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galaxiasgreen · 28 days

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🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 7.8k words]

Letting himself embrace this horrid part of his heritage terrified him. It was like being back in the cellar again, that Muggle writhing beneath him in pain, his parents and brother lauding his name. Gaunt. No matter what he did to unbind himself from the bloodline, always it came back to shackle him. Always, it answered when he didn't call.

In which, even after he broke your friendship, Ominis can't get you out of his head.

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, Scriptorium quest, Muggle culture, Your Scent in the Amortentia, Going Feral when You're Hurt, Comforting You When You're Sad.

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2: When Everything Changed

You didn't speak to him for a long time.

Justifiably, Ominis knows. It's one thing to insult, degrade, demean someone, but something else entirely to diminish their very existence, to reduce them to flesh and bones and happenstance. You were Muggle-born, he was pure-blood. Your friendship together was as tenuous as life itself.

You didn't deserve risk, so he steeled his heart, his mind. He moved through the struggles of fourth year silently, like a wraith, participating only when needed. A clock was ticking for summer – he couldn't spend the entire holiday at Feldcroft, though he longed for it, though Sebastian offered. When the dread of it came, thick and drowning, it was the thought of you, what he was doing ultimately to protect you, that eased the pain. He didn't realise how deeply you had planted your vines inside him, so that everything he did now, anything he felt, or touched, or tasted, reminded him of you. You were ingrained, and no matter how hard he tried to uproot you, you would not wither.

Perhaps this was his reality now. Perhaps he would never speak to you again.

Naturally, fifth year changed everything.

The new school year rang with tension. A goblin tyrant, Ranrok, sought vengeance against wizardkind, with his influence strongest around the Scottish Highlands, scattered around the hamlets around Hogwarts. His plans were unclear, just another thing Ominis worried about, massaging his temple on the walk up to school for the first evening.

Sebastian wasn't in a talkative mood. He'd come to verbal blows with his uncle that afternoon, when Ominis was packing and keeping Anne company. Their voices were so raised they could be heard in the entire village.

"Stop getting her hopes up! For goodness sake, she's cursed. At least let her enjoy however long she has left in peace, without your meddling!"

"Meddling?" Sebastian scoffed. "She's my sister! I'll find a cure for her—"

"If St Mungo's Healers can't do it, no fifteen year-old boy will either."

"You might've given up, but I haven't."

"I've stopped trying to fill her head with false hope and nonsense!"

Anne's lethargic sigh had pulled Ominis away. "I'm so tired."

"You should rest."

"No." She fell back against the pillow. "I mean, of their arguing."

Truthfully, Ominis was tired of it too. He heard enough hatred at home, the few lonely weeks he had to spend there before absconding to Feldcroft. For the most part, his parents ignored him, though there were days they dragged him to dinners or parties with the other pure-blood families. He made sure to give the Malfoys as wide a berth as possible, even though Peregrine didn't bother him again.

"Can you promise me something, Ominis?" Anne had asked.

He'd pursed his lips. "That depends on what it is."

"You'll keep an eye on Sebastian this year." A wry laugh. "A metaphorical eye, that is."

He always intended to. The darkness was offering Sebastian solace, and he feared his best friend was diving down a path from which there was no return. How far would he be willing to go for Anne?

"I'll do my best."

"And... and talk to Gibby."

He hadn't heard your name all summer. It sent a frisson through him, equally terrifying and pleasant, and made to leave before an inevitable interrogation—

"Please," she said, stopping him. "Sometimes family isn't blood. Sometimes family is heart. And she is as much a part of yours as the rest of us are."

Yet, when he left with Sebastian an hour later, he adamantly reminded himself why he made that pact in the first place. He could not— would not talk to you, and rub raw a healing wound. Things were simply too dangerous to risk it, if not from Peregrine Malfoy, then from one of the other pure-blood families, the Lestranges, the Blacks, or the Fawleys.

When he and Sebastian arrived at the school, sun hushing the horizon, Ominis paid no mind to the knowledge that you were there, somewhere at the Hufflepuff table, enjoying the start of term without him. He took his seat next to his best friend and expected the same opening speech, Sorting Ceremony and feast.

Only there was one thing different.

Missy was what everyone called her. The nickname was sparked by rumour, as thick as honey – unlike yours, spurred by your actions, your quirks, Missy's had come before her, on the train up to Hogwarts, where all the fifth years spoke of a new student starting this year under the mentorship of Professor Fig.

Staring school so late, with the support of a prominent Hogwarts professor? That was unusual, she was unusual. A mystery.

Only when she appeared at the Sorting Ceremony, late, it was apparent she was anything but.

"There she is," Nerida crowed in the hum of chatter. "The new girl!"

"Her hair is amazing," said Violet, awed.

Ominis heard the new girl – like you, she had a distinctive set of sounds he could use to distinguish her from others. But unlike you, however, there was no naivety, no jolliness or upbeat wonder. There was only purpose, strong with each stride and levelled breath. Even as the interloper, and a late one at that, she acted like she already belonged.

His heart ached suddenly – the memory of the Undercroft tore at him, and he fought to keep it down, push away the strange sensation that came with thinking of you.

When the new girl was sorted into Slytherin, she sat next to Sebastian. "Hello." Her voice was distinctive too, well-spoken, eloquent, from wealth.

"The mystery student," Imelda said, clearly more impressed than she let on. "The whole year's been talking about you."

"Have they?" She didn't seem bothered by this at all. "Is that what I am? A mystery?"

"A real lady of mystery," said Sebastian, equally intrigued.

"Oh," said the mystery student, chuckling – Ominis caught threads of a sinister undertone. "I'm no lady. Miss is just fine."

"Well, then, Miss Mystery," Sebastian teased, "welcome to Hogwarts."

Ominis was too polite to ask what her real name was. It was too late now, anyway. The nickname stuck like mud, too fitting for a girl with an air of something otherworldly and powerful to be displaced. Your laughter bubbled in his head – maybe she would come to love the nickname as you did.

But there was no point thinking about you anymore. No point imagining what the future beheld for you.

Later that month, Ominis asked after what Missy looked like, if only to build a better picture of how different you were to one another, but Sebastian had only laughed.

"I'd tell you, but she changes her hair and eyes every day. Always in Snelling's Emporium. And her robes – she's never wearing them! Every class we go to she just puts on capes and hats and all sorts. It's a mismatch."

A very strange girl indeed, but not in the same way you were, in the same way you still are.

As the air began to chill, Ominis felt the change in his friend like frigid air on bare skin. He was warming to the new girl, more rapidly than Ominis expected – she invited him to Hogsmeade, joined his secret duelling club, stole him for night-time escapades and thirsted for knowledge only he could give. It seemed harmless enough at first, but the new girl had a particular sway, popular but not needy with the attention, mysterious but still generous with her time, and genial with her friends. Especially with Sebastian.

Worst of all, you were becoming her friend too. She was like the replacement for what you'd lost.

"Amortentia." Professor Sharp's voice carried through the Potions classroom one day, as October crept up the front lawns. "I'm sure you're all familiar with this, but for our new student's sake, could someone please refresh us on its properties?"

Unsurprisingly, Garreth spoke up. "It's the most powerful love potion in the world. It smells different to everyone according to what most attracts them."

"Very good. This is a potion we will be learning to brew in seventh year. As Mr Weasley has said, this is the most powerful love potion in the world." The last part he emphasised seriously. "It is not to be trifled with. Today, we will be brewing weaker love potions, but I am allowing you all to see for yourself the properties of Amortentia, so that you may recognise it outside the classroom. Dare I say, so you can protect yourself should anyone try to use it on you."

Sharp allowed them to gander at the potion as they brewed their own. The fifth-year girls were most excited, and as Ominis prepared his ingredients, the Hufflepuffs plus Missy headed up to the main station to have their turn.

Of course, you were amongst that group.

"Well, Missy?" you asked, as eager and animated as he remembered you to be. "What does it smell like?"

Missy took a whiff, then laughed.

"Secrets."

"Secrets don't have a scent," said Lenora haughtily.

"They do to me." She stood back, let you go ahead. "Go on then, Gibby, your turn. What does it smell like to you?"

Ominis struggled not to listen.

"Sweets." Of course it did. "Magic. You know, just the general scent of it. And..." Your voice turned tart. "Oil."

The giggling ceased. "Oil?" asked Adelaide.

"Oil," you confirmed, in a way that brooked no space for discussion.

What an absurd thing to find attractive. Did oil even have a scent? He pondered on this for a while, trying to untangle its meaning until their potions were neatly bubbling and Sebastian nudged him out of his thoughts.

"Want to go up next?"

They went after Everett declared his favourite scent to be broom handles ("Probably because that's the closest thing he'll ever get to a girl's touch," Sebastian muttered). Already the aroma was drawing him closer, a pleasant tickling like a silk robe on freshly bathed skin.

Sebastian inhaled deeply.

"Hmm."

"Well?"

"Old parchment," he said, "and hair dye."

Hair dye? "I've been told you were starting to grey."

"Funny. No idea why it smells like that."

But Ominis did. Just an inkling, anyway.

"Your turn." His friend stepped back. "You more than most anyone to know what it smells like."

Perhaps nothing, he thought in vain. It was a folly to think himself above such emotions. In fact, though his family may have tried to beat it out of him, it took strength to admit he had such a weakness at all. Since his sense of smell was more acute than most, it would've been strange, perhaps concerning, if there was no scent to the Amortentia at all.

So Ominis leant forwards and inhaled. The aroma was so heady he could get drunk on the smell alone.

"Honeysuckle," he murmured, probably because they grew around Feldcroft, and the memories were something he cherished. "Polished wood, like in a wandshop. And something... sweet." It was a sudden overwhelming note, and his voice grew hoarse. "It's very sweet. Something like—"

He iced over.

Strawberry laces.

"Something like...?" Sebastian said. "Your face has gone red."

"What?" Ominis drew back, willed the scent to disappear. "I— I don't recognise it."

Sebastian didn't say a word at first. Then came the insufferable chuckling beneath his breath.

"Ah, wait. Sweet, was it?"

"I said I don't recognise it." And when Sebastian went to speak again, Ominis quickly snapped, "Not another word."

But he knew, when his friend lapsed into contented, smug silence, this was by far the last time they'd have this conversation.

Without meaning to be, without even being there, you were a cruelty, vivid and sweet, and no matter what he did, he was powerless beneath your spell.

But with tensions rising in the world, he could not afford to think about you. He couldn't afford to think about what your scent in the Amortentia meant for his confused, muddled feelings.

By chance, he got the opportunity to think elsewhere the next day, when a letter arrived – from Gringotts, of all places. The braille glided beneath his fingertips, and he realised it was a will, his Aunt Noctua's will. It was getting to the point where she'd been missing longer than she had not, and his parents had finally bowled through solicitors and admin to snatch the last of the pittance from her vault. With no next of kin, she had given most of it to Ominis, though the money wasn't actually his until he turned seventeen.

Truthfully, the worst part was he could barely remember Noctua's voice anymore. He wondered constantly where she had gone, why she'd left him with her horrible brother and family. Once when he was eight, when a hopeful innocence still sang through him, Noctua had come to watch over him as his parents and siblings attended a society event in London. A pure-blood ball, he was told. Adults talking about adult things, how dull. As the youngest, Ominis hadn't been permitted to go, but he didn't mind so much when he got to spend time with his whacky aunt.

He was practicing his braille as Noctua tidied about the room.

"They'll be back after sundown," she was saying, "so make sure you're finished before then."

"Isn't it midday?"

"It's one."

"So I have lots of time."

"Yes," she said mirthfully, "but I want to take you to the village later today."

The village? "That's the Muggle place, and Father says I shouldn't go near them. They're all stupid anyway. Like pigs."

"Is that what he said?"

"Yes."

A creak as she sat on the bench next to him. Her hand ran down his back.

"You should know, Ominis, that not everything your father says is true. Muggles aren't anymore stupid than wizards are. They're hardly different from us at all."

The comment, harmless in retrospect, felt like an affront to everything Ominis knew. "But they don't have magic. That makes them stupid."

"It doesn't make them stupid. You don't have your sight. Does that make you stupid?"

"No," he said at once, indignant.

"So you understand. What we have and do not have doesn't matter. It is how we choose to live that does. In the end, we all return to the earth in the same way, flesh and skeleton."

That didn't make sense to him. "But how do they do anything if they don't have magic?"

"Well, you're learning your braille now, aren't you? They find ways to do things that work for them." She stood. "Tell you what, why don't we go to the village now? You can finish your work later."

Ominis agreed. He wanted to know, after all, if what Noctua said was true. She dressed him down for it, cotton and breeches and a woollen coat that drowned his arms, and they headed out before the clock struck two, Ominis clutching her hand as the wind bandied playfully with his hair. It didn't take them long to walk, though he detected so many new scents, new sounds. Wheat fields susurrating within musky spruce fences, crackling bonfires and burnings that pumped smoke into the sky. They reached a low stone wall that bordered the village river, cold against Ominis' hands, before Noctua hushed him.

"Do you remember the rules around Muggles?"

"No talking about the M-word," he said diligently, "or that we are the W-word."

So Noctua took him on a stroll through the market. He was surprised at the atmosphere, busy but not bustling. Horses clattered against cobblestone, ivy rustled against houses with rooves made of thatch. Knives slammed down on meat and fish, and there was bartering, so much bartering, for the best cuts and lowest prices.

"Come off it, Dave. Two shillings for that? You must be joking."

"Ain't no joke. Gotta' keep the lights on somehow, don't I?"

They chuckled, even though Ominis didn't understand why, until he remembered Muggles simply couldn't call upon light whenever they wanted. They had to rely on candles and hearths and gas lanterns. They had to rely on their own labour to make ends meet and provide for their children.

A thread of something fresh caught Ominis' nose then, and he turned towards the scent. Warm bread, just baked.

"Want some?" asked Noctua.

His family teachings came to him. Make no disturbance of your betters. "No thank you."

"Are you sure?"

It did smell nice, but he worried about whether Muggle bread was poison for wizards. Still, Noctua took him into the bakery, and thought terror laced through his fascination, he took the bread Noctua paid in their strange Muggle money and eagerly bit into the crust. It was warm and buttery and filled his belly to full – and best of all, it tasted like regular bread. No poison.

"Ah, born like that, was he?" said the baker.

Noctua seemed so at ease with them. "Yes, he's practicing braille at the moment."

"Oh, now, that's wonderful. Keep at it, lad. You'll do great."

"Thanks," Ominis managed. He'd never spoken to a Muggle before. He didn't know Muggles learnt braille too.

Noctua took him back outside as he finished the last of his bread. "Well? What do you think?"

The general mood was buoyant and hopeful. Not everyone was affluent, yes, but there was something wonderful in the way they worked tirelessly to get what they wanted. If the air smelt the same, the food tasted the same, the people merry and sad and angry the same...

"It's a bit like Hogsmeade," he admitted at last, because that was all he had to compare it to.

"So you see, then," said Noctua, a twinkle in her voice. "Not so different after all."

Only when they got back to the house, Ominis not entirely convinced but probing for more, he felt a shift in the air like claws on his shoulders. His parents had arrived home early, as had Marvolo and his noisy sneer.

"At the village, I see," his father barked. Then, "Ominis, to your room. Now."

Ominis knelt to the ground and pressed an ear to the crack under his door so he could hear the argument in the foyer below.

"You will do well to remember that he is my son, and I will not have you traipsing him around in Muggle slums!"

"Do you want him to be so completely unaware of the surrounding world? He'll have to live outside these walls one day."

Marvolo scoffed. "The boy is blind, Noctua."

"In sight, not in head," she retorted. "Though he will be if you all keep treating him this way."

It was nice to hear her support him, and from then on he enjoyed her company a lot more. She had so much wisdom to share, about the Muggle world, about his family, about the dark secrets that followed the Gaunts like shadow. When she went missing, he despaired in his bedroom alone, knowing all too well no one but him would care. It was only until that will arrived, balling up any last hope that she was alive, that he decided to shut the door on her disappearance once and for all – by chasing the information she'd last shared with him.

Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium.

It hadn't been an immediate decision. Once he told Sebastian of the Scriptorium, and his aunt's futile quest to find it, Sebastian hounded him for weeks, desperate to seek it himself. Ominis shut down his questions, even though, secretly, he wanted answers himself.

Missy managed to convince him – if only because she reinforced how important it was for Sebastian to find a cure for Anne, something that was possible with the secrets of the Scriptorium. And, well, to sate his own curiosity Ominis wouldn't be moved, but for Anne, whom he loved as much as Sebastian did, he agreed to make an effort. He would put aside his distaste for the Dark Arts for closure.

"Don't mistake my agreeing to go as thinking this is a good idea. I'm only going to ensure you don't get into some sort of trouble."

Missy's voice turned upwards with agreement. "You've made the right decision."

On the other hand, his was rueful. "I hope we don't regret this."

They waited until nightfall. It should've been no trouble to get there for the three of them, since the Scriptorium's entrance was next to their common room – but come the clock chimes at midnight Missy was nowhere to be found. Sebastian paced in wait as Ominis pressed a heel to the wall where the secret door lay, trying to sense any vibrations beneath. Boot steps heading towards them snagged his attention.

But there were two pairs. The first, Missy's forceful strides. The second—

You.

Instantly he recognised it. The bounce of your curls. The clatter of your glasses. The shoes, merrily clacking against stone. The scent of you, so sweet and innocuous, and yet like pure ecstasy.

You startled at the same time he did, standing upright.

"Gibby—"

"Ominis—" Hearing you speak his name after so long, in a tone that wasn't revulsion, was like music. But the shock was gone when you turned to Missy, aggravated. "I-I didn't know he was coming."

"Yes," said Missy coolly, "this information comes from his family."

"And therefore it is my quest," he reiterated. "You cannot invite whomever you want."

"I thought the more people, the better." So composed and unperturbed. "Why? Will this be a problem?"

"Yes. She cannot go."

"And why not?" you challenged indignantly.

So damn naïve. "It's dangerous."

"When has that ever stopped me?"

"There's a first time for everything."

"You can put your wounded ego away, Ominis. There's no way I'm not going exploring with you all."

He swore steam erupted from his nose, but it took Sebastian, of all people, to step in and play middle man. "We'll all go— and no, Ominis, unless you're planning to hex her, I don't think you can stop her."

"Don't tempt me." He grinded his teeth. "If you get hurt—"

"You wouldn't care," you said coldly.

And you were right. He shouldn't have cared. He'd severed your bond almost a year ago now. But there was something in him helplessly clutched in your grasp. Something that wouldn't let him let you go.

"If we're ready," said Missy, elongating her words in a poor attempt to smooth the tension, "then you can tell us the first step into the Scriptorium, Ominis."

Lighting the braziers was the easy part. Other students had done it, lit the things to light their way through the dungeons and accidentally unveiled the door. But no one had got further. A dead end, it was declared.

Instantly, he knew why.

Whispers seeped through the chamber walls. As the others explored, and Missy repaired a broken relief, Ominis wished he could clap his hands over his ears. There was something terribly wrong with this place. Something dark.

"Wait— a journal entry! Under the broken pieces!" Sebastian snatched a crusty parchment from the ground. "Ominis— it's signed from your aunt."

"What?" He couldn't believe it. Then had she... succeeded? "What does it say?"

Sebastian read. "Wow... she tried to convince your father she'd found the Scriptorium. She came down to get proof."

Noctua was here. And, perhaps worse, his father knew. His father knew and never said a word.

Tears came unwilling to his eyes, and he fought to bat them back, but it was like the susurrations heard his pain, strengthening their efforts to unsettle him.

"What's wrong, Ominis?"

Your voice was a balm, even though Ominis hated himself for it. His throat ran dry.

"I— I can hear hissing."

"Hissing?" asked Missy.

"I'm a Parselmouth," he explained, and for some reason, admitting it in front of you filled him with more shame. "I can hear and speak to snakes."

"Wow, that's incredible."

The awe in Missy's voice disconcerted him. "All descendants of Salazar Slytherin have the ability."

"So what's it saying?"

Ominis swallowed and focused on the sound. It pulled such a deep fear from him, to use this ability he hadn't in so long. The worst of it was, it was like he'd last spoken it yesterday. Like he'd never stopped at all. He'd sworn a year ago to lock away all the darkness of his family bloodline and throw away the key, and yet here he was, standing in his predecessor's lair, the translation effortless.

For Aunt Noctua, he tried to convince himself. But it was much harder to pretend the ends justified the means.

"Speak to me," he murmured.

"The relief depicts a person facing a snake," said Sebastian. "And this door... well, it's covered in snake motifs."

Ominis felt it, if only to fuel the hope that his friend was wrong. Of course he wasn't.

His heartbeat was a wild stag in his chest. "But I— I can't. I haven't spoken it in years."

"I think you know it's not the sort of language you forget."

No. It wasn't.

Everything in this place was overwhelming. His father's deliberate silence, the darkness that fettered him when he thought he was free... He didn't realise he was shaking until a hand came to steady him. You. Because of course you knew about his aunt, and how fond of her he was. You knew how much this meant to him, even if you didn't know the horrible things he'd done to get here.

He hesitated pulling his arm away – a foolish mistake. Your touch lingered like your soap.

"Take your time," you said softly.

He tried to gather some lost mettle. For my aunt, he told himself, again and again, until the whispers didn't seem so scary. It was difficult to centre himself when three people were waiting on him, but knowing that behind this door were the answers for his aunt's disappearance, and potentially the answers for Anne's illness, lit the spark of courage he needed. All that was left was to speak.

So he took a deep breath. Forced it out again.

And he spoke.

The tongue was guttering and unnatural. Rusty. Yet the door recognised its own flesh, and as the snakes undulated along the door's surface, and it opened with a cold draught of wind, Ominis knew he'd never escape his family legacy. No matter how much he wished it.

The others cast Lumos and set about exploring the space. Even so many years here and there was still some wonder in discovering the new, the unwritten. Salazar Slytherin did not make it easy to enter his Scriptorium, as the enclosed stone hallways, suffused with the cold, were riddled with puzzles, most of them involving the use of sight. Missy managed to solve the first, a memory test that required her to twist dials to match symbols on the gates.

She clicked the first one. Something sharped sliced the air besides him, and Ominis flinched.

"What the—"

"The gate came down," Sebastian said, terrified but also in awe – a worrying amount. "Between the archway."

"So there's no way back."

You huffed a breath. "So there's only forwards."

Regardless of your optimism, that was not a comforting thought, and the group stayed closer together, firing Lighting charms into the darkness. Dust swirled beneath Ominis' nose, and yet the place had a damp, mildewed feel, unpleasant and uncomfortable, but as the others continued to solve Slytherin's riddles, a rising worry eschewed his fear. This was too easy. His ancestor, he hated to admit, was one of the greatest wizards of all time, and too clever to find entertainment in shallow puzzles. There had to be something worse.

"I don't like this," he murmured into the humming din at one point, as Sebastian and Missy searched for the next symbols.

He didn't mean to talk to you, but he had.

"We'll be okay," you said, even though you moved a little closer to him, closer than he'd expected. "Salazar Slytherin is your direct ancestor?"

He swallowed. "Yes."

A pause.

"He hated Muggle-borns, too."

On anyone else's tongue, the words were a jab. On you, they were only full of pity.

I don't hate Muggle-borns. I don't hate you.

But he couldn't bring himself to say it, and the silence that followed devoured him.

"I think this is the last one," said Missy, when they entered yet another identical stone corridor, the echo of her voice a small comfort in the confined space.

Sebastian had already turned this into a game. "Race you?"

She let out a single chuckle. "You couldn't keep up."

"Try me."

You laughed along to their competitive scrabbling. When the air rippled, and stone quaked, revealing a corridor that seemed to lead nowhere, you patted your cheeks twice and marched forwards on Sebastian's heels.

But Slytherin enjoyed games too.

The gate almost sliced Ominis' nose when it descended in front of him, cutting him off from you and Sebastian. A mere breath separated you, and yet the gap felt infinite.

Behind him, Missy spluttered. "Damn it!"

That meant— he was trapped.

Powerless.

He grabbed the gate, unyielding beneath his fingers. "Sebastian, what's going on?"

"I—" Sebastian startled. "Oh no."

He heard your intake of breath then.

"What's going on?" Ominis demanded.

"Bones," you said quietly. "And a note. I-It's from your aunt..."

She died here. You read it aloud, confirming Ominis' worst fears. Grief tore through him, swelling behind his eyes.

"This is the last puzzle," Sebastian said, voice firm. "There's a door, but it's sealed. It says Crucio on the floor..."

"No!" Ominis rattled the gate. "No, you can't. This is madness, Sebastian! Please—"

"Please what?" Sebastian said, frustrated. "The Scriptorium wants a price for entry. This is what we must pay."

But you didn't know any Dark Magic.

Sebastian did.

The realisation chilled Ominis down to his heart.

"Don't you dare!" he screeched. "Don't you dare use that curse on her!"

You stammered. "Ominis—"

"We're stuck!" Sebastian barked. "Your aunt died because she came alone. She didn't have anyone to use Dark Magic on. So unless you want to die like her, we don't have a choice."

"We always have a choice!"

Even though he didn't know what that was, even though it was Slytherin's nature to demand obedience or death. None of that mattered. What did was that you were the last person who deserved such pain, when you'd already been through so much. When he'd already caused it.

He tried with all his might to break the gate, bend it, cast the Exploding charm, whatever it would take to get him in the chamber.

"It won't work," Missy said, softer than he thought capable.

"I have to try—"

"It's okay," you mumbled, cutting him off. "I-I can take it."

The tremble betrayed your fear. Sebastian offered a compromise, that he could teach you and you'd use it on him, but even if you wanted to learn the curse yourself, which you didn't, there was no way you'd ever find the intention to use it willingly, and to use it willingly on Sebastian, no less, who'd done you no wrong since you'd known him.

Ominis banged his hands against the gate. "Damn it, Gibby—"

"I said I can do it," you snapped. "I'll be fine."

"I told you it was dangerous!"

"I knew the risks."

"Did you?" he challenged. "You came down to explore!"

"I'm not naïve, Ominis!" You came closer. "Of course the Scriptorium of Salazar Slytherin wouldn't be easy to get into. Of course I knew there was a price!"

But for you, and only you, to pay it? Was it by fate, that you walked in second, or was this what Slytherin wanted all along? For Muggle-born blood to pave the way for the rest of wizardkind?

His hands shook as he clutched the gate, so tightly his veins bulged. Once, you were the most naïve person he knew, but that day in the Undercroft had changed you as much as it had changed him.

You spun away, back to Sebastian. A deep breath.

"Okay. I'm ready."

"Are you sure?"

Presumably you nodded, because you didn't say the words.

And Ominis was helpless to listen as Sebastian raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

Your pain seemed to last for hours. For a second, a wink in time, you were silent, only that fizzing noise, that horrid, burning stench of the curse any indication anything was happening at all. But then you cried out, you wept, you mewled, howled – then it was pure agony, screams that arced through Ominis in ways he would never forget.

Something shifted. It was a softer noise than your screams, like mud, or honey almost, sinking into the ground. As the blockage melted, Sebastian ceased the spell, but your pain did not end, and when the gate shot back up, Ominis stumbled over himself to get to you.

"Gibby," he fell to your side, cradled you, ran hands over your shoulders and face, breathless. "You— I— are you—"

Your ragged breaths calmed. Your quivering eased. Tears ran down his own, probably splattering onto you, but you said nothing, only remained still in his grasp as he held you, comforted you.

Something warm drew up his temple then, and it took a second to recognise it. Your hand. Your thumb, combing back an errant lock of hair, skimming the mole on his temple.

"So you do care," you croaked.

He didn't know how to respond.

"I-I'm sorry," he said instead, failure washing through him. "I... I should've—"

"Don't," you whispered. "Not here. Not yet."

So he didn't. Instead, he wordlessly helped you to stand. Sebastian and Missy asked after you, and their awkwardness brought a new flush to Ominis' cheeks, but when you gave a shaky thumbs-up and an audible smile that warmed even this terrible place, the four of you headed into Slytherin's Scriptorium impeded no longer.

Sebastian and Missy got to work searching each nook and cranny of the cavernous chamber of stone walls, busy with the scattered remnants of Slytherin's work: parchment, scrolls, ancient tomes on shelves that seemed to hum with magic too ancient to describe. Ominis held onto you for the entire time, emotionally spent. You clutched his arm in return, and he felt the tremble of your grip, the vestiges of the curse. He should've helped to search the place, really, but he didn't trust that Slytherin, the most famous pure-blood supremacist in the history of Hogwarts, wouldn't have any last surprises for you.

Missy eventually found Slytherin's spellbook, and the exit, which chucked the four of you back out into the dungeons. You huddled behind the columns until you were sure there were no teachers or prefects, and only then did Ominis allow himself a moment to press his head to the stone, process everything he'd heard, felt.

His aunt was dead, bones lying cold in that corridor.

Sebastian had used Dark Magic like it was second nature.

You had been hurt. And you were owed an explanation.

But so close to the common room entrance was risking too much. If not Peregrine Malfoy, then another pure-blood, a painting, a ghost, a teacher bribed. Someone else, trading with secrets that could ultimately slither its way back to his family.

"Ominis," Sebastian sounded genuinely contrite, "about your aunt—"

"Oh please, Sebastian," he snapped, the anger sudden but healthy. He swung on his friend, teeth bared. "We were lucky we escaped at all."

"But I'm grateful that we did, because maybe now Anne—"

"And if you'd have died in there? How could you have saved Anne then?"

You startled. "Wait, let's—"

"Swear to me." He didn't bend under the weight of your gaze. "Swear to me, right now, that we will never engage with Dark Magic ever again. That— that we will never cause that pain again."

Sebastian was speechless. "But—"

"Swear it, Sebastian!"

"All right, all right." He took a breath. "Understood. And I... I really am sorry about your aunt."

Admittedly that closure was nice, to know Noctua was gone. He didn't voice anything, his feelings too raw and churning, and Sebastian headed towards the common room, Missy in tow.

"We'll go. You two... have a lot to talk about."

When the common room door slid shut, and it was only the two of you, alone, a new sort of worry seeded in his stomach. You said nothing for a while, the last moments that had passed between you as palpable as stone.

"I— I'm sorry," he forced out, this apology much harder than the last. "The Cruciatus Curse—"

"I'm okay," you repeated. A shuffle of your boot. "Are... are you going to talk to me again now? Are you going to tell me why you turned on me?"

But he found the words impossible and unmoving. He needed time, space, to heal from today, before he was ready to open another old wound.

"I-I can't. Not yet."

You paused. It was long and hard to bear, like a rake drawing down his chest.

"All right," you said quietly. "When you're ready, find me. You know where."

He did know where. Back in the early months of first year, when you were green and hungry, there were times when you weren't tagging in Ominis and Sebastian's shadows, times when they didn't know where you were at all. Once he decided, on whim, to search. The castle was huge and he wasn't optimistic, but he checked your favourite places: the Hufflepuff common room, the library, the front lawns and the sitting area outside Charms. When you weren't there and no one had seen you, he concluded he was just missing you, and hurried towards the Great Hall before his absence at dinner was noticed.

That's when he heard you, far above.

The hallways of the Viaduct Entrance were quiet – everyone was at the feast – and even still, your voice was barely a whisper. He halted, pausing to make sure, and there again was your sound, high-pitched and squealy and very you. Brow furrowing, he followed the noise up the stairs until he found himself squirrelled between the wooden joists holding the ceiling.

Whilst Ominis and Sebastian had claimed the Undercroft as their own, this was your space. He didn't know when you'd discovered it, or how, but here you were, curled beneath the beams.

Crying.

It surprised him. You, crying? When you were always so upbeat? When everything seemed to make you laugh? He approached you like you were a unicorn, easily spooked by noise. Still, you noticed him anyway.

"Oh! Ominis! I— I didn't see you there."

"That makes two of us."

But you didn't laugh, which meant something was very wrong.

He swallowed his pride. He'd never dealt with someone crying before, least of all a crying girl. "What's the matter?"

"You're going to think I'm silly."

"I already think that."

Another heaving breath. Another jab that didn't land. "Then— I don't know. You might laugh."

"Why would I—?" He stopped himself. That wasn't what you needed to hear. Instead, he sat next to you. "I won't laugh. Promise."

"Okay." You shuffled a little closer. "I-I miss home."

Ah. You were homesick. Frankly the concept was foreign to him – he'd never once missed his family. Even then he rejoiced every second he got to spend away from home. Still, it seemed to be eating you up.

"I-I'm not ungrateful," you said quickly. "I'm really happy to be here. And I really like magic. It totally makes sense – one time I exploded my brother's washing basket and we never knew how—"

"Exploded—?" He sighed. Just you things. "Never mind."

"But I miss them. My mama and papa run the confectionary. My brothers are supposed to take over when they're older, but Connor met Matilda Asher at church and everyone reckons they'll marry soon and he'll go into lumbering, and Ellian doesn't like sweets a lot, and he's much better at business and numbers anyway, and who knows how little Tam will grow up— oh no, I'm going to miss him growing up!"

Now you were weeping and hiccoughing. "Slow down. You're getting tears on my robes."

"Sorry. Is that... am I a wally?"

He didn't have the heart to ask what a wally was.

"Everyone gets homesick sometimes."

"You don't."

So you noticed. "I grew up in the magical world. You didn't. If I was suddenly dropped into the Muggle world, I'd be sad too. It's overwhelming to suddenly be in a different place with different people, let alone find out you're actually a witch, but you'll get used to it."

"What if I don't?"

"You will." It wasn't a guess. It was fact. "And your friends will help. Sebastian and Anne, and Adelaide and Evangeline and Arthur too."

"And you?"

"Yes," he said, managing a smile for your sake, "and me."

You took a deep breath, a sign that meant you would be okay.

"Do... do you have a tissue?"

"No."

"A... face-cleaning spell? Dryus Tearus?"

"You can't put -us at the end of words and expect it to be a spell. Just stop crying." It came out as a demand, even though Ominis didn't mean it to. He lifted the hem of his robes and wiped away the tears. "You'll get to go home at Christmas, which is only two months away."

By which point, he knew, you wouldn't feel so homesick anyway.

You squirmed when he drew the robe across your nose again. It was snotty, which made him grunt in disgust, which then made you giggle, and then use the sleeve of your own shirt to wipe the rest away.

"Thank you." You sniffled again. "I must look terrible."

"Awful."

A sharp pause – then another laugh, this one more like your usual self. "You are funny, Ominis Gaunt."

Funny was, perhaps, the last word he would ever ascribe to himself. It was, however, the perfect word to assign to his feelings a few days after the Scriptorium debacle, when he was finally ready to share the truth.

He didn't find you under the joists in the Viaduct Entrance's ceiling. Instead, where you were sitting that first time he caught you in first year, and where you sat in the subsequent times since, he found a note. Cleverly it was in braille, and he suspected there was no written words. He drew his thumb across the print.

Below astronomy deck, 8pm.

You had been waiting there, every day like clockwork. Waiting for him.

Ominis climbed the winding stairs. He didn't come up here often – without his sight, he couldn't read the stars, though he did still partake in stargazing theory and discussion. The floorboards croaked. So high up, the wind teased the tips of his ears, and he fussed with warming them until the deck was before him.

He thought he was alone, that he'd missed the chance today.

But you were here, coming up to him steadily. "Are you ready to talk?"

He nodded, voice scarpering deep into his throat. You waited. You weren't going to prompt him or give him any tools to help. You were as hungry for answers as you were before, but you would not make it easy. He would have to work for your trust.

He didn't know how to start.

"I— my family—" How did he tell you about the pain he went through, without diminishing yours? How could he articulate the horrors he'd experienced home, that he'd subsequently thrown back at you? "Some... things happened, when I was at home that summer after third year."

You waited still, not saying a word.

The beginning, then.

"You know my family hates Muggles. Hates Muggle-borns. It's an old pure-blood notion that Muggle-born magic is weaker, that it's stolen. I realised it was wrong when I met you, and regardless of my family's opinions I thought it was okay to be your friend."

"Opinions," you retorted. "You mean prejudice?"

"Yes," he agreed hoarsely, realising his error too late. "Yes, prejudice."

Silence again, as you waited for him to continue. He didn't know you could be so blunt.

"Peregrine Malfoy found out in third year we were friends. He— he told his father. Who told mine." Now his heart raced, his pulse thrashed, a cold clamminess prickled up and down his skin in disgust, shame, fear. "M-My parents, my brother Marvolo, they... they were displeased—"

Your hand found his arm then to steady him then.

"You don't have to continue."

"You deserve to know—"

"It's okay. I... I already know."

"You— what?"

"I've known since the Scriptorium."

"How?" he demanded, then seethed. "Damn Sebastian—"

"Not Sebastian," you mumbled.

Anne.

"It wasn't her place to tell either."

"No," you agreed, "but I wrote her a letter and she told me anyway, since you were being a dummy."

"But you know why, then," he reiterated, clutching your shoulders, hoping, begging to make you see. "You know why—"

"I know I lost my best friend," you said, angry tears snuffing your voice. "I know you suffered. I know your family are the vilest, most evil people on earth. I know that nosy Malfoy should mind his own business. Sebastian said he talked to him. He won't say a word about you now."

What the hell did Sebastian do? "It's too risky."

"I'd rather live in risk with you then not have you at all."

"You don't understand. My family will stop at nothing to protect the sanctity of the bloodline. If they are capable of hurting me, they will hurt you. Maybe— maybe worse. They might've tried something already if you weren't protected here, at Hogwarts."

"I'm not afraid of them."

"You should be. They can do so much worse than... than the slur I called you, Gibby."

"Mudblood. I know."

"Don't say—"

"Why? That word means nothing to me – it only meant something when it was coming from you."

He didn't know how to respond, speechless.

"Your family can continue to live their lives in hatred, but I won't ruin mine for their sake. If I have to keep my friendship with you a secret to keep you safe, fine." Your voice was fierce, incredible, beautiful. "But I am not losing you, Ominis Gaunt. Not again."

You knocked the breath from him then. Those were words he would never forget; you planted yourself deeper into his heart, where your flowers bloomed even in the shadows of his past.

You were his family, too.

It had taken him a long time to realise you always had been.

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#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #acvas #acvasverse #gibby #my writing #my stuff

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lanitalay · 11 months

Text

Before I Say Goodnight

Introduction

Reader insert ACOTAR fanfic, pairing tbd

Premise: 21st century fem!reader gets transported to the world of ACOTAR after a freak incident.

warnings: none, maybe a lil angsty

A/n: Hello! This is my first fic and an idea I have been wanting to see portrayed for a while. As of now the pairing could literally be anyone but personally I am partial to Eris or Cassian. Let me know if there are any tropes you'd like to see. I wanna make this a fun space so enjoy!!

Other chapters

It was colder than you had expected it to be. The Highlands were known for being cold and rainy but since summer began you had half hoped half prayed for a warm sunny day. The skies were obstructed by heavy looking clouds. It would rain soon and the end of the hike was nowhere in sight. Maybe this is why people shouldn't travel alone, you thought as thunder roared from above. If I was with someone I'm sure they would have checked the weather. But this was why you'd flown half way across the world by yourself. "I want to get lost in new cities" you had said to your parents who never thought this was a good idea to begin with. "I want to explore the world" how hopeful you were when it was just an idea. Now though, now you had to find shelter unless you wanted to get soaked. "This is so not worth it" you grumbled to yourself while looking around for some type of cover. There hadn't been a trace of civilization for a few hours now and according to the map the lodge was still a few miles away. Groaning, you go off the path and into the thick forest hoping to find a tree, a cave, a cabin, anything that could protect you from the weather. You walk in a straight line, careful not to get lost. Lightning strikes and thunder rattles you as you start to increase your pace a bit. The forest is dark and the wind sounds like a voice telling you to run. Run. Run. You start to jog a little, constantly looking back to make sure the path is still visible. To your horror, thick fog has rolled in from the mountains making it impossible to see more that twenty feet in front of you. Shit. Shit. Shit. You hadn't prepared for this. Hiking was always something you enjoyed, but you had no real survival skills. Other than a bit of information gleaned from your grandparents' stories or survival reality shows. I should stay here. That was the logical thing to do, avoid getting even more lost, once the fog clears make your way back. But another gust of wind urged you. Run. Run. Run. You looked around but there was nothing, absolutely nothing there except the trees, the wind and the ever encroaching rain. Nothing, not even an animal, not even an insect. Fuck. With a jump you start running in the opposite direction of the path. Something is wrong. Something feels off and wrong and you need to get away. There's a clearing coming up and a bit of sun is slipping through the break in the forest canopy. You stop dead in your tracks as you take in what's in front of you. Boulders the size of refrigerators are lined up in what seemed to be a perfectly symmetrical circle. Chills climb up your back. You walk slowly towards it, careful not to touch anything. The space feels sacred here. As you get closer you see that there are smaller and smaller boulders until they become tiny little rocks lined up exactly the same. Sweat runs cold. They seem to circle around nothing. In the center is a small round patch of grass lined with small mushrooms. Run. Run. Run. You don't know where to go, being here feels wrong but there seems to be an invisible wall that won't let you run back to the forest. The only way out was through. You walked slowly, as if someone was surveilling you, waiting, hoping for you to mess up. Avoiding any branches or roots that might make you trip, you get to the patch of grass. Thunder roared all around you. It shook the whole forest and left a ringing in your ears. Stepping over the mushrooms you place you right foot first and then the left. Only the floor is gone and you're falling. Falling. Falling. There's an immense pressure all around you, it feels like you're being pushed by the darkness itself and you're falling.

Just as it started it's over.

Shaking, you try to take a breath. What the fuck just happened? It's the only thing you can think. You take another breath and look up from the ground you just fell on. It's the forest. You realize you are lying in the middle of the same clearing. Well, it looks like the forest except the boulders and rocks are gone, the space barren. I'm gonna throw up. Run. Run. Run. You try to get up and manage to stand on wobbly legs as you feel for any injuries from the fall. There's no blood anywhere and the only pain seems to be the growing headache from trying to grasp what's happening. Then you hear them. Steps. Someone or something is close. You take off running back to where the path should be not willing to risk getting attacked by an animal. You're panting as you run and you look back for a second to make sure no one is chasing you when you run straight into a tree and blackness takes over.

You wince as you open your eyes and feel the thumping pain coming from your forehead, you touch it and feel a lump forming. Great. The fire crackles beside you and you freeze. Looking to the side you are terrified in place as you see an ethereal looking man with long red hair and a scar down his face looking back at you. "Hello", his tone is bored. "Who are you and what are you doing in this court?" You open your mouth to answer but close it again as you look closer. His ears are pointed and his eye seems to be mechanical. I've got to be hallucinating. Uncertain, you answer "I'm y/n and I have no idea where I am or how I got here." Did I eat one of those mushrooms? This has to be the worst trip ever. You swallow and more quietly say "Am I in danger?" He pokes at the fire and says "I'm not going to hurt you, but this isn't a safe place for a human". "What's your name?" he sighs, like he's tired of answering that question.

"Lucien".

#acotar #acowar #acomaf #acosf #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #azriel shadowsinger #cassian #rhysand #reader insert #x reader #agnst #fanfic #fairy #fae #sjmaasuniverse

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auspicioustidings · 11 months

Text

Make your own way home

Summary: Short little drabble of what happens a few weeks after that ending cut scene.

CW: Dubcon/non-con by virtue of spirit possession.

If there was ever an example of wrong place, wrong time, you think you were it. The trip alone to the Highlands was supposed to be a journey of self-discovery. It was supposed to calm your mind, let you meditate in nature and find some peace. Not be in your head so much.

And now here you were, in your head. Stuck in your head.

You hadn’t ever really given much thought to whether you believed in ghosts or not. You thought of them as something from horror films, always creeping in the dark and spooking young couples in their new house. You had never considered that they could be out in the hills during the daylight, waiting for a warm body to commandeer.

And he had commandeered you without too much of a fight. For a few hours you had wrestled him for control, but his will was overpowering. It didn’t help that whoever had rudely put themselves in the driver's seat was an arse.

Let me out

“Cannae dae that, got places to be.”

It’s my body!

“Our body hen.”

No, absolutely not, this is not a communist body, this is single ownership

“In that case, it’s my body” he laughed, seemingly finding your screaming in your (his?) head amusing.

It is NOT

“Let me see if I have a pretty wee body tae match my pretty wee voice.”

You could only watch as he took your body to the lakeside and peered into the glassy surface. It was bizarre, watching your own face light up in a grin that looked nothing like yours. He seemed pleased with what he was looking at, and you thought if you were in control you might have blushed. In fact, you knew that to be the case seeing a dusting of colour appear. Interesting, your body at least still reacted to your emotions.

“Fuck me, look at this,” he all but purred, a hand coming to squeeze at your chest.

Oh, oh it wasn’t just your emotions that your body still reacted to. You felt the touch as if it was someone else’s hand on you and you certainly felt the sick little bolt of pleasure from it. The little bit of excitement of how horribly wrong this was.

“Dinnae tempt me hen, told ye we have places to be. Once we get there we can play together as long as ye want.”

You could not think of a single thing to say to that and you almost felt a sense of motion sickness when your body started moving again, trekking through the mountains at a pace you would never go at. You tried everything. You pictured a battering ram to try and smash through to get control and he responded by putting thoughts in your shared headspace of the ramming turning lewd. You sang obnoxiously and he only joined in using your voice, delighted with how it sounded. You gave him the silent treatment and got so painfully bored of it that within 30 minutes you were back to just wailing in your head.

“Ye know, they dinnae usually stay.”

What do you mean?

“When we take a body, the previous tenant disnae usually stick around.”

Am I going to die?

“Naw if ye dinnae want that. Even if ye did, might keep ye around. If ye behave might even let ye have control for a wee bit, would ye like that?”

If being possessed was not terrifying enough, the concept that the thing possessing you one, had plenty of experience and two, had never had anyone survive was making you feel sick. You felt that feeling in your body and he felt it too if his confused little grunt was anything to go by.

“Come on hen, be nice,” he said, not stopping but shoving a hand unceremoniously into your pants to rub gently. “Just relax.”

It was an insane feeling, you touching yourself but it actually being someone else controlling the movements. He wasn’t going fast, the languid pace seemingly aiming to soothe more than anything. It was wild that it sort of worked, that sick feeling fading out to a hazy rolling pleasure that was only just a gentle simmer.

At some point you felt your thoughts drift off to a strange sleep even though your body was still awake and moving. When you felt consciousness leak back in, you could see yourself approaching a house.

“Look who's finally awake! Good timing princess” he said. You could hear the exhaustion in your voice, you wondered if he had let himself and the body sleep at all. Maybe if the body slept, you could wrestle back control.

You watched as your hand came to knock at the door. Watched it open to reveal a huge man in a skull balaclava. Watched and very much felt when your body launched at him, pushing the mask up to get your lips on his. He reacted as if he knew you, holding your body tight and laughing into your lips.

“Knew you’d make your own way home.”

“Always do LT.”

#fanfic #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #soap x ghost #mw3 spoilers #mwiii spoilers #I see that Activision has made a decision but as it is a stupid ass decision I have elected to ignore it #and I would love to go on about the potential for this lore to actually have been going on for generations but I shan't #mhairiwrites

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jjsmaybank20 · 2 years

Text

Finally Got the Girl

Maddy Perez x Fem!Bennett!reader

Summary: Maddy had feelings for you before you graduated, there is no denying it. What happens when you come home for summer break, a little different than you were when you left?

Warnings: language, mentions of smut, mentions of Nate (🤮)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Requested by someone over on my wattpad. Hope y'all enjoy this!

navigation euphoria masterlist

---

You had always intrigued Maddy. She knew of you because she knew everyone, but she really only paid attention to you at first because you were her best friend's little sister's best friend's older sister. Distant connection, but enough of a connection that she decided that you were worth watching.

You were a quiet girl, the calm to your younger sister's storm. You were the type of person that adults would talk about, whispering things like, "Don't doubt that one, they're going to be gorgeous someday." When Maddy knew you in high school, you were awkward, lanky, and constantly nervous, but nonetheless attractive in your own way.

The two of you were close, some would say closer than friends should be. The only real fights the two of you would have would be about Nate Jacobs, Maddy's then-boyfriend. You hated him with a burning passion after what he did to your sister, and any chance you got you would pick him apart. You didn't understand what she saw in him.

She couldn't help but be saddened when you went off to college, but she was happy that you had made it out of East Highland. You had managed to stay in a hidden back corner of her mind, making her believe that the feelings she had had for you had been practically forgotten, but as soon as you came back for summer break, they came rushing back instantly and even more intensely than they used to be.

Because while you were away at college, those adults's predictions about you had come true. You had fully grown into yourself, flaunting a new air of confidence that you never used to have. One contributing factor of this was that you had gotten absolutely jacked.

Maddy's first encounter of your practically new self was at the Howard residence. She was hanging out with the girls, Rue mostly being there for Jules and Lexi, when they all heard a car pulling into the driveway. Confused, Cassie moved towards the window of her room to try and catch a glimpse of who might have just arrived at her house. To her surprise, a familiar tall, muscular woman pulled herself out of a stylish sports car and folded her sunglasses before hooking them on the neck of her muscle shirt.

"Holy shit, is that Y/N? Goddamn!" The rest of the girls crowd around the window, trying to spot you as you walk towards the front door. As soon as Kat sees you, she gasps before exclaiming, "She got hot! I'm sorry Rue, I know she's your sister, but I would totally let her rail me and I'm not even gay."

Maddy rolls her eyes, muttering to her friend, "That's a pretty gay thing to say," even though she was thinking the exact same thing. The group hears the doorbell ring, making them all rush towards the stairs but trying to stay out of sight. They watch Suze open the door before hearing your distinctly deeper voice.

"Hey, Ms. Howard. My mom said that Rue was here? Just wanted to say hi to my little sister, and maybe a few old friends if they're around." Suze stares at you in shock for a few seconds, surprised by your new stature, before pulling you down into a hug. "Holy crap, sweetie! I almost didn't recognize you! Have you been working out?" The older blonde woman playfully squeezes your arm to accentuate her question.

They hear you laugh uncomfortably before Rue pushes her way through the pack and runs down the stairs towards you. She practically jumps into your arms, and you let out a groan and a laugh before squeezing her tightly. "Hey, RueRue. How are you doing?" You then pull back and give her a serious look, stating dangerously, "You better be staying off those drugs. I am not dealing with you going to rehab again. If that happens, the drugs won't kill you, I will."

Rue laughs, saying, "Yeah, yeah. I haven't been doing any of that shit. My girlfriend's really helped me out." You smile at her, and Rue waves towards the stairs, gesturing for the rest of the group to come down. They slowly make their way towards the two of you, and the people you already know you pull into a hug.

When you get to Maddy, you hold her tightly in your arms. "Mads. I missed you." Maddy buries her head in your neck, breathing in your scent. You hold her for a while longer before Rue uncomfortably clears her throat. You pull back awkwardly, turning to Jules and missing the silent conversation that Maddy and Kat have with their eyes.

"You must be the girlfriend. I'm Y/N. Now, at some point I'll probably give the protective older sister speech, but for now I just wanted to say thank you. You helped Rue get better, and that automatically puts you in my very good graces." Jules smiles at you and introduces herself. She holds out her hand for you to shake, but you shake your head and pull her into a hug.

Once everyone has been greeted, you clap your hands and exclaim, "Okay. I just stopped by to say hi, and also to tell Rue to be home for dinner. Invite your girlfriend. I am going to head out then-" Maddy can't seem to stop herself as she blurts out, "Stay."

All heads turn to look at her, each showing a different expression. Kat's and Lexi's displaying shock and realization, Cassie's and Rue's lean more towards confusion, and yours surprisingly holding nervousness and an expression that Maddy can't quite place. She looks down at her feet, feeling embarrassment quickly taking over her, but thank goodness Lexi notices and covers for her as fast as she can.

"Yeah! We haven't seen you in months, Y/N/N. Hang around for a bit. Please?" You sigh and nod, and the girls cheer before dragging you upstairs. You hear Suze laughing behind you as you get pulled towards the inevitable interrogation about college, love, and probably sex.

---

Almost as soon as you sit down, the questions come at you, rapid fire. You gesture for them to slow down before pointing at Kat and saying, "Go." She nods before shooting a mischievous look towards Maddy.

"Any special someone? I bet the girls are all vying for your attention. You're fucking hot." You laugh at her boldness and shake your head. "Nah. Haven't met the right person yet. Went on a couple dates, most of them turned into one night stands or they just didn't work out."

Maddy can't help but be happy with your answer, even if she was jealous of the women who were able to sleep with you before she could. You catch sight of her elated expression, which makes you smile. If you were being honest with yourself, ever since you had met her, you had hosted a healthy crush on the feisty latina woman.

You thought it would fade when you left home, and when it didn't, you tried to distract yourself with other women. That didn't work either. Every time you slept with someone else, you couldn't help but imagine that it was Maddy underneath you, moaning your name.

You are snapped out of your fantasy when Rue calls your name. "Huh? What's up?" She shakes her head, smiling. "You're still so fucking spacey. Pay attention. Cassie asked about hot dudes or some shit." You laugh, pulling out your phone, which causes multiple confused looks to form on their faces.

You pull up a couple of pictures of your friends from college, passing your phone to Cassie. You point to two brunette boys, a blonde, and a raven haired boy. "Okay, so. The tall brunette is Jack, the short one is Liam. The blonde is Turner. That last one is Ben. All of them are single and honestly, quite annoyingly desperate. You're hot, you basically have your pick."

Cassie 'ooos', and the rest of the girls crowd around to look at the boys besides Maddy. You glance over at her before moving to sit next to her. "Your not still dating that fucker, Nate, are you? Not looking at the boys cause you're being loyal to the asswhipe?" She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head.

"Nah. I've been into someone else for a while now." You smile at her, rolling your head to the side. "Who? Give me a hint." Maddy pretends to think about it for a second. "It's... your mom. She's just too hot." You shove her shoulder good-naturedly, muttering, "Oh, fuck you. But seriously, who is it? I wanna know who I have to beat up to get into your heart."

Maddy practically chokes on her spit at your bold statement before trying to recover some shred of her dignity. "Well, you can't really physically beat yourself up, can you?" She watches as the smile on your face grows before you grab her phone from the floor in front of her and hold it in front of her face to unlock it. She watches you, confused, but all you say is, "Putting my number in. Got important shit to text you about."

---

Mads 💖

You

if u work on a farm, and ur job is to take care of chickens, u are a chicken tender

Mads 💖

this is the important shit that u needed to text me about?

You

just a thought, dont be a hater. also, nope. im taking you out tomorrow night. be ready at 7ish, i'll stop by ur place.

Mads 💖

do i even have a choice?

You

yes ofc, but im assuming you want to go out with me.

Mads 💖

true

aight i'll be ready and waiting

You

can't wait 😉

---

Maddy stood anxiously by her front door, waiting for the doorbell to ring. She had spent at least 3 hours on the phone with Kat trying to get ready. She finally settled on a revealing but not 'too slutty' dress, in the words of Kat.

When the ring of the bell finally sounds throughout the house, Maddy practically throws the door open. There you are, standing slightly in shock, prepared to ring the bell again. You are wearing a white dress shirt with the top buttons undone and nice black pants.

You stare at Maddy for a few seconds, in awe of her. You finally shake yourself out of your stupor, holding your arm out so that she can hook hers around it. "Your chariot awaits, M'Lady." Maddy pushes you playfully, and you grin back at her.

"We have a great night planned. First, a restaurant. Then, a moonlight stroll on this super dope path I found. Then we can do whatever you want." Maddy nods excitedly, and the two of you hop in the car and head towards the restaurant that you had chosen.

---

The restaurant had been delicious, and Maddy couldn't help but swoon at your chivalry and adorable charm. You seemed to have put up a confident front for the rest of your friends, but deep down you were still that same shy, insanely intelligent kid that she used to watch.

As you walk through the park, you chat with her about the most random things. Suddenly you stop, forcing Maddy to back pedal so that she is even with you again. She is about to ask you why you had stopped, but then she catches sight of what you are looking at.

A beautiful pond that is sparkling with moonlight is directly in front of you and you can barely stop yourself from moving forwards and closer towards it. Maddy comes up beside you and slowly weaves her fingers through yours. You turn to say something to her, but your breath gets caught in your throat. The moonlight is reflecting perfectly on her, making her hair shimmer and her eyes glitter.

Instead of speaking, you quickly move your hands to cup her cheeks and kiss her quickly. When you realize what you had just done, you pull back quickly and try to turn away, apologizing profusely. Maddy just shakes her head and cuts off your apologetic rambling with another more intense kiss.

You freeze for a second before melting into the feeling of her soft lips on yours. She tastes like strawberries, and you feel her grab your face to try to pull you closer. Your hands find her waist, and you pull her flush against you, causing her to let out a soft sigh. She nips your lip, which makes you groan, and soon your tongues are intertwined and dancing together.

When you finally have to pull away for a breath of air, you rest your forehead on hers. "That was..." Maddy nods, finishing, "Really good. Really, really good." You let out an elated laugh, pulling her in for one more short but still intense kiss. When you look into her eyes, you ask, "Will you finally be mine? I really like you Mads. So... be mine?"

Maddy grins at you, replying, "I'm already yours." You reconnect your hands, and walk the rest back to your car, enjoying each other's company. Since you had met her, your goal had been to be Maddy's person. In high school, you had never had the confidence. But now, you finally got the girl.

---

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#maddy perez x you #maddy perez x y/n #maddy perez x reader #maddy perez #maddy perez imagine #rue bennett x y/n #rue bennett x you #rue bennett x reader #rue bennett #euphoria imagine #euphoria x reader #euphoria x you #euphoria x y/n #euphoria

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cursedonyx · 10 months

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What I want in a Hogwarts Legacy Sequel

Masterlist

Whilst it might be too much for us to hope for, I really do hope we get a sequel.

For me, I’d absolutely love to have a sequel be a continuation of our story, with the same characters that we’ve come to love, as well as some new ones to interact with.

Starting in our sixth year, what makes the most sense to me from a gameplay/story standpoint would be the Triwizard Tournament. Yes, it’s not canon that it would have occurred at this time, but then our MC isn’t exactly canon either!

So, here are my ideas.

The Overarching Story

A Triwizard Tournament could work for a number or reasons, such as each trial splitting up the seasons in much the same way as the Keepers Trials did, the narrative being that you as the Hogwarts Champion (because of course you are) has to solve puzzles and prepare to fight through various tasks. This will enable the character to learn new spells and potions to help them on their quest. The end of each school ‘term’ would be a Task, much like the Trials. Your friends and teachers could help your prepare for it by teaching you advanced spells, tricks and lore that will help you in your endeavours, as well as our main friends helping you figure out what each task is.

As well as this, there could be some kind of sub-plot that enables our characters to go beyond the Scottish Highlands – naturally we would spend a lot of our time in the world the devs so lovingly created, I’d never want to leave that world behind for anything, and there’s plenty the devs could do to add in new things for us to explore.

The sub-plot I’m thinking of could build on the remnants of the poachers and Ashwinders we defeated at the end of fifth year, and they’ve somehow fenagled the Goblet of Fire to accept only us as the Hogwarts Champion in an attempt to get rid of us, a la Harry Potter. Our investigations could take us to Diagon Alley, the Ministry of Magic, even Azkaban, using spells we’ve learned to solve the mystery.

It could also mean we get to meet students from other schools – yay new friends! Or rivals! Sebastian gets jealous if you flirt with them!

(Also there’s the opportunity for that Yule Ball everyone wants where you can ask one of your friends as a date.)

Oh, and whatever you chose to do with Sebastian at the end of fifth-year (if any of you turned him in I'm coming for your innards) there will be a reason he's back at school - either lack of evidence or Omi used his connections to help bail him out or whatever, but he's still with us.

Spells

We should keep ALL the spells, potion recipes and abilities we had in HogLeg. There’s no way to logically remove said knowledge from our arsenal, and it makes sense that, as sixth-years, we would expand our knowledge of magic and the world around us.

Spells like Reducto, Impedimenta, Episkey and such would be useful and make narrative sense to learn. We could build on our Ancient Magic, the Keepers teaching us a new ability each term that makes narrative sense without overpowering us (I know we’re pretty OP anyway, but stay with me on this). Other spells we could learn could be Expecto Patronum (I reckon an in-game quiz of some kind would be useful for this, as well as our choices in-game impacting on what our Patronus is), even some more unsavoury spells from our favourite curse-master.

We could learn other spells from our other friends as well, who of course would be eager to help us prepare for the upcoming tournament tasks. I reckon Sebastian, though he will have sworn off Dark Magic by this point, would be willing to teach us powerful spells that toe the moral line a bit, defensive magic or stealth spells. He’s very clever, so he’d be the one to teach you the history of the TWT and be instrumental in helping you figure out what each task is. Ominis, of course, could teach us useful detection spells that help him navigate (like a suped-up Revelio or echolocation charm) or healing spells. Poppy could teach us more about beasts (more on that in a minute), Natty could teach us how to become an animagus, Amit could teach us a method to level-up certain magic at night… the possibilities are endless!

Friendships/Relationships

I want all of our original friends to remain our friends and act accordingly – they want to help you win the TWT and help where they can – these could be side quests/tie in to the main quest.

In HogLeg’s original game files, there is a friendship chart. It was sadly scrapped and only in the very early stages of development before it was cut, but I’d love to see it implemented in a sequel. I’d say all major characters and professors should have a relationship meter ranging from -10 to +10, like nemesis to best friends, and your choices matter in this game. For example, you might have to very carefully navigate your relationship with Sebastian and Ominis, because pleasing one might upset the other, and you’d have to make very astute decisions to make them both your besties (I imagine Omi would still be upset with Seb for all he did in fifth year, and part of your relationship quests with them is helping them be friends again at the start).

Other relationship quests could be helping Sebastian repair his relationship with Anne (or helping him accept he's done wrong and he should let her come to him), helping Ominis begin the Downfall of the Gaunts (Gaunt Manor, yo!) and giving Noctua a proper burial, helping Poppy rescue beasts from her parents, getting into trouble gathering ingredients with Garreth, things like that.

Doing favours for other students will impact positively on your relationship, while fucking them over or refusing to help them (like not giving Zenobia her gobstones back, or not giving Puffskein Duncein his Tentacula leaf) would make them dislike you. I think for major characters like Sebastian, Ominis, Natty, Poppy, Amit and Garreth, it’s a given that you’re friends, and you’d have to actively work to upset them and make them dislike you – if one of them does, and you need them to learn a spell or something to progress, you’d need to be nice to them to make them like you enough again to help.

For Professors, doing well in classes (more on that later!) and completing your tasks well would curry favour with them, whilst slacking off, being rude etc would make them dislike you. Professors should be more inclined to give you housepoints if they like you, and dock them if they think you're a little shit.

I’d also like to be able to influence friendships between students as well, but that’s less important on my list of wants.

I’d say at the end of the school year, if enough students and teachers like you, they’ll see your Triwizard victory as a just achievement and celebrate as such, but if you’re unpopular, you won’t get the credit you deserve, with some students commenting that you must have cheated, etc. It's a small thing, but I think it matters.

Personally, I don’t need a romance option in HogLeg (lets face it, nothing could live up to what we’ve dreamed up in the fandom!) but even something as simple as handholding would be amazing.

On that note…

Companions

We NEED companions for the sequel. It's all very well for us PC players, we’ve got mods, but what about everyone else? Companions need to be brought into the sequel, and this is where I’d love the handholding mechanic to come into play. Walking through Hogwarts, the Highlands and Hogsmeade with the option to be holding hands with Natty or Garreth or Poppy or Sebastian or Ominis would be incredible, even if it’s just an animation and it holds no narrative weight. Being able to bring someone along with you, with their little lines of dialogue about your surroundings just makes the game even better than it is by itself.

(Playstation's Ico had a wonderful handholding mechanic, I want it to be like that).

Having your friends with you to fight by your side is, in my opinion, very important. I don’t think companions should join you in the tasks, much like they can’t join you for the Keeper’s Trials, but having them with you while you dash off all over the place and get into trouble would be brilliant, especially if they have more companion-focused dialogue, like Ominis being horrified if you use an Unforgivable in front of him, but encouraging you to get up to a little mischief (you’re quite the covert little thief, aren’t you? 💦💦), Sebastian commenting on your skills when you fight or if you sneak into somewhere you shouldn't be (how funny would it be for companions to comment on you breaking into a professor's bedroom, especially if your companion was a professor!), Poppy sassing enemies left and right, and Garreth using his experimental potions… I could go on forever about how amazing it could be with just a little more.

Lessons

It’s been mentioned that one of the things people would like is the ability to feel more like a student. Whilst I think that too many lessons you have to attend would spoil the freedom of the game a bit, I’ve seen ideas bandied about that your spells can only reach full potential if you do some lesson ‘mini-games’ – I’m on board with this idea. The only worry is it could become repetitive, but provided it’s not overdone and is optional, it could make for more immersive gameplay.

Collectibles/Selling Stuff

I really do like collectibles in RPGs like this, and I think it’s an essential part of the HL/HP games to have them, but I’d like more options to sell things we acquire. Usually by the time we hit winter in HogLeg, I’m so overpowered I don’t need to use wiggenweld except in rare circumstances, and have to actively injure my character in order to take the potion and free up the slots for when my hopping pots all have wiggenweld in them so I can use them again! If we had the option to sell the potions we brew and the plants we grow as well as clothes we find, that would be incredible.

(Also, if we upgrade our clothes, it should sell for more. Just saying.)

Merlin trials can sod off though, unless they make the cutscene skippable.

Beasts and the Room of Requirement

I don’t think the RoR needs much improving on what we’ve got, so at the start of sixth year it should be like it was at the end of fifth, only through the game and exploring the various locations you can get more decorations and furniture you can actually use (like sitting on the sofas or having a cup of tea, or doing your homework at a table, even if it’s just an animation) and the Room gets bigger/gets more rooms. A bedroom, a bathroom, things like that would just be perfect.

We NEED to be able to bring our friends to the Room, and they actually comment on it. Each student should have favourite beasts that they like (and if you bring Duncan Hobhouse in to meet your Puffskeins, he runs away screaming), and they actively play with them/groom them without you directing them (Omi would totes be besties with your unicorns). Poppy, especially, would be happy to see Highwing again, I’m sure.

You should be able to play games with your friends, like wizard chess or the like, which improves your relationships with them regardless of whether you win or lose (but if you win they give you a present), plus sassy dialogue if you lose and comments on your strategy.

New beasts would be amazing, like aquatic beasts, perhaps, winged horses (new mount!), crups and such. Not essential, but I think it would be great.

Choices Matter

Perhaps the most important bit of this long, rambly post is that your choices should matter. Originally there was going to be a housepoint/morality system in HogLeg, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want it for a sequel. Earning points for helping people, completing your class work, rescuing beasts and choosing ‘good’ dialogue options would net you points, whereas being a dickhead would lose you points. You should compete with other houses, and each student should have a percentage of points that they’re likely to win or lose. Sebastian, for example, ever the hellion, would likely lose a lot of points because he’s a rule-breaking little devil, (I imagine Ominis would too, in fairness he’s canonically a bit of a troublemaker too, but he’s just as likely to earn points IMHO). Garreth I think would win and lose points equally – he’s talented, but a bit too strong-headed to really listen to authority. Natty I think would earn more than she loses, etc etc etc. I could go on.

Breaking curfew, casting curses (where you can be seen by a prefect/teacher) or general asshattery could lose you points, but I reckon depending on the difficulty level should impact how easy it is to win points back. I’d say it’s not a given that your house will win the cup, and you actually have to work for it.

Other Bits I Want

Photo Mode – the game’s too beautiful to not have it.

No Mercy Mode – after you complete the main story, we should have this option

Ability to change Seasons after the main game is over

Curfew (turn on/off) – it’d be fun to have, but the ability to turn it off would be great so it doesn’t get too troublesome

No flight restrictions. Let me fly over Hogsmeade, damnit!

More enemy types – including dementors/lethifolds

Alohomora just unlocks doors – no shitty minigame

Functional Common Rooms – sleeping in your bed to speed time, classmates congregating there at night/going to bed (don’t care if they have to teleport there), etc.

Meals in the Great Hall – even if it’s just an animation, it’d be nice to sit with your friends.

At LEAST one F-bomb from one of the characters. Unexpected and hilarious. But which one?

I’m sure there’s plenty more I’ve missed or some things that just won’t work, but this would be my ideal sequel. Thoughts?

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy sequel #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #poppy sweeting #hogwarts legacy sixth-year #natsai onai #amit thakkar #professor sharp #professor garlick #professor hecat #professor black

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jecksaa · 1 year

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A Ghostly Touch

It's the last day of Kinkmas and I finally had a bit more inspiration! On the last day i give you Richard Jackdaw Prompt was Spectrophilia. word count - 1.6k Enjoy! and a friendly reminder MDNI, please only read if 18+ as always.

Richard Jackdaw had roamed these halls for decades, watching students and teachers come and go. None of them had really paid much attention to him, nor had he shown an interest in them. Barely a brain shared between them that they would be able to solve his puzzles, or daring enough for an exciting adventure. Not until she started in her fifth year, she was the first student to talk to him in years. Her ability to solve his puzzles, her adventurous nature and her fighting spirit drew Jackdaw towards her. She had offered to help him, scout his tomb to find the missing pages and in return she helped him ease his mind about his death. Since that day he had found himself following her around the castle, and around the highlands. Jackdaw just wanted to watch her, all the adventures she would go. The ashwinders, poachers and goblins she fought and won against. The towns folk and students she was running errands for, and his personal favourite was watching her run around collecting those stupid blue glowing orbs all because the Caretaker was afraid of Demiguise. But he never interfered with any of her endeavours, just watching from a distance. He wasn’t sure when the watching turned into longing, he wasn’t even aware he could have those feelings being a ghost. But here he was longing for her, she was in her seventh year at Hogwarts. She had grown into quite the lovely young woman, she had adjusted to the wizarding world, but that didn’t mean her adventurous nature had disappeared. He watched her sneak around the castle every other night, whether that be to the kitchen to grab a snack, to another common room to spend time with friends or down into the musty old underground dungeon she liked to hang out in with those two Slytherin boys. Tonight though she had decided to sneak up to the Astronomy Tower, where her own little hidey hole was located. Jackdaw had been into many different variations of the Room of Requirement, but hers was definitely the most unique. Four vivariums full of many different types of beasts that she had rescued, a space too large for one person yet she has filled every corner of it with potion tables, potting stations, and mismatch furniture.

He passed through the castle walls, to his surprise she was no where to be seen. He floated between the rooms she would normally occupy, her cauldrons unattended and her plants unharvested. He checked all four vivariums with no luck. He stood in the middle of the main entrance, maybe he was wrong, maybe she had gone further up to the observation deck instead. As he was about to leave, a slightly ajar door catches his eye, a dim light passing through the crack. This room wasn’t here last time he visited. He drifted towards the room; a soft noise slipped through gap. The sight that befell him was like nothing he had seen before. A small bedroom with a small fireplace, an armchair, a corner bookshelf behind it and in the middle of the room a double wooden bed. And her lying on the bed, legs bent, skirt gather around her hips and her hand between her thighs, the softest mewls falling from her lips. Jackdaw froze at the sight, unsure if he should leave or stay… of course he should leave, this was no place for a ghost… but something in him couldn’t make him look away, she looked wonderful, sounded exquisite. Her sounds began to grow slightly, her breathing beginning to shallow, her chest heaving. Jackdaw wanted to be closer, wanted to see her completely, wanted to witness her reach that peak and fall off the edge. He floated towards her, needing to get her attention without completely startling her, he gave a small cough. She sprung up from the bed, eyes wide and darting towards him. “Merlins sake, Jackdaw…” Her breathing started to even out, her hand retreating from between her thighs, her cheeks a bright shade of pink. “How long… have you been there?” she asked. “Not long, but long enough.” His brow raised at her question; his arms folded in front. “Well… did you need something?” “I just saw you sneaking about, and I wanted to hang out again. It has been a while since we spent time together.” “Oh, it has been a while. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy with studying for NEWT’s, but umm… right now isn’t the best time.” Her skirt had been pulled over her legs, and her arms were wrapped around her knees pulling them into her chest. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Jackdaw paused for a moment, he thought to himself that she was the most exciting adventure he had come across in the longest time. “It’s just… it’s been an awfully long time since I’ve… seen that.” If ghosts needed to breath, he would have let out the heaviest sigh. “I was wondering if I could… watch?” “You want to watch… me?” Her eyes were wide again, her breath catching in her throat. Her gaze shifting from his, looking anywhere else but at him. “Sorry, forget I said anything.” He could see her embarrassment settle in. “No, it’s not that… I’ve just never had anyone watch before.” Her eyes slowly drawn back to him. “I guess all you could do is watch…” Her gaze looked over his spectral form.

Jackdaw raised his hands, how he wished he could touch her. He looked at them, turning them in front of him, looking through them he could see her settle back down onto the bed, her hands gathered her skirt back around her hips. He shifted to the end of the bed, taking a seat on the bench at the end of the bed, his elbows rested on the bed and his head rested in his hands. He watched her fingers slide between her folds, rubbing small circles into her clit. Her moans were a little louder than before, her legs shook a little with pleasure. His name was a whisper on her lips, he longed to be able to make her scream it himself. He had seen the reactions of the students when other ghosts had passed through them, like they almost felt them. He had always avoided such things, but he moved his hand across the bed to where her foot was, reaching for it. She trembled at the sensation, a soft whimper coming from her. “Can you feel that?” He asked. Her breathing was heavy. “I felt... something…” He shifted himself onto the bed, it didn’t bow at his weightlessness. His hand ran over her bare skin, up her calve and down her thigh. Her eyes shut tightly at the touch; her breath hitched; keen mewls escaping her. Jackdaw couldn’t feel anything, but if she could then just maybe, he could help. “Do you mind if I try something, you just keep going.” Her only response was a firm nod. He smirked at her eagerness. His hand danced over her thigh, moving it slowly down to where her hand was rubbing against herself, his hand joined hers. Her back arched; a sharp breath pulled from her “fu-uck”. “Does that feel good?” Jackdaw asked. “Y-es.” His smirk turned into a smile, pleased with himself he began to follow her movements. Watching their fingers glide over her sensitive clit, the way when she hit a certain spot it would make her moan a little louder. He could see her legs tense a bit, she almost seemed to be holding her breath slightly. His gaze dragged up her body, her free hand was resting inside her unbuttoned shirt, her bottom lip was in-between her teeth. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his afterlife.

His name was on her lips again, almost begging for more, more he could not give. Her fingers began to slide further down, they rubbed against her weeping entrance before they delved in. His ghostly fingers followed hers, he wasn’t sure what her fingers were doing inside, but he tried to mimic as best he could. Slowly rubbing against her walls, at least he hoped that was what he was doing. It was confirmed when her moans started to become desperate, her legs shook harder. “There, right there!” Her voice was begging him. He couldn’t deny her, he moved his fingers quicker, her pleasure was evident and loud. The hand that had been under her shirt was now grabbing at the sheets underneath her. Jackdaw placed his free hand just above her clit, his thumb relaxing on it, slowly rubbing circles. “S-hit, Jackdaw, fuck… please, I want to come.” Another confirmation that she could feel something. Her peak coming in high and fast. “Come then and scream my name when you do.” He was smug, proud even that he could make her like this even in this form. “Jackdaw!” Her body convulsed at the command, her feet firmly pressed into the mattress, her eyes shut tight, her fingers thrusting inside, her slick dripping down her skin. She laid there for a moment, fingers retreating slowly. They glistened in the dim light from the fireplace, he wished he could lick them clean for her. Her legs fell to one side, slightly rolling to her side. Her breathing becoming steady once again. Jackdaw floated over to the side of the bed, resting his arms on the mattress. “Looked like you enjoyed yourself there.” “I did, that felt…” She paused as she thought over her words “different. I’m not quite sure how to explain it, but I definitely felt something… and it was incredible.” Her lip pulled back in-between her teeth. He chuckled at her explanation. They stayed like this for some time, talking over some of the adventures she had been on recently before she drifted off to sleep. He attempted to place a kiss on her forehead before leaving her to rest. The softest smile graced her lips.

#hogwarts legacy #kinkmas hl #hogwarts legacy smut #richard jackdaw #richard jackdaw smut #jackdaw smut #jackdaw x F!MC

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in-the-shadow-of-the-blog · 1 year

Text

In the Shadow of Courtship

Summary: Sebastian gets a glimpse of MC's social life outside of Hogwarts, but he doesn't like what he sees. (Sebastian Sallow x f!MC)

Rating: PG

Warnings: Jealousy and light swearing.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Despite my best efforts, I’m sure there are some historical inaccuracies in this one. Sebastian being jealous of muggle courtship is my new favorite thing, apparently.

—

Sebastian had re-read her last letter dozens of times, but he kept coming back to one part of it.

My parents insisted on throwing a ball to celebrate my brother’s engagement. Before Hogwarts, I would have been excited at the prospect, but now it just sounds boring and miserable. I would rather be in the highlands doing, well, anything else.

Something in her words made him decide it was time to pay a visit, which is how he know found himself standing outside her house. And Merlin’s Beard, what a house it was. She had mentioned her family being well-off in passing, but the grand house in front of him was more than he expected. Surely the fancy building in front of him was not where his practical, down to earth MC lived.

But there was no mistaking it. It was exactly where she had described, and Sebastian heard music coming from within the house.

The disillusionment charm let him hide among the bushes easily, even if he felt a little foolish sneaking around. If Sebastian was honest with himself, though, he had come for one reason, and that was to spy. He wanted to see what this muggle ball looked like; he wanted to see what MC was like when she was at home with her muggle parents.

He snuck around the side of the house, finding himself below a narrow window. The window was open, feminine voices traveling on the warm evening air.

“If Mr. Royce wishes to dance with you, then you should let him.” The voice was not unlike MC’s, but more mature.

“I don’t wish to lead him on. We’ve talked about where my future lies.”

“Darling, you have a whole world of opportunities I never had, and I am thrilled for you. But until you are settled, properly settled, I think you should keep all your options open. Anything could happen before you come of age, and I couldn’t forgive myself if I allowed you to let any chance at happiness slip through your fingers.”

MC huffed. “But mother-“

“My dear, he isn’t going to ask you to marry him tonight. Simply make sure you don’t give him a reason to cast his eye elsewhere. Just enjoy a pleasant evening with a handsome man and leave it at that.”

“Yes, mother.” He frowned at the defeat in MC’s voice. That wasn’t the MC he knew at all. If this was how she had to behave at home, no wonder she preferred life at Hogwarts.

“There’s that beautiful smile. Come, we should join the party before our absence is noticed,” said MC’s mother.

The room fell quiet.

Sebastian followed the side of the building led by the muffled sound of music striking up. He came to a row of large windows facing a wide yard. Though none of the windows were open, the noise on the other side made it evident where the event was shrine held. Slowly, Sebastian raised his head to peek through the window.

Couples filled the ballroom, dancing in synchrony with the music. There were just as many people around the perimeter of the room, watching the dancers glide across the floor. There was only one person Sebastian wanted to see, and he felt his chest tighten the moment he finally laid eyes on her.

MC had said in her letter that she wasn’t interested in the ball, that the thought of it filled her with misery. She had just said as much to her mother. She certainly didn’t look miserable to Sebastian.

Dark brown hair and a dashing smile, belonging to her dance partner, held her rapt attention. The handsome muggle led her through the waltz, twirling her around the room. MC wore a peaceful smile, laughing and talking with him as they moved among the other dancers.

“You must be Mr. Royce,” Sebastian growled under his breath. His fists clenched at his sides. That should be him in there, dancing with MC. Holding her like that. Making her laugh. Someone who could appreciate her fully.

And appreciate her, Sebastian did. Even though his rage at the muggle pawing at his girl, he noticed every detail about MC. The fabric and trim of her dress matched her house colors, complimenting ribbons pinned in her hair. Sebastian eyed the silver and emerald necklace sitting at her throat, catching the light as she danced. Of course Royce would be falling over himself for her attention; she was radiant.

The dance ended, and Royce escorted MC away. He guided her by the arm, gently tugging her in the other direction when someone else moved to approach them.

Selfish arse. Probably doesn’t even know what her favorite treats are. Or her favorite muggle books. You don’t deserve her.

For the first time in a very long time, the word of a spell danced on the tip of his tongue. Something he promised never to speak again. Conjuring an image of Royce on the floor, writhing in pain.

Sebastian closed his eyes, pushing the thought from his mind. She wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want you to do that.

The band was already striking up a song for the next dance. Sebastian couldn’t stomach watching any more of the ball, to see her in the arms of someone who didn’t know her like he did. But instead of apparate home, he wandered around the perimeter of the house, lost in thought.

Maybe he didn’t know MC as well as he thought. He’d heard her mother say it; she would play them both until she secured the better offer. Well, Sebastian certainly couldn’t give her what Royce could, with his muggle money and impressive dance skills. The life MC was accustomed to could not be found in the highlands, in Feldcroft, with him.

But what hurt Sebastian the most was the thought that he deserved to feel this way. Because he didn’t deserve MC, not after what he’s done. He tried to, Merlin knows, but he just wasn’t good enough for her. He never would be. She deserved to be happy, and the cold truth that he might not be the one to do that settled in the pit of his stomach like stone.

So he found himself in the side yard, glaring at a trellis of roses whose buds were closed to the night air. Hidden in the shadows, Sebastian stewed in his dark thoughts, sinking into the depths where he belonged. He didn’t notice when the door opened and someone stepped out into the yard behind him.

But the sigh got his attention.

He turned to see her leaning against the door through which she had exited. Her face was shadowed, barely lit from the light escaping from the windows and the moon rising overhead. But he would know her anywhere, from the shape of her body to the tilt of her head, but especially that sigh.

“MC?” He asked, stepping forward into the half light of the yard.

MC covered her mouth, swallowing a yelp of surprise. “Sebastian! What are you doing here?”

Her heart leapt at the sight of him, and for a moment she thought he was a conjugation of her imagination. Merlin knew she had been employing it all night, imagining Sebastian freckled features in place of Royce’s condescending smile.

Then he spoke.

“Never seen a muggle ball. Thought I’d see what’s so boring about them. Though, doesn’t seem boring to me.”

She stiffened at the bite in his voice. “Is something the matter?”

Sebastian folded his arms. “Of course not. Why would something be wrong? Looks like everyone is having a wonderful time.”

Not here to ask for a dance, then. She stepped toward, mirroring his crossed arms. “Well something’s clearly gotten into you. You come all this way, without even telling me, just to skulk in the shadows? Talk to me.”

“Coming here was a mistake, MC.” He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I’ll let you get back to your charming gentleman friend.”

Her hand was circling his wrist before he saw her move. “Sebastian, you aren’t going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Fine!” Sebastian hissed, wrenching out her grasp. He couldn’t stand the feel of her touch, not right now. “What’s wrong is that I learned you’ve been stringing me along all year, and then you come home to your real boyfriend over the summer. I never thought you capable of such disloyalty.”

MC recoiled as if he had struck her. With the hurt in her eyes, he may as well have. “How could you say that? After everything over the last two years. How dare you.”

“Well what else am I supposed to think?” Instead of angry, his voice was soft with defeat. “You said you would be bored and yet here you are, in the arms of another man.”

She answered with a scoff. “Just because I have to dance with someone to keep up appearances doesn’t mean I’m enjoying it.”

“You looked pretty happy to me.”

MC’s fingers itched with the need to slap him. How else could get some sense into his thick head? “Sebastian Sallow, either you’re an idiot or you need to get your eyes checked. “Happy” is the very last word I would use to describe myself tonight.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. Because I missed you.” MC sniffed. “At least I thought I did. If you’ve only come here to level hurtful accusations at me, then you should leave.”

MC grabbed his wrist again and turned his hand palm up. Fingers trembling, she unclasped the silver and emerald necklace and dropped it into his hand. “You can take that with you.”

“What’s this?”

“A gift from my brother. He gave it to me when I came home with your scarf, something I could wear that wouldn’t draw the same attention.” She clicked her tongue. “I don’t think I need it anymore.”

Sebastian looked down at the necklace sitting in his palm, then back at MC. She was smoothing her dress, trying to regain her composure after their bitter argument. All she really wanted was to go to her room, but her family would never forgive her for such a display. She looked at Sebastian, narrowing her eyes at him one more time before schooling her features into the mask of serenity she would need inside.

Realization struck Sebastian like lightning. He really had to be the biggest idiot in all of Britain. He should have seen it the whole time.

He should have seen that the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Noticed that her face was devoid of the many emotions he had seen cross it so many times. Realized that her eyes held a faraway look as she dreamed of the many other things she would rather be doing, places she would rather be. Sebastian bet he could name them all.

Royce would never know the real MC. Not like he did. Royce would never call her his own. Not like Sebastian could.

If he hadn’t just lost her forever.

“MC, wait.”

She stopped, hand on the doorknob, stiffly waiting for him to continue.

“You’re right. I’m being stupid.”

“Come round, have you?” She snapped.

He stepped closer. “I’m sorry. I never should have said those things. I can’t believe I ever thought them in the first place.” He swallowed. “It’s just…”

MC looked at him over her shoulder. “Just what?”

“I’m so scared to lose you.”

The words hung in the air between them. Sebastian took a breath, feeling a weight lifting from his chest with his admission. That was the truth of it; he had already lost so many people he cared about. Some of that loss was his own fault, and he lived with his regret every day. He couldn’t bear it if he lost MC, too.

She was in front of him now. “Then don’t push me away,” he said quietly. “Or have you never heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

His next breath was shaky. “I know I don’t deserve any more forgiveness from you, but I’ll ask for it anyway.”

MC couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “I could be convinced.”

He looked up at her in surprise. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Turn around,” he whispered.

The emerald pendant whispered along her skin as Sebastian replaced the necklace. His fingers danced over her neck, lingering as he secured the clasp. She was grateful for the darkness to hide the flush that followed.

When he finished, she turned to look at him again, their eyes meeting properly for the first time that night. Sebastian held her hands in his, pulling her close. “I just don’t want you to forget about me when we’re apart.”

“Sebastian, I could never.”

“I know. I never should have doubted you.”

His thumb traced the curve of her mouth before his lips found hers. His fingered the material of her dress over hips, suddenly consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to take it off her. Sebastian broke the kiss, then, worried about getting carried away.

“You’re all I think about when I’m away from Hogwarts,” she whispered. “All I dream about.”

Maybe there was nothing wrong with getting carried away.

Her fingers twined in Sebastian’s hair as he kissed her neck, the silver chain of the necklace scraping his lips. MC moaned in his ear and he pulled her tight against him.

“What’s going on out here?” Mrs. MC’s voice hissed from the doorway. MC and Sebastian jumped apart. “Get inside before your father sees you!”

MC looked sheepishly at her mother. Certainly not how I intended them to meet. She trailed her thumb along the column of Sebastian’s neck. “I’ll write you. Tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait,” he whispered.

MC kissed him on the cheek, stopping for one last, longing look in his eyes. Her mother’s impatient sigh quickened her steps back into the house, but not before she glanced back at him one more time, tasting him on her lips.

Before closing the door, Mrs. MC swept outside, staring down at him. “You must be the young man she keeps going on about. Sebastian, isn’t it?”

It was incredible how much MC resembled her, and he had to admit Mrs. MC was still quite beautiful. He wondered if this was a glimpse at what growing old with MC would be like. “Yes, ma’am.” Sebastian stumbled over the words.

Best interests in mind or not, Sebastian reminded himself that she was still the reason MC was dancing with a man who couldn’t make her happy. He licked his lips nervously, remembering their kiss. He’ll never get to kiss her like that. He’s probably rubbish at it, anyway.

“MC doesn’t tell me much about what happens at school. Is she truly happy there? Is she doing all right?”

He wouldn’t have tried to keep the adoration from his voice even if he thought himself capable of it. “She loves it there. And she’s brilliant, there’s nothing MC can’t do.”

“Is she safe?”

Sebastian faltered. He couldn’t tell her the whole truth. She certainly wouldn’t let her daughter return to Hogwarts if she knew about all the poachers and bandits. Not to mention all the trouble MC liked to get herself into. He settled for the truest answer he could think of. “There’s nowhere safer than Hogwarts.”

Mrs. MC nodded once, seeming satisfied with his answer. “You’ll look after her, won’t you? And her other friends, she does have other friends?”

“Of course, Mrs. MC.”

The woman lay a hand on his shoulder, and Sebastian stiffened at the motherly gesture. “I’m sorry you can’t stay. I would have liked to know you better.”

Sebastian nodded, taking her hint. Now, he didn’t mind going home. He felt safe in the knowledge that, while someone else might be on her dance card, he would always be the one in her dreams.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy fic

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malachimoet · 3 months

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Viande Pacastone is an Alpaca from the Them's Fightin' Herds Universe. Viande was born and raised in the Alpake Highlands, a place where happiness once thrived–but now has become dull due to incidents with predators. From his earliest memories as a young alpaca, Viande remembers that he was born around a very happy time--right before the time predators came to Foenum, and caused a great depression to form in Alpake--and even moreso that it effected the alpacas so much that they began to dispise those who would even dare to be joyful in such a dark time. From his friends to his family, Viande was always aware of the environment he was put into being a negative one, filled with individuals left and right who never spoke not a single tone of positivity. All this led Viande to make a decision to himself--that as he grew up, he'd never end up like his family members or his friends. His main source of inspiration comes from another alpaca who is similar to him in some ways–-the infamous Paprika Paca and her bubbly personality. Even though he has never met her, he’s always had a bit of a crush on her when they were younger. When he becomes a more matured alpaca, he decides to take action and fight for a better future for his fellow alpacas as he grows up and sees these changes. Viande works hard to bring back the joys of the highlands through lessons-–before taking his dream higher after the announcement of Foenum's world going against The HOLD, where the predators reside. Division became worse at this time--given that nations fought against nations for this legendary key to The HOLD. Check Toyhouse for more information on this character; https://toyhou.se/26174217.viande-pacastone

#fanart #artwork #art #malachimoet #oc #tfh #thems fightin herds #them's fightin' herds #alpaca #paprika #tfh oc #male

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bostova · 9 months

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i remember being small, maybe 2 or 3 years old. i had chicken pox and was so terribly itchy, so my mother put a lotion on my itchy that smelled bad, and unnatural, and yucky on my sores and hoped that i would sleep, but she left my moon lamp on and it was too bright in my room. i held my Captain Scarlet doll and my teddy and pulled the quilt over my face, but then i got too hot. some of my scars are from the sores.

I remember earlier than that, though. I asked my mother and she told me I was too small to be able to remember it, but i can remember it better than even she had. HE came home different and unrecognisable and Scary. There was a big dark cloud outside and it was raining. His head was shaved and he was wearing a red tracksuit. He was the angriest that my small eyes had ever seen a person to be. He smashed eveything in the kitchen, it was so loud and I covered my ears, and then he made his way through the house, punching holes in our doors, stamping on my best toys and my mother's shiny things. She put me in the car before he could break us too and we drove far away for many hours and the rain was hitting the car so hard. And then... we went home again so she must have thought it was safe now for some reason. I hoped that it would be to a different house, with new toys and no holes, but it wasn't. He was gone and my mother was left to pick up all of the little pieces of plates and cups and our lives were supposed to continue as though that hadn't and wouldn't happen again.

I remember getting lost a lot when my mother would take us shopping, i never remember him being with us, so probably we were out to try and be away from him and pretend again. i remember her showing me where in the Woolworths i should go if i got lost, but i could never find where that was, nor could i find her. i cried for a while and looked at the toys that pulled my eyes into them and had probably caused me to get lost in the first place. I looked at them through their boxes and didn't understand why i wasn't allowed to open them, were they not for children like me to play with? she always found me, but i only really remember the getting lost, not the getting found.

I remember being sat in the bath when i was 3 and being sad that i was alone and had no friends to play with, then later my mother told me that i was gonna have a sister, and that she was doing that so i wouldn't be alone. i remember hoping that i could be a good sister to her, not realising that i had to be a brother which was different. i knew this from seeing some brothers in my cartoons i think. She was so small and i remember taking a picture of her with my red camera when she was born, my mother told me to make sure it doesn't flash because my sister's eyes were so small, much smaller than mine, so i covered the flash with my finger just in case.

i remember being 6 or so, and inventing worlds for my toys to live in and be happy. I wished i could live there too, and hoped that if i wished hard enough, and gave those worlds as much detail as i could, i would be able to go there. i remember copying the voices and memorising all the lines from the films my mother had taped for me, which i was allowed to watch whilst he was away. My mother always laughed when i could say the next line of the film before the tv said it. Hook was a favourite film of mine, i loved how peter was able to fly and live in such a wonderful place like Neverland, and it always made me cry when he had to go home to his own family, because it meant i couldn't pretend that he was my dad too any more.

I remember being 6 or 7 and she showed me Highlander. I loved the swords and the sound they made, and i wanted to live forever, i think she did too because she was crying a lot. The Kurgan did not scare me, as i had seen scarier things already, and his sword was much better because the spikes popped out and it was longer. But he killed Ramirez so that made him the bad guy. BETTER TO BURN OUT, THAN TO FAAAADE AWAYYY, YYYAAGH i would say often and my mother would laugh.

i didn't like school very much and the teachers did not like me either. one of my teachers always used to spell things wrong when she wrote them on the board so i would make sure to raise my hand and tell her, so she could spell it right, you are supposed to spell things right when you are a teacher because you don't want other kids to learn it wrong, this was the right thing to do, but then she wouldn't let me go to the toilet when i asked until i stopped asking. and then i got a kidney infection and had to be in the hospital with a needle for 5 whole days because i wasn't allowed to go to the toilet i think, i was 7. she made me stand up in front of the class when i came back and asked me to explain to them what what had been wrong and asked me if it burned when i went to the toilet, i said yes and my face was red and i wanted to run away but I couldn't run home, and the other children laughed. those kids in my class had made a small card for me telling me to get well soon, i didn't recognise any of the names.

i used to fall over a lot i think, i was clumsy and "uncoordinated", that was a big word i learned from the school nurse, i asked her to say it some more times and then to write it down and then i never forgot it. I would see her a lot, and i remember making her laugh once because she had to write my name in the accident book and i said "you'll find my name in there a lot!" and she said "oh, in the wars are you?" and i smiled and agreed with her, but didn't really understand what that meant.

i remember having some friends who were girls who i liked a lot, and some boys who i had to play with because those girls would also run away from me at lunch time, they said its because they don't play with boys, but I didn't really understand what that meant or why it meant i had to try and play football instead of what they were doing. i hated football and being in the mud, one boy always used to push me over and put my things in the mud because i wasn't really a boy he said and i talked funny, and he spat on my new shoes, and stole my favourite lime green transformer car. i tried to tell the teacher but she was the one who wouldn't let me go to the toilet. why did it have to be like that i wondered?

for all of those years i wished i could be back by the mountains and the sea, and the place where they meet, where i was born and it was warm. my auntie and my nain and my taid were there, so why couldn't we be too? we could just get in a car and go there, and i remember being mad at my mother for a very long time that we had to live with Him instead. it was only later that she told me it's because he was in the police and he would kill her and me and my sister if we left, and nobody would know. she had tried to tell the police before about the way he hurt us but they said they don't know what she was talking about, he would never do that, he was a good policeman. so she belived him when he promised to hurt us if we tried to get away.

i remember high school was so big and i felt so small, and now i REALLY had to be a boy, and more boys would hurt me if i tried not to be one of them. i liked books a lot, and read them whenever i could, i got good marks in english and i liked my teacher. i wrote a poem about war once, and she told me i was a dark horse, i didn't know what that meant, and i was thankful that another kid who was loud asked her what that meant so I didn't have to use my voice to do it.

it was high school where i got into music, and i realised that music was like books because it made pictures in my head, but other kids could see those pictures too and music was easier to share than a book. i got into guitar along with a few other mosher kids because punk rock was new and exciting, and easy to learn and play for people. my first guitar was 3/4 scale and had one pickup in the middle position. it was terrible and loved it, and the way it fit my body.

i grew a lot towards the end of high school, i got tall and i grew my hair long and straight, and i think a lot of girls liked me then, and i liked some too, but i had no way to talk to them any more because i still didn't want the boys to hurt me, though i was taller than them all now, which made me feel alien and strange. i was just glad that i could run away from PE to play guitar now.

college was where i met my first girlfriend, she said she loved me and she hurt me a lot and often, this was the only kind of love i knew how to receive besides the love that my mother gave which isn't what a girlfriend is for, so i gratefully accepted it, believing her when she said that if she didn't love me who else would? she did some stuff with other guys too, but thats okay because she said she didn't love them, just me, and that i wasn't allowed to talk to any girl other than her because she loved me. I believed her because why wouldn't I? i was 17 and had never been in love before.

i went to university and i learned about byron and the renaissance and shakespeare and wordsworth, about postmodernism and structuralism, and i studied film too and adaptation. i loved learning things but i could never stay and do the other fun stuff with the people in my class because i had to go home and i wasn't allowed to be far away from my girlfriend. she said i wasn't otherwise she would tell her friends about how embarrassing my body was and what i sounded like when i had sex with her, my face went red at the thought. i ate one sandwich a day for my meal, this felt like enough, but people kept asking me if i was okay. i was cold a lot, and very thin as I realised later. i grew a beard with my long hair because i wanted to embody the manliness that i saw in films and read about in books and saw in the bands i liked, then my girlfriend wouldn't be able to embarrass me to her friends.

I was 23 when she left me, I still didn't have the guts to leave her, and i cried for a long time, because i believed nobody else could ever love me. but then someone did, and i moved across the world to be with her and to get away from everything. i loved her and she loved me, and in a new special way where i didn't have to be hurt or scared, but i think she knew that the manliness was just a costume and this wasn't what she wanted. she wanted the real thing, not the pale imitation mask that i wore. we moved back to here and tried to make it work for a while until it was either we get married and decide who moves and stays where, or we go seperate ways. she chose the latter for me because i was paralysed by the idea of losing love once again.

i realised i liked boys too, a long time before that, but i had never had the chance to try things with them, to try kissing them or touching their bodies, and when i finally did i chose to wear girls clothes and underwear because that felt correct to me, and the way they touched me felt like they were touching a girl, and that felt nice. I used to step out onto the landing outside my bedroom at home with the big mirror when nobody else was home, and see what i looked like in my girl clothes. Every now and then if i held my body in a certain way I would see that girl, and then she was gone again. and i would put my metalhead guy clothes back on and feel the anger that i thought the music was giving to me. I didn't know that anger was coming from inside me, this was how it had to be for me, i was 27.

For my whole life up to that point i knew that 30 years was my cutoff point, i knew the anger that fueled me, and followed me around was also burning me out from the inside, like a tree in a fire that is left standing only as a hollow shell of itself. "no more" i said, 30 was the end of it all.

A funny thing happened though when i was 28. i met a girl at a party with some friends and felt like i recognised her, she was tall and strong and beautiful and was dressed like a wrestler for the theme of the party. I was drawn in and i had to know more about her. i realised then that we had met before, she was the brother of a boy i knew well from high school, and she was a girl now. she had done it, and i didn't know that was a thing you could just... do. she was only a year younger than me and she was a beautiful girl now, and i was speechless. i internalised that wonder, but never quite put the two together about the way i felt about myself and what she had done for herself. that came a little later when i was 29 and very quickly approaching my cutoff point. i realised then that i had to choose. I chose "fuck it, i may as well try and be a girl, i can always leave the world later if it doesn't work out"

when i was 30, and my body was now getting softer, and I was allowed to be beautiful thanks to the hormones i had waited a lifetime for, i met another beautiful girl like me. i could tell she had been sad for a long time too and was also seeing the world through the new eyes that we had given ourselves. we grew and bloomed together, we shared our plushies and added new ones to our family, and added other beautiful girls like us to our bouquet that we had met along the way, making our family bigger and bigger. we are now surrounded by our sisters and wives and partners and so much love that binds us and makes us stronger together, and we are held by it. we have love that stretches across oceans to where my wife and little girl are waiting, and are happy and held by their loves too. one day i hope we can all join up into one place, like a wild garden of flowers and plants and trees and moss and bees and bugs and dogs. i get to be a dog too now, and I like that i can forget about the bad stuff when i am allowed to be dog. i play with my stuffed toys and i eat from my bowl and I nap in my doggie bed, and when i wake i can bark at my girls and they bark back to me, our home is full of food and joy and music, this is what love is supposed to be i think.

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leggerefiore · 1 year

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cw: twin wardens au, pla ingo, poly (ingo/reader, emmet/reader), fluff mostly,

ughhh debating writing more here but idk where to go with it

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It was astonishing how they never realised they were twins.

Certainly, their amnesia was at play for their lack of memories and understanding of their past lives, and you understood that completely. Naturally, they had ended up separated, too, when they had landed it the wilds of Hisui. Emmet taken in by the Diamond Clan and Ingo taken by the Pearl Clan. The care shown for both of them by essentially strangers was endearing, and definitely was how they ended up recovering from falling out of the sky as well as they did. This did, however, mean they were completely unaware of each other's existences before they took over their positions as Wardens in the highlands.

Emmet at first believed they should be rivals, knowing that while the tensions were low between the clans, there was a chance that this person could be a bad actor. Ingo simply wished to have a professional politeness with his neighbour. Needless to say, they were both absolutely shocked when they had finally encountered one another. It was like gazing into an oddly twisted mirror and seeing an alternate version of yourself rather than a simple reflection. Emmet became paranoid that Ingo had copied him, but the Pearl Clan Warden easily explained that he was stunned by their similarities, too.

They quickly found themselves spending most of their time together up in the highlands when they were away from their duties as Wardens. Even moving in together to help manage their food resources and guard themselves from the harsh wilds. Emmet's odd spider pokemon that had refused to leave his side since he was found had grown and evolved into another pokemon that proved itself useful for obtaining silk for fabrics of various use. Both seemingly found the electric type quite a familiar thing, but neither knew just what to call it.

Their respective clans had found their closeness a bit odd at first, yet easily accepted it as it proved beneficial to everyone.

You still were stunned after meeting them both that neither had come to the conclusion that they were brothers. Ingo had simply introduced Emmet as a fellow Warden, and Emmet solely referred to Ingo by his name, not a single 'brother' called out by him. It was odd, especially as you had known them before your time in Hisui. They were extremely close back in Unova, completely inseparable. It must have been obvious to them here, too, but for whatever reason it had simply never occurred to them.

The time for asking questions came as Ingo led you through a cave in the highlands. You hung close to his side as he claimed that it was difficult to navigate and becoming 'uncoupled' was not allowed. You giggled at his word choice. A cruel irony, as you technically had been separated from your relationship with him due to his memory issues. Still, just being around him helped relieve a lot of the stress you had been going through in Hisui. Both he and Emmet had certainly gone through similar situations to you. Though, their memory loss had likely made adjusting easier.

“So… How close are you with Emmet?” you asked, finally breaking the silence in a meaningful way, “You two seem like brothers.” The time to tell them about your situation simply had not come yet. The idea of suddenly bursting out that you knew everything about them just felt wrong. It would cause them much unneeded stress, and they seemed perfectly fine the way they are.

“Well, we have taken to sharing a residence for safety reasons,” he replied, “Emmet seems like a nice fellow. A bit too playful at times, but he takes his duties as a Warden quite serious. I respect him.” You nodded along. That almost sounded like how he would describe Emmet back home to strangers. Even calling him a fellow rather than his brother.

“Ah, well, you two looked like brothers to me,” you smiled at him, “You two are identical, you know.” He stopped for a moment and looked around the rocky walls of the darkened cave. It seemed that thought had occurred to him already, but he had chosen not to pursue that line of thinking for whatever reason. You wandered in front of him to look him in the eyes.

“... Is that so? Well, I suppose I do feel like I have known him for a while,” he stated and brought a hand to stroke his goatee, “I wonder which one of us was the older sibling in that case.” You wanted to laugh at his words. The thought of Ingo even viewing Emmet as the older one seemed like an impossible thought back in Unova. Of course, it was impossible to tell with them without prior knowledge.

“I'd say you,” you hummed, “You seem like an older brother.” Ingo once more nodded at your words and began walking once more. You followed alongside him, just as you had before, now wondering what was racing through his head. His guided trip ended, and you separated for now. It was strangely lonely leaving his side once more to face the wilds on your own.

After the Noble pokemon Electrode had been calmed, you crashed outside the arena with a feeling of electric surging still racing through your veins. Somehow, he had felt more threatening than the other three nobles had been. Even Arcanine did not hold a flame to the way Electrode seemingly went after you. You needed to rest for a moment, so you ignored the concerned questions of both Laventon, Adaman, and Emmet.

In your moment of just zoning out, you felt something being softly taken out of your bones. The electrifying feeling finally fading after so long. You turned your head to see an unexpected ally. “Galvantula,” you cooed of the pokemon, who stared at you with their big, adoring six eyes. You patted your lap, and the spider immediately crawled on and just purred. It seemed the other two men had since gone, too, leaving you alone with Emmet. The Warden sat down beside you with wide eyes as the spider nuzzled into your pets.

“... You know us, don't you?” Emmet asked with a tilt of his head, “He has been verrrry protective of me since I first woke up.” You smiled at the familiar feeling. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend to be back home on your couch, just spending time with Galvantula and the younger twin. “You also told Ingo we seemed like brothers,” he continued, “He said you told him he seemed like an older brother.” It appeared the twins had already gossiped amongst themselves. There was rarely anything kept from between them.

“You both look older, you know,” you leaned your head onto his shoulder, “Still identical, though. You two really are twins.” Emmet hummed at your words. A sigh came from you when he placed a hand on your head and softly massaged your scalp. “Yeah, I knew you two,” you answered him properly, “We… We were dating.” It felt bad going against your words, but you decided not to provide them any information that they did not ask for.

“Heehee, I told him that,” Emmet's voice was light and teasing, “Ingo did not believe me when I said you looked at him with pure love.” Your cheeks grew warm at your words. Irida had mentioned your gaze, too. Apparently, your expressions were obvious to everyone but Ingo. “So was it my brother and me you were dating?” he questioned again.

“Both,” you told him. His fingers froze.

“Wooow,” that information had actually caught him off guard, “Couldn't choose?” You wanted to lightly hit his shoulder.

“I'll pick Ingo, then,” you threatened him playfully. He feigned terror.

“Mmm, nope!” he cooed and nuzzled his cheek against your head, “Me.” You laughed.

You stared at the Warden blocking your exit from the cabin with heavy annoyance. Ingo did little to make his brother move, too, which worsened your mood.

While Ingo had seemed mostly indifferent to your exploration for the plates with Volo, Emmet had taken up an opposing position. He had been entirely against it. Something about the blond set off the younger twin to a point where he stood quite literally blocking your only way out to meet him. You had decided to stay with the twins after returning from your banishment from Jubilife simply because the tensions of living there had become too much to bear, but you were currently regretting that decision.

“Emmet,” you sternly spoke, “Volo and I are searching for something of great importance. If it works, I think we may have a way to go home.” Arceus... It was a word neither you nor the blond had said, but completely understood the legendary pokemon to be the final goal. Arceus had been who brought you here, so it was easy to assume that it would too be your way back home. This was your plan to return both you and the twins to modern Unova. Of course, this was currently at a pause.

“He is not trustworthy,” Emmet shook his head, “He's a liar.” Liar? Interesting choice of words, but you supposed he did always prefer honesty. Volo, however, had never really lied to you. He seemed like a kind and helpful person. Even being the only one to reach out to you during your banishment.

“Is this jealousy, Em? I understand if you're uncomfortable with me being alone with another man, but I have my reasons,” you tried to explain, but the younger twin only seemed more frustrated with everything. Ingo finally gazed up from the stew he was stirring at you both.

“Perhaps Emmet could go with you?” he offered, “I imagine it would make everything more bearable.” You sighed but agreed. Emmet being there would be helpful for any dangerous situations, and it would help mitigate his worries. The Diamond Clan Warden hummed for a moment before nodding.

Hopefully, Volo would not mind your new addition.

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #pokemon x reader #ingo x reader x emmet

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

Text

Straight To My Head

I want to be where you are

Summary: All Nesta wants is to live outside of London in peace. She would like nothing more than days filled with books and quiet- a dream made impossible by the Scotsman determined to relive past battle glories on her front lawn

Big thanks to @dustjacketmusings who gave me the idea of LARP-ing Cassian, and @the-lonelybarricade for being my UK consultant once again.

Part 1/2: I Want To Be Where You Are | Read AO3

Six months before:

“Your Uncle Rupert has died.”

Nesta didn’t bother looking up from her book, despite how terribly rude it was to read at the dinner table. Beside her, Feyre was scrolling through her phone, a frown pinching her face. It left only Elain to set her spoon neatly against a folded napkin and ask, “Uncle Rupert?”

“He was your mothers uncle,” their father replied, drawing both Nesta and Feyre’s attention toward him. He looked absurd in his polo get up, an aging man trying desperately hard to fit in. He reminded her of the girls from school and their lack of personality outside of whatever the latest trend was. It was all terribly boring.

And so was he.

“Oh. How terribly tragic,” Elain, ever dutiful, waited to see if there was anything else expected of her. Nesta knew Elain well, and though she was far too polite to ever show it, she cared just as little as Feyre and Nesta did.

“He’s left you girls an inheritance,” their father continued, drawing a soft sigh of annoyance from Feyre.

“Oh?” Elain questioned, examining her immaculate nails that held the garishly ugly diamond Graysen had given her. Nesta was biding her time, certain her younger sister would realize was a dull, preening asshole he was and call it off…but just in case, Nesta also intended to throw Elain an intervention under the guise of a bachelorette party.

She had time. At least a year.

Maybe more, depending on what this inheritance was.

“Castles. Three castles—one for each of you.”

“Why would he do that?” Feyre asked bluntly, echoing both Nesta and Elain’s thoughts. Their father only shrugged.

“Perhaps he was hoping to elevate the three of you.”

Nesta scoffed. Of course their father would think so. All he cared about was more. More money, more power—more than they could ever need, could ever use. Nesta wanted no part of it.

“Where are these castles, exactly?” Nesta asked, finally setting her book down to look him dead in the face.

“I think I’ll turn mine into a bed and breakfast,” Elain murmured, eyes shining as she mentally began planning.

“You don’t even know where it is,” Feyre interrupted. “What if it's crumbling? What if it’s in the middle of nowhere or what if it’s filled with ghosts. What if—”

“Feyre,” Elain interrupted, eyes wide. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure we weren’t given the crumbling wreckage of some haunted estate.”

Now:

Famous last words.

Nesta often thought of Elain’s certainty. While Feyre and Elain began remodeling, Nesta hadn’t needed to. Of the three, hers was in the best condition, though it needed a heating source outside of fireplaces, and she’d used the money their uncle had also left for renovations to revamp the electric.

After that, Nesta had wasted all of the rest of that obscene allowance on furniture and art, furnishings for the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the kitchen—and the library. Nesta had poured so much time and attention into her library that some nights she fell asleep in the oversized white chair just beside the window.

She’d never imagined herself anywhere but London.

Now she was certain she’d never go back. She’d fallen in love with the solitude, with the Scottish Highlands and the town that existed at the base of the hillside her castle had been built upon. It was as old as the stones themselves, and the people were far nicer than anyone in London on their best day.

Nesta would often walk down the steep pathway where she’d have lunch in the little tavern and buy a book at the shop, which was well-stocked with romance, before making her way to the loch where she’d fall asleep on a blanket, reading the new book she’d purchased.

It was exactly like one of her stories.

Save for him, of course.

All books needed a romantic hero. A man who was both handsome and interesting. Cassian MacDougall was certainly the first—at least six foot five and built like a warrior of old, with dark brown hair that hung against broad shoulders, and hazel eyes that were more brown than green.

Not that Nesta was paying that much attention. Not of the closely trimmed beard against the sharp cut of his jaw. Certainly not of his tattooed arms and chest, which were often bare, his golden brown skin gleaming with sweat given he so often forewent a shirt. He did wear a kilt—a red and blue plaid that offered a rather nice view of his muscled knees.

The problem with Cassian was his personality. Before she’d moved in, Cassian had taken to staging loud battles on her front lawn—it was, apparently, the sight of a very famous Scottish victory in some long forgotten battle against the English.

Nesta had merely asked him to stop doing it so close to her window. She wasn’t even unreasonable the first time.

Could you move further down the hill? She’d asked him, intimidated by his largeness, by how obscenely handsome he was.

He’d shot her a grin, and then turned to his friends. “Did ye hear that, lads?! The Englishwoman wants us to clear out!”Everyone had laughed, and Nesta had been humiliated.

Now it was a battle of the wills between them. The nearby town of Killin was swarmed with tourists during the Spring and Summer months, and Cassian made some of his money by taking tourists on a trip through Scottish history—or so Emerie, the woman who owned the local grocery store, had told Nesta. Spring had officially arrived just that morning, and Nesta was wholly unprepared for the sounds of violence wafting through the open windows.

She was going to kill him. It wasn’t even eight in the morning. Rising from her chair in the empty dining room table, Nesta marched through the quiet halls of her castle. Had her uncle known about this when he’d given her this cursed place? Had she angered him once when she’d been a child?

Nesta didn’t know how to reconcile her love of her home with her hatred of Cassian. He was just as willful, just as stubborn, and perhaps worst of all, determined to push her out.

She’d embarrass him right back. She swore she would. If he’d taken money from people and led them up here, she’d ruin his reputation on Yelp, too. She’d read them—just to know how best to ruin him—and everyone liked Cassian.

Everyone but her.

He was there, in his kilt and a sword and, mercifully, a breezy white shirt. He’d brought all his friends with him, some dressed in the stuffy red and white uniforms that had once belonged to the English. They had bayonets attached to guns, none of it sharp enough to wound, and somehow, someone had managed to roll a replica cannon onto the immaculate grass.

She froze, heart hammering at the sheer scale of what was happening—it was fake, and yet her brain and body reacted as though it were real. Not far from her, an Englishman fell to the ground with a groan, clutching at this chest before going utterly silent.

Nesta couldn’t take her eyes off him. Memories of her mothers death flooded through her, as vivid as the battle raging around her. No one else had been in the room when her mother took those last, rattling breaths but Nesta, who had been only eleven. Nesta had spent those six months caring for their mother while she fell victim to aggressive, incurable cancer. Back then, she hadn’t understood that it would take far more than her love and devotion to save her mother.

Elain and Feyre had been too young to take on that burden, and their father too buried and work and grief. It left only Nesta to witness death, to be there in the final last moments.

She’d refused to speak about it, and rarely allowed herself to even think about death. Something had solidified that day, had become hard and Nesta’s will was unbreakable.

And right then, in the early morning sun, she felt it fracture. Just a little, just enough to empty out her mind. Nesta forgot why she’d gone out in the first place, or what she was doing until warm, strong hands lifted her up in the air and began moving her.

A breath of fear wooshed out of her, palms slapping against a muscular back. Cassian—his shirt plastered to his sweat soaked skin—was carrying her across the grounds as he announced, “And we’d take any English lass for our own!”

Revulsion flooded through her.

“Put me down!” she ordered, afraid he was going to accidentally flash a crowd of tourists with her underwear.

Cassian did as he was told, grinning ear to ear. “Everyone applaud for Lady Nesta. She’s a good sport, playing the part of stuffy English broad.”

Tourists in fanny packs, Hawaiian shirts, and thick socks to their knees, offered her a round of polite clapping. She’d come here to humiliate him, and as he so often did, it was Cassian who’d gained the upper hand. Nesta tried to turn, to leave him there, but his hand shot around her waist, holding her firmly against him.

He rattled off battle facts for a solid ten minutes, fingers digging against the fabric of her blue maxi dress. It was only when he finished, and one of his friends began herding people toward the path that Cassian turned to face her.

Nesta’s heart raced. “What do ye think ye’re doing?” he demanded, dropping his hand as though she disgusted him.

“Me?” she replied, adopting an imperiously cold tone in order to mask her own fear. “This is my home, Cassian.”

He scoffed. “For how long, Nes?”

She hated when he called her that. Hated the familiar, intimate nickname of the fact he’d given her one at all. No one had ever dared.

“Excuse me?” she demanded.

He flinched as if she’d slapped him. “How long,” he repeated, enunciating his words with that faux British accent she hated. He was forever mocking her. “How long before you pack up and move out? Another couple months?”

“I’ll be here forever,” Nesta hissed, hoping he believed her. “I’ll be chasing your children off this lawn one day.”

Cassian’s laugh was humorless. “Oh, I believe ye will. I hope ye’re ready for that. I intend tae be prolific.”

“You’d have to find a willing woman, first,” she replied, holding his stare. “And from what I’ve seen, they don’t find you charming. I wonder why that is?”

“So concerned about my bedroom habits, are ye?”

She’d kill him. “What’s to be concerned about? A man in love with his hand is terribly common.”

Cassian took a step toward her, staring down his nose. He was terribly handsome, a brutal prince with that scar slashed over his thick eyebrow and those eyes that she swore saw right through her.

“If ye want to know what I’m like in bed, ye only have to ask.”

“I don’t fuck animals,” Nesta snapped, praying he couldn’t tell how quickly her heart was beating. She turned, not daring to continue this conversation. It was far too dangerous.

Nesta made it all of two steps before his fingers curled around her wrist, turning her so roughly she stumbled into his chest. Nesta inhaled without thinking, drinking the scent of snow capped wind and cedar and the way the sun smelled against the salt of his skin.

She reached with her free hand and slapped him as hard as she could, right against his jaw.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” she ordered. Cassian’s eyes widened, dropping her as he reached for the blooming mark of red against his skin.

Nesta marched off, though it hardly felt like victory. She was certain she’d lost far more than just her side of that argument. Cassian’s booming laughter chased her back in doors, where Nesta remained even after he returned that afternoon.

She couldn’t face him.

And she certainly couldn’t face herself—or her memories.

-*-

“I heard a rumor about ye,” Emerie called as Nesta browsed the shelves of her shop.

“Oh?” Nesta replied, putting a bag of pasta in her little shopping basket.

“I heard Cassian made ye part of his reenactment last week.”

A groan slipped from Nesta before she could stifle it. “Bragging, is he?”

Emerie’s laugh was a pretty sound. “Of course. He’s tae stupid to realize the reason ye bother him so much is because he has a crush on ye. Like a schoolboy tugging on yer braids.”

“Gross,” Nesta responded. Though, Emerie had grown up with Cassian. Surely she could shed light on why he was so…so…Cassian? “Why is he single?”

Emerie’s brown eyes danced with delight. “Thinking about him, tae?”

“Nope. Just curious, that’s all.”

“Of course. Who wouldn’t be curious? Maybe ye should ask him. I’m sure he’d tell ye all about it…maybe over candlelight and—”

“Okay, that’s quite enough,” Nesta grumbled to more laughter. She collected the rest of her groceries while Emerie filled her in on gossip that didn’t center around Cassian, before bidding her a good day. Nesta had never had true friends, and wasn’t sure if Emerie could even be counted as one. She might have, if Nesta could muster the courage to ask her to do something—anything.

But she couldn’t. So Nesta left knowing a little more about the people of Killin and the sense that some of her loneliness was self-imposed. She couldn’t even pretend it was her mothers death that had made her cold. Even as a child, no one had wanted to play with her. None of the other children liked her.

“Ah, mo chridhe,” Cassian called, jogging up the path that led from the edge of the village toward the castle. “I’ve been looking for ye.”

“I can’t see why,” Nesta sniffed, even as Cassian pulled her heavy canvas bag filled with her groceries and slung it over his broad shoulder. “Do you intend to hold my groceries hostage, too?”

“I’ve come to talk with ye,” he replied, one hand thrown up in defense. “About business.”

“I have no business with you.”

“C’mon, Nes,” he pleaded, drawing her attention toward him. “I’ve been staging battles at Killin Castle for five years now.”

“There is land all around you, Cassian. Surely you can move it.”

“Aye, I could, but the castle adds a certain majesty. And it allows me tae charge more—hold on, don’t look at me like that. I’ll give ye a percentage for your trouble.”

“Fifty percent.”

“Take my fucking balls too,” he grumbled. “Thirty.”

“Thirty percent of your total profits just so you can pretend to kill the English on my lawn?” Nesta asked, arching a brow.

“Forty if ye let me haul you off again.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. Thirty it is, then. In exchange, ye’ll leave me be while I’m working—”

“And you’ll stay further away from the windows,” Nesta replied, pausing to both catch her breath and stare him down. Cassian didn’t seem winded at all, lovely beneath a waning sun.

“Fine.”

“And I want a schedule,” she said, hands on her hips.

“Anything else? My fucking cock and balls on a silver tray, tae?”

“You can keep those,” she sniffed, not wanting to think of either. Cassian didn’t protest, didn’t offer her a filthy remark. He was grinning, as if he’d gotten everything he wanted. Nesta hated to see him so happy.

“This is time limited, Cassian. Just until the summer is over. And then I want you gone. Out of my life.”

“It’s a small town, Nes,” he replied with mock solemnity. “I cannae leave.”

“You can avoid me.”

“What makes ye think I’d want that?”

Having reached the top of the hill, and the end of her patience, Nesta reached for her bag. Cassian pulled just out of reach, eyes searching her own. She didn’t like the look of contemplation on his face, or how serious he’d suddenly become.

“What about what I want, Cassian? Which is peace, and a moment free of the chaos you drag with you.”

“Ye might like it, mo chridhe.”

Nesta glared. “We could have had an amicable relationship months ago. This is all we have now, Cassian. Give me my things.”

He handed her the bag with a rueful smile. “It’s a pleasure working with ye.”

“If only I could say the same, Cassian.”

He merely grinned, which annoyed her more. She took off, daring only once to glance over her shoulder. Cassian remained at the top of the hill, his dark hair blowing around his face while he watched her. He raised a hand in a wave, one Nesta did not return. She didn’t trust this new, helpful Cassian.

Whatever angle he was working would only hurt her if she chose to believe it.

Nesta had learned that lesson with Tomas not a year before.

Nesta wasn’t going to learn it again.

-*-

The thing about Cassian, Nesta learned, was that he woke early. He scheduled his mock battles every day at nine am like clockwork. Nesta was rarely up that early and no matter how she tried, could not fall back asleep. He’d taped his schedule to her front door rather than knock and wake her up, which detailed a seven day schedule in which he reenacted two battles monday through friday, and four on saturday and sunday. It seemed brutal, and yet when he came by, sweaty and grinning that Sunday night with a check, Nesta stopped complaining.

If that was thirty percent, no wonder Cassian had been adamant about continuing. Nesta tucked it away, strangely uncomfortable with taking his money. All through spring, Cassian faithfully left money in the little mailbox, and from April to June, Nesta did her very best to avoid him entirely.

She was avoiding everyone. Even herself. Most days, Nesta left her phone uncharged so she didn’t have to see the incoming messages from Elain. Elain, planning her wedding and somehow managing to deal with what seemed like an incredibly irritable tenant of the castle she’d been left, still checked in. Still asked after her—still wanted to know what had happened to chase Nesta out of London so abruptly.

The joke about becoming a bog witch had never meant to shape her reality. Sometimes she wondered if Elain hadn’t heard. If she didn’t know about Tomas, what he’d said.

What he’d tried to do.

As the weather warmed, and more people flooded into the town, Nesta retreated further into the castle where no one could see her. The mere idea of going out filled Nesta with trembling fear. There was too much left to chance, too much chaos and in response, Nesta found herself practically eating in the library. It was the only place that felt safe anymore.

That. And somehow, Cassian, who’d begun knocking on the front door to offer her up money.

She made her way through the open grand hall, eyeing cobwebs clinging to the overhead chandelier. She needed to find someone who could do some cleaning for her.

Nesta pulled open the old, iron handle to find Cassian, his hair half pulled off his head in a messy bun. He was in his kilt, a stable given how often he played the battle warrior, though it was paired with a plain black t-shirt that showed off both his bulging biceps and his collarbone, teased by the little vee just in the front.

“For ye,” he said, holding out an envelope. As she reached for it, Cassian ducked around her, stepping onto the stone floor. He whistled with appreciation.

“I’ve always wondered what this place looked like.” “It looks like a castle,” Nesta replied, the door still open. “Get out.”

Cassian looked her over. “Are ye eating up here?”

“How is that any of your concern?” she asked, hating how her cheeks warmed under his appraisal.

“Emerie said ye aren’t coming down as often. She’s worried about ye, asked me tae check in. I’m checking, Nes. You look tired.”

“You wake me up early,” she replied, though they both knew that wasn’t it.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Did something happen?”

“Nope. I’m perfectly fine. I’ll see Emerie—”

“Why not let me buy ye something tae eat?” he suggested. “At tae Ensnaring Snake. A pint and something else? Whatever ye want.”

“I don’t need your charity, Cassian. I can have a drink without your leering presence.”

“Ah, but what fun would it be without me?” he asked, a roguish grin on his face. “Come down. Even if ye ignore me the entire time.”

There was no way.

“Unless,” he added casually, unaware of how her heart thudded in her throat. “Ye’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!” Nesta snapped. “Now get out, Cassian!”

“Anything, mo chridhe,” he replied, all but sauntering out. She might have believed his swaggering, male bravado, had he not turned to look at her with those worried eyes. It prompted her, once the door was slammed shut in his face, to go up to the bathroom. She supposed she had gotten a little thinner…and the circles beneath her eyes had become far more pronounced. She was paler, too, though she could blame that on avoiding the sun. Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she’d drank any water.

Or eaten a vegetable.

She showered, braiding her hair in a crown around her head like she so often did. Her hands shook as she buttoned up a pale purple dress and laced up her shoes. She couldn’t bring herself to put on make-up, or do anything else that might draw attention to herself.

You’re so fuckint hot, Nesta. You know it, don’t you, with those eyes—those tits—

Nesta wanted to scream. Hand frozen on the handle, she almost turned around. Tomas’s voice, the feel of him pressed against her, how he’d—no. She took a breath, cleared her throat, and marched out into the waning sunlight. There was no way Nesta would let Cassian think she was afraid of going outside.

Even if he was right.

It wasn’t the outdoors that made her nervous. It was all the people, it was the things she couldn’t control.

By the time she made it down the hill and into the center of the village, Emerie had closed up for the day. A little handwritten note told Nesta exactly where she was.

The Ensnaring Snake.

It had Cassian written all over it. Still, despite how it made her palms sweat, Nesta very carefully made her way toward the tavern she’d once enjoyed eating in. Back when there was no one but familiar faces and the streets were mostly empty.

Now it was packed. Nesta pushed the door open just enough to see Cassian at the far end of he room, head thrown back with laughter at something someone at the table had said. His hair was loose, and he’d foregone the kilt for a pair of regular jeans. He looked so normal—and of course he had friends. She didn’t know why that surprised her. She didn’t know why the sight of a rather pretty blonde running her finger over his bare arm made Nesta back out of the doorway.

Why she suddenly felt so stupid. She hadn’t come for him.

She didn’t care about him.

“Hey!”

Nesta ignored the male voices behind her—and the jarring, American accents that seemed so wildly out of place. Arms wrapped around her body, she meant to trudge back home and pretend none of this had happened.

“Hey,” that voice called, dragging the sound of heavy steps over cobblestone with it. A moment later, a hand was on Nesta’s shoulder. She jumped nearly out of her skin, twisting to look at three unfamiliar faces. Each of them reeked of whiskey, and were likely looking for more fun than the village had to offer. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t touch me,” she ordered, earning snickering laughs.

“Or what?” the first, a bleach blonde with a pair of sunglasses clipped to his t-shirt, asked. “We’re just being nice.”

“Oh? Is this considered polite, where you’re from?”

More laughter. Nesta’s heart raced even as she told herself nothing was going to happen. They were having a laugh at her expense but they’d slink off when they realized they were getting nowhere.

“We could be much more polite,” that first step, lunging forward. Nesta stumbled back, falling to the ground and bashing her elbow against the rough cobblestone. Pain ricocheted through her while her eyes smarted. More humiliation, brought low by men she hated.

Nesta scrambled back to her feet, turning without looking at any of them.

“Aw, sweetheart, come back,” they called, laughing loudly. Nesta started to turn for the castle, thinking she’d race up the hill and lock herself up until morning came.

But they were still behind her, trailing after her while whistling and making other little sounds with their tongues and teeth. Cassian could crest that hill without breaking a sweat, but Nesta was slow—they’d catch her.

She sped up, trying to think of where she could go. Panic was making her clumsy, was making her stupid. She should have turned around and gone back into the tavern where anyone could see. Emerie was in there, she would have helped.

Instead, Nesta picked up her steps, hoping they’d get tired of following her when they realized she was heading out of the village. And when they didn’t—when they tried to get closer—Nesta took off running.

They followed, their shadows jumping ahead even as the sun vanished over the hillside. Nesta could only hear her pounding feet and her nervous heart. She was heading for the loch, the absolute worst place to be given there was unlikely to be anywhere out there. Just her, a body of water, and three very drunk tourists looking to have fun at her expense.

Nesta slowed, trying to figure out her next move.

“Tired, babe?” One of them called.

“I can think of something else that’ll tire her out,” another replied. Nesta was inching closer and closer to the dock, wondering if she could swim far enough out that they’d finally leave. Or if that was stupid, and they’d just jump in after her where she’d be well and truly fucked.

She couldn’t go past them. Glancing over her shoulder saw the three of them walking in a solid line. They’d catch her.

“Please stop,” one of them called, jogging after her. Nesta surged forward, her feet touching the dock before she felt those fingers on her arm again. “Why are you running?”

She wanted to die. “You’re chasing me.”

“You don’t have to run. We don’t want to hurt you,” he lied, his eyes absolutely betraying him. She’d seen that look before, had watched another man’s gaze dip below her chin, taking in her body, wondering what it would feel like to just have her, regardless of her own feelings on the matter.

“Take your hands off me.”

The other two laughed and laughed. “Or what?”

“Or—”

“Or I’ll kill ye,” came another, familiar voice. Nesta could have sobbed at the sound, had never been happier than she was just then to see Cassian strolling up, deceptively casual. He cocked his head, dark hair spilling around him as he waited.

That first man looked from Cassian to Nesta and then, with a smile that clearly said he thought Cassian was outmatched, replied, “Oh? She’s yours?”

Cassian didn’t smile. “Find out.”

Nesta was so busy watching Cassian that she’d stopped watching the others. She didn’t see that hand shove toward her, didn’t realize he’d decided to call Cassian’s bluff until she stumbled backwards.

She hit the water with a choked scream. She flailed for a moment, twisting around before pushing upward. The water was dark, was colder than she’d expected, though not so cold she couldn’t still think straight.

She broke the surface a moment before she heard a splash, and then felt him, arms around her.

“Don’t hit me,” Cassian warned breathlessly.

“Where did they go?” Nesta demanded, letting Cassian drag her back to the dock. He hoisted her up effortlessly before joining her. Water sluiced off him, though he hardly seemed to notice. His eyes burned, and when he reached for her, she saw his knuckles were bloody and had begun to swell and bruise.

“They’re gone,” he said tightly. He swallowed some unnamed emotion, looking her over.

“Unharmed,” she said, resisting the urge to draw her knees up to her chest. Instead, Nesta gingerly rose to her feet, weighed down by the heavy fabric of her dress and her wounded pride.

“I saw ye,” he said, following her up. “In the tavern. I saw ye come in and I—”

He’d followed her. Nesta might have asked him why another night. Might have berated him for thinking she’d want his attention. Instead, Nesta forced herself to take a breath.

“Will you walk me home?”

Cassian swallowed again. “Yeah. I—is this my fault, Nes?”

“No, Cassian,” she said, suddenly exhausted.

“I was trying to rile ye up. Get ye out of that castle. I feel like…”

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated.

It’s mine, she nearly added, though she kept it behind her teeth.

“Why didnae ye run home, mo chridhe? Why’d ye come out here?”

“The hill,” she whispered, trying so hard not to let him see how rattled she was. Cassian looked down, eyebrows raised with surprise.

“Can I show ye something?”

And right then, Nesta would have let Cassian do anything he liked so long as he didn’t leave her.

“Sure.”

“Cassian,” Nesta began when he opened the door to the Ensnaring Snake.

“Trust me,” he replied, placing a careful hand on her bruised elbow. Inside, music and laughter flooded Nesta’s senses, and for a moment she expected him to lead her back to his table. She almost wanted him to, though she was in no mood to make conversation. It might have been nice to hear him introduce her to his friends, to sit her down and buy her that pint like he’d promised.

He wove in and out of the tables, nodding when people called his name. His touch was light—careful. Like he knew better than to do any more.

Like he knew what she didn’t like about it.

There was no way to explain to him that his touch had never bothered her. She’d have to tell him that she noticed his eyes, how they stayed on her face. How even when he’d been surveying her that morning, he’d been looking with concern—not desire. Not lewd appreciation. And how even when Cassian was manhandling her, his hands never went anywhere inappropriate, though it would have been all too easy for him to cop a feel and play it off like an accident.

She wondered if he even realized it.

Cassian took her around the back of the bar, pulling open an old, wooden door that clearly led to a cellar.

“Cassian,” Nesta tried again.

“Trust me,” he repeated. Nesta opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t trust him at all. But she could see his swollen knuckles from the corner of her eye, and thought of how quick he must have been to hit them hard enough to hurt himself and jump into the water after her. He hadn’t had to do either. He could have left her. Could have walked away.

So Nesta followed him down into the musty dark, wishing she could grab his arm.

“I used tae come here when I was wee,” Cassian explained, leading her around packing boxes and crates toward another, sturdier door. “You’ll still have to go uphill, but it takes ye right to the castle.”

Nesta was still sopping wet, exhausted and wrung out. She looked up at him, wanting him to go with her. She couldn’t ask.

“Thank you,” she said instead, turning toward that dark.

“I’ll see ye up,” Cassian said gruffly.

And together, they plunged into that darkness.

-*-

“What do you mean, married?” Nesta demanded, phone to her ear as she stomped out of the bookshop. “How can she marry a fictional man?” “He’s not fictional,” came Elain’s patient voice. “I looked him up. Rhysand Campbell is a Duke. I guess that’s why she kept such a tight lid on him back home.”“A Duke? For Feyre?!” Nesta spluttered, trying to imagine wild, carefree Feyre marrying into ancient, outdated royalty. She’d always expected that of Elain, if anyone.

“I’m going to meet him next week, so I’ll let you know. But he seems very accomplished, and he’s quite handsome.”

“Is she sure?” Nesta asked, not thinking about her path until she was already on it. “Marriage is just so…”

She trailed off, remembering that Elain was engaged. Hell. She hadn’t meant to insult her, though the tense, following silence made Nesta think she had. “How er…how is that going?”

“I called it off,” Elain finally said, her voice strange and small. “Just yesterday.”

“Did he do something?” Nesta demanded, readjusting the blanket she was caring beneath her arm. “Because I’ll kill him—”

“It’s all handled,” Elain assured her quickly. “I don’t expect him to give me any trouble.”

“What does that mean? Handled how?” Nesta demanded. Elain was so nice it practically made her a doormat. Nesta didn’t believe for a single second that Elain had truly handled anything, and wondered if the engagement had been called off for infidelity. Graysen wouldn’t give her trouble because he’d already moved on.

“Drop it, Nesta,” Elain replied firmly.

“Fine. But if you need help—”

“I don’t. Everything here is fine. How are you doing? Did you ever get rid of that guy role playing on your lawn?”

Nesta started to say that she and Cassian had reached a truce of sorts, which wasn’t quite the truth and not exactly a lie, either. Instead, Nesta said, “Erm…let me call you back.” Because there, in the middle of the glittering water, stood a very shirtless, possibly naked Cassian. Gleaming in the sunlight, his head tipped back so the rays might warm his face. He didn’t look real and Nesta didn’t know what to do.

He wasn’t alone. Along the shore, children splashed and kicked up water while others floated around him, oblivious to what Nesta was seeing. She wondered what the whorling, inked tattoos on his shoulders and chest meant.

And as she wondered, her eyes drifted down the packed muscles against his ribs, toward the carved vee of his hips. Nesta could scarcely breathe, had forgotten what she was supposed to be doing until her eyes came back to his face.

He was looking at her, too. Shit eating grin etched over his handsome face, one hand raised upward to beckon her to join him.

Hell.

Nesta turned, embarrassed she’d been caught ogling him. She would not submit to any of his humiliating taunts or those burning eyes that promised far more than Nesta thought she wanted. Of course, Cassian couldn’t bask in his victory, of knowing some diseased part of her was attracted to him, despite their strange push-pull between animosity and friendship. He was behind her in a pair of bright red swim trunks and nothing else, jogging up the path while Nesta tried desperately to escape him.

“Why are ye leaving?” he asked, running a hand through his still wet hair. “Come swim.”

“No, thank you,” she replied. “I just remembered—”

“Oh, bullshit, mo chridhe,” he replied. “There is nothing to do but sit up at that miserable stack of rocks. Swim with me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Okay, then do something else with me,” he replied.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, rounding on him. That was a mistake. Cassian was far closer than she thought, and when she stopped, he kept going. He kept her from tumbling backward, wrapping a slick around her and pressing her into his chest.

She hated how good it felt to touch him. To feel him hold her, to keep her close for a moment before he let her go.

“Why not?” he asked, strangely breathless. “Ye’ve been here half a year—don’t ye want friends?”

“Is that what we are?” she asked, distracted by how close he was, by how nearly naked he was. It took no effort to try and picture what the rest of him might be like…and it would have been a lie to say she wasn’t curious if all of him was large.

“Yes?” he asked, clearly frustrated. “I thought so.”

“I don’t want to swim,” she repeated, though in truth, Nesta didn’t want to do anything with him right now. It was too risky to be alone with him. She’d touch him, she’d get on her knees and do any number of terrible, filthy things to him. Nesta couldn’t breathe. She needed to escape him.

“Something else?” he asked, not moving an inch. His eyes were glazed over, staring right through her. Nesta blinked.

“I er…another day, Cass.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I should—” he turned abruptly. Had she upset him? Nesta watched him for a moment before she turned, too, unwilling to get caught staring at him again. Nesta didn’t allow herself to think of him at all. For the rest of the day, every time the image of him standing in the water, Nesta banished it quickly and busied herself in some other task.

Right up until night fell, and she could crawl into bed.

Only then did Nesta allow herself to think about Cassian.

-*-

“Rhysand is missing,” Elain whispered to Nesta. Nesta, still guarding the door where Feyre was speaking with a Duke, turned to look at her sister, eyes wide.

“I’ll kill him,” Nesta hissed, biting her bottom lip.

“His friends are here,” Elain said, running through a mental list of guests. “I’ll see if they know where he is. Don’t move,” Elain added, finger in the air.

“This whole thing is a disaster,” Nesta grumbled, hating the pitying look Elain threw her. Nesta knew, realistically, that Elain had done her best with the guest list and she was terrible at telling their father no. And Elain had called ahead of time to warn Nesta that the Mandray’s had secured an invitation.

Everyone wanted to see Feyre Archeron marry a Duke. Social parasites and other hanger-oners had flooded into the lovely castle all day, marveling over the architecture and hoping to rub elbows with real royalty.

Nesta didn’t think Elain had managed to get anyone but Duke Campbell, just as she didn’t think Feyre was aware her wedding had turned into the event of the year. Nesta was desperate to avoid the majority of London, and planned to catch a ride back with Elain in the morning. Just to the train station—she’d make the rest of the way back on her own, even if she had to walk.

There was no way she was spending a weekend with Tomas Mandray.

Elain returned, accompanied by a familiar, grinning face. “Well, well, well,” Cassian said, running his hand down a buttoned down, black shirt. He wore that red and blue kilt and black socks that came up over his knees, a sporran around his hips.

“Do you two know each other?” Elain asked.

“This is the gentleman roleplaying on my lawn,” Nesta said. The man beside him, dressed identically, though his kilt was primarily blue plaid.

“Role-playing, Cass?” he asked.

“This is Cassian?” Elain replied, eyebrows raised to the sky.

“Have ye been talking about me?” Cassian asked Nesta with a lopsided smile. “What else does she say?”

“That you’re exceptionally obnoxious,” Elain replied, earning a laugh from the other man.

“All true,” he murmured, before adding, “Azriel.”

They were given no more time for pleasantries before Feyre emerged, flushed and practically glowing. She didn’t seem concerned that her fiancé was missing—only annoyed. Elain ordered them to split up, which Azriel did without complaint—but Cassian did not.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said just as soon as Elain and Azriel were out of earshot. “I didnae know Feyre was yer sister. I should have guessed, I supposed, given what a hard time she’s given my brother.”

“Good for her,” Nesta replied before adding, “Brother?”

“Not in tae biblical sense. Rhys and I met when he was at a posh boarding school and trying to buy whiskey on the weekend.”

“Let me guess—you sold him the whiskey.”

“Ye know me so well, mo chridhe,” he said with a grin. “Been inseparable ever since.”

“Then why is he missing?” she demanded. Cassian pulled open a closet door, revealing a mop that fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

There was no humor on Cassian’s face as he knelt to pick it up. “He doesn’t think he’s worthy.”

Nesta didn’t know how to take that, how to possibly respond. She didn’t know any man that had ever put a woman above himself. The idea that Rhysand would have left because he thought her sister could do? better was an anomaly. Unheard of.

“I’ll bet they’re outside,” Nesta said after a moment. Cassian caught her by the arm, holding her still.

“Maybe they don’t want tae be found just yet,” he murmured, that burning back in his eyes.

“Cass—”

“Nesta?”

She wanted to die at the sound of that voice. Those brown eyes, that sharp, sneering face and that lean body pressed into an elegant suit. Cassian turned, looking Tomas up and down with such keen awareness on his face. She could read his every expression, the oh, I understand now.

But he didn’t.

Nesta started to inch closer to Cassian, who, of course, immediately noticed. He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips, and ghosted a kiss against her knuckles. It was so obviously a claiming and a threat, all at once.

“Hi, Tomas.”

“I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“For my sister's wedding?” she asked archly. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

Cassian raised his brows.

“Of course I am,” he replied, staring her down with those dead, soulless eyes. “Your father said I was the son he never had.”

Cassian started to take a step forward, stopped only by Nesta’s vicious squeeze of his hand.

“He’s still so terribly disappointed by how things happened. What, exactly, did you tell him?”

Nesta wanted to die. “Nothing,” she managed, her heart pounding in her throat. Cassian watched this power struggle—did he understand what was happening?

“We should get together the next time you’re in London,” Tomas said, eyes flicking to Cassian with distaste. As if Cassian couldn’t have broken him clean in two. As if Cassian was someone beneath him. “Carter.”

Cassian offered an edged smile. “Hackit.”

Nesta snorted, pressing her hand against her lips. Tomas narrowed his eyes, but kept moving without insulting her. Nesta imagined he, too, realized the danger Cassian presented. Even without those swollen, bloodied knuckles, Cassian looked like a man who could fight.

“Want tae tell me what that was about?” Cassian asked the second Tomas slipped down the hall.

“Of course not,” she snapped, wrenching her hand from his. “Don’t kiss me again.”

“No? Are ye sure about that? Because I saw ye at the loch—”

“You didn’t see anything,” Nesta insisted, heart hammering. Her two worlds were colliding unforgivably. Cassian and Tomas were not supposed to exist together, and seeing Cassian, in his kilt, call Tomas ugly in his suit, had managed to tie Nesta up in knots.

“Don’t go out there,” Cassian complained when Nesta stepped onto the lawn, still rain soaked from a recent storm. “Yer gonna ruin yer dress!”

“FEYRE!” she yelled, mostly to convince Cassian to stop talking.

“Ye cannae end every conversation ye don’t like by running off. I’m not going anywhere, mo chridhe come back—”

Cassian hauled Nesta up over his shoulder before she could take another step.

“Cassian! Put me down!”

“No,” he replied easily, walking her back to the house. “They’ll return when they’re ready.”

“Cassian,” she pleaded. He set her back to her feet, catching that note of desperation in her voice before she had to beg, though his body blocked her path further into the castle.

“What did he do to ye, Nes?” he asked, his fingers curling to fists at his side.

“Why do you care?” she demanded, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Of course I care!” Cassian hissed, stepping closer, until Nesta was pressed against the stone wall.

“I don’t understand you,” Nesta breathed, swallowing hard as he drew nearer.

“Trust me, I don’t either,” he whispered. “Will ye tell me what he did to ye?”

“Why? So you can hit him, too?”

“Oh, mo chridhe, I will do far, far worse,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to her mouth. Nesta had lost control of the situation, of this man who she didn’t even like. Who would go back to reenacting battles on her lawn, who was beloved by the town and the son of a Duke and—

“If ye won’t tell me that, tell me something else.”

Nesta’s eyes went back to his. More brown than green. “What?”

“Tell me the truth, Nesta Archeron. Tell me ye want me just as much as I want ye.”

“I—” he caught her lips before the lie could tumble out of them, kissing her softly. One hand cupped her cheek while the other braced the wall she was pressed against. His eyes fluttered shut but Nesta kept hers open, drinking him in. He looked so wrecked, like he’d been thinking about this for a long, long time and was finally realizing it was nothing like he imagined.

And so she kissed him back, hands at her sides while she waited for the inevitable disappointment. The realization that whatever he’d imagined didn’t live up to reality. One kiss became two, became a third and yet Cassian didn’t pull back like they so often did. He didn’t sharpen. If anything, he became softer, more desperate with each passing kiss between them. The softness of his closely trimmed beard brushed over her jaw while his thumb rubbed a soft circle over her cheek.

Give in, she swore she heard him say. Nesta wanted to—oh, she wanted to take everything he was offering so badly it made her legs shake. If he didn’t know now, he’d figure it out soon enough. Nesta was not the kind of woman men fell in love with. She’d never been that woman, and never would be. No matter how badly she wanted to be, no matter how much she wanted to believe Cassian could push through walls made of iron and find the trembling softness beneath, he was still a man.

And at some point, she’d become a game for him. Something to conquer, regardless of the tactics it took. It was that thought that convinced Nesta to finally pull back, hands planted on his chest as she shoved.

“That’s enough,” she said, another lie he immediately caught.

Cassian pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It’s not,” he rumbled, reaching for the back of her neck. “Ye want me to think yer made of ice, but I know better.”

“Oh? And what am I made of, Cassian?” she demanded in that hard, imperious tone. The sort that pissed men off, that sent them running.

His eyes flashes.

“Fire.”

When he kissed her again, Nesta’s eyes slammed shut before she even realized what she was doing. This time, Nesta’s fingers raked through his neat hair, pulling him closer. She wasn’t gentle, thinking it would push him off her. She misjudged him—Nesta pulled at the strands and Cassian groaned, pressing his body hard against her. He liked this.

Which was a fucking tragedy, because she did, too. Cassian moaned again, loud enough anyone with ears in the vicinity knew what was happening in the back hall, and Nesta, for just this once, did not care.

Her tongue swept into his mouth, tasting him like she’d wanted to the day at the loch. He tasted like whiskey and warmth and like she needed to get him out of his clothes as fast as she could, before she changed her mind.

“Slow down, slow down,” he breathed, catching her wrist when she trailed down his chest. “Have ye done this before?”

“Does it matter?” she replied, certain it didn’t.

He huffed out a soft breath. “Of course it fucking matters.”

“I—” He was going to ruin her. He was already making a mess of things. Nesta needed the upper hand, needed a way to get what she wanted without getting hurt. If that was even possible.

There was no way to have him and remain unscathed. The smart thing to do was walk away. “This can’t mean anything, Cassian.”

His brows furrowed. “Ye don’t mean that.”

“You don’t know me–”

“Because ye make it impossible!” he replied, raking his fingers through his hair. “People care about ye, and it’s like…”

“Like what?” she asked, her throat rough and dry. She never should have stopped kissing him. She shouldn’t have said anything at all. Cassian looked down the hall, sighing a breath.

“Like ye expect us all tae leave ye, so ye leave first.”

“You don’t like me,” she said. It was a question.

No one likes me. Why should you?

“At first,” he admitted. “I thought ye’d be like yer uncle. Stuffy…arrogant…and ye were, ye know ye were. I thought ye’d leave—hoped, I suppose. Until I started liking the sight of ye, storming out with yer braid and yer book. Fuming mad and all of it directed at me. I wanted to get tae know ye and I’ve been trying. And not just me. Emerie, tae. She thinks the world of ye. Yer sisters, tae, and probably everyone else if ye let them.”

Nesta shook her head, swallowing the wave of emotion rising. “This is all wrong. You hate me–”

“Hate,” he said, pressing both palms against the wall, caging her between his body, “is the last thing I feel for ye.”

“I wish you did,” she said.

“If all ye want is something unserious,” he began, eyes searching her own. She swore he could read her every word for the truth, that he didn’t need to hear her speak to know all the things wrong. All the secrets she held. “Then I’ll take what yer offering. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck ye in the hall.”

“Cassian—”

“Ye said, ‘I don’t fuck animals,’” he began mimicking an absurd British accent. “And I believe ye. At least, for now.”

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered, certain she was going to be picking her shattered heart up off the floor by the time they were done. Cassian brushed his lips over her own.

“When it comes tae ye, mo chridhe, I have no defenses.”

#nesssian #nesta x cassian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian acotar #dont let part 1 fool you #like oh theyre going to talk about their feelings LOL youll see #also im in hell because i want to write elucien so bad and instead im just teasing it in the background

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scotianostra · 1 year

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On June 6th 1944 Allied forces stormed the beaches of Northern France on what became known as D-Day.

There were no doubt many acts of bravery on that day when the tide started to turn against the Nazi regime that ultimately ended World War Two. I shall concentrate on one, but will also tell you about a German sniper that day and a wee tenuous brave Canadian.

‘Piper’ Bill Milllin landed on Sword Beach on the Coast of Normandy as part of the 1st Special Service Brigade in the second wave of the operation.

Pipers were banned from being on the frontline during the Second World War because of the number of casualties seen during the First World War. The enemy figured out that the piper helped boost morale to the Allied troops, and they were slaughtered because of this. This led the War Office to restrict their presence in camps as well as on the frontline.

Millin pointed this out to his Commanding Officer Brigadier Lord "Shimi" Lovat Fraser, hereditary chief of the Clan Fraser, who was a law unto himself. “Ah, but that’s the English War Office, Millin,” Lovat told him. “You and I are both Scottish so that doesn’t apply.”

As Bill Millin embarked from the landing craft and waded through chest high water making his way toward dry land, high above his head he carried his pipes, the only weapon he would need that day. Around him bullets flew, mortar shells exploded Bill_Millin1and his friends, comrades and countrymen died, but Bill carried onward.

It was what came next that made Bill Millin a legend! Lord Lovat, the Chief of Clan Fraser and Brigadier of the 2,500 commandos, instructed the 21 year old Bill Millin to fire up his pipes and play a tune to inspire the men. And with the five words ‘Give us “Highland Laddie” man!’, the Legend of ‘Piper’ Bill was born.

Amid the carnage and destruction Bill Millin played as he had never played before. While marching up and down the beach of Normandy, Millin played the tunes ‘Hielan’ Laddie’, ‘The Road to the Isles’ and ‘Blue Bonnets over the Border’, and at one point added ‘The Nut Brown Maiden’ for a redheaded French girl who had strayed out of her home.

The day would see Millin and his unit march four miles inland to a point known as Pegasus Bridge, which was a strategically vital point for the German 21st Panzer Division. D-Day was the turning point in the Allies’ battle against Hitler and ‘Piper’ Bill Millin stands a reminder of the bravery and sacrifice made by ordinary people in extraordinary times.

Facing the soldiers coming ashore that day was Horst Hrubesh, German machine gunner, he too can be seen as a hero of sorts, if you read the poem he penned, I will let you decide;

Scottish soldier play your pipes

Even though your in my sights

Just like me you have a wife

I aim above your head

For full five minutes i fire up high

Keep my bullets up in the sky

No mad piper, you will not die

I will not lay you dead.

Now at my Nazi captains call

He wonders why you do not fall

They drag me from my post in haste

Another gunner i am replaced

In a cell now i await

Whats sure to be a bloody fate

Jack boots stamp across the yard

By my cell with windows barred

Soldier friends i stood beside

Now gather in a long straight line

Blindfold no i did decline

To see their faces full of guilt

As they take my life for i shalt not kill.

Horst Hrubesh was German , but not a nazi, he paid the price for his act on D Day.

The third person to get a mention today is James M. Doohan who landed ashore at Juno beach. Later that day se would be shot 6 times, survive and go on to become Scotty on Star Trek.

Doohan was a commissioned lieutenant with the 14th Field Artillery Regiment of the 3rd Canadian Infantry Division, and was tasked with invading an area of Normandy code-named Juno Beach. As the meme states, Doohan successfully led his men across the beach littered with anti-tank mines, and also managed to take out two German snipers:

Lieutenant Doohan was however not shot by a German sniper. He had been shot by a nervous, trigger-happy Canadian sentry.

Doohan said. "We landed safely, thank God, through those Y-shaped steel barriers you see in the film, tracer bullets, all that, none of our men hurt, and dashed 75 yards to the 7-foot tall dunes," Doohan said.

"Crossed a minefield, found out about it later: It was meant to blow up tanks, and we weren't heavy enough. Moved up through a down - hardly a town just a village - called Graye Sur Mer, saw a church tower that was a machine-gun post, firing off to our left.

Doohan took out the machine-gun post with a couple of shots. "I don't know if they were killed or wounded, but it shut them up," he said. The Canadian soldier later said he didn't notice the gunshot wounds in his legs until he got to the medic who told him;

'You also have four bullets in your left knee.' I said: 'Well, I walked here.'"

#scotland #scottish #d day #world war two #history #piper bill millin #lord lovatt #James Doohan #Canadian #Soldiers #heroes #brave men #bag pipes

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shurisasthmaticgf · 2 years

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Dating Shuri and Riri: Shuri x Riri x Black! Queen Fem! Reader

warnings: spoilers, mentions of scars, incorrect translations (pls politely lmk if im wrong)

🤎 You met Shuri and Riri at the same time

🤎 Somehow you'd managed to get your kingdom roped into the entire mess of Riri and her vibranium detector

🤎 Shuri had reached out to your for help because she knew you lived in America for some years with a distant relative until you were coronated queen of your family's kingdom

🤎 Honestly the only reason you said yes was cuz she was fine as a mf

🤎 Then you and her were sent to find this Riri chick and you found yourself drooling over both of them

🤎 At first there was obvious competition between the three of you for one another's affection until all of you realized the feelings were completely mutual

🤎 Pet names were a given: To Riri you were Baby Girl and to Shuri you were Sithandwa. While you often called Riri '‘Ìfẹ́ mi’ and Shuri Àyànfẹ́mi or interchangeably used ma/mama or babe

🤎 You had never had one girlfriend before let alone two so things were a little complicated at times

🤎 So many small miscommunications and petty arguments happened which made you wonder if this was the type of relationship you wanted

🤎 But then Namor damn near killed both Shuri and Riri in front of you at the same time and you realized you couldn't imagine not having both of them

🤎 After everything you did have to return to your kingdom which was known as the Highlands: a little farther than Jabariland

🤎 The distance is bearable when you can take a flyer to see Shuri and when Riri goes between both the Golden City and the Highlands

🤎 Unlike Riri and Shuri you aren't a technology genius or scientist of any kind

🤎 The last science-ish thing you did was accidentally microwave a plate that had silver on it

🤎 It was nearly three in the morning and you wanted a snack so you went to heat up something and the microwave literally exploded. Which triggered an entire palace lockdown and a dozen Dora Milaje to arrive in less than 15 seconds. All while you stood there in your bonnet and that ugly ass leopard print house dress that Riri swore made you look like her grandma wore when she was a kid. And all you wanted was a Hot Pocket.

🤎 Riri and Shuri spend hours on end holed up in their labs so most nights you end up going to get them or blowing up their notifications until they cave and come to bed

🤎 You love listening to them talk about whatever they are working on even though you don't get it

🤎 It's not like you haven't TRIED to understand their computer-techy- big brain stuff. You tried having them teach you and it literally sounded like they were speaking Simlish in reverse to you

🤎 But despite science and math not being your thing, you were fantastic at humanties and liberal arts related things

🤎 So while they understood computers and things, you were busy teaching Wakandan translators

🤎 You'd learned Yoruba as a young child which was spoken in your kingdom as well as in the nearby Jabariland. Then you'd learned Xhosa some time in grade school per your father's request. You learned English and Spanish while living in America and attending school there. Some other miscellaneous ones you picked up through other things. You jumped to the opportunity to learn Yucatec Maya to help relations with Wakanda and Talokan.

🤎 There were times you got tongue tied as that happens with being a polyglot. But you managed to keep things straight unless on of your girlfriends was messing with you

🤎 They knew exactly how to tease you too which didn't help when you were trying to work. Like they'd purposely enter the room wearing the most distracting fucking outfit while you're trying to meet a deadline.

🤎 For that exact reason you made it clear as day that if they're going to pull something they better at least have clothes on. It went unsaid but they knew full and well it was because your clumsy-grandma using technology ass would accidentally turn the camera around at the worst possible moment

🤎 Although you and your girlfriends work day and night, you all prioritize spending time with one another, especially for dates

🤎 You three go on dates together and other times it might just be two of you. Hell you even started doing dates by yourself just for self care which Shuri also picked up and made a habit for herself

🤎 There was a time Riri went off on her own without telling you or Shuri where she went. She left everything including her phone which only freaked you and Shuri out more. Come to find out she was trying to do a self care weekend and went back to Chicago. She didn't realize how bad she fucked up til she came back and saw how distraught you and Shuri were. Somehow you managed to keep yourself together...ish. But Shuri on the other hand was a fucking mess.

🤎 Both you and Riri noticed that there were some parts of Shuri that had yet to heal from the pain and trauma she'd endured in a short period of time. She had her moments which you both waited out and let her deal with herself unless she asked for it. And when she did ask you were both there to love and support her in any way she needed. Mostly ends in cuddles.

🤎 You're a blanket stealer. Riri is a kicker. Shuri is the sleep talker.

🤎 The two of them fall asleep before you do nearly every single night without fail and sometimes you just look over their sleeping forms in absolute awe at how uniquely perfect they both are.

🤎 The way that Riri subconsciously bites the very left corner of her bottom lip as she sleeps. How her small and calloused hands with nails trimmed down to the edge fit so perfectly in yours. The way that one scar on the bottom of her chin lines up with the one on the top of her head from jumping out of a tree when she was six. How a smile tugs on the corners of her lips when she's having a good dream...and not that kind of dream but the ones where she's genuinely happy with whoever she meets there.

🤎 The way that Shuri's brow furrows while she sleeps until you smooth it over with your thumb. How her tattooed palm always remains face up so you can lace your fingers over hers while she sleeps. How that scar on her stomach that matches the one on her back, the one's she refuses to show you and Riri to this day, feels underneath your hand and overtop her shirt, that raises and falls with every breath she takes. And how she calms so easily when you place your hand over her cheek after hearing her let out the faintest whimper in her sleep.

🤎 Those are your girls, only yours.

#shuri x black!reader #black panther wakanda forever #black panther fanfiction #black wlw #shuri x y/n #shuri x riri #riri x reader #riri x shuri #riri x y/n #shuri fanfiction #shuri x reader #black reader #mcu shuri #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe

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targaryen-realness · 2 years

Text

Witchling Chapter 2

Title: Witchling

Pairing: Osferth x Druidess!Reader

Warnings: Canon depiction of violence, mention of slavery, wounds and scars, magic, historical innacuracy (sorry medieval Scotland is not my specialty), talk about faith and christianity. The reader is fem but there is no physical description except for the fact she is a scot from the Highlands.

Summary: As they are riding away from Winchester, Osferth and Lord Uhtred’s group come across a mysterious woman. She needs help but the power within her is obvious. Captivated, Osferth hopes she will stay, but as Uhtred asks her to travel with them, he cannot help but wonder what is going on in his lord’s head.

For the first time in forever, you slept well and without too much interruption. Your mind was still plagued by the men that tormented you for months, even a year maybe, you had no idea how much time had passed. At the beginning of your captivity, after the death of your brother you wished for freedom. There was nothing you wanted more than to leave this place for good. England had hurt you too much already. Then, after weeks of abuse, of being forced to use your powers against your will and even more, you had wished for death. You had never been scared of it, well aware that like every being you were a part of a greater cycle. Death was never the end, but you wished it had been yours. After, you wished for revenge. This need for retribution had guided you through this nightmare. The prospect of one day killing every man that had wronged you, to avenge your brother, was what kept you alive. It was that same feeling that got you up that morning to kill Baltair, your third captor. You still remembered his blood gushing out of his neck as you slided it open. The look on his face, surprise and terror. You spate on his face before running as fast as you could. You knew you could not kill them all today. But it was only a matter of time. You ran as fast as you could until your feet were bleeding, your muscles sore, until you could not feel your body anymore. They still caught up on you pretty fast, of course they had horses and hounds. You wouldn’t be caught alive though. The moment where you decided to jump in that river was brief, a second or so, that ended in chaos.

This morning it is the cold that woke you up. There was some light outside and you could still hear the breathing of the others. It was oddly calming. You turned around to see who was lying next to you and without a surprise it was the young monk. He had led you to the room where everyone was sleeping just after your bath. He wished you a good night with a smile and left. You did not hear him come back later, you must have slept deeply. You stood up as silently as you could and left the room. Lord Uhtred was already up, eating something at one of the tables. His witch was glued to his side and you could not help but cringe at the sight. You had never met a danish witch but you could tell she was bad news. She was dangerous. A pretty face was most of the time enough to mess with the minds of men. Adding magic abilities to that was an assured disaster. You knew what you were talking about. You never manipulated any men, you could not cloud their minds like she was doing. If you could, you would have done it a long time ago. You belonged to no one, and no one except yourself could use your powers, now you were sure of it. Your captors did not have access to most of your abilities because you did not want to. Now you were free and ready to fight.

“Well, look who is up! Come here seer. Sit down.”

“Thank you again for the clothes.

-Do not worry. You were not going to stay in your”, he marked a pause smirking “dress”.

You smiled and accepted the plate he was giving you. You ate in silence, still conscious of the eyes of the other witch on you. You did not know why this lord was so kind to you but there was one thing you had learned. Nothing came for free in this world. You knew that too well and you were ready to pay for it. You were just nervous about not knowing what price you were going to pay.

He could see you were curious about who they were talking about.

“Aethelflead is the daughter of Alfred, king of Wessex” Osferth said to you.

You looked at him surprised. He already felt bad for even thinking of trying to ignore you.

“You all know king Alfred and his family?

-Yes of course.

-Sorry, I don’t know much about what has happened in England lately.” you said trying to make the situation a bit more humorous. As if it was not because you were a slave that you didn’t know any of this.

“I worked for Alfred for a bit. We have a complicated relationship.

-I see. Kings are complicated anyway.

-But you know girl, you don’t need to go to Winchester to meet the blood of Alfred” said Finan, already laughing. Osferth looked at him internally praying for him to shut his mouth. His prayer fell in deaf ears apparently.

“This boy right here.” he put his hand on Osferth’s shoulder “Is Alfred’s bastard”

You seemed genuinely surprised. You looked at him, your mouth slightly agape.

“You are the king’s son?

-Just his bastard.

-That is crazy. So Aethelflead is technically your sister?

-We- We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

You hummed in understandment. You did not insist more simply asked:

“Where are you going now?

-We are joining Alfred at Eashine. The rest of my men are joining us right now.”

They left soon after, and to Osferth delight, you were riding with him this time. Apparently it was because Finan needed to be free of his movement if there had to be a problem. There had been no problem, the ride was long but calm, so much so he had all the leisure to enjoy the feeling of you pressed against his back. You had kept quiet most of the ride except for the sweet laugh you let escaped everytime one of the men said something silly. He could feel it, the rumble in your chest before he could hear the sound so close to his ear. He politely asked you if everything was alright from time to time and you simply hummed in response. You even put your chin on his shoulder at some point trying to see what was in front of you. He could now see the fortress of Eashine in the distance, catching up with Finan and Sihtric in the front. Lord Uhtred stopped on his horse as they kept going, the danish witch still at the front of the retinue.

“I think she may have got herself inside his head” said Finan, not letting her out of his sight.

Osferth felt you move, turning your head toward Finan surely.

“He should kill her and be done with it.

-That will not kill the curse” answered Sihtric.

“There is no curse”

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He could feel your eyes burn at the back of his head.

“And if I say there is no Christian God, does that make it so?” answered the danish man next to him. But Osferth simply said:

“There is no curse Sihtric.”

Sihtric moved on his horse looking back at Osferth.

“I’ve seen women throw a curse and the next day a man is dead”

As he said it, his eyes moved slightly from Osferth to you. He could not see your reaction but he felt you move your head slightly. He wondered for a bit, if you had ever cursed a man. Was this magic even real? You did not answer.

“Right, that is enough talking. To speak of it makes it stronger” said Finan, putting a term to the discussion. They arrived at the gates before the night fell completely. Before the entered, he heard Finan say to you:

“You are going to meet Alfred, for your own good, do not mention what happened to you, where you are from, what you do, and hide those marks and that necklace of yours. If they ask you, you are a christian.”

You didn’t answer but you nodded. He felt your hands fist his cloak harder, maybe from anxiety and he wished he could have comforted you more. You were now officially in enemy territory.

You were expecting a lot of things when you arrived at Eashine but not to attend a war council as soon as you stepped off of your horse. You had no intention of speaking of your gifts or where you were from but Finan’s words confirmed your fear. Christians should not know who you were and for that you should make yourself as small as possible and not speak at all. Your accent would make it too obvious. You intended to stay glued to Osferth’s side, being near a monk would maybe help you pass for a good christian. Sadly he had been invited to that gathering with the king of Wessex, his non bastard son, and a man called father Beocca that Uhtred had mentioned earlier. You decided to sit next to Sihtric, his very obvious pagan aura could maybe hide yours. You hide your ogham necklace inside your robe and with the cloak Osferth gave you before entering the room you tried to dissimulate the marks that punctuated your skin. You were trying to make sense of what they were saying, but your mind was elsewhere. It was on the witch outside of the room. You knew, from the moment you set your eyes on him, that lord Uthred was cursed. It only became more obvious when you saw her. You had no idea why you were here this morning but you started to get why Lord Uthred was keeping you close. The price you will have to pay was getting clearer. You just did not know if you would succeed in paying it. Even more now that you realised the kingdom of Wessex was at war. You obviously knew of the danish invasion. Inverness had been attacked numerous times, and you knew there were countless danish settlements where you were from. Your father and brothers had all fought against the danes. Wessex seemed to be their favourite though, and apparently the king was not ready to face the war. He was dying, anyone could see it, but just by looking at him, you knew the sickness that plagued him. Alfred of Wessex would not see another summer. The way he would die was still uncertain. The king would probably die in his bed, but you could see a distant future, where he could be slayed on the battlefield. You did not need your gift to know that the kingdom could fall with his king, you just needed to look at his son, the legitimate one. He looked eager but lost in the shadow of his father.

“They will not attack here.

-Why not ? The king is here. That would be a good occasion to get rid of him.

-This is a fortress, Blood hair will not come to sacrifice his men for nothing. -What if he just decided to burn the place down?

-He will not. Not now that we have his woman.

-Who is she? Is this her?”

You felt your heart skip a beat.

“No it’s not. This is” Uhtred looked at you and you could see the question in his eyes.

“Mary” blurted Osferth.

Everyone looked at him including you, surprised but grateful.

“Mary is travelling with us for now.”

You could feel the eyes of the king on you but he did not say anything else.

“This is about the other woman then.

-Yes, she is his sorceress, a seer.

-The simple mind of a Dane believes in signs, Edward. If a bird flew from their camp to ours, they would see it as a sign and follow. They would march into battle all because a seer caught sight of a bird.”

You wanted to laugh. There was no pride like christian humility. You wanted to say to this man that you saw his death, and not because a crow travelled east today, but you hold your tongue. Sihtric next to you felt you tensing, but he did not say a thing, simply side eyed you to see your reaction. You must have mastered the art of looking innocent because he soon returned his gaze to the fire in front of him.

“Sigurd is blind. There can be no battle.”

You were bored. Men and their wars, their battles. If you asked them, they would tell you they were doing it for peace, for unity, but you knew the truth. You saw the real colours of men’s hearts. They did not desire peace as much as they enjoyed the act of war itself. You kept listening, knowledge being power. You would not be thrown into a conflict completely blind. You knew that some men probably were wondering why you were there, in a room full of soldiers, in the affairs of men. But you held your tongue, and tried to look as clueless as possible. Soon the discussion was over and you were back outside. Uhtred was obviously in a disagreement with the king, as he thought that attacking first would avoid greater evil. You were not sure of it, sharing the same opinion as king Alfred on the matter. What you were more suspicious about was the fact he wanted to see Skade himself, so you stayed at a distance when Uhtred walked him toward her cell.

“What are they doing?

-Alfred said he’d like to hump the witch. No word of a lie”

You had to put your hands in front of your mouth to contain your laugh. Finan smiled back at you.

“Are you alright? It was not a pleasant encounter for you I suppose”, Osferth asked you.

You smiled sheepishly, getting closer from the fire.

“It’s alright. Christians exist even in the kingdom of Alba.

-You really saved the day, baby monk, right Mary?

-Yes! Thank you for that actually.”

You saw the blush creep on his cheeks as he averted your gaze. You wanted to thank him properly but you were scared he would combused on the spot.

“I panicked actually. It was instinct mostly. I thought of the most christian name possible.

-And you did right! But when are you going to tell us your name? We can’t call you Seer in front of those people, and you do not look like a Mary.” Finan said, his voice quiet enough so only the four of you could hear him.

You looked at Osferth, tilting your head on the side playfully.

“You could have told them my name, you know.

-He knows your name?

-I told him yesterday after my-

-We met in the corridor after supper.”, he said, his eyes round with panic. You smiled at him and he looked away quickly.

“Stop with the mystery! Tell us.

-I fear you will be disappointed after all those expectations.

-You would never disappoint me little draoi.”

You could hear the flirtatious tone he used but it was the gaelic that made you truly smile.

“It’s Y/n”

You smiled as Osferth said it. He looked so bashful all of sudden as he wasn’t looking at you when he said that but at Finan.

“Little Y/n! And for our ears only!”

You laughed. You haven’t laughed that much in what seemed an entire lifetime, and you loved it. You knew you should not. You were supposed to be cold and revengeful. Focus on your goal. Sad. You were supposed to mourn your brother and the life that was stolen from you. But you weren’t. You were on your way toward happiness, new people creeping their way into your loving heart.

“Aren’t you wondering what Alfred is doing ? Why does he want to see her?”, you asked, wondering why the oh so pious king would want to see a danish witch, the embodiment of what he despised with such ardour.

“Told you he wanted to hump her.

-Maybe he just wants to see her up close. He is curious.

-I don’t know. I think it’s more than that.”

You marked a pause, wondering if you should keep quiet.

“Maybe he is going to ask her a question.

-You mean that he would trust the opinion of a seer?

-I think that desperate men can do a lot of surprising things”

The moment you said the words, the king came out of the cell and with him the scream of the witch. You almost jumped out of your skin as her voice elevated in the night sky. A sinister cry for her master to come save her. The night was going to be short and agitated.

“When can I bind her mouth shut?” asked Sihtric, expressing the need of everyone around. You were becoming more uneasy by the second, the words of the witch reverberating in your very core. The world was shifting, the balance of nature disturbed by her words. You had a part of yourself that was admirative. She was powerful. You would always admire powerful women. Especially when you witnessed the ardour with which men would slaughter each other for them. But there was darkness within her. In her powers. You were seeking your abilities from nature, from the gods themselves, you were not sure she was doing the same, as even if she was clean of it, her very essence reeked of blood and viscera.

“Let her sing.

-That is not singing” answered Osferth.

Even though you did not want to make him uneasy, which seemed to be the result every time you were near him, you still chose to stand close to him. You were feeling calmer, his tall and lean body shielding you from Skade on the bulwark. He had even given you a fur to put on top of your cloak, courtesy of lord Uhtred apparently, but he was still the one who gave it to you.

“Here is a bit of a loose talk for you”

You had not seen the man approached and you understood why when you looked at him. He was plain and had the same energy as a rat. Sneaky and bringer of disease. Without a word, he stood next to Uhtred sure that you would be interested in this conversation.

“Sigebriht there, son of whoever, would like to rip the innards from young Edward’s belly. Would you like to know why?”

You screamed “no” inside your mind so hard you feared they heard it. Uhtred seemed as uninterested as you all were because he said no, already looking bored out of his mind.

“Edward, the non bastard son of Alfred”, he looked at you when he said that and you wanted to throw a rock at him.

You had grown up in a wealthy family, both your parents had been married for years now, and your father had never had any bastards that you knew of. You were from a big family anyway, you already had plenty of siblings to care about. It was something that was non important anyways. But this stranger was mean. He just wanted to remind Osferth that he was a bastard and that during his entire time here, his father had ignored him. It was full of disdain and you hated that.

“He has whelped twins on the girl whom Sigebriht did love.

-And does Sigebriht still love this girl?”

The words of Osferth put an end to the conversation thankfully. But sadly as he looked at you and you at him, you did not see the man coming closer.

“We have not been properly introduced, my lady. My name is Aethelwold. I did not quite catch yours?”

You hesitated for a bit. If you spoke, he would know, and you felt that if there was one person you should avoid revealing too much, it would be this one.

“Mary”, you said simply, trying to imitate the accent you heard until now.

He looked at you with suspicion but did not say anything else to you directly. You saw the smile that appeared on his features as he turned around.

“If she is to be passed around, send her to my room first”

You stayed calmed, but in your mind you were already murdering him. You said nothing, only shifting closer to Osferth who was now shielding you from Aethelwold view. Finan came out of his corner too, his impressive build and his less than sympathetic look was the last straw because you saw the rat start to walk away. You knew you should not have, but you still did. As he was strutting away, you muttered a few words in gaelic. Your gaze focused on his form, your words came out of your mouth, and he slipped on the ground falling on his back. You heard instant laughter but turned around before anyone could see you.

“This just made my night so much better”, said Sihtric, finally coming closer.

You did not miss the eyes of Uhtred on you as you took a step back.

Finally lord Uhtred had given the order for the witch to be put back into her cell. Osferth felt agitated, and not only because of the lack of sleep or the screams of the witch. He damned Aethelwold internally for what he had said to you. He wished he could have had the courage of standing up more for you, but he felt it was not his place. He still checked on you after, and you assured him it was okay. You seemed sincere and he thanked the lord for that. Soon they found themselves in a more isolated part of the court. Lord Uhtred had given the order for them to seek for food and that’s how they got around the fire with no one around.

“Why get away lord?

-We need to talk.

-And we could not do this where we were before?

-Not if I want to ask our dear seer some questions.”

You looked up from your bread focusing on them.

“What do you want to ask me exactly?

-I think you already know.

-Yes, but I need details.”

Osferth was lost, and apparently so was Finan and Sihtric. Did you two have a discussion without any of them knowing?

“Ask away.”, said lord Uhtred, taking a big sip of his drink.

“When did it happen?

-A few days ago.

-What did she say exactly?

-About the curse?

-Yes, her exact words.”

They all looked at each other trying to recall.

“She said he was cursed. That she holded his heart in her hand and she would squeeze it and break it, I think.” answered Osferth trying to remember the scene.

“She was holding a priest’s heart.”

You looked suddenly deep in thoughts. You were frowning, obviously displeased by what you were hearing.

“What do you think?

-I think you should have closed those doors and burned the entire church with her still in it”, you said, squeezing your own hands in an anxious motion.

“Please tell me something I don’t already know.

-If it is reassurance you want, I can already tell you that every curse can be broken. You are not doomed Uhtred Ragnarson.”

Everyone finally breathed again, probably realising that they were all holding their breath collectively.

“But how?

-It is the complicated part. You won’t be able to break the curse if the witch is not with you, so I would advise you to not trade her just yet.

-You can’t break the curse for him.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes.

“No, the curse is only lifted by the one who is cursed.

-I need to keep Skade.

-Yes. To be completely honest, I don’t think you would be able to stay far away from her for long. It is a curse. She wants you and the more you will resist the more you will lose your mind.

-Can’t he just give her what she wants then?

-If he wishes to lose himself completely, yes of course.”

Lord Uhtred looked suddenly very tired and Osferth felt really bad for him. He was scared. His lord was strong, the strongest man he knew for sure, but would he be able to free himself from that witch’s hold.

“I don’t know how exactly you are supposed to free yourself. But I have a way to know.

-How?”

It was the word of a desperate man, Osferth realised. Even though he was himself curious about how you would be able to learn such a thing.

“I need to ask the gods.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

“Do what you need to do.”

He didn’t say please, but Osferth understood and you seemed to do the same. You nodded and said you would start tomorrow to collect what you needed and that you would need their help to stay discreet. No one should know what you were doing and what you were. Osferth did not talk to you for the rest of the night and even if he wanted to, desperately, he could not. Even when you sat next to him on the bulwark, your body closer, seeking some heat. You ended up closer to Finan, and instant regret plagued him. He knew he was travelling with pagans. His relationship with his own faith was complicated since he left the monastery all those years ago. He still believed in god, he still believed in heaven and hell. He could not just fathom how anyone could think of pagans as monsters when you were one yourself. A heathen. One that holded his heart in her hand. Maybe he was as cursed as lord Uhtred. He could only hope you would have more mercy for his soul than Skade.

#the last kingdom #osferth the last kingdom #osferth x reader #finan the last kingdom #sihtric #the last kingdom fanfic #reader insert #witch reader #uhtred the last kingdom #uhtred of bebbanburg

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