor of Monster. The pineapple lemonade? And some kind of gummy worms, but sour. Like, proper sour. I can’t find the good ones, they’re all too sweet.”

Maran gulps audibly around the lump forming in his throat. His hands stay respectfully flat to the dirt. Nomi’s boundaries are fluid and not always the sort he’s used to, but he takes them just as seriously as anything else. Would be fucking mad, no, evil, not to.

Sometimes he worries she reads his mind, and this is one of those instances. As if cued by the tail end of the thought, Nomi wraps slim fingers around each of his wrists. For a moment she only holds  his hands between them, studying them like he sometimes fantasizes studying hers. Maran watches her, watches her watch from the darkness. The feral sheen of her eyes disappears when she glances up beneath her lashes. That takes his breath again, more than the terrifying glint of her fangs when she smiles.

“What are you so scared of?” Nomi keeps her whisper. She sounds like she’s teasing him, edging her voice with an elusive note he can’t place. “You’re shaking.” His hands are guided to the severe tuck of her waist, and his eyes flutter. They slip down of their own accord to the swell of her hips and squeeze. 

“I’m — not scared.” Maran blushes to hear it leave him a whine. “You just make me fuckin’ nervous, Nomi.”

He has very little warning before she collides with him, their chests pressed together by the lock of her arms around his neck. Maran goes with his back to the ground not because she brings him there, but because he thinks she’ll feel nice on top of him. 

She’s sweet enough that he doesn’t care if anything else watches from the dark.

She tastes like raspberries.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 31: Veritaserum

186 days.

That's how long Draco had been held in the Department of Mysteries, trapped in a cell that barely left him enough room to lie down except when they came to take him out and interrogate him.

Draco'd relived the horrors of the past two years, over and over through their invasive questioning, through their digging around in his mind, through the imperious curse, and most recently through a stint of days spent with veritaserum flowing through his veins.

He heard their footsteps coming down the hallway, their voices recapping what they'd learned so far. Day 6 of veritaserum. He used his nail to scratch another line in the wall next to his thin mattress.

187 days.

Then he heard a third voice, a voice he would have recognized anywhere. "Veritaserum?" Potter asked, sounding incredulous for some reason. "But that's illegal."

"Auror Potter, I'll remind you that you're out of your jurisdiction here. You have no say in what happens or the means used to collect intelligence that is invaluable when it comes to protecting future generations."

"And," the man, whose breath always smelled stale and turned Draco's stomach, added, "There are no 'laws' during wartime when we need to catch criminals."

"The war is over," Potter replied, voice sharp and something in the pit of Draco's stomach thrilled at that.

"Out of your jurisdiction," the woman reminded.

A moment later, there was a sharp rap of a wand against the metal bar of his cell and the man called, "Let's go, Malfoy."

He stood, moving toward the door with his head down, and that was when he felt it; the crackle of Potter's magic around him like static electricity.

Draco couldn't resist looking up at that, meeting Potter's eyes. The green was blazing, he's furious and Draco wondered what (or whom) that fury was directed at. His fists were clenched at his sides, shoulders stiff.

Even with all of the obvious tension, Potter looked good, Draco thought; healthy, strong, handsome, like he had the entire world at his feet. Which, to be fair, he probably did. He wondered what Potter saw when he looked at him.

(Read more below the cut)

"Move," the woman snapped and Draco dropped his gaze from Potter, his thoughts weren't his own, not really. He couldn't afford to allow even more trouble in his mind.

He staggered down the hall, his legs feeling like they were made out of jelly, and flinched when the door to the white room opened and bright, sterile light spilled out over him. Draco made his way in and sat down in the same chair he always sat it, the shackles immediately chaining his wrists and ankles down. He fought the inevitable wave of panic as the woman walked over.

"Drink," she instructed, holding a vial to his lips.

He clenched his hands but did as he was told because it only made things worse when he didn't comply. The veritaserum flooded his mind, making his mouth feel loose and his mind feel unpleasantly open.

"Last time we talked about the treatment of muggles and muggleborns in your home under He-who-must-not-be-named, do you remember?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Today we'd like to hear about your complicity," the woman said. "We want to hear about everything that you did and that other people did to people who opposed you."

"What was it like to live in your home with He-who-must-not-be-named?"

"Horrible," Draco answered honestly, trying to keep the thoughts and memories at bay as long as he could. "I lived like a prisoner."

"The truth!" the man demanded, even though Draco couldn't have lied if he wanted to. He drew his hand back, preparing to strike Draco and Draco closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact.

Then there was a surge of magic so strong that it made Draco breathless. He waited for the inevitable pain but there was nothing and when he opened his eyes it was to see that both of the unspeakables had collapsed forward onto the table and Potter was standing in front of him.

"Malfoy," he said and the tone of his voice made it seem like it wasn't the first time he'd said it. "Come on," he urged. "We don't have much time."

He reached out and Draco took his hand uncertainly. This couldn't be real, could it?

"Malfoy," Potter pleaded, "Please, we have to go."

Draco staggered to his feet and followed the other man down a winding set of hallways, through moving doors, and all manner of strange things before they reached a passage that wasn't dark and vaguely terrifying.

"Here," Potter said, handing him a vial. "It's polyjuice potion. You're going to look like unspeakable Harrison. Once you look like him, we're just going to walk straight out, do your best to look calm. As soon as we're outside I'm going to apparate us."

"Potter," he finally managed, "Why are you doing this?"

Potter looked at him then, really looked at him, "Can we talk about this later?" he asked. "I swear I'm not trying to trick you," he added. "Please. Just let me help you."

At this point, what did Draco have to lose? What could be worse than this? He took the potion from Potter's hand and quickly swallowed it down, trying not to gag at the unpleasant taste as his body shifted and changed.

"Keep your head down," Potter said, "Don't answer any questions. You'll still have the veritaserum in your bloodstream."

Draco nodded and Potter opened the door, it was like he morphed into a completely different person. He smiled jovially as he strode across the foyer, waving and greeting people every step of the way. Every eye in the room was on Potter and it made Draco's skin crawl to have attention focused so near to him.

It felt like an eternity but it couldn't have been more than 45 seconds before they were out of the door and Potter was offering him his elbow, "Harry Potter lives at Number 12 Grimmauld Place," he murmured.

And before Draco could ask what the bloody hell he was talking about, Potter was apparating the two of them away. They landed in the Black Ancestral Home and Draco was shocked. And confused.

So confused.

"Hold on," Potter said. "We're not out of the woods yet. Too many people know about this place." He picked up a copy of a book called Treasure Island off the side table. "Portkey," he explained quickly, "Hold on." And then as almost an after thought, he added, "Harry Potter lives at 4 Oceanview Lane."

Draco took the other side of the book and felt the hook and tug behind his belly button as they were moved through time and space.

This time when they landed, it was in soft, soft sand, and Draco staggered, trying to catch his balance. Potter clasped his elbow to steady him, "Alright?" he asked softly.

Draco nodded, "Yes," he found himself compelled to add, the Veritaserum still hadn't quite faded from his veins.

"Come on," Potter said, giving him a gentle tug toward a little cottage just up the beach.

It was a lovely little house, lots of windows and glass doors overlooking the ocean. The walls were painted in cool beiges and light blues and white curtains fluttered in the breeze.

"Are you hungry?" Potter called over his shoulder after he kicked off his shoes and headed deeper into the house.

"Starving," Draco replied and Potter turned to look at him, frowning.

"When is the last time you ate?"

He shook his head, "I don't know. Time passed funny in there. I tried to keep track," he said, "but I don't really know."

Potter's frown deepened, "Come on. Let me show you your room," he said. "I picked up some clothes for you but we'll have to go shopping later so you an pick out what you like."

"Potter," he said as he followed the other man toward the back of the house, "I don't understand."

"You're free, Draco," the other man said. "Well, not entirely because they'll be looking for you. But you're safe here, safe with me. I won't let them find you and I won't let them take you back," he added with a firm nod.

"Potter," he called again, "This doesn't even make sense."

"Please," Potter said, as though he was well aware of how little sense this all made. "I just," his shoulders slumped a bit, "I found out they were keeping you locked up in there like," he shook his head, "Like some-"

"Criminal?" Draco offered.

"Worse," Potter said, shaking his head. "And it was wrong and no one would listen to me. So this is the best I can do," he said, gesturing at the cottage around him. "A little house in the Seychelles. No one even knows this place exists except for Ron and Hermione," he added.

"i don't understand," Draco said, leaning against the wall to support himself.

"I know," Potter said, "Just. Can you trust me for now? We can talk about it more when you're not so exhausted. Come in," he added, gesturing to the room.

Draco stepped through the door to a room with hardwood floors and white walls, with a sliding glass door that lead out into the sand and the ocean beyond. The bed was covered in soft white bedding and a door at the side of the room led to a bathroom with a proper bathtub and a shower.

He was dreaming, he had to be.

"There are some things in the drawers over there for you to wear," Potter said, sounding a touch anxious. "We'll find you things you like better whenever you're ready."

He stepped over and reached out a hand to touch the bed but pulled up short when he caught sight of his filthy hands. "This is for me?" he asked, looking over at Potter.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "There's a second room across the hall that I'm in, if you'd rather have that one, but I thought you might like to be able to see the ocean."

"I don't know what to say," he said.

"Say you'll stay," Potter asked. "At least until we can get your name cleared."

"I don't think that's ever going to happen."

Potter sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Maybe, but can we just cross that bridge when we get there?" he asked.

"Okay," Draco said because this was all so strange, everything felt surreal, but Potter seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at his acquiescence.

"I'll go make us some lunch," he said quickly. "Do you want to freshen up first?"

Draco nodded, "If that's okay?"

"Yeah," Potter said, nodding, "Yeah. Anything you want." He gave Draco a little smile, "Towels are in the cupboard on the left when you go into the bathroom; there's soap, shampoo, conditioner, and the like in the shower," he added. "I'll be in the kitchen. Just shout if you need anything."

Draco watched him go, still very confused. But for the first time in a very long time, just a little bit hopeful.

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

Part 2 to this story is up! Read it here.

Part 3 is up! You can read it here.

Read Part 4 here!

Part 5

Day 30: Likeness | Day 32: After Wedding Fluff

Ahh! Nonnie. I did not anticipate loving this prompt so much. I could hardly bring myself to stop writing. Thanks so much for this prompt.

If y'all want more of this story, please drop me an ask or leave a comment. I'd definitely be up for writing more if people want to read it. :)

[gladerscake]

Since Always - Part II

(Gally x Reader)

Part I

I didn’t wanna keep you guys waiting too long, so here it is! Warning: Unobstructed Fluff Ahead. Proceed at your own risk.

“Hey, Newt!”

The lanky boy turned to the sound of Gally’s voice behind him, arching a brow at his quickly approaching form. “Yeah?”

The builder propped his hands on his hips, a ghost of a sneer curving his mouth; he seemed evidently bothered by something, which didn’t escape Newt’s notice.

“Have you seen Y/N? I need to talk to her.”

“Do you? ‘Bout what, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Gally huffed, focusing his pointed stare on the Second-in-Command “A little birdie named Zart told me you two were talking earlier. He heard my name. What’s up?”

Newt resisted the urge to roll his eyes, resorting to a tight-lipped grin. Zart. Of course. The track-hoe was notoriously bad at keeping his mouth shut.

“Oh! It was nothing, really. She was just, uh... telling me about the Med-Hut expansion you’ve been working on.” He attempted to lie, but the brief pause, coupled with the way his brown eyes seemed to look everywhere but at him, was a dead giveaway.

“Well, that’s a load of crap.” Gally scoffed, crossing his buff arms, his expression bouncing between annoyance and concern. “Seriously, what’d she say? Did I do something? Is it bad?”

Newt had to physically restrain himself from laughing. Witnessing how easy it was to get Gally all fidgety and weird at the mere thought of you saying something bad about him, was enough of a confirmation for what Newt already knew.

“No, absolutely not. You can relax, mate, it’s nothing bad.” He couldn’t suppress the secretive smirk that curved his mouth as the words left it “It’s actually quite the opposite.”

Gally’s uniquely-shaped brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at his friend. The opposite? What the hell did that mean? He was relieved to hear that you weren’t upset or mad at him, but whatever Newt was trying to say - it wasn’t making any sense.

“What are you talking about? What’s “the opposite”? Come one, Newt, can’t you just say it?” He gruffed, his broad shoulders tensing with impatience.

Unfortunately, Gally was all out of luck, as Newt had no intention of saying anything else. As much as he wanted to give Gally a hint and maybe hurry along the process of you two getting together, he felt it wasn’t his place. He couldn’t just flat-out tell him that you had feelings for him and betray your trust like that. That’s not what friends do.

“Hey, I’ve already said plenty. Alright? More than enough.” He grabbed his rake, silently excusing himself from further conversation and beginning to walk away, watching the puzzlement only grow on Gally’s face “You can’t be that dense, Gally. I don’t believe it. Just... go talk to her, yeah?”

Gally blinked in further confusion as Newt walked away, shaking his head and trying earnestly to gather his thoughts. What in the actual hell was he on about? He couldn’t think of an answer, but he wanted one, and he wanted one, now.

He couldn’t bear the thought of something not being right between the two of you. Truth was, over the time of you being there, you have grown to be the one person Gally cared about the most in the glade. From the moment he had helped you out of that box, almost a year ago, he’s felt an inexplicable need to be near you. To help you with anything you needed help with, to protect you, to make sure you were comfortable and that you never felt like you didn’t belong there. He wanted you to feel happy, or at least content, because he felt like you deserved nothing less. He wanted you to trust him, to know that you could lean on him, and he was immensely glad that you two were as close as you were, now.

Surely enough, throughout your shared journey of getting closer, it wasn’t long before Gally found himself having... feelings. Feelings he hadn’t ever imagined he could have, feelings he didn’t know he was even capable of. Deep down, he knew what they were, but didn’t know how to admit it. Despite how great you and him got on, he was convinced it was strictly platonic on your part. He couldn’t find it in himself to think you’d be interested in him in any way that was beyond that. With all the shanks to choose from, why would you go for him? No, it was impossible. He’d be better off swallowing his feelings and keeping his mouth shut. At least that way he wouldn’t risk shucking up the friendship you two had. Just the thought of you wanting to distance yourself from him sent a wave of dread throughout his strong body.

Yet... Newt’s confusing words and weird behaviour rang in his mind again, and as he slowly put the pieces together, he began to feel a foreign spark of... hope? Was there a chance that Newt had meant what he thought he had meant? He was struggling to believe it, but shuck, how he wanted it to be true...

Gally tried to ignore the way his heartbeat was starting to accelerate as he turned on his feet in determination, already on his way to find you.

Unaware of the builder searching for you, you were just about to head out of the Deadheads, where you had spent the last half hour mulling over what to do about your feelings for Gally.

Your earlier conversation with Newt had stirred a nagging feeling of hollowness in your heart, making you contemplate your course of action (or lack thereof).

Were you getting tired of having to watch him, longingly, from afar, without doing anything about it? Absolutely you were. Did the mere thought of Gally possibly returning your feelings fill your being with ecstatic jitters? Oh, most definitely. But were you ready to finally try and shoot your shot and risk him turning you down, making you sorely regret it? You didn’t know...

If only he had given you the slightest of hints of how he truly felt about you, it would have been easier. But even though you and Gally were close, you often found it awfully challenging to see what was on his mind. You knew him well enough to figure that if he were to have any feelings he’d rather not address, he would be very skilled at hiding it.

God, why did everything have to be so difficult, couldn’t you just-

“Y/N!”

You yelped, the sudden sound of Gally’s booming voice making you jump, eyes bulging in a brief moment of panic.

Gally delivered you a small apologetic grin, putting his palms up in a calming gesture “It’s okay! Just me. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you...”

You exhaled with relief, trying to calm your racing heart... though, with Gally standing right there in front of you, after you had just spent quite a while thinking about him, made it that much more difficult.

“Shuck... Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You chuckled, nervously, suppressing the antsy feeling within you as he slowly approached.

“I wasn’t! I was just... looking for you.”

He was? You’d had no idea. Were you supposed to meet him for lunch or something? No, you definitely wouldn’t have forgotten about that.

“Really? Why, what’s up?” You blinked, looking up at him expectantly, your slightly widened crystal-clear eyes reminding him of just how adorable he found you sometimes.

Gally’s jaw clenched, involuntarily, as he tried to visualize how he was supposed to ask you this. As much as he didn’t want it to come out so out of the blue, he couldn’t find a way to ease into it that would be any type of smooth or natural. So, with a deep intake of air, he decided to just go ahead and spit it out.

“You and Newt were talking about me earlier.”

Your heart dropped. It wasn’t a question, and you knew it, immediately beginning to feel your fingertips turning cold with impending dread. How did he know? How much did he know? Did Newt tell him something he wasn’t supposed to? You hoped he didn’t, otherwise you wouldn’t know how you were going to forgive him for spilling your deepest secret like that.

Gally’s piercing gaze bore into you with a seriousness that made your pulse quicken in a blink of an eye.

“We, uh... It was nothing, really.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Gally insisted with as much gentleness as he could muster. However, his tensing muscles and furrowed brows gave you a clue of how agitated he felt. “I asked him, because I thought maybe I had done something, but then he said it wasn’t anything bad. Which would have been fine, if he hadn’t been so shuckin’ weird about it.” He huffed, softly, still not taking his gaze off of you as you bit your bottom lip in worriment.

“Weird, how...?” You inquired in a small voice, the fragile sound of it shooting more confusion though Gally.

“Just weird! Hell if I know what he was trying to get across, but... whatever it is, I think we should talk about it, Y/N.”

It became clear to you that there was no dodging it now. Gally already knew you had something on your mind, something concerning him, and he wasn’t about to just let it go.

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip harder as you found yourself rendered incapable of moving, Gally’s much taller form towering over you and wanting answers. Was this it? Your chance to tell him how you felt? If so, then the next few minutes were about to be either the best of your life, or the worst.

With Gally’s attention already peaked, the way your expression was suddenly overtaken with fear didn’t get lost on him, neither did the slight tremble of your fingers. Concern encompassed him as he immediately took a big step forward, fighting the powerful urge to cup your face in between his large, rough palms.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why do you look so scared? Come on, Y/N, it’s me! You can tell me, whatever it is.”

Oh, fine! You figured this was bound to happen sooner or later, and now that Gally was so directly asking you, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him. No matter how frightening this was, he didn’t deserve to be lied to, especially not by you, the person he trusted and truly cared about.

Overlooking the way your heart hammered in your chest, you drew in a short breath before muttering the words that had been swallowed and shoved away for months “Ihavefeelingsforyou...”

“What?” Gally frowned, shaking his head as he’d heard none of it. “Y/N, you’re gonna have to speak up.”

“Ihavefeelingsforyou” You repeated, neither louder, nor clearer than before, causing Gally’s frustration to swelter as he all but sneered.

“Y/N, I can’t hear you! Can you please-”

“I have feelings for you!” You almost shouted, the words finally leaving your mouth with no means of taking them back.

Gally froze, his mouth dropping open as he stared at you in stupefied bewilderment. He felt like he’d just got the wind knocked out of him, his breath caught in his throat.

“Y-You... You what?��

Unable to take his fervent stare on you any longer, you squeezed your eyes shut, wanting to just curl into yourself “You heard me, please don’t make me say it again...” You uttered, quietly, your heartbeat already thumping in your ears.

Gally couldn’t believe it. He’d heard you, but there was no way it was real... Newt’s odd behavior earlier made much more sense now, yet, his mind was having an impossible time wrapping around it. You had feelings... for him? You didn’t just see him as a friend or, even worse, a brother? He had been convinced that those were the only two options he’d have to accept and live with, but now, with your pretenseless proclamation, he felt as though an electric current had passed through his system.

“W-What.. You...” He stammered, trying to blink back the shock in his eyes “S-Since when...?”

A short wistful scoff escaped your mouth as you opened your eyes, but still kept them on the ground beneath your feet, unable to meet his astounded gaze.

“Since always, really... Since the first few weeks of me being here, since the day you first invited me to hang out with you at lunch...” You couldn’t help the blush that bloomed upon your cheeks as the warm memories you had of him flashed through your mind “Since you started letting me fall asleep on you at Bonfires, since you built me my very own hut, because you knew sleeping in a hammock was making my back hurt...” A timid but loving smile formed on your slightly quivering lips as Gally took in every word, his own heart threatening to beat out of his chest by that point.

“Y/N... I-I had no idea, I thought-“

“You don’t have to say anything!” You tried to assure him, ignoring the strain in your voice “Really, I understand if you don’t feel the same way... But you asked, and I just couldn’t keep it in anymore, it’s been so long-“ You trailed off, suddenly, as Gally stepped even closer to you before you even had a chance to register it. You voice died in your throat the second you felt his rough, calloused, but warm palms cupping your face. A flash of courage in his eyes, a dazed gasp from you, and then, his head dipped, his lips descending on yours.

Your form went rigid as you endeavored to process what was happening, but the abrupt and new feeling of Gally kissing you wasted no time overtaking each one of your senses, making your heart flip and shrouding you in a thick fog of pure bliss. Before you knew it, you were kissing him back, your lips moving flawlessly and wantingly against his, as your arms reached up to wind themselves around him, your fingers momentarily tracing the back of his neck. Gally grunted into the kiss, his hands smoothly lowering to your waist and pulling your closer, nearly knocking you into his firm chest. He had imagined this moment a surplus of times before, but not one of his fantasies came close to how amazing this truly felt, how warm and soft your lips were, how impossible it was to pull away. He swallowed the content little moan that escaped you, his large hands squeezing your waist tighter as you quivered at the raw magnetism and surging affection that pulled you two into each other.

Despite your heart’s frantic protests, you slowly drew back, breaking away from the sweet taste of his lips, your own practically tingling from the fervent and long-overdue kiss.

Gally leaned his forehead against yours, eyes remaining closed for the moment of you both catching your breath, still holding onto each other.

This was paradise, there was no way that it wasn’t. As if by a miracle, all the worries you’d previously had about Gally rejecting you fluttered away, leaving nothing but consuming joy and yearning for more of him in their wake.

Gally opened his eyes first - you did the same a mere second later, meeting his gleaming bluish-green gaze. He thought you were the most beautiful thing to ever exist as you beamed at him, starry-eyed and enamored.

“I-I take it, this means you feel the same way...?” You whispered, still barely a few inches apart, feeling an imminent thrill rush through your body at the enticing feeling of Gally’s fingers tenderly tracing your spine.

His warm breath washed over your lips as he chuckled, a captivating grin pulling at the corners of his mouth “As if I ever had a chance not to...”

Your smile grew brighter at his breathy statement, all the ardent feelings you had for the tough builder engulfing you and chasing away every thought that wasn’t about him.

Gally still didn’t know what made you choose him, want him, of all people, but whatever it was, he’ll take it, happily. If it meant he could have you in his arms, just like this, every day from now on, he wouldn’t dream of questioning it.

He leaned in once more, kissing the tip of your nose with a gentleness you couldn’t fathom he possessed, his grip on you tightening.

His lips then brushed against yours, and you shivered, your heart leaping at the doting whisper that trailed from him “You’re mine, Y/N...”

Gally kissed you again, softly, meaningfully, his hold on you feeling like the only thing keeping you on the ground “And I’m yours.”

Thank you for reading!

[fangirlfics]

Trouble Sleeping (Loki x reader)

I swear if this deletes for a third time Im gonna cry 

KINDA A SLOW BURN BOIS

also I didn’t finish reading it over for mistakes bc I’m lazy 

summary: y/n and Loki used to be very close friends and sometimes when she had bad nightmares he’d use his magic to calm her mind, a few years have passed and they’ve grown apart. Her nightmares come back and hesitantly she seeks Loki’s help again 

word count: 3,592 wahahahaha

y/n leaned over one of the balconies that overlooked the kingdom’s private garden. The weather was perfect, the temperature ideal, sky blue, and the plants were all thriving feet below her. Despite the scenery however y/n’s attention was fixated elsewhere. 

Down in the depths of the garden, propped up on one of the fancy golden benches was the youngest Asgardian prince-Loki. His dark raven hair was combed back as he turned to the next page in his novel, the cover matching the shade of green displayed on his clothes. y/n couldn’t help but sigh as she watched the handsome prince, they had once had an unbreakable bond. It was always Loki and y/n-best friends, one wouldn’t be seen without the other. But somewhere among their late teenage years, Loki had become more cold and distant towards y/n-leaving her alone in the giant halls of the castle to wander alone. That’s when her and Thor’s relationship grew stronger-she had always been friends with the God of Thunder but after her and Loki’s relationship crumbled to pieces he was there to cheer her up. 

“Oh there you are!” Thor’s voice boomed-pulling y/n from her daydream. y/n glanced once more at Loki before turning her attention to her tall friend. “I was looking for you!” He beamed. 

“What can I do for you, your highness?” y/n asked with a playful voice.

Thor smiled, putting his hands together before continuing, “I was hoping that you would join me and-” his words faded as he glanced down to the gardens and caught sight of Loki. y/n’s attention soon turned to the railing in front of her as she traced her fingers along it’s smooth surface. “You still watch him.” Thor told her, his normally enthusiastic voice was now dry and serious. “How long have you been thinking of him?”

y/n furrowed her eyebrows, playing with her fingers. “I never stopped.” She confessed, “I know it’s foolish but I can’t help it, I..miss him more than I can even begin to explain.”

Thor was silent as he watched the girl glance back down at the gardens then to the sky. “Let’s go...horseback riding.” He suggested, getting y/n attention. “To lift your spirits, we can go with Sif a-”

“No.“ y/n blurted out, “nobody else-I don’t want to embarrass myself again by falling off my horse.“

Thor chuckled, “nobody is going to think low of you-” he looked at y/n once more sensing her silent plea ”very well then, just us.” He agreed, making her smile.

“Thank you.” She laughed, giving him a hug. It caught Thor by surprise but he then loosely wrapped his arms around y/n in return. “Thank you for everything,” y/n whispered, “really, I don’t know what’d I’d do without you. I’m blessed to have a friend like you.”

“Of course.” 

Neither of the two friends noticed that down in the gardens Loki clenched his jaw, snapping his book shut and silently retreated to his room-they also didn’t notice the pair of blue eyes staring through the window at them, when they returned laughing on horseback. 

_____________________________________________________________

 There was fire everywhere, thick black smoke made it impossible for her to breath. She was choking-desperate for air. She fell to the ground as the fire closed in quickly-it’s heat trapping her in the room. There was no hope, no help was coming and it was impossible to escape, with a loud crack the ceiling caved in leaving her trapped screaming out as the furious flames burned her alive. 

y/n woke up with a start, beads of sweat lined her forehead although her room was cool and she found that her hands were shaking. Realizing it was just a dream she lied back down, covering her face with her hands as she tried desperately to fall back asleep. She got no more sleep that night.

The same thing happened again in the coming days and three days later while in training, y/n who was running on less than four hours of sleep was doing rather well. In one quick movement she jumped up-kicking the sword right out of Fandral’s grip. 

“Very good!” Volstagg commented from across the room.

“Yes.” Fandral agreed, “show me that move and I’ll show you some of mine.” He winked.

“Just give me a time and place.” y/n responded playfully, earning a laugh. 

“Impressive.” Fandral commented at her response. (she normally responded to his joke flirting with an eye roll) 

“Yes impressive.” Loki commented from behind Fandral. “That y/n can apparently chase after two men at once.” He said this while staring casually at Thor. Sif went stiff inder the tension and Thor opened his mouth but y/n spoke first.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Well by the looks of it, you can’t seem to decide between Thor and-” 

“Brother that’s enough.” Thor warned, taking a step forward.

“I’m just putting out a warning, you do know what they say about these sort of things.” Loki remarked, not meeting her eyes.

“You know full well that I am not chasing after anyone.” y/n said, growing aggravated. 

“It sure seems that way.”He then opened the door to the room and left.

“You know what?” y/n responded, dropping her sword to the ground with a loud clang “I am tired of this.”

 “y/n I think it best if you ignore him.” Sif spoke up, “nobody is accusing you of anything, we all know you aren’t that sort of person-”

“Thank you Sif, but I am not taking this.“ y/n exited the room in pursuit of Loki, who was a few paces ahead of her walking calmly. 

“I don’t like being followed.“ He simply called out to her, because his room was only about a minute walk away from the training room he reached it fairly quickly.

“What is your problem?“ y/n asked him, putting her foot in between the door and it’s frame as Loki was about to shut it.

“I don’t have a problem, now if you’d excuse me I’d like you to leave me alone.“ 

 “Then leave me alone.” She huffed, “hold your silvertongue and stop acting as if you’re above me because you’re not.”

“Is that all?“ He asked her calmly, “you’re done with your childish tantrum?” 

“Oh you are so-“ y/n narrowed her eyes.

“So what?“ Loki asked with an eye roll.

“Terrible.“ y/n blurted, earning a cold laugh from the God of Mischief.

“So I’ve been told.“ He stated bored.

“No, I mean you’re really terrible and for so many reasons.”

“Such as?“  

“You want a list?“ y/n asked with a bitter laugh, “ok well you think you’re better than everyone and you’re not, you poke fun at other people because it’s amusing to you and-and everyone-I mean everyone thinks that you’re a snake, ever since we were younger, and I can’t believe I’m just now realizing that..they’re probably right.“ He swallowed hard furrowing his eyebrows, “you used to be my best friend Loki, I’d defend you from people’s accusations when you weren’t around and..I wasted my time because you are everything people say you are and worst.“ She saw the look in his eye, she hurt him-good now he understood how it felt. 

Loki glanced away-looking down at the girl again. “Is that all?” He asked, trying desperately to remain collected. y/n scoffed. “You may think you know me but I know you much more, don’t forget, I’ve been inside your head. People may think I’m a bad person but I can live with that, you on the other hand can’t stand the fact that someone might not like you, so much so that you’ll break down about it. You’re a weak fighter, you’re not as clever or as witty as you seem to think, and frankly I don’t understand the fascination Thor seems to have with you, you’re nothing special.”  

y/n pulled her foot from the doorway. What happened to us? She was about to cry and she did not want him seeing that. “Is that all?” She asked, reciting his previous question.

“Yes.“ He spat coldly. 

“Good.“ She turned to walk away as Loki stayed in his place trying to keep the impression that he didn’t care.

Late at night y/n tossed and turned in her bed, trying to fall asleep after waking up from a particularly realistic dream-she had thought that by laying still she’d trick her body into falling asleep but that didn’t happen. She knew that she had been able to power through the last few days with almost no sleep-but she’d certainly crash if she didn’t get any sleep soon. The thought of making a visit to Loki for help came to her mind, but she really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she wanted/needed his help. Screw it. She thought after another couple of hours, her clock read 2:35 as she swung her legs over her bed and slipped on her slippers and robe. 

The halls were dark and empty except for the occasional guards, which she was careful to avoid (she didn’t want to raise any suspicion). Thank God her room was only a three minute walk from Loki’s. It was once she was already in front of Loki’s door that she started getting second thoughts, but she was there already and the worst that could happen was getting the door slammed in her face or no answer. She raised her cold knuckle, letting it hover over the door’s fine wood before knocking. “It’s y/n..” She announced barely above a whisper, “trust me I really don’t want to ask for your help but I see no other option an-”

The door opened a small crack. “you do realize what time it is, right?” Loki’s annoyed voice asked-he didn’t sound like he had just woken up, maybe he was having trouble sleeping also.

“I know.” At her response Loki opened the door wider, revealing himself in a pair of emerald colored pajamas. “Look I know-” at the sound of approaching footsteps (guards) Loki stepped aside, giving her a cue to get in. She did, turning to face him one he closed the door again-his back facing the door he put his hands on his hips.

“What do you want?”

“I can’t sleep.” She said sheepishly, “I just-I’m getting the same nightmares again and I thought that maybe just this once you could, you know..” She put hands up, wiggling her fingers to imitate magic.

Loki rolled his eyes, “first off that’s not at all how magic looks, second why should I help you?”

“Just this once!“ y/n practically begged, “please. I’ve have not been sleeping at all I just need one hour. I won’t make you sleep on my couch like I did when we were younger, you can just...alter my thoughts or something and I’ll leave and-” 

“Fine.“ Loki agreed, grumpily. He walked back over to his bed, getting in between the covers on the left side. “Well?“ He asked when she stared blankly at him. He rolled his eyes again, “Obviously if you go back to your room I won’t be able to sense when I have to alter your thoughts and you’ll just come back to make a racket when you have another nightmare.“ y/n nodded slowly, making her way to the right side of the bed. “Besides it’s a big bed, just stay on that side-away from me.” She laid down, hesitant at first as she tightened her robe around herself. Loki leaned over, placing a finger and thumb over her temples to enter her mind. 

When she woke up she was in the same exact position that she was in when she went to bed and Loki was standing directly above her looking annoyed once again. It was still dark outside as he looked down at her from where he stood. “It’s about time, I’ve been trying to wake you up for the last two minutes.”

“What time is it?“

“6:05..the castles about to start waking up, you should leave before more people get uo to avoid being seen.“ y/n nodded in agreement. 

“Ok“ she walked to his door, turning to watch as he laid back down in his bed. “And Loki..“

“What?“ He sighed.

“Thank you.“ She said softly, leaving the room right after. Loki was left surprised.

“Look I know I said just once-” y/n whispered that night outside of Loki’s door, it was past 2 a.m. again, but surprisingly Loki let her in again.

“The faster you stop pestering me, the better.“ Loki told her harshly. He had woken her up at 6 a.m. again like he had done the the last time. The time after that Loki woke her up at 7 and the time after that she had woken up past 8 to see Loki sitting in a chair some feet from her sharpening his knives-when she had asked him why he hadn’t woken her up he had simply reminded that he could just teleport her back to her room, that way nobody would know she had spent the night there.

Flash forward a month later, y/n tiptoed to Loki’s room in her nightgown again, the nights were getting hotter which had led to her to leave her robe behind. When she had reached Loki’s room she didn’t need to knock, since he now left it unlocked for her. 

Once she laid down on the right side of the bed (more towards the middle now rather than all the way on the edge) Loki laid down about a foot from her. They didn’t go to bed right then however, since they had formed a habit of talking before falling asleep. “Have you been sleeping better?” Loki asked the girl beside him.

“yes.” 

“Good...”

y/n rolled onto her side to face Loki, “Thank you again.” He nodded. “You know for someone who hates me, you’re actually quite kind to me.” The corner of Loki’s mouth folded up slightly,

“I don’t hate you...” He rolled over onto his side to face her, “but what I do hate-“ he then had explained the entire plot of a book just to express his hatred for one detail in it. 

y/n woke up in the middle of the night with a start, her nightmares had came back. As it turned out Loki wasn’t in the room but when he got back with a glass of water he noticed she was off right away. “I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized, sitting beside her, “I was just-I didn’t think-”   

“I know, it’s fine.“ y/n told him, but his hand was still on her shoulder and his blue eyes still held worry in them. “I’m just-I’m going back to bed...“ Loki nodded, watching as she laid down again. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?“ She nodded.

As she began drifting off she felt Loki take her hand in his. Later on in the night y/n woke up randomly, but she wasn’t facing Loki anymore-instead she was facing his dim window, she felt warm but not from the covers and to her surprise she realized that the prince’s arm was around her waist, keeping her close. Their legs were tangled mess at the bottom of the bed and she could hear his slow breathing as he slept peacefully. She looked around slowly, trying to figure out a way to move away to avoid the embarrassment when he wakes up-but just as she began to shift around she heard him speak up. “What time is it?” up. 

“Sorry...” She apologized growing red, “I don’t know how-“  

“It’s fine.“ She heard Loki whisper. 

“It is?“

“This is quite comfortable.“ He whispered again, then he moved slightly closer-resting his head on her shoulder and he fell asleep again-she assumed that he was half awake and didn’t fully process what had happened. She decided it didn’t matter and fell asleep again, after all he wasn’t wrong-it was comfortable.  

There was a loud noise that woke y/n right up, making her jump. Now she realized that she was facing Loki again, her arms were wrapped around his neck like in a hug, his head was nuzzled in the crook of her neck-their legs still a tangled mess. Bang! Bang! There it was again, she lifted her head, looking towards the door as it came again-bang! Bang! 

“Loki” She whispered, gently shaking his sleeping form. He ignored it, pulling her closer in response instead. “Loki, someone’s at the door.” She whispered, trying not to laugh. He sighed looking up towards his door.

“Just ignore it, they’ll go away it’s probably a servant or-”

“Loki!” Thor’s voice came from the other side of the door, “Loki, I know you’re in there! Open the door.” Loki rolled his eyes, standing up to make his way towards the door. 

He opened the door a few inches, “what do you want?” He hissed.

“I-” Thor paused, “are wearing your nightwear?”

“Why is that of any importance-what do you want?”

“er, Loki is there someone in there with you?“ Thor asked. 

y/n held her breath, afraid that somehow Thor would hear her from the doorway. “I-no!” Loki snapped, “What are you talking about?”

“Alright, alright I apologize. I’m here to ask if you have seen y/n? I’ve been searching for her, she’s normally turned up somewhere at this time it’s past 10.” 

“No I don’t know where she is, I haven’t seen her. Check the garden, she’s most likely wandering around there.“ He shut the door, turning back to y/n. 

“Past 10?“ y/n asked, covering her mouth, “I should’ve been awake two hours ago.” Loki shrugged. “Can you teleport me back to my room, I should go to the gardens since Thor’s looking for me.” Loki looked at the ground with an unfamiliar look in his eyes before nodding. “Thank you.”

The girl had spent more time with Thor training than she had expected that day, leading her to take an extra long shower at night to get clean. She hadn’t realized until she looked at her clock that it was past 10-normally she’d already be at Loki’s room by now. Quickly she dried her hair and changed into her nightwear. 

She was about to leave and opened her door and unexpectedly Loki was there with his hand raised looking like he was about to knock. They stared at each other for a moment before she spoke up, “Loki? What are you doing here?” 

He glanced to the side, not wanting to meet here eyes as she awaited his response, “I thought..” he said glancing at the ground before back to her, regaining his composure “that you-“

“Weren’t coming?“ She finished for him, he nodded.

“So I came to see if you were ok, I’ll leave.“

“Wait, no.“ She told him, grabbing his wrist and taking him by surprise, “I was just coming it was just taking me longer, but you can sleep here if you want since you’re already here...?” He nodded in agreement, stepping into her room.

He settled himself into the bed, opening his arms for her to crawl into which she quickly did. The two laid there for a moment, listening to the quietness as Loki slowly brushed through her hair with his fingers.      

“remember the other day when I said that you were terrible?“ y/n suddenly asked, getting Loki’s attention. He stopped running his fingers through her hair. 

“Yes, why do you ask?“ He responded cautiously. 

“I was just mad at you. I’m sorry.“

He took a moment to think to himself, “I didn’t mean what I said either."

“Can I ask you something?” y/n asked after a while later.

“What?”

“Why did you push me away?” She asked, shifting herself to meet his eyes.

Loki sighed-only it wasn’t from being aggravated this time. He backed up a few inches from y/n-staring straight up at the ceiling. “It’s because..”

“Because what?”

“I had noticed that you and Thor were becoming closer and decided to..abandon you before you did me. I thought it’d hurt less that way.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, everyone always seems to choose Thor over me, I just assumed you would, in time, do the same.“ He confessed, still not meeting her gaze. 

“Loki...“ she set her hand on his shoulder waiting for him to look at her. “I would never abandon you for Thor, sure Thor is my friend but so is Fandral, so is Volstagg, so is Sif and I’m not abandoning anyone for them.“

He nodded.

“And tonight..“ y/n spoke up again, “when you thought I wasn’t coming-“

“I assumed you wouldn’t need me anymore, especially after you had spent so much time with Thor.“

“Loki!“

“What?“

“Don’t be like that!“ y/n told him, sitting up, “I do need you! I’ll always need you, I need you don’ t doubt that, and not just because of stupid nightmares, because I care for you and I love you, ok?”

Loki smiled to himself, “you love me?“

“Yes you stupid-“ she stopped talking because Loki had leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss, taking no time to hesitate she leaned into him further deepening the kiss. After about a minute they pulled apart-resting their foreheads together. 

“I love you too.“

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Ignorance (Volturi Leaders x Reader)

Judging by the atmosphere of the room, something was wrong. You turned to your three mates, skepticism all over your face.  "What's wrong?" You asked warily, watching for any changes in your mates faces, even the slightest micro-movement.  “Nothing you need to worry yourself about, my dear.” Aro responded with a reassuring smile. Whilst he was convincing, you didn't buy it. It didn’t take long for the thoughts to creep in, a reminder that you had been here before, in this exact situation. A thought rushed through your head but never left.  “This doesn’t have something to do with Bella...does it?” You asked.  “No.” Aro smiled at you gently.  Again, convincing but you noticed the tiny details within each of your mates and those details led you to believe this was a lie. 

You felt a pang in your chest, you had been here before. It always hurt to know your mates could and would lie to you again and again.  “Why are you lying to me?” You had visibly faltered, hurt etched across your face. You were met with silence at first.  “Why would you think that?” Caius responded.  “Marcus looks like he just kicked a puppy, you are trying to will me to believe Aro with your eyes alone and Aro has a particular smile when he lies.”   "It's a private matter." Aro responded.  "A private matter? So of course I wasn't included." You said with a cold smile. 

As you began to turn away, Aro responded.  "We can tell you later-"  "No. It's fine. We all know you won't. Don't let me interrupt." You interrupted him with a forced smile. Marcus was the next to speak. "No, (Y/N), we'll discuss-" Once again you interrupted, if you had to hear their excuses or empty promises again, you’d make Alec take away your senses for good. "No, how about you don't bother and neither will I." "If you want to be treated like an adult, (Y/N), then I advise you stop acting like a child." Caius’ words made you freeze mid-step and your blood boil. So much so, you had no doubt every vampire in the castle sensed it. 

You had once made a comment that the three treated you like a child, whether it was the age gap or the fact you were human, you didn't appreciate it. You wanted them to trust you as you trusted them and instead they hid things from you under the pretences that you wouldn't understand. However, you swallowed back your rage, sending Caius a blank stare. 

“We have received word from one of the Denali coven that the Cullen’s have created an immortal child.” Aro declared. Caius turned sharply to his brother, clearly displeased that he had revealed the secret. You, on the other hand, looked taken aback.”Bella and...?” You trailed off. Aro nodded.  “You’re sure?” You responded quietly.  “I saw for myself.” Aro assured you. “We’re about to vote on the situation.Perhaps we could use your involvement.” Aro continued. However Caius was quick to let his thoughts known. "They're human, reckless and don't understand, so why allow them a vote? We know what must be done. We do not offer second chances and this is breaking another law. We cannot cloud our judgement because of (Y/N)." 

You used to be good friends with Bella, but that friendship had since fallen away ever since you had met your mates. Although, that was Edwards fault if anyone’s. You’d have likely never met if you hadn't gone to Italy with Bella and Alice. You turned to Caius with another hurt look upon your face. "I...I was going to agree with you." You said quietly. If the Cullen’s had broken the law, then what else could be done? Yet now Caius was treating you like the weakest link, like you’d betray them so easily. You crossed your arms before turning to leave the room.  “(Y/N)-” Aro  was following behind you in seconds and reached out for your arm but you pulled away from his reach. "Don't touch me." You mumbled, this time successfully leaving the room. 

Within a second, Aro was back on his throne with his others. Aro turned to Caius.  “I understand your motives brother but you don’t need to be so harsh.” Aro said icily.  “I’m not going to dote to them like you two. When it comes down to it, I will say what needs to be said. If either of you did the same, perhaps I wouldn’t be the villain.” Caius shot back.  “I’ll go to them.” Marcus said.  “Ah yes, Marcus to the rescue from the evil Caius.” Caius scowled.  “You do it to yourself, Caius.” Marcus said as he stood up. 

You looked up to see Marcus in the doorway of his room, where you had went after the altercation. “Marcus, i’m really not in the mood to do this right now.” You began.  “We didn’t want to upset you. We only had your benefit in mind.”  "No, you hold me at arm's length and then make me feel bad about it. Like I did something wrong when the truth is you don't trust me enough to even give me the chance." You responded sourly. 

Suddenly both Aro and Marcus were behind you.  “You’ve done nothing wrong, cara mia and we do trust you. Of course, we trust you.” Aro explained. “We choose not to involve you because it seems, in our eyes, unnecessary stress on you. It’s our job to do this but that doesn’t mean it’s you must endure it.”  “It’s not your job to shelter me!” You turned, arguing back. “I’m so tired of this!”  “Tired of what, cara mia?” Aro pressed, knowing something else was bothering you.

You tended to bottle things up and eventually the emotions overflow from the even the smallest of changes at times. "I am tired of it being three against one. I am tired of only existing when it's convenient to you. I am tired of making excuses for him and I'm tired with you assuming that I won't leave all three of you!" You said loudly making the two men pause. You had never mentioned leaving before and it had never even crossed their minds on what to even think if you ever brought it up, never mind do. Aro seemed to clam up, his expression unreadable whilst Marcus looked almost terrified.   "Don't say things like that! You don't mean it!" Marcus pleaded slightly. You stared at him. You sighed. Once again leaving the room. However only Marcus’ followed you this time.  "I'm trying to talk to you!"  "I don't want to talk!" You snapped back, storming into Caius’ room this time.   "(Y/N), I love you- we love y-" You interrupted Marcus.  "Don't say that!" You snapped. 

That was your weakness and you loved them more than you could describe but you couldn’t go ignored. They couldn’t wish it away with those three little words. You couldn’t look at Marcus who looked absolutely heartbroken.  “You’re pulling away.” He said quietly. “I can see it...you’re pulling away from us.” You said nothing and Marcus left the room. 

An hour passed and Caius entered the room briskly, Aro and Marcus remaining at the door. “You two, leave. (Y/N) and I need to have a conversation alone.”  “Excuse me?” You responded.  "You're angry with me and releasing your anger on them. Be that adult and if you have something to say. Say it!" Caius turned to his brothers. “Get out.” "It drives me mad that you overlook everything I feel and do whatever is convenient for you! And you win! Every time, you always get your own way!" You said almost immediately.  “It drives me to madness that I have to be careful with what i say because you assume the worst of me.” Caius shot back.   "I hate that you make me feel so inferior!" You said louder, the anger rising in you once more.  "I hate that you're so naive you fail to realise that I do this because you mean more to me than anything else! I want you to be happy, I want you to be protected!" Caius scowled. “I hate that you will drag out every situation until you win. Even now, you’re winning!” You argued back. Caius looked at you incredulously. “Don't you understand!? I've already lost! I'm losing you right now! Everything I have ever done is to protect you because if you're gone I won't be able to survive it! I'd rather you hated me and were safe than dead and loving me!" You moved closer, growing exasperated. "Caius, why don't you understand that there is other ways? I love you. I love all of you but everyday it's a tag team against me!" "You don't understand how much of a blessing you are and at the same time how stressful it is to know that any tiny little movement could hurt you!" Caius said flatly.  You stared at him and Caius sighed. “You’re so stubborn.” Caius shook his head. "You won't want to hear it."  "That's never stopped you before." You responded quietly. Caius sighed again. "I don't want to involve you. I fear that if I do and something hurt you...I can't fix it."  “That deci-”  "I don't want to force you to make any decisions! If you did, I couldn't live with you hating yourself. So if I did it and you hated me for it, I can live with that!" You were at a loss for words. Dumbstruck by Caius’ words. He had never been so vulnerable with you to actually admit his fears, especially involving you.  “I want you to be loved and i want you to be happy. I cannot without a doubt expose you to these things and believe you wouldn’t be affected.” “Caius...” You pleaded, tears welling in your eyes. “I lost my friend for you. i haven’t contacted anyone in months since coming here. Bella was my best friend and i lost her. I gave her up for you. It might hurt, but it hurts more knowing that the three people i gave everything up for, are holding me at arms length.” You took hold of Caius’ arms who said nothing as you continued. “I am willing to face all of that, if it means i have you three with me. I can face all of it. I am willing to face it all if it means i get to keep you at my side. I don't want you hiding things from me, or pushing me away. That hurts more than any of it.”  

A blur of black in the corner of your eye catch your attention. Once again Marcus and Aro were at the door. Meanwhile, Caius stared down at you with a surprisingly soft expression.  "The truth is that we don't tell you a lot of things...but that doesn't mean we want to hurt you." Marcus spoke up. "Listen," You said softly, tugging Caius' hand and looking over at Aro and Marcus. "You will never have to worry about me leaving. I could never leave you behind." You turned your gaze to Caius, stepping closer to him. "Look at me." You whispered and Caius' gaze shifted. "Never." You promised him. "There have been so many more good times than bad and none of them could keep me from you." You closed the distance with a kiss that Caius was just as willing to return. One of his hands moving to your cheek. Even Marcus couldn't hold back a smile when you reached out towards them, beckoning for them. You broke the kiss to declare. "If you two don't hug me in the next three seconds I will cry."

[theggning]

Perfect timing for me to ask you this: what's your thoughts/opinions on Deacon?

It's always a good time to ask me to tl;dr, friendo, I love never shutting up, ever.

Ah, Deacon. The man of mystery, the liar, the Railroad's number one agent (though he'd rather you not believe it.) Everybody's favorite egg in shades. I really like Deacon. He's hilarious, handy in a fight, his voice acting is phenomenally fun, and has a lot of wise things to say about the lies people tell you to make you act in their interest.

Of course, Deacon's main character trait and personality is that he lies constantly. He is, admirably, upfront about the fact that he's a liar, and doesn't expect anyone to trust him. Sometimes his lies are clearly meant to be a joke. Sometimes they're a test, to teach the Sole Survivor a lesson about spycraft. But when it comes down to it, Deacon doesn't lie about important things, or things that will get someone in danger. He lies, with varying degrees of believability, so that when he *needs* to lie, nobody will know whether or not to believe him. He disguises himself, often poorly, so that when he *needs* to disappear, nobody will spot him.

But the thing Deacon lies about the most is himself. As with all the Railroad agents, his name is a pseudonym. He lies about being a synth (he isn't) and going places and seeing things. He lies about escapades he's been on and missions he's run. Even his appearance is a lie, as he admits he undergoes surgeries to change his face every so often. Every one of his affinity conversations ends with a charisma check revealing that he was lying.

And lies are all that you get from Deacon, until you reach his final affinity conversation. There, Deacon, unusually emotional and distraught, confesses that in his youth, he was a member of a gang called the University Point Deathclaws-- a hate group that targeted synths. After a particularly brutal murder turned Deacon away from the gang, he met and married a woman named Barbara. But years later, his old gang showed up at their doorstep and murdered Barbara-- as it turned out, Barbara was unknowingly a synth. Deacon proceeded to butcher every one of his former friends-- and impressed by his prowess and believing him to be sympathetic to the cause, he was then recruited by the Railroad.

If you believe that this story, too, is a lie, then we're left scraping for a motive or a baseline or just, anything we can actually use to pin Deacon down as more than a fleeting shadow.

People much more eloquent than me have dissected this reveal and all of their points are good and sourced, and they will do a much better job of it than I could, but in short, I do believe Deacon is telling the truth about his past. Everything from the acting to the expressions on his face to terrible things he confesses about himself point to real, genuine heartache under his usual glibness, and it also provides us a motive, one magical golden key that unlocks the most important facet of Deacon:

This man hates himself.

Deacon absolutely fucking hates himself. He hates his past, he hates his choices, he hates how he used to behave and believe, he hates what it did to the woman he loved. He views his service to the Railroad as atonement, that he also doesn't deserve and never will. Not only does the Railroad necessitate secrecy, making up lies, changing his face, turning himself into a mystery, but it also allows Deacon to pretend to be anybody else but himself (as MacCready ice burns him in one of their exchanges.) He fears that if anyone finds out the truth about him, spots even a small sliver of his real self, they will hate him as much as Deacon does. And he'll deserve it. The only future Deacon sees for himself is to die in service of the Railroad, in service of freeing the synths that he used to hate and victimize, in service of an organization he feels he's completely unworthy of belonging to.

This, I'm sorry to say to his fans, is the actual characterization/meta reason why Deacon isn't romanceable. Deacon hates himself so much that he's unwilling to let anyone know who he really is. He only barely feels comfortable exposing part of his past to the Sole Survivor at the end of the affinity conversations-- a romance would require letting someone in further than that, and Deacon not only refuses, but feels like he doesn't deserve it. Like, I cannot stress enough that in a canon full of companions struggling with self-image and varying degrees of hating themselves, Deacon is the undisputed Grand Champion of hating himself. He has a LONG way to go to finding even the slightest bit of worthiness in himself.

And that's really the sad and poignant part of Deacon. We can believe Deacon is a fun and likable guy with good intentions and a good cause. We can believe that a person can change at heart, can try to make up for their mistakes by doing good things. (I believe it!) But the tricky part is making Deacon believe it-- a man so thoroughly sunk in his own self-hatred that he truly doesn't believe he deserves to be forgiven.

Well, that was kind of a downer, so I'll rattle off some other fun facts about Deacon to close this out...

Deacon seems to be very well-read, with an interest in pre-War literature. OR MAYBE HE'S LYING?!

He is, however, very likely the same person as John D., a Railroad agent mentioned in Desdemona's terminal who came up with the dead drop system, the pyramid structure of secrecy, was the only survivor of an earlier Institute raid on Railroad HQ, and was also instrumental in rebuilding the organization. This raid took place in 2266, over 20 years before the game starts, so it's actually very likely that Deacon is in his 40s or even his 50s.

We all know Deacon (poorly) follows Sole through the early parts of the main quest, but he's been following them a lot longer than that. Deacon discovered the Institute's apparent interest in Vault 111 and theorized there was something inside that they wanted. This led Deacon to stakeout Vault 111, where he apparently sat and watched the doors for some time until the Sole Survivor emerged. (You can find his spot in the trees on a hillside overlooking the Vault doors. There's a chair, a few bottles of water, a sun shade, and the Railsign for "ally" carved nearby.)

And stolen verbatim from the wiki:

At one point in 2275, Deacon was kicked out of HQ by former leader Pinky Thompson because he was "sick of the lying, face-changing son of a bitch," after Deacon had spent a month as a ghoul, which "freaked a lot of people out."

[lunaastoir]

Heyhey! May I request a childe x reader where the reader simps for him but he doesn’t know? Like what if she was online best friends with the tsaritsa but the reader doesn’t know the tsaritsa is the tsaritsa so she constantly simps for childe to her. Like “OMG HE’S SO CUTE.” AND STUFF LIKE THAT. So since she’s like besties with the tsaritsa the cry archon decides to set her up? Thank you :>>>>

AAAAA NONNIE holds your hands gently this is so cute i love it :,) 

genshin doesn’t have internet/technology but for the sake of this ask shhhhhh we’re gonna pretend they do

i hope i interpreted your ask correctly, if i didn’t just lmk <3 

crack, fluFF- LOTS OF IT???

the tsaritsa’s meddling

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all you wanted were groceries. that was all you wanted. you were standing in line behind the stall as you counted the items you needed to get. salt, milk, sugar, fowl, what else? you were lost in thought as you prayed that you had enough mora to buy everything - god knows how hard eating is as an adventurer. which was why, when you dropped your precious mora, your mind immediately went into panic mode. not now, not now, please don’t let the line move, you begged internally. in hindsight maybe if your mora hadn’t dropped, maybe if you weren’t at your wits end as a broke adventurer, maybe if you had just bought those damn ingredients sooner, you wouldn’t be in this position. as you breathed a sigh of relief after collecting your money and returned your gaze back to the stall, the only thing you could do was stare. where...did everyone go? instead of simply turning around and fleeing which should’ve been your first instinct considering how deserted the place was, you stood there trying to process the information. that was, until you saw a head of auburn hair peak up out of the stall. startled, you almost dropped your mora again. as the tuft of hair gave way to a very tall, handsome, blue eyed man, your brain short circuited. 

oh god how you wished you had run when you had the chance. you imagined you must have looked quite comical; mouth hanging slightly open, the list of ingredients fisted in your hands while mora was hanging precariously from your fingers. after what seemed like an eternity, the man seemed to finally notice you. 

“oh hey, you must not have noticed but this stall is sold out for the fatui” 

the sentence accompanied with his signature smile practically brought you to your knees. that smile? aimed at you? you would be surprised if you weren’t drooling. 

determined to not look like an absolute idiot you flashed him a smile of your own before saying, “sorry my bad, i must not have been paying attention” while doing what little you can to get some semblance of balance. tuck the mora here, try to balance your list more gracefully, move that piece of hair from your face. 

his eyes surveyed your undoubtedly disheveled appearance, before making a quick decision. 

“what items do you want, i’m sure i can spare a few ingredients for someone as pretty as you” 

one blink. another blink. did he just call you pretty? oh my- 

“oh no, it’s really ok, i can just get these later - it’s not that important anyway” you lied through your teeth. you needed those ingredients or you were most likely going to starve on the road but he didn’t need to know that. 

“don’t worry about it, as a harbinger i’m sure my subordinates can overlook a few missing ingredients” he smoothly said before gesturing you towards him. 

“i’m childe by the way, if you didn’t know” his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“y/n” you offered while handing him the list. 

as he looked over what you needed, you tried your best to keep your breathing steady while your mind raced. if you didn’t know? of course you knew who he was, who didn’t? you would know better than most considering how often you thirsted about him to your mutual. if anything, you should’ve been the one saying that line to him. as an adventurer, you tend to not spend much time in liyue harbor, chasing down ruin guards and running errands was how you would rather keep yourself busy. however, ever since you saw childe in liyue, sharing a pot of tea with zhongli of all people, you started swinging by the harbor more often. fascination was what kept you seeking him out wherever you went. you had heard about the infamous eleventh harbinger, supposedly the youngest of them, all while being quite easy on the eyes. you had brushed off all the talk you had heard to just that - talk. international affairs wasn’t something you cared for and if anything, seeing the fatui made you wary. however, your curiosity grew after seeing him whenever you were in town. you chalked up your eyes subconsciously seeking out his figure to the fact that he was just an interesting guy. nothing wrong with wondering about a peculiar fellow, right?  you went through excuses upon excuses until finally, you had concluded that perhaps, maybe, you had a little crush on him. tiny, you assured yourself. just a tiny crush on a very attractive man. 

that crush then trickled over to your time spent talking to your mutual. it started off with little hints of “oh there’s this guy i saw and i thought he was kinda cute” to full blown hysteria of “PLS SEND HELP HE LOOKED SO GOOD TODAY.” @cryogoddess definitely had a lot of patience putting up with your thirsts over a man she didn’t even have the name of. you felt horrible sometimes since more than half of your conversation was about the newest detail you had noticed about childe - however your protests on boring her were met with reassurances about how no, you weren’t boring her, and yes, this is the most lighthearted talk she’s had her entire day so please keep going. you weren’t exactly sure what this woman did, or even how old she was. all you knew was she was someone who was constantly stressed (maybe a fellow adventurer?) and she was quite honest (which you happened to appreciate). despite how busy she was, she seemed to always make time for your texts which made you feel like you could trust her with anything.

“is that all? do you need anything else?” childe’s voice interrupted your mental tirade as you owlishly looked at him. 

“oh! yes that’s fine thank you” you smiled before taking the bag from him. grabbing the mora, you rushed to hand out the correct amount before he stopped you. 

“don’t worry about it, it’s on the house” he laughed slightly before waving your mora away. 

it’s on the- excuse me? did he just give you all this for free? is this what fatui hospitality is like?  

rushing to close your mouth, you quickly recovered while slurring out a quick “thank you so much” before shouldering your bag. your brain was currently running on fumes and you were very sure that if you stayed there any longer you might just combust. 

“well, i’ll be off then, thank you again” you shot him another smile before quickly scurrying away. 

without turning back to look at his expression, you moved as fast as humanly possible while trying not to seem like you were about to jump out of your skin. you didn’t know what was more embarrassing, your thumping heart or the dopey smile on your face. there was no way you were ever going to get over this, not with the way he looked at you the entire time. sighing, you put your bag down near a bench and pulled out your phone. at least you had an update for your friend that consisted of something other than just mindless thirsts. 

your mind was still reeling over from what happened as you texted her with shaking hands. the reply was immediate: “wow, you finally got up the courage to talk to him huh.” you rolled your eyes playfully at her blunt message. “bY ACCIDENT- IT HAPPENED BY ACCIDENT,,, guess he couldn’t keep himself away from this sexiness 😩” another blunt reply: “right.” smiling softly, you responded: “thanks for hyping me up bestie i really appreciate it <3 ok but maybe childe and i belong together??? is this a sign from the archons???” you stared waiting for her reply, however you were met with a read 8:45 pm. you’re lucky i love you bestie, leaving me on read during my crisis you whispered to yourself as you shouldered your bag once again to head home. at least you won’t be starving tomorrow on your commissions. 

as soon as you entered your house, your phone lit up. “wait. as in childe, eleventh of the fatui harbingers, also known as tartaglia, feared by many on the battle field, currently stationed in liyue, major pain in the ass, and is currently ignoring some of his paperwork???” - @cryogoddess. your eyebrows furrowed as you read her message, “yes that’s him but why do you sound so freaked out and how do you know sm abt him?” another notification: “i can’t believe you’ve been thirsting to me abt CHILDE.” you: “KDJKSFJ YOU DIDNT ANSWER MY QUESTION - also??? i thought i told you his name did i not??? 😀” her: “no??? wow this definitely is...interesting” you: “BESTIE ANSWER MY QUESTION DO YOU KNOW HIM???” her: “i’ve gotta go, work is calling.” 

you sighed in frustration as you tossed your phone on your bed. why was she so freaked out? you weren’t dumb, you knew there was something she wasn’t telling you but you trusted her enough to know she’ll let you know if it was important. you wondered as you pulled the covers over your head, if you’ll meet childe in your dreams and if you do, hopefully, in a less embarrassing scenario. 

the next morning, you awoke to a barrage of texts from none other than @cryogoddess. they were all along the lines of you should go to bubu pharmacy and stock up on medication this evening (i heard they’re having a sale). you responded back with a maybe, if you had time today after your commissions and if xiangling didn’t stop by with some food. however, your mutual made you promise you would visit in the evening, even if it’s just for a few minutes. you gave in because a) you never could say no and b) she made it sound like it was urgent so maybe she was obsessed with medicine? hmmm you would have to figure out where she lived so you could send some to her. 

you walked toward bubu pharmacy while tiredly sheathing your weapon, loosely taking in your surroundings. kids playing near the pond, teenagers chatting at the steps, adults keeping a watchful eye over their kids while laughing about the day’s events. your eyes studied the sign outside of bubu pharmacy. sale? what sale? there doesn’t seem to be anything regarding a sale?

“y/n?” a mildly familiar voice called your name. you whipped around looking for whoever uttered those words before your eyes fell on none other than one blue eyed harbinger. he was holding a few silk flowers in his hand as he stared at you with a sheepish smile. 

“hi” you stuttered out. your mind was blank, what was happening? 

“oh sorry, these are for you. i don’t mean to make you uncomfortable but i heard that you might be interested in me? you caught my eye at the stall yesterday, so i was wondering if you would want to grab lunch from the third-round knockout and then go watch the sunset at mt. tianheng? there’s this really cool trick i can do with my hydro vision where i can make the sunlight dance across the waypoint.” 

you stared at him as you wordlessly took the silk flowers from his hands. the golden light of the setting sun cast his face in a beautiful sheen, softly showing off the gentle blush on his cheeks and the brilliant blue of his eyes. his auburn hair seemed to grow alive at the touch of the fiery light and all you could do was stare. 

childe’s confidence seemed to wane with every passing second that you gazed at him, open mouthed, so he decided to save himself the embarrassment before hesitantly opening his own mouth. 

“yes, i would love to” you quickly said. you smiled gently up at him. 

“i would love to watch the sunset with you” 

you felt your cheeks burning up as you looked at him with soft eyes. when he returned your expression with a dazzling smile of your own, you could feel yourself relax. yes, your heart rate was off the chart right now, but you were content. the sunset, childe, and the silk flowers was something you never knew you needed, but were glad you got. you had enough time later to worry about the oncoming mortification of how he found out you liked him. 

a single notification appeared in your phone as the two of you walked laughing towards the mountain. 

“you’re welcome <3″

BONUS: 

“i know i’m too sexy for you to not fall in love with me” childe sighed dramatically as he leaned against you for support as the two of you went up the stairs. 

you promptly rolled your eyes and pushed him down the steps as you walked ahead with his protests falling on deaf ears. 

[itsclydebitches]

There seems to be no middle ground with RWBY+, they trust you or they don’t. Some have no chance to “earn” it, but others don’t do anything to gain it. James should’ve earned it a hundred times over. He did so much but it wasn’t enough. What did Robyn do? She tried to attack Ruby and was only stopped by Penny. After that? Yang trusts the woman who almost hurt her sister over the man who gave her an arm, then blamed Ruby. Any wonder I hate these characters so much?

The frustrating thing is that I think I can see what RT was going for. Frustrating because it's the reading most of the fandom falls back on, despite the fact that the show... never actually wrote that story. In short, it's the belief that there's established good and bad in this world and we have a responsibility to uphold the former regardless of personal trust. So if a friend of mine is, say, being a racist asshole and a stranger is not, I have a moral responsibility to side with the stranger, despite the fact that I don't know them, technically can't trust them on other matters, and have little to no emotional investment in them as an individual. You need to take the side of what's right, no matter how hard that is. It's why we get so many heroes facing off against former friends and mentors. "You'd really betray me for them?" they say, pointing to the sidekick our hero only met at the start of the story, maybe a couple months ago in-world. "Yeah," they reply. "Because they're not trying to kill everyone." Basic humanity trumps long-term relationships.

That, as far as I can tell, seems to be the basic setup that RWBY was going for: Robyn may be a stranger, but she's the Good Person sticking up for Mantle, whereas Ironwood may be an ally and friend, but he's also the Bad Person hurting Mantle. Ergo, aligning with Robyn wins out, no matter that she's a stranger and Ironwood an ally. That's likewise why fans are so quick to dismiss evidence of Ironwood's good nature. Things like Yang's arm or the licenses aren't accepted as evidence for why the group should have started with more trust in him, they're reframed as excuses for why critics supposedly want to overlook his presumed, horrific nature — something that the story later made real with him shooting Oscar, killing the councilman, hacking Penny, and threatening to bomb Mantle. Viewing the good Ironwood did as some manipulative temptation the group was right to resist depends entirely on seeing Ironwood as the archetypal bad guy to Robyn's good guy.

However, this attempt failed spectacularly for numerous reasons already discussed over the past two years. Ironwood's actions were never revealed as manipulations. The group continued to work with him, thereby shouldering responsibility for his choices. Ruby actively pushed to complete Amity, despite the harm it was doing to Mantle. Robyn never did anything with the resources she stole, etc. This presumed line between Ironwood and Robyn simply doesn't exist in the text — or at least it's incredibly blurred — so when Yang and Blake run to share intel with her, it doesn't feel like the heroes turning away from the wrong path to back the real hero. We don't understand how resources to build a communications tower are hurting everyday peoples' lives. We don't understand why Weiss can't just go up and plug the hole with a bunch of ice. We don't understand why, if hurting Mantle is such an objectively awful thing, our hero Ruby keeps pushing to finish Amity anyway. We don't understand why there isn't at least an acknowledgement of good intentions here, considering that the tower is meant to save the world from Salem, helping Mantle in the long run. We don't understand why, if the group is so concerned with Ironwood's choices, they don't tell him the one piece of information that would get him to stop. And we don't understand Robyn.

Because here's the thing: it's badly written. The whole Amity debate straight through to the Fall of Atlas is a mess of ill thought out morals, shoddy worldbuilding, and outright contradictions. There's no salvaging that without rethinking Volumes 6-8, starting with the group's response to Ozpin. But all that aside, even if we kept things exactly as they are and bought into the assumption that Ironwood is as Bad and Robyn is as Good as the story wants us to believe... the group still should have at least hesitated to trust Robyn. More than a line or two of dialogue between Yang and Blake. I mean actual hesitation and a serious acknowledgement of the complications here. The concept of trust is now a focal point of RWBY and there's enough material across the entire series to make the Robyn situation way more complicated than just the group going, "We should side with her because she wants to do right by the people." Here I'm not talking about what we the audience know about RWBY's construction as a story, I mean what the characters have experienced on screen. It's a simple question at the core of the trust Robyn debate:

How do they know she's telling the truth?

Seriously, how do they know Robyn is who she says she is? That she doesn't have ulterior motives? That she's not outright lying to them and the rest of Atlas? Everything I've heard in defense of the group's fast-track trust falls short. "Well, she's presented as one of the good guys in Atlas, fighting for what's right." You mean like how Cinder, Emerald, and Mercury once posed as huntsmen and joined Ruby's school, supposedly fighting for what was right? "She's interested in politics. It's not like she's out there attacking them like Tyrian." You mean like how Salem infiltrated a kingdom via Lionheart, the White Fang has likewise tried to worm their way into positions of power, and Jacques is currently trying to steal an election? The bad guys don't limit themselves to just trying to murder people straight out. "But she stole resources back for the people!" And did... what with them? For all we actually know, she put those towards a different, nefarious plan. "But she's so passionate and she's sworn she wants to help." People lie! That was the whole thing with Ozpin! Ruby just lied at the start of the Volume. And, funnily enough, Robyn has the semblance that forces others to tell the truth, but no one can make Robyn do the same.

To be clear, I don't actually have a conspiracy theory that she's secretly a baddie. My only point is that fans were right to wonder if she was a White Fang or Salem agent and our group absolutely should have wondered the same. Take away all the personal reasons to trust Ironwood (defending Weiss, Yang's arm, friend of the inner circle, etc.) and we're still left with proof of his intentions in the form of things like Amity's plans and him continually giving the heroes more power, more resources, more connections, more ways to hurt him if they were to ever turn against him. In as much as you can prove anyone is trustworthy, Ironwood was there. But Robyn? Robyn had none of that work. More importantly, that lack interferes with our "She's doing the right thing, so we need to back her" reading. How did the group know she really wanted to do right by the people? And since that's always hard to prove, what did they do to at least attempt to reassure themselves? Absolutely nothing. Which is why the current writing makes them look stupid. They watched the bad guys infiltrate their school, organize the Fall of Beacon, stalk them, pose as allies, turn on them, lie to their faces, are telling lies themselves... and none of them came up when the question of trusting Robyn was put on the table. The idea of someone tricking them (again), or betraying them (again), or lying about Important Topics even though they're doing the same seems to have, somehow, escaped them.

It doesn't matter what Robyn's stance on Mantle is because the group never justified trusting her word and the story failed to show us (and them) that Robyn was doing good. Literally all she does pre-trust is stand for election and, again, we could say the same of Jacques. If the story wanted to make at least a miniscule improvement on this arc, we needed to see either a compelling reason to believe Robyn is all she presents herself as (for example, Penny could have known and vouched for her), or gotten an explanation for why they'd take an unjustified leap of faith when others haven't gotten one, people who have done much to earn that trust. It's a problem that grew exponentially once Oscar trusted Hazel and the group trusted Emerald, but it has existed since Ilia. As it stands, by this logic, Cinder should be able to walk up to the group and go, "I'm not bad anymore. I actually want to help now. No, I'm not lying :)" and that's that. That's what trust means to them. Taking people at their word ...unless you're a flawed ally who has made mistakes. Then trust takes months to rebuild, or is off the table completely.

Ozpin is not trustworthy. Ironwood is not trustworthy. Qrow saying "Hey" is not trustworthy. According to the fandom, Tai is not trustworthy.

Ilia is trustworthy. Robyn is trustworthy. Emerald is trustworthy. Hazel is trustworthy.

It's completely backwards and Robyn was a large part of that strange flip.