#he didn’t manipulate her a little or lie to her or any of that unpleasant stuff if she’s only tangentially related to him
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What’s great about this is that it isn’t true.
Tim Drake Robin #3
Stephanie did in fact train under Batman. In fact, if we’re talking preboot Stephanie has been trained by Batman TWICE. Like, we see her have a period of time where she is trained by Batman on TWO entirely separate occasions, when she’s sanctioned as Spoiler, and then again later when she becomes Robin.
(Tim Drake knows at the very least about the first time she was trained by Batman as well, so there’s not even a Watsonian justification for him thinking this.)
If it’s new 52 BS where the original timeline is not canon then why is Steph here at all? Her being a Robin implies we’re rocking w some form of her post crisis timeline. Are we supposed to be like, ‘ah, of course, the Robin who famously Batman just didn’t feel like training!’
Like it seems like it might be intentional. It’s such a specific thing to point out, especially in conjunction with Steph being shown as a Robin.
On the other hand, it’s certainly not unheard of for authors to just make shit up about Stephanie’s time as Robin which contradicts even the most basic aspects of her original run.
Anyway it’s time to play my favorite game, retcon or writer who didn’t bother to read up on Stephanie:
#genuinely not sure abt what we’re meant to make of this line#could be one of those retcons they do where they make Batman have been less shitty to Steph by just.. decanonizing shit#like it’s okay. if we pretend he never trained her then how could he be at all responsible for all that fucked up shit that happened to her#he didn’t manipulate her a little or lie to her or any of that unpleasant stuff if she’s only tangentially related to him#hmm#tim drake#stephanie brown#batman#mine#tim drake robin
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What Moves in the Dark: Chapter Six
A post-campaign Baldur's Gate 3 eldritch horror AU.
Chapter Summary: Listen, we all weathered the horror of the last chapter with laudable composure, so I think we deserve a cozier chapter entirely from Astarion's POV.
Read from the beginning.
Read on AO3.
Astarion isn’t sure how much time has passed in Liv’s tiny apartment, but it hasn’t been unpleasant. It’s a bit of a novelty to be welcomed into someone’s home at all. No part of him wanted to be alone out in the city after the horror they’d seen, and while he’s pretty sure there aren't any answers in the books in her apartment, it is a comfort to pretend there might be, that they might solve this with wits and cleverness alone. They won’t, but he has always been very good at indulging other peoples’ fantasies.
So he’s not sure if it’s an act of meanness or boredom that gets him to break the silence, to call them both out on the lie. “You don’t really believe that you just so happen to have the answer to this mystery within your little library, do you?”
Liv is still at the table, several books spread out before her, but he’d retreated to the comfortable chair nearer the bookshelf. Even from here, he can see the tiredness in her eyes. She should sleep, but he suspects that she couldn’t even if she tried. He suspects a lot of things about this…about whatever the hell they’re doing or why he’s still here. He’s just not sure he’s ready to put a name to any of them.
“Probably not, but it was something that we could do right now…” She runs a hand down her face. “I don’t know. Is this how it feels?”
“How what feels?”
“Solving problems…saving people?”
He laughs. “There’s usually fewer books involved or at least in my adventures there were fewer books. The seeing things you don’t understand and being scared shitless bit is familiar though.”
“How did you end up saving the world in the first place? Forgive me, but you don’t really seem the heroic type.”
“You’re just now figuring that out, darling?” The smile he gives her is genuine. “If you must know, I didn’t really have a choice.”
Their victory over the Absolute is only a few tendays old, but already there are many stories circulating in taverns and through the broadsheets. There’s even a kernel of truth to most of them, but in every iteration he’s ever seen, they always fail to capture the truth of it. The pieces that actually mattered. The stories always omit the fear, the stumbling, the quieter moments. He supposes that those things aren’t what makes the stories interesting to everyone else, but those are the ones he remembers and misses most. Not the Netherbrain dropping from the sky, but instead their group huddled around a campfire in the Shadowlands, Karlach telling jokes to keep the shadows at bay. Or the way no one in their group talked to him after defeating Cazador, had instead walked close to him as they exited the palace. No, those are the stories that only they know.
So he tells her his, most of it anyway. About those first terrifying days, looking over his shoulder for Cazador, killing the Gur hunter in the swamp, drinking Tavren’s blood. He tells her how much he resented Tavren at first, though he leaves out his doomed plan to seduce them. Doesn’t tell her anything about his manipulations or why he felt he needed them in the first place. He feels like if he did the shame might swallow him whole. But he does tell her of his slow commitment to the cause, to taking out the Absolute despite his initial hopes to take it over instead. He tells her of Tavren’s commitment to killing Cazador, to helping him despite the fact it did nothing for the larger cause, so that she can understand that he saved the world not because he cared if it burned but because Tavren did.
Liv listens with that steady gaze of hers, forest dark eyes and something like understanding shifting in their depths. She only interrupts him to ask a question here or there but seems content to simply let him talk, and there’s something intoxicating about having her undivided attention. The more he gets of it, the more he wants, but eventually, the story does come to an end, and he wishes he had more to tell her that didn’t involve two centuries of pain. Because he hasn’t touched that. Doesn’t want to.
The question Liv asks at the end of his telling is tentative, laced with genuine curiosity, and not a hint of judgment. It absolutely not what he is expecting. “So why help me then if you’re not a hero?”
That is the question, isn’t it? “Because Tavren would have.” And he’s not in love with Tavren nor does he want to be them, but saying no, looking away from something like this feels like a betrayal of the kindness and friendship they’d offered him. He’s still not sure what it is he believes in, but he does know that if he ever sees Tavren again he wants to be able to say he’s done something worthwhile.
Helping Liv doesn’t feel like the wrong thing. Besides, a blood disease or creature tainting the blood of those in Baldur’s Gate threatens his food supply, so he’s really helping out of pure self-interest.
“It sounds like you care a lot for Tavren.”
“Hard not to. I’ve never met anyone quite like them. They made us all better, even Wyll and Karlach who were already wonderful. That’s probably why they all went to Avernus together. If I was Zariel, I’d be terrified of those three.”
“Do you think they’ll ever come back?”
“I hope so, for Karlach’s sake. She didn’t want to be damned to the hells for the rest of her life, but they’re together, and I think they’re all happy.”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
Liv runs her fingers along the woodgrain of the table, seems to consider a question a moment before finally asking it. “Are you happy?”
“Of course I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”
“It just seems like everyone else triumphed, but you were the only one who lost something by defeating the Absolute.”
And there it is again, her insistence that he’s lost something, that he has somehow come out less than. But the words are offered in softness, like an apology, and he refrains from snarling her. “What do you mean?” he asks instead, words clipped, impatient.
“The tadpole gave you power…freedom from your master, the ability to walk in the sun, but you gave it all up.”
She has no idea what he gave up. “I did.”
“Sounds pretty heroic to me,” she says with a shrug. As if anything could ever be as simple as that.
And maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but he thinks that it might be enough that she thinks so. He can feel the way he’s dismantled so many of the barriers between them through the telling of this story, there’s….an understanding between them. An honesty. He’s wondering what might happen if he were to flirt with her now, if she’d continue to sidestep the attention, or if she’d entertain it or even flirt back. He’s wondering what he’d prefer when the sound of the bell downstairs makes them both jump.
Liv’s eyes meet his for a moment in space, wide with surprise. “Shit. Kharis is early,” Liv whispers and rushes to the window, pulling open the curtains. The sky is filled with light blue promise, dawn isn’t far off. And like a fool, he hadn’t even paid attention. There’s no way he’ll make it to Ramazith’s Tower in time.
He blames her for this. If it hadn’t been for her questions and her attention he wouldn’t have missed how close the sun was to rising and he would have left an hour ago. “I need to go.”
“Alright, I’ll distract Kharis and you can do that sort of disappearing thing you did earlier and sneak out the front.”
“Great plan, only I can’t do that again until I rest,” he whispers back waspishly. “You’re a wizard, can’t you make me invisible or something?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not a spell I prepared to cast today.”
“Oh for gods’ sake. What is it you do when you have lovers here and Kharis shows up?”
Her cheeks go a lovely shade of red, but she doesn’t shrink before him. “It’s never been an issue before now.”
He files that particular piece of information away for later needling and sighs. “It’s too late anyway; I’ll never make it to the Upper City in time.”
She looks even more concerned now. “So, what, you’re just trapped here?”
“Unless you plan on kicking me out. My other options are waiting in some alleyway or hoping I can escape down into the sewers until the sun sets.” This whole thing is dredging up memories of times he didn’t make it back to Szarr Palace in time, to lashings and tortures, and it takes more energy than he’d like to remember that nothing will happen to him if he stays here today. Well, assuming Kharis doesn’t realize he’s here anyway.
“Well, I’m not going to make you wait in the sewers when you can just stay here,” Liv says with finality.
“I appreciate that.”
“You’ll have to be quiet otherwise Kharis will realize someone is up here.”
He grins widely. “Darling, trust me, I can be discreet.”
She runs a hand down her face, and he realizes just how tired she looks. “Alright. I’m going to head down to work, really sell the whole, ‘I didn’t sleep all night let’s close up early’ bit.”
“You’re going to work? You didn’t sleep, and I’m just supposed to be up here all on my own all day long?”
“It’s weird, but my job is still a thing I have to do whether I sleep or not. Kharis will be fine with me closing up early though. Just, please stay quiet. I would love not to get fired and kicked out of my home because I’m harboring a vampire.”
“I’ll be silent as the grave,” he says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
She shakes her head, but there’s clear amusement in her small smile before she disappears down the stairs without another word. With Liv gone, he feels that he can finally study her space without interruption. He’s struck again by the smallness of it. It’s neat and tidy, everything seems to have its place. Her books are the place where the most clutter lives, and he realizes now that the claustrophobic nature of the shop isn’t her doing, but Kharis’.
He absolutely shouldn’t, but he pokes around her things anyway. He looks through her drawers, opens up the cupboards, and tries to understand who this woman really is. He secretly hopes to find some secret drawer somewhere filled with unmentionables, it’s always the quiet ones that surprise you, but she doesn’t own anything even marginally embarrassing. She’s so boring is disappointing. If he’s going to be trapped up here all day he should at least be finding something he can torture her with later, or at least coax another one of those lovely blushes out of her.
It’s in her desk drawer that he finds it: a nondescript book, covered in gray cloth. He’s pretty sure it’s a diary or a journal, so he settles into the chair, ready to read it and finally know her innermost thoughts. Only when he opens it, it’s not a diary at all. It’s a fucking sketchbook. The first few pages are rough, with more shapes than anything really discernable, and then there are people and scenes and places he recognizes. On one page there’s the fountain and square in front of Sorcerous Sundries. Basilisk Gate. The bow of the Blushing Mermaid. They’re not perfect, but they’re good.
Suddenly, a piece of her slots into place: she’s an artist.
Which doesn’t make a lot of sense. Liv is a wizard who spends her days in an alchemy shop and her nights combing the city for people with strange blood. For all he’s shared with her, she’s been surprisingly tight-lipped about her own past. He’s not sure if it’s because she’s actually tight-lipped or if he’s just been an ass and not asked her enough questions. It shouldn’t matter, they’re just strange allies in this adventure they’ve both committed themselves to, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling like there’s something he’s missing.
Which reminds him of the feeling of being watched he’d noticed when they’d returned to the shop. He quietly pads toward the window and carefully peels back the curtain, avoiding the daylight that streams in. He watches the street for a long while for a lack of anything better to do. Eventually, he notices a man loitering on the street. He’s dressed too well to be a beggar, but he’s playing the part well, looking just busy enough that people don’t pay him any mind, but not too busy that it isn’t clear that he’s watching the shop. There’s any number of reasons in this part of town that someone might be watching the shop. They might even be employed by Kharis, for all Astarion knows, but he makes a note to keep an eye on it.
The hours crawl by. He wastes time looking through her sketches and paging through her books and generally trying to learn her through her objects. There’s startingly little he gleans. In fact, beyond the books, it’s hard to see her in anything in this space. It all adds to the puzzle that is Liv. Where did she come from that she brought so little with her? She seems to be a woman without a past, or at least without one she’s sharing with him.
Eventually, he does decide he needs rest, so he plucks a pillow off her bed and a blanket from where it’s draped over the chair and sets up what is certainly not the most depressing bed he’s ever rested in, but is still sad. The pillow smells like her, all warm florals and hints of amber. He does his best to ignore it, slipping into a dreamless reverie. But when he does wake, disoriented and unsure of his surroundings for a moment, no nightmares have overtaken him. He adds the success to his mental tally, as if waking up each day without an immediate reminder of his past is some game he can win.
He returns the pillow to Liv’s bed, hoping his scent isn’t lingering on it like hers is. Some part of him is embarrassed by the thought he might leave something behind here. He helps himself to some more of the whiskey she’d gotten out earlier and wishes he had blood. And then he settles back into the chair with a book, a well-loved copy of an adventure story he hasn’t read in years.
It’s early afternoon when he hears Liv’s footsteps making their way up the stairs outside the apartment. He throws a proprietary glance around the space he’s learned so well over the last few hours, notices all the ways it’s clear he’s been poking around it, and then decides he doesn’t care.
There is exhaustion in every line of Liv’s body. Her face is pale and the lines beneath her eyes look like bruises. She’s putting a good effort into looking unaffected, but it’s not really working.
“How was work, darling?” he asks, words tilted into a tease.
“I blame you for this,” she says around a yawn.
He examines his nails with a wide grin. “I have been known to be the reason people get less than an adequate amount of sleep. Though they do tend to be a tad more complimentary about it.”
As always, she sidesteps his flirting. “Were you comfortable enough up here?”
Since he can’t seem to elicit a reaction with flirting, he tries another tactic. “Oh yes, though you didn’t tell me you were an artist.”
Her head snaps to the desk and the sketchbook lying on top of it instead of tucked away in the drawer. For a moment, he wonders if he’s actually succeeded in making her angry, but instead, he watches the exhaustion win out. “I suppose it was too much to hope for that you wouldn’t go through every single one of my things.”
He’s not sorry. “I had hours and hours with naught to entertain myself. So, you’re an artist.”
She strides over to the desk and puts the sketchbook back inside the drawer though he’s not sure what she thinks she’s accomplishing by hiding it away now. “I’m not an artist.”
“Sure you are,” he replies. “You’re pretty good too.”
“It’s just a hobby. Nothing more.”
“Oh don’t be obtuse. It’s clearly important to you. Why else would you hide your little sketchbook away?”
She shakes her head. “I’m a wizard, Astarion. I was raised to be good at one thing: magic. Creative pursuits were considered distractions. It’s just a hobby and that’s all it will ever be.”
“Whoever told you that was wrong. Was it your family? You said -”
She looks almost near tears when she looks at him. “Stop. I have been awake since yesterday morning, and I do not want to have this conversation. I need to sleep for at least a few hours, and then you can pester me about everything you managed to snoop through in my apartment.”
He’d wanted to touch a nerve, but not like this. “My apologies. Please, go rest.”
She disappears behind the screen she’s put up which obscures the bed from his view. He can hear the rustle of fabric as she changes her clothes, and later her soft breathing as she sleeps. When she falls asleep, he knows that it’s more out of exhaustion than any real trust, but for some reason, he wants to deserve it anyway.
Sunset comes and goes, and he hears the soft jangling of the bell that signals Kharis’ exit. He thinks about waking her up before he goes, but he’s not sure what it would serve beyond his own selfishness. She needs more than a handful of hours worth of rest, and their next lead is one he must pursue alone.
So he writes her a note, leaves it on her table, and disappears out into the night. Like he was always meant to.
But he is not alone, or at least that ever-persistent feeling he’s being watched is back again. A glance up the street reveals nothing, but he remembers the man from earlier and wonders if it’s connected. Well, he can be sneaky too. He walks away, as if he is leaving this street, but ducks down an alleyway at the first opportunity, fading into the shadows and creeping around the backside of the buildings that sit across from the shop.
It doesn’t take long to find who is watching the shop. There’s a man tucked in an alcove, all but invisible from the street, but with a clear line of sight to the shop. Astarion recognizes the man’s build and cloak as the same he’d noticed earlier. He sneaks closer, emerging from the shadows, lightning quick, and grasps the man by collar. He hauls him back into the alley, a hand covering his mouth. The man’s eyes are wide with surprise and his blood is rich with fear in a way that makes Astarion’s gums ache. But that’s not why he’s got this man pressed up against a wall in an alley.
“Shhhhshhhshhh, not a sound,” he says, words quiet as a whisper and twice as sharp. “Do you know who I am? Nod.”
The man eagerly nods his affirmation.
“Good. That means you know I don’t need my daggers to rip your throat out. You’re going to tell me why you’ve been watching that shop. If you scream, I will kill you.” Astarion removes his hand from the man’s mouth just a fraction, just enough that he can speak.
“Please don’t kill me. We’re on the same side of things, I promise,” the man stammers around panicked breaths.
Astarion can’t help but laugh. “I very much doubt that.”
The man leans away from him as if he could simply disappear into the wall itself. “I’m just here on Guild business.”
Another Guild connection? “Guild business?”
The man nods. “Yes. Yes. Orders came direct from the Guildmaster’s inner circle.”
“What orders?” Astarion hisses.
The man blanches. “I’m not allowed to say.”
Astarion presses the man more firmly into the wall and flashes his fangs just so. The man’s eyes widen. “Uh…we’re just supposed to watch the shop.”
“Why?”
The man shakes his head nervously. “I don’t know, but probably because they help our people. One of my mates got sliced up in a fight a few months back, but the blade was coated in poison, and that woman and the dwarf, they fixed him right up. No questions asked. Figured they’re an asset and that's why we’re watching. It’s not uncommon. The Guild protects its own and all that.”
The man is rambling. “How long have you been watching?”
“Me personally? A few tendays, but uh…my mate’s been on this assignment for at least six months. It’s boring as hell, but was pretty safe when all that shit with the Stone Lord was going down, you know?”
There’s no lie in the man’s words, so Astarion releases him. He slides down the wall gracelessly. “So you just watch the shop? Watch it for what?”
“Signs of trouble. We’re supposed to report back on who’s coming and going. Nocturnal visitors,” the man says with a hint of innuendo. When Astarion glares at him he coughs. “Anyway, we’re just trying to keep the shop safe and all.”
“Get back to work then,” Astarion says, and then stalks away into the night, carrying far more questions than answers.
#astarion#astarion x tav#tavstarion#astarion bg3#bg3 fanfiction#astarion x liv#what moves in the dark#slothquisitorwrites
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The first and only time Lucien displayed any vulnerability was when Jester called him "dreamy," after which he alluded to an unpleasant upbringing. I was wondering if you could write something wherein the reader (human) shows interest in him? Being his typical, condescending self, he thinks it's because the reader was with Molly, only to find out the reader is genuinely interested in him, and maybe that thaws his heart a little?
I hope this turned out to your liking. Love me a condescending tiefling who doesn't acknowledge views other than his own. Hope you enjoy! 😘
Lucien, previously mostly indifferent to you, has been keeping his distance after you read him like an open book in the card reading incident with Jester. Maybe having this bunch of gullible but curious adventurers tagging along was a terrible idea after all. Maybe best get rid of them now before it’s too late. But there you are being your stupid charming, beautiful self and something within him hesitates, even more so than with the others. You are an enigma he needs to figure out. Right now you’re an obstacle standing in the way of his goal because every second he’s paying more attention to you, he’s less on guard and that might just compromise his endgame.
Lucien is entertaining the thought to just talk his way into your bed, and get it over with. Maybe once he’s gotten his bias for you out of his system he can get back to work. Besides, you’ve shown some interest in him already, rooted in your connection with the fragment previous to his own return. Same face, same body, a few shared traits maybe, but not the same person. A fatal flaw on your end…
Perhaps Lucien can turn this into leverage, play into the parts you might latch onto believing that maybe the fragment might return to the surface if you call to him. Or play into your feelings for the fragment, play sympathetic and play upon a mutual interest. Because maybe if he plays along, you could be the game changer, the leverage, and give him answers and insights in this Mighty Nein. You might be the key to all the answers he’s seeking. And if achieving this goal results in the two of you sleeping together, two birds one stone. There’s no negative outcome for him here. Either you turn on your friends and join him or eventually stand against him and he’d already have gotten what he wants from you.
From the moment you met Lucien it was abundantly clear he’s not Molly. Yes there are some similarities and habits they share but beyond a surface level they’re very different. That doesn’t mean you weren’t curious to get to know this version of the tiefling. While he has many flaws, some that cannot be overlooked, there’s something about Lucien that commands attention. With how closed off this version is you played into the parts you did recognise, if only to make your encounters with him a bit more pleasant and less tense, be that for yourself or others around you.
Your encounters, especially when eventually traveling together grew more frequent and less tense to the point one could call them enjoyable. Of course the Nein caught onto this and saw it as hope their, your Mollymauk might still be in there. He might, maybe not in the way they hoped. Right now Lucien is here and he’s here to stay. Even from the start you didn’t want to make enemies with the man be that out of self preservation, your own curiosity or something else entirely. Making enemies with the Nonagon just seemed stupid and getting to know him, looking past all the theatrics he put up for the Nein, he’a actually a half decent person.
You’d been making progress, getting to know Lucien, spending more time with him. From the start you didn’t hide the fact that you may or may not have a thing for him. Seems like your taste hasn’t changed; charming enigmatic drama queens with great style, a dash of egoism and some hedonism thrown into the mix. It was all going well and you could see the walls slowly beginning to crumble giving you a peak behind the curtain; Lucien without the facade but then Jester came along with Molly’s cards. Curiosity peaked of course Lucien took her up on her offer of a reading.
You saw that twitch, saw the walls come down and you got a peak behind the curtain just like you had wanted. Only it lasted much shorter than you had hoped the walls rose and the curtain closed once more. You got some insights in his past based of his responses and with how close attention you were paying you know he was aware of what you were able to glean. You kind of pity him for the past he went through even the present he lives now. You recall Molly deflecting, changing the subject, doing anything to avoid confrontation if it didn’t suit him. After that card reading you got the same from Lucien this time in the form of a cold shoulder. Dammit Jester. Now you have to find a way to fix this.
The others are asleep in the dome save for Fjord currently keeping watch and you awake and bothered. A ways away at a comfortable distance is the camp of the Tombtakers. They too are asleep with the exception of Lucien who sits in front of the fire staring into the flames. Getting up with a soft puff you make eye contact with Fjord. A confused ‘where are you going?’ glance from the half-orc leads you to respond with a nod in the direction of Lucien which in turn leads to a non-verbal argument with the man, an argument that won’t stop you so when the last is said and done you just wave and step outside of the bubble, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders to block out the cold Eiselcross air.
You’re not deliberately quiet padding your way through the thick layer of snow and know full well you should be in sight of Lucien but he doesn’t in any way respond to you. His eyes stay trained on the fire in front of him so you walk up beside him. The cold very much bothers you and you’re beginning to regret your decision of walking out of the comforts of the dome just because you want to sort out this sudden cold behaviour towards you and get it over with. It may take a leap of faith to do so but if that’s what it takes, that’s exactly what you’ll do.
“Hey, I could really do with some of the perks of that infernal bloodline if you don’t mind.” You nudge his leg with your foot pulling the blanket around your shoulders just a little bit tighter. Shaken out of whatever trance Lucien had allowed himself to slip in he looks up at you.
“If you’re so cold you can go back to the comforts of that dome so handily provided by your wizard friend.” Ouch. That’s icy cold but you haven’t come this far by just accepting rude comments. You’re stubborn and you’re not backing down just yet.
“Don’t patronise me.” You sit down keeping a good foot or so between the two of you as you stare into the flames, the warmth not nearly enough to actually keep you comfortable, you’re shivering. Your presence alone puts Lucien on edge so here you’ll stay. Besides, if you get hypothermia, the clerics can fix you right?
About fifteen minutes pass and your quivering doesn’t end, your breath visible in the air, you are a constant nuisance to his previously peaceful evening of plotting. Why did you have to leave your bloody bubble and come bother him? Because right now you’re the only thing on his mind and all previous queries and grand plans have left his brain and there’s only you. Maybe you’ll just leave if he keeps this going? No you won’t. Lucien knows you longer than today and once you’ve set your mind to something you’re not letting go until you’re satisfied. Right now you’re anything but satisfied.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with because I need to get back to figuring out if you lot will remain useful or a thorn in my drawers. What do you want?” Lucien sneers studying you. His red eyes harsh, you get a clear view of the frustration and tension.
“We’re cutting the crap? Okay. All fine with me.” You clasp your hands together and lean your chin on them as you address the tiefling. “Why have you been avoiding me and giving me the cold shoulder ever since you showed an ounce of vulnerability?” Two can play this game and if you know anything from Molly it’s that if you get him frustrated and on edge he’s more likely to let things slip he’d usually keep in. By the looks of it Lucien isn’t much different in that aspect but he has a bit more self control.
“Perhaps I’m just done playing the part of a long gone fragment you’re desperate to hold onto, darling. It’s been fun but the game’s over.” Lucien’s this close to deadpanning that sentence. Close but not close enough. You laugh almost disappointed. Such a blatant lie, you expected better from this one.
“Laugh all you want. The game is over.”
“You’ve spent too much time with people agreeing with you all the time that you seem to have forgotten what it’s like to have your views misalign with that of another.”
“Now you’re the one patronising me.” He jabs back. Eyebrow raised you press your lips together. So looks like it’s not going to take much for you to get answers out of Lucien.
“I’m not the one spooked by some cards and the notion of showing a fraction of vulnerability in a moment the majority won’t even catch on to let alone understand.” Lucien turns to face you and glares.
“Are you done yet?” Oh you’re not nearly done but you also know Lucien can be fickle and you don’t want to push too far. You’ve got one more up your sleeve. Okay maybe a few more… Should you give him a choice on which one he’d like to address? You snort. Lucien grabs you by the shoulder and turns you to face him with disapproving expression trying to cover the frustration and how much you’re getting on his nerves right now; less because of your attitude and more because of his own issues.
“So your game ends before you weasel your way into my bed and attempt to use me for your own benefit, manipulate me until I spill all my friends and I’s secrets, and cast me aside once I’ve outlived my usefulness?” Nail. On. The Head. Lucien’s taken aback by that one. The shock’s clear and he does not like it at all you caught him off guard by exposing his plans just like that when you’d been playing along just as he had been trying to get you to.
“How’s that been working out for you? Or do you count attachment as a weakness now as well? Since vulnerability already is a major one in your opinion.” Lucien takes the verbal attacks and he’s none to happy about it. He’s just lost his advantage, or at least the advantage he thought he had. Maybe he got so caught up in this little game that the line between him playing and him actually being blurred and you just called him out on exactly that.
“Depends. How well is it working for you?”
“You trying to charm your way into my bed? Peachy. You trying to manipulate me by playing into the shared traits between my dead companion and you. You’re doing terrible. Maybe your own feelings got in the way? Is attraction also a weakness then?” Lucien’s fist clenches as you yet again air his dirty laundry. This habit has to stop, for his sake.
“Very well then, since me charming my way into your arms has been going so smoothly, let’s get this over with and go our separate ways that we for once and all can confirm your fragment is never coming back and I can get you out of my head.”
“If you think that’s going to solve all your problems then I fully consent but I highly doubt that will fix anything since your own interests in me won’t just go away by sleeping with me. That’s not how these things work.” No use in beating around the bush and while he’d rather not admit it Lucien considered the fact that just getting rid of the jitters won’t get rid of his feelings towards you. Damn you. This would have been so much easier if you would just prove him right even if he wasn’t.
“Then what do you suggest? We kiss and make up and go our separate ways?” Lucien huffs and you roll your eyes. Anything to deflect from being faced with his feelings and dismiss yours. Can he just accept you’re interested in him and not in the shadow of Mollymauk that’s left in him?
“You want a kiss? Fine. A kiss you’ll get.” You’re the one getting exasperated with his quick dismissal so you put your hand on the side of his neck. Give him a chance to pull away or stop you before you put your lips to his. The kiss deepens into a snog and you find yourself hoping Fjord hasn’t been keeping an eye on you or he’d be in for a show without any context. You’ll have a lot of explaining to do later….
Enough’s enough and you break the kiss paying close attention to Lucien who’s processing whatever’s running through his head. You just hope he’ll be able to put his own stubbornness aside, get over himself and admit to his feelings and yours because last you checked denial is much more of a problem than vulnerability ever will be.
“You need to start accepting people don’t automatically work the way you think they work. You don’t have to like the fact I actually like you nor do you have to like me in return but you cannot dismiss my feelings and opinions just because they don’t suit you.” You pat his cheek and while he’d consider it a belittling gesture, it’s fair game at this point. Maybe the game’s still being played after all and he was never in control of the game to begin with. That’s a bit of a damper in the grand scheme of it all.
It leaves Lucien to think. Since he’s already way over his head and too far into this that there’s no way back, maybe he’ll take his chances. No major changes. The goals remain the same but for now maybe he can enjoy a little company every so often if you’ll allow it… Maybe he can drop the cold exterior, get rid of the ‘divine purpose’ attitude and just let himself be for however long it lasts. At the end of they day he has little to lose and much more to gain.
“Fine. I recognise your interests in me as more than for what silvers of that fragment remain.” Lucien does not like admitting defeat and the expression on his face brings you so much satisfaction. Yes you might have feelings for the man but that doesn’t mean you can’t find joy in these kinds of interactions even if they are rooted in frustrations.
“And…” You push for him to continue. You can see him grit his teeth but he continues at your behest.
“And, accept them along my own. No matter how much I hate to admit it, I apologise for excusing my own behaviour and motives as means solely to manipulate you.” Lucien glares at you seeing your own satisfaction.
“Good boy.” You pat his cheek.
“Now since you’ve gotten all of this out of me you better share that blanket of yours because you’re not the only one freezing out here.”
“So the cold does bother him after all.” You grin and scoot over to wrap the blanket around the both of you. A bit of the rigidness remains, not ready to drop the cold and distant attitude just yet, if ever entirely, you know the ice is melting, even if just a little. More than you expected. More than you could have asked for. Now how the hell are you going to explain this to the others….
#critical role x reader#critrole x reader#mighty nein x reader#critical role#mighty nein#lucien x reader#mollymauk x reader
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all gone, all gone, all gone
part 1: yeah, there’s a lot left over
CW: suicide attempt (warnings for later chapters: emotional manipulation, PTSD, kidnapping)
i’m super serious about this y’all, dead dove: do not eat
there are parts of this that are very, very unpleasant. please don’t read if it will be triggering for you!
Read it on AO3
“It… It was you,” Cordelia said in horror, staring at her brother. “You betrayed us.”
“Is it wrong to say I told you so?” Matthew asked, and Thomas glared at him.
“I don’t understand how you could do something like this,” she told Alastair. She wanted a response from him, a flinch of pain, a sensible explanation. He had none for her. He could make one up, surely. He’d spent enough of the past week playing the good guy to be confident in that. Belial did not need him here any longer, though, so there was no purpose.
It had started just over a week ago, two days after Alastair’s deal with Belial. He wanted him to learn of the plans they had, Cordelia and James and the rest of them, and report back to him. It was straightforward enough, leaning into his father’s death as a reason to change. He never said the change was for the better. He thought it quite ironic considering the Alastair of a few weeks ago was a much, much better person than the one standing before them now.
He’d done it all. He’d comforted Cordelia, bonded with James, flirted with Thomas. He could see it in Matthew’s eyes, he had begun to be forgiven. Too late, he supposed cynically.
"He'll kill you," Cordelia pleaded. "You have to know that. You're merely a pawn. He'll dispose of you once he's done. You'll die!"
He snaked his grin in a way he was certain he could not have done before. Before he had allowed Belial to plant his darkness in him. He tilted his head with a pitying glance. "Layla, I'm already dead. I jumped off Tower Bridge a week and a half ago."
He watched her gaze fall, now horrified. The others' faces were steeled, but he could see the slight flinch in Thomas' eyes. Alastair would never flinch again. "I... I don't understand," Cordelia said slowly.
Alastair could remember it, he could remember his despair, though he could no longer feel it. He was intoxicated, just a little, just enough. He was so tired, he was so sad, he was so tired of feeling sad. His father was gone. There was no one he needed to protect his family from any longer. It was his fault. He could recall the feeling of falling, of flying, before he was caught by a cold inky hand of the scraps of the night. He could remember his panic as he floated upwards back to the ledge of the bridge, the rising sun blinding him. He recalled the figure that he could now identify as Jesse Blackthorn, possessed by Belial, his eyes black and hands twisted in inhuman magic, waiting to meet him. He held him over the depths of the Thames as he asked him to join him.
He said that he could make it so he never felt pain again. He would never feel powerless. He could have everything he ever dreamed of. A bit of assistance now and the world would be his once it was over. A true second chance.
He knew that he was lying. He was a Prince of Hell. He'd been lied to enough times, he'd lied enough times to know what it looked like. He was scared, terrified, and all he wanted was for it all to stop. He wanted to no longer feel exhausted. He wanted to no longer feel.
He said yes.
"I'm a ghost, Layla. A wraith. The brother you knew is merely a memory. Belial saved me. Your silly sentimentalities cannot touch me now."
He watched her break. He'd devoted his life to shielding her from pain. To taking it himself so that she would never need to. But he was no longer living, and in death he could protect her no longer.
He sighed, seeing her tears fall. "Silly little sister..." he mused. "How foolish I was to sacrifice so much for someone so weak. Now, I must be going. You do understand Belial's demands, don't you?" His tone was patronizing.
Her eyes flared with anger. "You are not my brother! I will get him back!"
As Alastair left, he chuckled. In life, such an act was impossible. It had been years since he'd last laughed. In death, he was free.
* * *
Looking at her father’s dead body, Cordelia had not thought her life could get any worse. She’d been naive, thinking his death would be a true low. She hadn’t known what low felt like. She felt lost in space, floating. If James hadn’t guided her, she never would have made it home.
The other boys lingered around. She understood why. Words needed to be said, but she had none.
Thomas was the first one to speak. His voice sounded more like an echo and Cordelia wondered if he even knew he was speaking at all. “It was all a lie.”
“I suppose we should have guessed that something was off,” Matthew said gently. “Given how kindly he was acting.”
James glared at him. “Matthew, now’s not-”
“Stop,” Cordelia interrupted. She took a breath and tried to compose her thoughts. “Stop talking. You don’t- You never actually knew him. I thought- The thing is, the past few days… I don’t think I’ve ever seen him act more himself. The person who he truly is underneath everything else. The person he was before- before all of the bad things started happening. Alastair before he’d experienced true pain, true cruelty. I’d thought… I thought that with our father’s death, he had finally started to heal. I thought… How could I have gotten it so wrong?”
“An Alastair without pain,” Christopher mused.
She blinked. “I… suppose? What are you saying?”
“It’s clear that Belial is controlling him somehow, or holds some type of influence over him. If nothing else, we all know that even at his worst, he would never hurt Cordelia. Perhaps he took away his pain.”
“Why would that cause him to act this way?”
“Pain isn’t… it’s many things, isn’t it? It’s sadness and anger and fear. You can’t truly feel happiness without pain, either, can you?”
“So… he took his emotions?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Do you think… Do you think this means we can get him back? We can free him?”
The boys cast worried glances at each other. “Cordelia,” James started. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”
“Alastair’s not hopeless, James. He’s not a lost cause. He can heal, I know he can. He just needs a little help. If there is any part of him that wants to, I will find it. I’ve turned my back on him over and over and over again. I will not make the same mistake now. I won’t ask you to help me, but please don’t try to stop me.”
They looked at each other slowly, then nodded.
Cordelia didn’t know how, but she would do it. She would find a way to free Alastair from Belial’s control, and whatever came after, they would figure out together. They would find a way. After every terrible thing that had happened, Alastair deserved a chance to truly live. She knew this deeply in her soul, and she knew she would do just about anything to help him find it. In this moment, though, all she needed to do was get him back.
I’m not going to use my regular tag list for this one because it’s so dark, but lmk if you want to be tagged for the next part of this series! I do have most of it written out already, but it’s also finals. Thank you to @littlx-songbxrd for all of your help and support lol <3 i’d say i’m sorry but i’m not
Part 2
#cw suicide#alastair carstairs#cordelia carstairs#the last hours#tlh#fanfiction#fanfic#coi spoilers#coi#chain of iron#chain of iron spoilers#stairstairs appreciation month 2021#carstairs siblings week 2021
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Of Vices and Virtues
Chapter Thirteen: The Ballad of Claudia Walker
AN: This is a continuation of the last chapter, so it’s still gonna be dark, but if I remember correctly this should be last chapter that’s like this.
Word Count: 5.1k
Trigger Warnings: physical/mental abuse, torture
Taglist: @azayamari
Chapter Fourteen: A Never-Ending Nightmare
"I can't do this," I breathed, before turning to Charles, shaking my head. "I can't do this," I repeated, putting my hand to my mouth as I backed away from the two men next to me. "I-I n-need to get out of here!" I exclaimed, clenching my eyes shut in an attempt to remove myself to escape the memories I've buried for so long.
I began to feel hot and dizzy. I felt like there were walls closing in on me and I had no escape.
"Calm your mind, Claudia," Charles advised gently, but I only felt the hammering of my heart in my chest intensify. "Claudia, look at me, you need to calm down. Claudia!" Charles grabbed my arms, yanking me from my own head and my eyes snapped opened. I began to hyperventilate, eyes focusing on everything and nothing as the telepath took my face in his hands and forced me to concentrate on him. "Claudia, you need to calm down or you're going to split your mind in two," he explained, his face twisting in pain. "Your mind is screaming so loud you're hurting me," Charles said through gritted teeth.
"Make it stop," I begged, searching his eyes. "Please, make it stop," I whispered, grabbing his hands and placing them at my temples.
Charles looked at me, his eyes wide and sympathetic, "Love, I've tried and nothing has worked. I push any harder and the results might be disastrous for the both of us," he explained, his hands drawing back to his own temples. "It's almost like your mind wants you to work through these unpleasant memories, because it's something that needs to be done," Charles' soft voice whispered in my ear.
"I don't want to remember," I gritted out, trying to stop the panic from rising in my chest even further. "Just make it stop," I whispered.
"It's okay," Charles coaxed. "You're going to be okay," he assured, gently grabbing both of my hands. "You just need to calm down,"
I ripped my hand out of his, focusing on something calm. What was calm?
"You don't know. You don't know what he made me do! You don't know what a sick bastard he was. I do," I breathed, my chest heaving.
Erik and Charles stared at me sympathetically and as a drop of water fell from my chin I realized why. I'd been crying. Angrily wiping my face with my hand, a frown formed on my face as the three of us were thrown into another memory. We were in a foyer of a house. I found myself turning my head from left to right multiple times, my breathing heavy and labored. Most people would love to have a house as big as this one, with the supposed openness and modern facilities that are pleasing to the eye. Yes, I can see that, but with the merciless and cruel encounters I have had here, I don't share the same opinions as the majority.
Truly, it was a nice space...one of which many would be proud of claiming ownership of, at least that of which I have actually seen. The floors were made of beautiful, stained wood and the walls painted a lovely crimson give an aristocratic aura to the house. At least, apart from the basement corridors that I know by heart. Those claustrophobic walls were a miserable gray and were accompanied by the dulled and creaky russet floor.
Two sets of footsteps echoed in the hallway moving away from us, unconsciously I began to follow behind them until I was standing on the backyard stoop. The light from the sun was shining brightly and it was almost an enchanting light. There wasn't a cloud in the sky that could block it's majestic rays. And there stood Professor Lewis and myself in the middle of his backyard.
"Claudia, I want you to use your telekinesis to lift each of the objects on the ground," Professor Lewis pointed to a tennis ball, baseball, basket ball, brick, and cinder block. The object grew larger and heavier. "Once you lift them, I want you to psychically push them into those baskets ten feet away. This will help you learn how to levitate and also toss objects of varying weight. It will also help you regulate how much power you need to lift certain weights,"
"I understand," she answered calmly, nodding her head as a smile appeared on her lips.
But she was anything but calm and enthusiastic. She was going into this kicking and screaming. She was nervous. Jumpy. Stressed. Frustrated. Lost. Found. Happy. Sad. She wanted to vomit. Her mutation was unpredictable and uncontrollable. That wasn't until a pair of hands placed themselves on her waist from behind her, almost grounding her in a way. Professor Lewis leaned down to her ear and whispered something that made the two of them laugh, and just before he released her waist Professor Lewis pressed his lips to her cheek.
"You'll do fine," he murmured.
I could feel the burning stares of Charles and Erik on the back of my head.
"He really played me like a fool," I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief at my younger self's stupidity and naivety.
"You two were together," Charles stated gently. "You were a couple," he added, his voice never taking an accusatory tone.
A humorless chuckled escaped from me, "And I have wanted to throw myself in front of a bus because of it," I confirmed, looking down at the ground biting my lip
Feelings of sickness, disgust, and shame spread throughout body as I remembered how readily I ate up his little praises. He gave me all the validation that I so desperately wanted as a child from my own parents. It wasn't long before his seemingly innocent compliments turned into something more; the lingering stares and touches to the kisses on my hand or forehead. And I foolishly allowed his affectionate gestures to escalate, thinking that I was in love with this man. So, when Professor Lewis declaration of love for me came out during a candlelit dinner I was so overcome with emotion from his "tenderness" that on the same night, I gave myself to him, willingly.
And that's when he had me ensnared, ensnared into his web of lies.
I was young and dumb and couldn't see the clear manipulation and grooming that was going on. No, I was too busy being a lovesick fool. He promised me that he would never, ever let harm come to me while I was with him, and I believed him. But everything he promised me was a dirty, filthy lie. I remembered.
I remembered every fucking thing he did to me.
"Did you love him?" Erik asked.
"Yes," I answered softly, turning around to face Charles and Erik. "But I had learnt very quickly that his love for me was all a facade," I recalled.
Just remembering that I had consensually slept with Professor Lewis made want to puke. I watched as Professor Lewis' backyard and everything around it seemingly disintegrated before us only for our surroundings to change into a small library. We were still on Professor Lewis' property, but it was a different time, a different date. If my memory serves me correctly then this is when I began to realize Professor Lewis was not the sweet, loving man I thought he was.
"You would be...in my mind?" Professor Lewis could see that she was wrestling with her own doubt and he was worried that her fear would get in the way of their training. At last, he saw Claudia nod in agreement, but her features were tightened in anxiety.
"Relax,"
Her expression was anything but calm, and he decided that it couldn't be helped. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he pressed two fingers to his temple and pushed forward into her mind. Claudia knew the second Professor Lewis' mind merged with her own. The moment it happened, she was overwhelmed with such a sense of fear that it was difficult for her to think about anything else. She could feel him in her thoughts, and the foreign presence had such a sense of wrong to it that she gagged in disgust. It wasn't right. Her mind was her own.
"No!"
Claudia abruptly and backed away from her mentor, nearly tripping over the foot rest that sat behind her. Claudia wasn't sure whether her words were spoken aloud or inside her head, but the minute they were said she felt Professor Lewis withdraw.
"I can't do this," she couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't bear to look and see what surely would have been disappointment.
Perhaps he was angry with her for not following through. Before he had a chance to say anything to her, Claudia turned and fled from the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. But Claudia could still feel the lightest touch of Professor Lewis' emotions. And a sudden wave of anger bombarded her mind from the other side of the wall, making her gasp as one thought crossed her mind.
"There would be hell to pay for that," I stated, repeating the thought I had.
"Stand up!"
The sharp words made us all turn around, only for us to witness another memory of mine. We were standing in a small study, I watched as my twenty year-old self tried to force her body to cooperate.
She could feel the security guard's irritation before his hand came down across her cheek. She stumbled and nearly fell again, when hands caught her.
"Now, now, be nice. She's just a girl," the words were kind, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. It was Professor Lewis. He always had kind words for her, but his emotions didn't match up. She swallowed hard and moved away from him. The guard left them alone, like they normally did. "Now, Claudia, are you feeling better than yesterday? Will you use your powers again?" It was the question he asked every day.
She stared at him, tears swimming in her eyes, "Please, please let me go. I've done all your tests, you can keep the money. Please, just let me go!" she pleaded, tensing herself as his disappointment that barely covered rage washed over her. "Ah, Claudia, you disappoint me. What would your parents think of you, a college dropout?" he just sighed and rang his bell.
She closed her eyes as sobs wracked her body. Two security guards grabbed her roughly from the room, ignoring her squeak of pain as they gripped places where the shackles had dug into her skin and made marks.
"Take her to the lab,"Professor Lewis ordered, as she was dragged away.
I unconsciously rubbed my wrist and traced my the scars on my wrist, I turned away and stared at Erik and saw his jaw clench as Professor Lewis walked out his office, I looked over and watch Charles' horrified expression. Time seemed to speed up as if someone hit the fast-forward button. Now we were in the lab.
As my younger self came to consciousness, she barely had time to regain her senses before all she could think about was the intense, sweltering heat that slowly seemed to be eating her alive like some ravenous animal that had no control over it's appetite. Her blood boiled beneath her skin, bringing silent screams up her throat though she couldn't set them free due to the fact that her body refused to allow her control because of the drugs swimming around in her system.
Throat running dry from constricted sobs and body aching from the endless thrashing against her restraints, she laid on a metal laboratory table. Feeling the ever rising panic claw at the edge of her psyche, she made another attempt to get of the table and get out, as far away as she could, but the minuscule motion caused fire to spread in her muscles, and breathing came even harder.
Broken ribs.
Forcing herself to move, she brought a hand gently to her face, feeling dried blood there, from a gash near her hairline. Her shirt was also stiff with dried blood, caused by the blood that trickled out her nose. Moving to her abdomen, she felt the tender bruise that had been caused the last time she fought, and staring at her hands, she saw black and blue bruises mixed with dry blood.
"Well, well, look who decided to join us," an oily voice announced. "Hey Robert, the girl's awake,"
Turning her head, she saw the raven haired man known as David. Glancing at her with piercing grey eyes, he leered at her in a manner that made her feel dirty, effectively putting her on her guard, her focus sharp, despite the headache that was making her dizzy.
"Leave her alone, David," the other man named Robert commented. "Professor Lewis will kill you if you hurt her," he added, not looking up from his clipboard.
"I'm not going to hurt her," David sneered, inching closer, reaching out and touching her face. She flinched. "I just want to have some fun with her, that's all,"
"Your idea of fun won't be hers, David," the other man spat. "Go. Tell Professor Lewis she's awake," he ordered.
With a growl at being ordered around, the other male left angrily.
Our surroundings shifted again.
"So, you would abandon me, your fellow mutant, for a race that will try to destroy you?" Professor Lewis said menacingly, looking down at the girl before him. "You disappointed me again Claudia. I thought you were better, wiser. To think that I've given you everything since we met. A second home, education, training, and this is how you thank me. By disobeying me. Your parents would have been ashamed of you"
"B-Bringing up my parents doesn't work anymore, Professor Lewis," she stammered, mentally kicking herself for not being able to sound confident and strong. Every time she and Professor Lewis had an argument her voice would turn shaky, making him assume she was afraid of him.
And she was but her anger had the upper hand.
"That sounded very convincing," Professor Lewis snickered. "Claudia you care so much about humans, but have you forgotten that you have made humans beg for their death countless times?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
Claudia glared at Professor Lewis, he wore a mocking smile on his face, "You made me do that Professor. I would never have used my power in that manner if it weren't for your teaching methods," she remarked, narrowing her eyes at him.
"You wouldn't have any power if it weren't for my teaching methods, Claudia,"
"Well maybe I would have preferred it that way, Professor," she retorted.
Professor Lewis' eyes narrowed, "I think we're done for now, we'll talk again tomorrow," He turned around and walked towards a liquor cupboard to get himself some nice scotch. "I'll tell that nice gentlemen, David, to escort you to your room," the amusement was clearly audible in his voice.
He knew Claudia hated David with every fiber of her being.
I watched as the memory faded to black, just like a movie I would see at the theater. This is what all this felt like, one long movie about my life. Then everything around us turned bright as a golden dust rippled in front of us horizontally in a tidal wave fashion until they both clashed at one another, meeting at the center.
Professor Lewis and Claudia were on the rooftop of one the many university buildings, leaning against the ledge as they overlooked the rather empty campus. Night had fallen and the moon had risen above the quiet campus grounds.
Oh God, not this night. This was the night that I knew there was a darkness within me, maybe it was always there, but lying dormant, or maybe Professor Lewis planted the seeds for it to grow within me. It was one year since I'd met him and with his training I had quickly learned to control my empathy and telekinesis, and found it necessary to teach myself how to build mental shields to block out Professor Lewis if I wanted to stay sane.
"You know what today marks Claudia?" Professor Lewis asked, looking over at her.
"I do not," Claudia answered, shaking her head. "Please enlighten me," she said, as the warm night air ruffled her hair.
Professor Lewis lifted his hand and brushed stands of hair from her face, "Today, is the one year anniversary of me being the luckiest man by meeting the most lovely and powerful creature on this planet," he proclaimed, running his thumb down her cheek.
A gloom yellow light glinted over the two, so Professor Lewis could maintain eye contact with the woman in front of him. A delicate smile splayed on her lips, as her brown eyes hold onto his.
"You sure know how to make a woman feel special," she snorted, turning her body to face him.
He turned his body as well, "My methods have made you stronger have they not?" he asked, arching a brow.
"Yes," Claudia answered stiffly.
Professor Lewis grinned at her, "Then that's all that matters," he agreed, as he placed his hands on Claudia's hips pulling her closer. "As a matter of fact, why don't you show me how far you've come since being under my tutelage," he suggested, still smiling at her.
"Fine," Claudia agreed mirroring his smile. "But, only because you're cute," she added, a wicked smirk now forming on her lips.
"Atta girl," he cheered, placing a quick kiss to her lips.
Claudia smiled, and while still looking right at him, she moved her fingers. Wisps of purple aura slowly slithered upwards Professor Lewis' body and his eyes widened as he watched the energy spread all around him. Professor Lewis couldn't move. He had forced her to use this side of her mutation over and over again to make it stronger and now it was used against him.
"Claudia, what are you doing?" Professor Lewis asked, and for the first time she seen an emotion that he never expressed.
Fear.
"I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago," she answered, lifting her hand up and drifting Professor Lewis from the safety of the rooftop to dangling him over the ledge of the building.
"Please dear, let's be reasonable," Professor Lewis pleaded, sounding slightly shaky.
"No," Claudia answered simply, her smirk only widened as she read his emotions like an open book, confusion, fear, desperation. "You never offered me the same courtesy," she reminded, a humorless chuckle escaping her body.
"You kill me then what Claudia? You were nothing without me! You were nothing but a scared girl!" he snarled.
"I think I will manage without you just fine," She assured, flashing him a faux smile. "It's like said you earlier, under your tutelage I have grown stronger," she repeated mockingly, before releasing her hold on him.
I watched as Professor Lewis dropped from our sights. There was an abrupt scream of terror from Professor Lewis before it was cut off as his body hit the ground with a sickening thud. My younger self causally strolled to the ledge and peered and we followed behind her. The sight was a grim a one.
Professor Lewis was surrounded in a puddle of his own blood, his limbs bent in unnatural ways.
"My God," Charles commented, his face ashen.
Laughter bubbled out of my younger self, and we turned to look at her, her shoulders shook with laughter.
"Goodbye Harry," Claudia said coldly and she walked away.
Turning her back against her teacher and her fellow mutant.
An earsplitting scream of horror reverberated the air, but not once did that seem to bother her, she continued walking and with a flip of her hair she slipped back into the building.
"I've never felt so exposed except with my time with Professor Lewis. What will they think of me now? Will they think I'm a monster? Will they-" I thought, and my breath quickened.
The world around us becomes clear once more and we're back in the library I collapsed, hyperventilating, gasping for air. I turned to my friends and I can't tell if their faces are those of pity or disgust. I pulled myself up, stumbling everywhere, and run as fast as I can away from them.
~~~x~~~
I could sense from Charles' emotions that he had approached my closed door, and waited outside for several minutes, until he tapped softly on the door, calling out gently.
"Claudia, are you in there? It's Charles,"
When he was met with no response, I could hear Charles tightened his grip on the doorknob.
"Claudia, I'm going to come in now. If you wish to be alone, please indicate so and I will leave immediately," Charles' statement was met with nothing but silence once again, so he turned the handle of the door, opening it slowly.
When the door had been opened, my back was facing him as I stared out the window blankly, tears flowing freely down my face. Charles stood in the entryway, before closing the door behind him. Stepping forward uncertainly and receiving no reaction at all from me, Charles walked across the room towards window I was facing, covering the area in several long strides. He knelt on his knees next to the bed so that he was looking directly at me.
I could tell Charles was unsure of what to say, so I broke the silence first, "You know I got away with the murders?" I asked raspily, finally looking at Charles.
Charles' furrowed his brow, "What?" he asked bewildered.
"Confusion is a funny thing, especially if you have the power to manipulate it. John was so very confused, he didn't know I was a mutant. So I exploited his confusion and I convinced John that it was a murder-suicide, James was friends with those boys at one point, but stopped hanging out with them once he met me. I told John that's the reason they killed him, and then I lied about one of the boys being the ‘freak’ and that he killed the trio out of bloodlust after killing James, shortly killing himself out of guilt," I explained, scooting over and patting the bed so Charles could sit on my bed.
Charles stood up and gently sat on my bed and reached out, softly wiping the tear streaks from my face with the pad of his thumb.
"Claudia, love, I'm so sorry-I-" Charles started.
"You didn't know?" I finished, raising my eyebrow expectantly. "Well, now you why I don't like people in my head," I stated, letting out a sigh. "I can't begin to describe to you the horror that comes with knowing that your mind isn't as safe as you think it is," I commented, briefly closing my eyes.
"I just never would have guessed these things happened to you, when we first met, you were so carefree," Charles explained, his hand now moving to my hair and stroking it.
"What did you want Charles? A big flashing sign, saying 'I've had a traumatizing life'," I retorted, tilting my head slightly. "Charles, there aren't many people who care about the plight of a colored woman in America, what makes you think they would sympathize with a black woman who's also a mutant?" I questioned, dropping my gaze to my hand. "I swallowed a bitter pill by coming to the realization that no one will truly care about me," I finished, looking back up at Charles.
"You're wrong," he corrected, he spoke gently, never breaking his gaze away from mine. "I care about you, and so does everyone in the mansion," Charles insisted.
He started rubbing soothing patterns on the back my hand with his thumb, Charles lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles just as someone knocked twice before entering. The now familiar undercurrent of anger told me it was Erik. But I didn't want to move my hand from Charles', the warmth, the comfort, and affection wrapping themselves around me were too blissful to bring to an end. I turned my head to look at Erik, slipping my hand from Charles', I shifted from me laying on my side to pushing myself up to leaning the headboard.
"Are you alright?" Erik asked gently.
"I've been better," I answered, as Erik took a seat at the foot of my bed. It was silence between the three of us and I stared down at my hands, suppressing the urge to raise a hand to my lips and bite my thumb. "It's like you said Charles..." I stated, trailing off and the two of them looked at each other confusion.
"What?" Charles asked confused.
"The night you two recruited me," I began, looking between the two men. "You said, 'There is danger within me,'" I recited, looking at Charles and his eyes widened.
"Claudia I-" he started.
"I'm not mad Charles," I interrupted, shaking my head. "You're right. I've hurt people," I admitted, my mouth forming a thin line.
"We understand," Charles assured me, his kind eyes staring into mine.
My lips quirked into a small smile before I cleared my throat, "There is something that I should tell you two," I stated.
"And what would that be?" Erik asked curiously.
"When I killed those boys when I was younger, I should've been upset, but it was cathartic. I enjoyed it," I answered truthfully, my eyes shifting between them to gauge their reactions.
"They had just murdered your boyfriend in front of you, it's understandable Claudia," Erik justified.
"No, Erik, a normal person would swear to never use their powers in such a way again. But not me, I rather liked the idea of being able to control people. And when Professor Lewis-" I started.
"When he abducted you?" Erik asked motionlessly, cutting me off. "He used you, tortured you?"
"No Erik, I agreed to go with him. And that's a mistake I will always regret. He was one of us," I explained softly. "I thought I could trust him," I added, shaking my head.
"He was a telepath, like me," Charles stated looking over at me.
My voice and body and emotions becoming detached as I nodded, "He took it slow, got me to trust him, to love him. That's when he started the tests on my abilities. His favorite way was through illusions. In one instance, I was trapped in one of his illusions, thinking I was having the best night of my life with some handsome stranger after escaping from him, when I was really kissing one his lab assistants. The only reason the illusion, broke was because of the lab assistant lied, and I know when someone is lying to me. He strengthened my powers," I paused, taking a deep breath to compose myself. "It was brilliant, really," I finished, shaking my head side to side.
"It was a vile, manipulative, twisted, sick endeavor!" Erik spat. "He turned on his own kind!"
"His own kind," I repeated bitterly. "No. He wasn't one of us. A mutant, yes. But not one of us," I forced a smile, nudging him with my foot. "We're the good guys, Erik. Like Captain America, but cooler," I quipped.
Erik rolled his eyes, looking at me with a sort of spark I had never seen before.
"I have to ask," Charles started, breaking my concentration from Erik. "Was there ever an investigation?" Charles asked.
"Yes, it was a brief one, but it was ruled a suicide," I explained, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "I hope you two don't think I'm a monster now," I sighed.
"Of course not," Charles stated sincerely, grabbing my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
There was a knock at my door before it opened revealing Raven's petite figure. She looked at the two men who were sitting on my bed, and I felt a wave jealousy wash over me, which confused me.
"If you're not occupied, Charles, can we talk in private?" Raven asked, I didn't miss the emphasis on the word occupied.
"I wonder what's gotten into her now?" I thought.
Charles slowly let go of my hand, "Of course, Raven. We were just finishing our conversation," he answered, as he stood up and walked across the room to reach Raven. "Good night Claudia," Charles said, a smile on his lips.
"Night Charles," I responded, and Raven and Charles left my room.
It was just Erik and I now, "Now you know where the crack is in my perfect exterior, Erik," I stated,
Erik climbed further onto my bed till he was sitting next to me and gazed at me, "That's one enormous crack," Erik replied, repeating the same words I said to him. "But it only made you stronger," he continued, lifting his finger and gently trailing it down my cheek, the gesture sent shivers down my spine and goosebumps raised on my arms.
My eyes went straight for his inner forearm and the figures that had been inked into his skin, 214782. Numbers that had reduced an entire people into nothing but cattle. But markings. It was disturbing, and my hand reached out to touch his flesh in an attempt to stop my mind from racing. My fingers brushed his skin and he immediately grabbed my hand, his long, elegant fingers enclosing mine.
"Does it ever go away?" I asked somewhat rhetorically, motioning to his reaction.
Erik didn't answer.
"The pain, the distrust, the memories- I guess it never does, does it? Maybe it gets easier," I continued, pondering morosely. "Maybe it's the prospect of revenge that makes it so," I turned to him, motioning my head to the numbers engraved upon his skin. "Does it still hurt?" I asked softly, leaning my head on his shoulder.
"Every fucking day," Erik uttered, looking at the numbers and then shifting his gaze on me.
"Our resilience through all the pain we've been through, it's amazing we survived..." I trailed off, rubbing my thumb softly across his knuckles and then looked up at Erik. "Most people wouldn't have been able to,"
Erik smiled at me brilliantly, "Well, we aren't most people are we?" Erik questioned. "We're the future of the human race, Claudia," Erik finished, lifted our entwined hands and placed his lips on my knuckles leaving a lingering kiss.
I lifted my head from his shoulder and gently placed a kiss on Erik's stubble covered cheek, "Thank you, Erik, for being here tonight,"
Chapter Fifteen: A Love Supreme
#x-men fanfiction#black fanfiction#x-men fanfic#charles xavier fanfiction#charles xavier x oc#black!oc#magneto x oc#erik lehnsherr fanfiction#erik lehnsherr x oc#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr#black!reader#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#marvel imagine#x men fanfiction
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Jaguar! Tom x ReaderYour marriage is falling apart, and you're done trying to save it. You are crying at night when think your husband can't hear it. Little do you know how horrifying Tom can be when he want to keep you forever.
Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere
Word Count: 1632
Character: Jaguar!Tom/reader
Summary: you cry and think he can't hear you.
POV Your
"Today was a good day, wasn't it, doll?" a haunting baritone voice sounded near your ear, which was always pleasant to your ear, but now you realized that you didn't even want to hear it. It was disgusting. Very nasty.
Suddenly, you felt familiar hands pulling you into an embrace and leaning against your naked body. You could feel the pressure of your husband's abs on your back, but you never felt joy at the sight of him.
Your husband. He was a rather unpleasant person that you didn't even want to see lately, not to mention feel his body and hear his sweet voice, which used to attract you so much before you found out the whole truth.
And yet she had fallen for his seductive lie as if she had been trained to it without even recognizing it. It was painful to realize. That you were tricked, so compulsively manipulated. Disgusting.
You let out a soft sigh, feeling Thomas's nose press against your head, running through your soft hair, swaying slightly at the same time. It was unpleasant.
Before, before the whole truth about your husband was revealed to you, you sometimes even in your thoughts were afraid to say his name and call him such ugly words, but at the moment, you simply could not restrain yourself, but now you understood that such a scoundrel, who is depriving you of all your life, is worthy of such words and loud censures in his direction.
There were many words that came to mind to prove how disgusting he was, but you understood that at the moment, showing contempt for his touch on your face meant smelling death and realizing that punishment could follow immediately, and even in a rough form.
You were afraid of punishment. No, and not because it hurt, that's understandable. You were afraid of his punishments, because you couldn't stand all the humiliation that happened on his part. The words he used to call you, the actions he performed, and always saying that he loved you.
No, you felt your back goosebumps from the fact that he was breathing very loudly and regularly into your back. You flinched imperceptibly, wishing that it would escape the eyes of Thomas, who always kept a sharp eye on all your movements. He watched as if he were a falcon, hunting for prey that would later turn into food.
"Are you cold, doll?" a sweet voice asked in your ear, and you felt a slight pain as Thomas ' teeth brushed against your ear. "Do you want me to warm you up?" he asked softly, biting his lip slightly.
Suddenly, you felt his hand drop down and slowly slide under your nightgown, tracing your thighs with light and almost weightless movements. Your eyes widened.
"Thomas, I want to sleep," you said, tensing, but forcing yourself to turn and smile at your husband who was torturing you. He merely raised an eyebrow, licking his lip slightly, and nodded toward the bed.
He finally moved away from you and immediately felt relieved, but the tension did not disappear. It was still scary. What if he does something while you're sleeping? Or something else?
Nodding to yourself, as if confident in your actions, you sank down on the bed, immediately covering yourself with the cold sheet that was washed. The bed was not only soft, but also exquisite. You've always confirmed that you think Thomas has good taste in clothes and in the interior of rooms.
But that still doesn't change the fact that you literally don't have the most positive feelings for him.
Suddenly, the light disappeared before your eyes and everything was plunged into a gloomy darkness. Nothing, your eyes will soon get used to it and you will start to feel more confident. Because at the moment, it felt like you were a little sheep being hunted by an evil gray wolf. And you didn't want to be in the sheep's place at all.
The bed sagged behind you, and you realized that it was Thomas lying down next to you. Suddenly, though it was only to be expected, because that was what he always did. He always showed you by such actions that he was in charge of the situation. That it is he who dominates everything.
He has always been the main thing in your relationship, not even allowing you to express your opinion in certain cases. And it always annoyed you. You didn't understand why he treated you like you were a little girl who couldn't even cook a simple meal.
His hands were on your waist and he pulled you closer to him. You liked to sleep on your side at the end of the bed, but Thomas always pulled you closer to him. Perhaps this is how he wanted to show you that you are his? But it wasn't the smartest way.
"I love you, doll," he murmured, his voice very sleepy, and you could feel his breathing becoming regular and even. Is it just me, or is he asleep?
You pursed your lips, feeling the feeling that there is a feeling stronger than hate begin to form in your heart. Although it would seem that what could be stronger? Probably that he should have cleaned his shoes better.
Yes, it would seem, a small mistake that cost the love of the woman you love. You didn't understand why he was so bad at keeping track of his clothes, or rather, his shoes. I could have at least checked my clothes for blood before entering the scrap yard. Or maybe he did it in the house?
It hurt to think about it. You were worried that your husband had personally killed a man in your house. Or maybe there were a lot of them? Maybe he killed people in batches, and you were just his trophy, that you just relieved the tension for him.
You've never thought about Thomas ' work before. She's always been a mystery to you. A stately, intelligent man. Always elegantly dressed, straight from the needle. Correctly communicates in society, the behavior corresponds to the norm. And who would have thought that your husband would kill people?
Unfortunately, you didn't have any reliable information, so you couldn't prove that he really kills people. However, the fact that you heard someone's almost inaudible screams below at night, you could not explain.
There was no possibility to file for divorce. And not because you were afraid that he would suspect you of cheating or collaborating with those he killed. It was scary just to talk to him about it at dinner. You were just afraid of anger.
The feeling of anticipation and fear once again enveloped you with a new force. You were afraid to think about it. Suddenly, a drop of a tear rolled down your cheek. It tasted salty as it slowly rolled down, cooling your cheek. On the other, suddenly, a tear also rolled down and you realized that you were ready to discharge right in front of your husband. Even if he was asleep.
***
POV Thomas
Thomas felt his eye twitch with impatience. It was unbearable to hear his beloved wife choking on her tears, trying to cry so that he couldn't hear.
He wanted so much to comfort you, to pat you on the head, to talk about these things that you cry about, but he knew that this was not an option. You will definitely refuse his hugs, and even from simple touches. Even though you were married to him!
Thomas has seen you become more and more closed off towards him. It's as if your feelings, your hot and passionate feelings, have cooled towards him. And Thomas didn't like it at all.
He didn't like to see it. To watch you talk to his servants at meals, or not appear in the same room with him at all. You even went to bed in the guest rooms. And that always made Thomas angry. Do you really think he won't pay attention?" That he would leave it without proper conversation and punishment? Because Thomas would never want such defiance.
He didn't understand what had caused you to stop even talking to him. Now, your conversations are limited to just simple phrases.
Still feeling your body on the floor with his hands, Thomas moved even closer to you, tightening his embrace but still trying to pretend that he was asleep. He didn't want his beloved to be completely estranged from him.
Thomas knew he wouldn't last long. He needed a meaningful dialogue with his wife, not a simple greeting from work.
He even stopped thinking about work. The feeling of apathy and the fact that he was slowly, but surely, turning into a neurotic, strained him. It was becoming unbearable.
To kill, to pull off the next fraud, trying to stay clean, and even to make transactions, he did not want to do it at all. The fire that was visible every time the fate of people was fulfilled burned brightly in his eyes. It literally burned with a gray flame. Thomas had always been fascinated by the idea of deciding the fate of people he didn't know.
Suddenly, his ears picked up something he shouldn't have. It was a light whisper. It was impossible to wake them, however, since the room was very quiet and nothing could be heard, since Thomas had made this room, as well as the basement, sound-proof.
"How you disgust me," the voice is soft, inaudible. A melodic sound that Thomas had previously loved to enjoy. "Thomas," the voice added, and Thomas pressed his lips together.
He decided to discuss it with his wife over breakfast. He wouldn't care about her feelings. And he would make her regret those words.
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The Moon's Dark Side Loves Better
A/N: Hi everybody! Thank you for giving time for this short oneshot of a (messed up) scenario I had.
On a serious note, please read in caution. This mildly contains serious topics which I won't specify in case I spoil everything. If you have any trauma or anything in regards to serious and disturbing topics, please proceed with caution or just don't read this at all and move on to the next fic.
Lastly, it is not my intention to hate/bash any canon characters.
I hope you would enjoy it!
socials | ao3 | intro
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Word Count: 3k+
Warnings: Specific traumas I won't specify (please go to the next fic if you don't want to see any), some swear words
Pairing: Lily/Male OC, Jily
Genre: Dark
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Elio Gebber was a normal Ravenclaw with a pure heart. He was always kind-hearted and sweet to everyone he came across. The teachers adored his witty attitude in class and his clean reputation. It attracted a lot of people, even the ones older than him. He had attractive features that could charm anyone, long dirty blond hair, and grey-blue eyes. You could see his confidence in the way he walks and talks.
The students know nothing about Elio's hobbies and personal life. He would let others talk about themselves rather than tell something about him. Others describe him as reticent, while others call him mysterious, but this didn't stop students drool all over him.
It all changed when he showed interest in Lily Evans suddenly at the start of his 5th year. Though he was a year younger than her, he didn't care at all what others say. The news spread like wildfire and eventually alerted Lily's other courter James Potter, who was the complete opposite of Elio. But he was as popular among students.
"He's no match for me, right, Sirius?" James asks his best friend for reassurance that his long-time crush would eventually pick him rather than that "nerd." His best friend, Sirius, offered to bully and threaten Elio until he wouldn't even mention Lily's name. James was mature enough to turn down his offer and be a better man for his love.
"Hi, Evans!" Wearing a charming smile, the sanguine Ravenclaw leaned into a pillar to talk to the redhead in front of him at the Gryffindor table.
"You look wonderful today. Would you mind having some Butterbeer with me this Saturday? I would like to get to know you better."
Lily was staring at Elio, astonished. The whole table chattered, and the event eventually reached the far Slytherin table.
"Damn, that was smooth,"
"Maybe I should take him out, huh, Prongs." Sirius's gay heart leaped, while his group of friends shushed him and comforted the down James while he can only watch as the girl he liked for many years gets taken by a boy below his year. He refused to do his old tactics of aggression and respect Lily's decision.
From all the peer pressure, she agreed to give Elio a chance at dating. From what she knew, he was decent boyfriend material, but she would also like to know other things about him. They met up in the Three Broomsticks and had a successful date. He was nice enough to pay for everything they would buy.
On their second date, they enjoyed playing with the fallen leaves and buying candy at Honeydukes. He had great humor. He asked if she would like a kiss, both knew it was too quick for that, but he presented a muggle chocolate Lily adored called Kisses.
For their third date, a month later, they announced that they were officially dating. Elio knew everything about her. Now it's his turn to share things about himself. He told her that he had a hard childhood and didn't like sharing it with anyone. She understood him and promise to avoid mentioning it in the future.
"Hey, Lily! How are you doing?"
An old friend of hers, Frank Longbottom, approached them while sitting at a table in the Three Broomsticks. He was visiting Hogsmeade for a break from his Auror training. She tried to hug him, but Elio was being overprotective and pushed Frank hard away from her. It was the first time anyone saw him being physical.
"Elio! That is so unnecessary," she pulled the boy back and stared at him in shock while asking herself why he was out of character.
"This is my friend, Frank. Frank, this is my Boyfriend, Elio." She blushed while she helps her friend stand up from the fall. The boy that wore a dark expression didn't even apologize and sat down again. He wanted the other two to sit down and ask questions that sound too protective for other people but seem normal to him.
Frank had to go and was only passing by to say hello. The boys both looked at each other intensely. That wasn't a good first impression with Lily's close friend.
As they walk back to Hogwarts after their date, Lily asks Elio if he was ok and grabbed his hand. It was cold and clenched tight.
A few dates came and go, but it got worse and worse. Elio became more aggressive over Lily's simple mistakes like misplacing borrowed things. He turned into a two-faced idiot that seems nice when people were looking. But when alone with his girlfriend, Elio sounded manipulative and self-centered. He wanted the love of his life to be perfect just for him.
After no time at all, she broke up with him. He threatened her that he would die if she broke up with him, but this didn't work on the bright woman at all. She was over his idiotic tactics and two-faced ass.
She told the whole school about him, but none of the students believe her. Elio became depressed and suicidal, and Lily was the one he blames. The entire school despised her, and rumor spread that she only dated Elio for his popularity and looks. The teachers could only do little for the broken-hearted's well-being. Their respective House heads talked to them he looked in a better state. Lily has no proof of abuse to accuse him.
"Lily, can we talk?" James patiently waited for her to come out of their House Head's chamber. Now is the time to at least comfort her.
"Since when do you call me by my first name, Potter?"
It was hard for her to hold back tears from her talk with Professor McGonagall. The teacher offered to look more into her ex for her. But that's all she can do for now.
"I-" Before he could get to say anything, she attempted to walk away. James went in front of her to stop her and gave her a concerned look. Lily stood straight and raised an eyebrow.
"I am here to say that I trust you and know that you would never lie about what Elio has done to you. You can always come to me if you want to talk."
She doesn't have any reason to trust the toe rag back after what he's done to her ex-best friend in their previous school years. But from what he's done this year and the Shrieking Shack incident, she feels that James is a better person and less of a toe rag.
Weeks went by, and the two talked more and more each day. Elio thought this was preposterous and made a scene breaking down and crying every time he sees them together in public. People around felt sorry for him and criticize the two friends that were soon to be a couple.
The school soon didn't care about the drama anymore and focused on other things, which Elio didn't fathom would happen. He hid and kept a low profile for years.
On his 17th birthday, Elio obliviated his mother to erase every memory of him. His mother, Sharon Gebber, didn't care about her own child. Ever since his mother and father divorced in the summer before his 5th year, his mother abused him. She would often use him as a slave and never notice the achievements that he did so that his own mother would pay attention. This lead to his thirst for recognition in public.
Elio successfully erased her mother's memory so she could fuck off his life. He learned about the power of the spell for a specific plan of his. But clearing his mother's memory was just a practice run.
After he graduated, Elio took a job at the daily prophet to earn some money. People there think he's mental. He credits every team achievement to himself and seeks attention every chance he gets.
And even after five years, he was still not over his "love" for Lily. Elio wanted her to love him since he believes that he deserves her.
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While Lily was shopping for baby Harry's stuff at Diagon Alley, she came across an old friend of hers. Elio was sitting at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, writing on a notepad about news from Gringotts. She winced as she recalled all the unpleasant memories of him shouting and making her feel bad about herself. Though it was a long time ago, it still left a faint scar on Lily.
When Lily was about to turn away, he looked up, and they met eye-to-eye. He ran up to her and was about to hug her until she stood back.
"Oh Merlin, Lily! How are you?"
She thought of getting mad at him and ignore him for the things he did. But she thought, what if he's changed? He's matured physically, maybe emotionally and mentally too.
"I'm ok. How about you?" She talked slowly, and her voice was softer than usual.
They sat down and chatted for a bit. Lily was clearly uncomfortable, while Elio was very talkative and talked about himself a lot.
"He didn't seem to change a bit." She thought as she prepared an excuse to leave.
"Elio, I think it's time for me to go."
"Oh, you're already about to leave? Why so soon?" he smiled and talked at the same time, looking like a maniac planning. Which he indeed was.
"I have to really take care of my son, excuse me." she grasped her bag hard, trying to hold back the tears as she watched the same smile Elio wore when they dated fade. She left sniffling and wishing that her spouse, James Potter, to be on her side. But he was protecting their 2-month-old son from the dangers ahead.
"Son?" Elio realized that his first love has had a family with another guy. He gave out a psychotic laugh and cried his heart out. People around stared as the adult threw a child-like tantrum.
Lily heard this from far away, but she learned to never look back.
While crying, Elio thought of something. He then chased Lily and decided that it was time for his plan.
He cornered her in a dark alleyway between shops. He covered Lily's mouth with his hand and chanted a spell to stop her from making any noise. He then snatched her wand, tied her feet, and tied her arms behind her with rope from his wand.
"I have wanted to do this ever since I heard rumors of you and that Potter guy's marriage. Now you and he have a child! I can't stand it, Lily. I thought you loved me!" He stopped and scanned around the environment. "Bystanders will notice all my shouting."
"How about we talk at my humble flat here in London. How does that sound?" Elio wrapped his arms around his sweet childhood sweetheart. Lily tried to scream in hopes that someone or anyone would help her. No sound came out of her mouth as she shed tears silently. She fought her best against the stronger, more muscular man armed with a wand she wished she had.
After not long, they apparated together to his flat. To no surprise at all, his place was eerily clean, and the walls painted white. It pretty much looked like a well-furnished white torture room.
"Sit, my love." Elio dragged Lily, holding her arm with his nails sink into her skin. He locked all the doors to keep Lily in his living room as he'll get some water.
When he left, Lily tried to remove her arms and legs from the rope, but she had no luck. She tried to wriggle her limbs out and cut the ropes using sharp objects around. Alas, none of her tactics worked.
Elio returned, seeing Lily with her face wet with tears.
"Oh, love. Don't cry. I'm here. Drink some water." He wore his demented grin again. He was talking to her like nothing happened between them. It was like they were dating again.
She shook her head and bit her lip, making her facial expressions more emotional and angry.
"Wouldn't hydrate, ey? Not drinking water and keeping hydrated is bad for you, baby."
He raised her chin and looked at her face with awe. Lily tried to bite his finger off, but he pulled it away immediately.
"Ah, a little feistier than I remembered." Elio came closer to her lips as he prepared to kiss her. She gave him a painful headbutt, giving both a throbbing headache.
"Ok, Lily. I have had enough. We will come to my room and have some fun playing, won't we?" He sprung to his feet while rubbing his head to relieve the ache. His voice and face were a mix of angriness and excitement.
Knowing what he means, she got to her knees and attempted to talk, "Why, Elio. Please, I have done nothing but be nice to you."
He stopped from pulling her into the bedroom. He sat to her level to meet her eyes.
"That's the point. You did nothing to make me happy." Elio continued to pull her. The chains he used to attach Lily to the bed were ready. The whole room was filled with candles and rose petals, all ready for their steamy night.
"Don't resist me, my Lily! I deserve your love. I need your love." He clenched his teeth, making his words sound hard and scary.
It was the last thing she heard before all of her trauma.
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The morning sun arose. Elio prepared eggs and toast for breakfast without releasing Lily.
"Your bed in breakfast is here, love!" He places the small table on her lap. Elio was covered in bruises which he calls hickeys. The sleeping Lily was the most bruised, not just physically.
Elio obliviated her, confident that he replaced all of her memories with false memories of both of them together, being a happy and normal couple. He didn't know that he messed up.
"If you ever tell anyone about all this, I will kill you and your whole family."
He was removing her chains and undoing the silencing spell when he heard a knock on the door. Aurors arrived at his house for the interview he needed for an article. It was scheduled for 8 pm, but they misunderstood it for 8 am.
While Elio was away attending the Aurors, Lily woke up remembering everything except Elio's face and identity. She did, in fact, hear the mysterious man's threat involving her family. Lily wanted to get out immediately. She found all her stuff and clothes in the room. Luckily with the help of magic, she left out of the window and gently fell to the ground without scraping her already damaged body.
Elio returned to the room after chatting with his guests. He found no one there. He thinks this was mind-boggling and impossible. He prepared all this thoroughly, and he saw no one to blame but himself. The thought of it made him ask his guests to leave his home and throw things around the house.
Lily healed her scars that left unnoticeable traces at first glance and then apparated back to her home. She told the worried Order of the Phoenix members and her panicked husband that she went to her muggle friend's house that had no telephone. She also assured them that she was unable to contact anyone since it was an emergency.
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"James, I'm pregnant."
Her husband celebrated while carrying and dancing with baby Harry in his hands. While he was happy, Lily worried if it was actually her husband's baby she's bearing.
The whole Order of the Phoenix knew. Others say to be careful of this new baby because they know that the he who must not be named is coming for their first child.
While doing an interview at the Leaky Cauldron, Elio looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, and he reeked the smell of alcohol. The good-looking young man was nowhere to be found. He worked day and night, punishing himself for losing "his whole world."
He was a workaholic without any motivation for any other things, even the news of Lily's second child he overheard from a random person at the bar.
"I deserve this miserable life. I don't deserve happiness, and most importantly, Lily." he thought after wrapping up the interview and ordering alcohol.
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After a long day of work, Elio didn't stop find stories for work. His workaholic ass made him travel far. He reached West England just for the story about the undiscovered magical creatures around the area.
While searching around a village called Godric's Hollow, he heard a familiar scream. In a house, he saw a silhouette of a woman fall to the floor through a window. Elio wanted to see what happened, but he didn't want to be a suspect. So he covered any trace of him like wearing removing his shoes, wore gloves, and summoned a hairnet. It looked ridiculous but at least he won't be seen by the Aurors as a suspect.
He rushed inside to see James Potter, lifeless. He then realized. Lily must be the woman. He hurried up the stairs thinking about multiple things. "What happened? Will I report this? Who did this? This might make a good story. Is her child dead too? Is Lily dead?"
The first thing Elio saw was a swaddled, blonde infant cooing. Despite the cries of the toddler and her inert mother, she remained calm and silent. The sight of the infant made Elio's heart warm. She looked a lot like him.
His sharp and quick mind made it seem that this little bundle of light that reflected his past beautiful self's features is his own child. The thought pushed his panic buttons. He told himself, "I have made enough mistakes. I let Lily down and abandoned her. I will fix all of them."
Elio left the house with the child, and still, she didn't cry.
He did everything he can for his child. He quitted his job, changed his identity, and started a new life just for his child. He met a woman and he planned to obliviate her into thinking they have a family, and the girl is their child.
Without knowing it, Elio's wand was broken when he chanted the spell. He forgot all his memories that involved Lily, which was a lucky coincidence. The bad things he did to her? Kidnapping Lily's child? All forgotten.
He also forgot his act of acting to be nice and friendly to his "family." Elio's personality changed to match the kind of person he pretended to be.
He's successfully released a magazine of his own. He raised his girl to be better than his old self, even after his spouse died when their daughter was nine. The smart, little Ravenclaw girl loved everyone better than the person she reflected. And after all the bad things Gebber has done before, he helped some hero complete his mission.
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This was the life of Xenophilius Lovegood.
#hp fanfic#oneshot#original character#lily evans#dark#harry potter fandom#harry potter fic#harry potter au#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#marauders era#lily/oc#lily/james#lily evans fanfiction#lily evans x oc#jily#lily evans oneshot#hp one shot
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Shapeshifter Au - 9
Here is our very long Reunion chapter! Part 8 Part 7
TW for blood, violence, mind control, and temporary memory loss
There were advantages to traveling alone.
He could spend as much or as little time in a town as he wanted- or at least his purse allowed. If he met a pack of wolves or a flock of birds or a herd of deer he could enjoy their company as long as he liked because no one was waiting for him.
He enjoyed the company of every manner of creature that would tolerate another’s company. He made friends and they cared for him and he did his best to care for them back and it was almost enough.
It was almost enough when the crowd beat their feet to his songs and cheered.
It was almost enough when the pack near Oxenfurt greeted him with open mouth kisses to confirm his wellbeing.
It was almost enough when the barn cats curled around him in the stable, rumbling their contentment.
Then winter came- as it always did. The birds flew south, the bears disappeared into their dens and the wolves grew too lean to feed what they all knew was an outsider.
They didn’t say as much. He didn’t wait around to hear it.
He knew what he was.
The animals all knew on some level. That on the edges he wasn’t quite right. Wasn’t quite the same as them.
So he did what he did every winter- because he’d never survive it on his own.
He answered the letters from court bidding him to play.
The Countess de Stael had requested him back this year and he was seriously tempted by the offer but he’d heard rumors of a mage at her court.
He could resist Yennefer’s call so whoever they were was unlikely to overwhelm him. But Yennefer had also never tried to.
Best to stay away. There were other offers.
He accepted a very generous offer from a southern family that lived on the coast. The sea called and maybe in the spring he’d walk out into its depths. Maybe he would love it so much he’d never walk the land again and the hollow space in his chest would fill with the sea.
“You are as beautiful and youthful as the stories say Master Jaskier.” His skin prickled at the young lady’s attention. They were alone in the dining hall, aside from the staff and numerous guards. “There are even rumor you’ve elven parentage. Tell me, have they any merit?”
Even people knew he wasn’t quite human.
“I’m afraid not Lady Nadia.” Where was the rest of her family? The war may have emptied the house somewhat but her mother, her unwed sister, or her brother who should have been far too young for service should have been there. “A good skin care routine can work wonders though. I could show you if you’d like? Not that much could be done to further enhance your radiance.”
He smiled brightly and sent her a quick wink. In her bedchambers there was a chance they’d be alone. He could ask what was wrong.
If not he would leave tonight. No amount of gold was worth his life. Every shape screamed at him to flee.
He hadn’t lived this long by not listening to them.
“Oh come now there must be more to it than that. There are rumors the White Wolf lent you his time in exchange for your company.”
He forced a brilliant laugh and took a long but shallow drink from his glass. “Such is not an ability of Witchers I’m afraid.” Even if it was Geralt wouldn’t share it with him. “But if its stories about The White Wolf you request I am more than capable of providing.”
“Firsthand accounts I hope?” Her voice coy but her shoulders ridged and her knuckles white where they gripped the spoon.
He stood and made his way to her, offering a hand as he quickly bowed. “Shall we retired to a more private local? I promise to tell you all my best stories about him.”
Her eyes met his and he saw the desperation there. A wolf who’d lost her pack. Her eyes flickered behind him and he knew. Knew this day ended in shackles.
He let the performer fall away and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. She was so young. He’d seen countless people do far worse for far less.
“It’s alright dear. Make sure my lute gets back to Oxenfurt will you?” Tears brimmed in her eyes, tremors shaking her small frame. He pressed a kiss softly to her forehead. “I know what we do for the people we love.”
He stood as apologies cascaded from her turning to the guards. Really an unnecessary amount of guards. He knew he had a reputation for being slippery. For leaving empty cages and locked shackles in the night. But really. This was an unnecessary amount of soldiers.
He offered his wrists out to one of them with a smile.
“I do hope you’ll be returning her kin once this is over. I mean really? All this fanfare for a bard? Your higher ups must really need some music. Is the war truly so dull they’ve stooped to holding nobles hostage to kidnap innocent bards?”
One of the other soldiers walked over and snapped the shackles around his wrist. Dimeritium shackles.
“Expensive!” He whistled. No one had ever bothered with Dimeritium shackles before. He wondered if they’d work. “Someone thinks I’m a sorcerer! I must admit, I’m very flattered but my skill and good looks were a blessing of hard work and luck, not magic.” The man yanked the chain, pulling him along.
“I hope they keep their promise Nadia! Care of Oxenfurt University! Don’t forget!”
“Shut up.” The soldier demanded, accented heavily.
He jabbered at him in Nilfgaardian. “Oh you just expect a bard to shut up do you? Want that blessed silence? Well guess what? Never really gone in for that so you can just-“ There was a sharp pain on the back of his skull and the world went dark.
The floor rocked under him and he suspected it wasn’t just the blow to the head. He was curled in a cage on the rocking seas. Hands still shackled. Feet bound in silver.
They were really overdoing it.
“He’s finally awake. Go get the sorcerer.” Someone whispered from behind him. He curled in tighter and ignored the growing thrumming of a song. It wasn’t as pleasant as Yennefer’s. Not as strong, even when he entered the room. It just made him feel gross.
“So sorry for the harsh treatment Master Jaskier.” The sorcerer stood over him. Voice assuring him that they were not sorry at all. “You’re rather known for being a difficult man to keep and we wanted to make sure you didn’t leave before I could make your acquaintance.”
“Could have just asked. I’m sure Nadia would have been glad to show off her bard.”
“That was the plan but it sounded like you were getting cold feet for your performance.”
I would perform for you any time. It drawled, barely even convinced of the man’s merit itself.
“Did you let them go?” The man made a questioning noise. “Nadia’s family.”
“Why of course we did!” He lied. There was nothing to be done for that lie, so he choose to believe it. “And nothing bad will come to you either if you help us.”
The man crouched in front of him. He curled tighter hiding his face in his knees. “I’m sure.”
“Look at me Jaskier.” He curled tighter. Digging his hands into his legs.
Look at him.
Look at him.
Look at him.
It chanted over and over and over and he curled tighter and tighter and tighter.
“Look at me.”
There was power in those words and his body uncurled to lax. Knelt in front of him with hazy eyes as he beat at the magic manipulating his mind.
Their eyes met.
The man gasped.
He reached his hands through the bar, cupping his face. “I didn’t think there were any of you left.”
Cold dark sludge poured in. Cooling the distant memory of lightning in his veins. Covering the broken tapestry in his heart in something vicious and unpleasant. He did not move.
“Are you the last unclaimed familiar? There are so few of you in this world and you landed right in my lap. Destiny has truly blessed me today.”
The cold flooded him. Chilling every cell to the brittle bone. The hollow in his chest never filled. It Froze and never filled.
“You are mine now. I claim you.”
“Yours.” Someone said.
“Unlock the cage I want to see what he can do.” The others hesitated. He barked a command and they leapt to do as ordered. Do as ordered.
Doors unlocked somewhere and locks dropped free. The man bid him follow. Follow.
He followed.
There was sun beating on the deck but it didn’t warm him. The cold was there and the hollow and the man and that was all. The thick ichor sliding through his being.
“You need a better name familiar. You are no flower are you?” The man stroked his hair.
What are you then?
“Transform for me. I want to see what you can do. What you really are.”
What are you?
The cold was power. He was not helpless. He was not prey.
He spilled into a mountain cat. A predator. Claws long and sharp. Fur dense against the cold that filled him.
He was never enough of any one thing to truly be them.
Wings split from his back covered in long feathers. Claws into talons. Muzzle into beak. Size growing as more and more waves of cold chilled his mind.
“An Arch Griffin.” Awed a man. Hand on his beak. “The things we will do together.”
‘Griffins mate for life.’ A different man’s voice said to him. He didn’t know that voice. But he knew it was right.
His chest was hollow. His mate was gone.
He opened his beak. The cold man smiled.
He closed it and the man smiled no more.
There was blood and screaming and pain.
He collapsed in a clearing. Pulling out bolts that pierced his hide.
They bled. It joined the blood on his face and claws. It stuck his fur together in clumps. Feathers of his wings stuck up at the wrong angles.
He didn’t bother fixing it.
He flew in a random direction. When he was tired he slept. When he was hungry he ate.
Distantly he thought it was sheep’s blood in his mouth but he didn’t care if it wasn’t.
His mate was gone and the world would pay for it.
The smell of death drew him in.
Force knocked him from the sky.
The cold seeped from a crack jarred opened by it.
He shrieked scrambling out of the way of the hunter’s blade. He spit at him and the hunter rolled away quickly.
“Fucking arch Griffin. Not getting paid enough for this shit.” He said dodging around his claws landing a blow to his shoulder.
It burned with cold that rushed out with his blood. His beak snapped closed around the hunter’s white hair as he slipped away.
“How do you like that silver?”
He didn’t.
He leaped to the skies away from the hunter.
Force blast his wing and he spun into the dirt.
He’d broken that wing once. Someone had helped him then.
He spat at the Witcher, acid burning his throat on the way up.
“You’re not much of an arch griffin are you?” He said easily side stepping it. “No wonder your mate’s dead."
He roared talons and sharp beak seeking to tear him apart.
His mate wasn’t dead! His mate just-
The silver opened a fresh river of cold on his chest.
His paw slammed into the Witcher’s side hurling him backward.
Just didn’t want him.
The cold sludge slowed to a drip. His body was warm. Warm but cooling as red heat flowed from him.
“Getting too old for this.” Geralt cursed, standing. Preparing for another attack.
He didn’t move.
His mate didn’t want him. There was no blood to drain from the earth in retribution for their death. He just wasn’t wanted.
Geralt’s face twitched. “How long are you going to make me wait?”
He laid down on his side, stretched his neck long and tried to remember them. The mate who wouldn’t even greet him on the other side.
He remembered Gentle hands on a broken wing.
Geralt stepped forward, blade raised.
He remembered hands gently smoothing down long brown ears.
Geralt eyed his unmoving limbs, stepping around the blood crusted talons.
He remembered a hand in his on a sunny rock by a lake.
Geralt raised his sword above his ribs to plunge it in for one final blow.
He remembered a song. The notes escaping his beak one last time.
Toss a coin to your Witcher.
The sword didn’t come down.
Oh valley of plenty.
“Jaskier?”
That was his name wasn’t it? His chest trilled. Jaskier. A flower.
Maybe that’s what he should be. That way he couldn’t hurt anyone else.
The sword clattered against the dirt. Silver was delicate Geralt would never-
He raised his head to look and Geralt’s arms buried themselves in his thick mane.
“Jaskier.” Geralt said it again. “Jaskier.” Like a desperate prayer finally answered. “Jaskier.”
This form couldn’t purr technically but he didn’t let that stop him.
Geralt sobbed as the rumbles started. “I thought you were dead.”
How long had it been? Weeks? Months? Years?
What was time anyway?
He ran his beak through the tangled mess of Geralt’s hair. Blood chipping off his beak into it.
Geralt shoved his face away. “You need a bath.”
That felt very fair. Everything stuck together and was covered in grime and he stunk.
He nudged Geralt’s shoulder. So do you.
He huffed a laugh and collapsed into his side. “Fuck. I really needed that bounty.”
He screeched as if in the throes of death. Gagged dramatically and flopped into the dirt, sticking his tongue out to really sell it.
“Hm.” He considered him. “Somehow I doubt that would work.”
He gave them a look and then returned to being dead.
Geralt shoved him. He glared at him. Fuck off I’m dead.
Geralt shook his head. Hand running through his mane. The last of the cold sludge slowly sealing the silvered gashes near to closed.
The form was bowing in the center, like it might snap under him, even though he didn’t particularly mind staying in this form. It was a new sensation.
“Shouldn’t have yelled at you.” His hands clung tightly to his mane like he thought Jaskier might run away. Which was stupid. He’d never run from Geralt. Not really. Even in the forest as the bear. He hadn’t run from Geralt.
He rumbled his agreement. Seemed like a bit of an overreaction.
“I didn’t mean to bind you.” Geralt muttered into his coarse, sticky fur. “Believe that I never meant to bind you to this life Jaskier.”
He could feel the form splintering under him. He purred louder. Bound. He wasn’t the one Geralt had wished for. Wasn’t the child of surprise accidentally claimed.
He was Jaskier. He’d chosen this life. He’d loved it. Even when it was awful he’d chosen to love it.
He rubbed his, frankly disgusting, – how did he let himself get so disgusting? - face against Geralt’s back. Soothingly. He hoped.
“I never meant to bind you to me.”
The form cracked out from under him. Geralt’s knees hit the ground as his supporting Griffin shifted into a bard in his arms.
Geralt squeezed him to his chest. “I didn’t know any other way to break it. I got to the bottom and you were gone. Really gone. I knew I’d never see you again. Because you only stayed-“
He reached his blood crusted hand to Geralt’s face – tried very hard not to remember whose or what’s blood it might have been – and cupped the thick stubble of his jaw cutting him off. “Because I wanted to.”
“Geralt that’s why I stayed. Because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be with you. We’re not fucking bound by magic.”
“Yennefer said-”
“Yennefer doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.”
Geralt glared at him and he buried his face in Geralt’s armor to avoid it.
Yennefer knew what she was talking about.
Didn’t mean he had to like it.
“Yennefer said you’re drawn to magic. That you. Were bound to mine. I swear I never meant to.”
“Geralt.” Geralt wouldn’t look at him, eyes locked on the horizon even as his arms crushed him in his embrace. “Geralt look at me.”
Geralt allowed his head to be turned to look at him. He knew he must look terrible. Hair long and matted. Coated in grime and blood and who knows what else. Fresh blood still dripping down his chest.
There was a tapestry of tiny threads, only made strong by how they were tightly woven together.
There was a question forced from his mouth once. Long ago. Because he wanted to stay by Geralt’s side.
“Geralt you did not bind yourself to me. I bound myself to you. Because I never wanted to leave your side.”
“You left my side all the time.” He tried to jest. Face soft with sadness and longing.
“And I always found my way back didn’t I?” He leaned up. Tried to get closer to Geralt’s face. He wanted to be close in every way.
“You did.” He agreed before his face shuttered closed in pain. “But magic. Yennefer said it could compel you to do anything. Love anyone if it was strong enough.”
“Geralt, dear heart?” Geralt’s embrace didn’t let him close enough to his face, so he settled for burying his face in the junction of his shoulder. “I think I bit a man’s head off for trying to use magic to make me love him. And he was far stronger than you. Fuck Geralt you don’t even set off the singing.”
“Singing?” Geralt shook his head slightly before burrowing into the muck of his hair. “Thought you abhorred violence.”
“I do and once we wash this off me I’m going to try very hard never to think about it again.” He was honestly feeling a bit nauseous from even mentioning it. The way his-
Ugh. Don’t. Don’t think about it.
“You do smell awful.” He buried his nose deeper. “Absolutely disgusting.”
“Well I feel even worse so can we maybe go get me a hot bath? I’ll tell them you saved me from the griffin and killed it.”
“With how you look right now they might actually believe it.”
“Hm.” He agreed trying to refill the space Geralt once resided with his scent. With the warmth under his fingers and the too tight embrace. “Geralt I’m sorry.”
“You owe me no apologies Jaskier.” Geralt continued his nuzzled wandering through his hair.
“I’m sorry for binding you to me. For” For the child of surprise. For the djinn. For everything. “For staying when you didn’t want me.”
His mate was gone. Not dead. Just didn’t want him.
“Jaskier I didn’t want you to go.” Geralt’s grip crushed the air from his chest before easing only slightly. “I just didn’t want you to have to stay.”
Tear tracks cleared clean creaks down his face and he turned up towards Geralt. Forced an arm free to turn Geralt face to his. “Can I stay? I want to stay.”
He nodded. “Please.”
Geralt relaxed his grip enough to press their foreheads together. “Please.” He said again.
“What do you want me to be?”
Geralt’s eyes widened slightly, recognizing the musically magical tint he had missed the first time. Or maybe just recognizing the words from all those years ago.
“Jaskier.” He hummed. “I want you to always be Jaskier, no matter the form you take.”
He closed his eyes enjoying the tapestry reweaving itself over the hollow in his chest.
He slowly opened his eyes to Geralt’s soft smile.
His mate wanted him.
He slowly angled his face, closed his eyes, and kissed him. Gently kissed his mate.
He eventually withdrew just a breath. Taking in his mates softly closed eyes and serene face.
His mate. The griffin trilled.
His mate? Oh fucking instincts he’d just kissed Geralt- not even for the first time- because of his inhuman instincts.
And his mate?
His face and neck and ears went hot with blood. Geralt eased his eyes open and chuckled, resuming his scenting nuzzle now over his jaw and face. “I have something of yours.”
“Hm?” He squeaked as Geralt’s lips ran over the pulse of his neck.
“You’ll have to explain to the university I didn’t steal it next time your there of course.”
His lute?
“My lute? She’s safe?” He begged of him.
Geralt’s eyes turned up to him and he nodded before resuming his self-appointed task of scenting every inch of his grimy neck.
“Well then you definitely did steal her because I said care of Oxenfurt not Geralt of Rivia who wouldn’t know proper lute maintenance if his best friend spent two decades explaining and demonstrating it to him.”
“Would you rather I’d left it? You’d have to wait until spring to play it again.”
“And why is that?”
“Because we’re going to Kaer Morhen.” He buried his nose in the crook of his neck and took a long drag of his scent before finally standing them up. “Can you walk? There’s someone you need to meet.”
He leaned against Geralt as the dizziness of standing slowly subsided. “I think so.” He assured.
“If you want me to carry you-“
“I want to stay human a little longer.” He interjected. It had been so long. It felt like it had been so long.
He smirked cheekily. “Then I can. You’re not heavy.”
“Oh.” He leaned on Geralt for a few moments more. “Just an arm for now. I want to walk.”
Geralt nodded hooking an arm under his.
“So who’s this mystery person I need to meet?”
Geralt smiled, leaned over and told him.
#geralt#jaskier#geraskier#geralt x jaskier#shapeshifter au#shapeshifter!Jaskier#what's the chance it posts in the tags?
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The Way Back Home
You can read it on Ao3
Relationships: Nezumi/Shion
Summary: Nezumi promised to come back, Shion promised to wait. They were young, and they had gone trough so much, but that didn’t make those promises any less true. They just needed time, and they would eventually find their way back to each other. The way back home.
Word count: 5072
Shion never truly shook off most of the habits he acquired while living on the West Block. Sometimes he would remind himself that it was only a little less than six months that he lived there. He was almost nineteen years; six months should feel like a small frame of time.
And yet, he sometimes felt like those were the only real months of his life. Everything before them felt like a distant dream, and everything after seemed dull in comparison.
His mother, always very perceptive, once asked him why he never referred to their house as home anymore. He tried to put it into words, he really tried, but how can you explain that home for Shion was a small basement with more books one person could read in ten years, and a bed hardly big enough for two teenagers even though they were fairly thin, as everyone was in a place where one meal a day was never taken for granted.
Shion never truly shook off most of the habits he acquired while living on the West Block. He felt disgusted when he saw someone wasting food, thinking in all the nights he went to sleep hungry, or all the kids that died in the streets of starvation. He would be cautious when opening the door, always making sure to have an object heavy enough to turn into a weapon if necessary... ...he only used one side of the bed while asleep. It wasn’t a conscious decision or anything, he was just used to sharing a bed now. Even if three years had passed, he still felt like someone should be laying by his side.
Nights were usually when he felt the loneliest.
But how could he explain to his mother that those were the days he thought of when he was afraid of losing himself? That in those sacred nights when nightmares didn’t make an act of presence and he woke up with a smile on his face, he dreamt of that?
To be able to see his mother daily again was a blessing, he did miss her a lot in those months, but he once said that even if he wanted to see his mother again, he didn’t want to go back to No.6. That was still true. His mother was the kindest human in his opinion, but even her empathy wasn’t enough to understand some things. There are things he never told her about, it was just better that way. She didn’t need to know that he still saw the bodies falling one after another during the Hunt every time he closed his eyes, or the fact that he had taken a man’s life without as much as a second thought, or how he thought about taking his own life after.
It was him or Nezumi.
And of course, that was the pivotal point of everything else. Home was Nezumi, happiness were his days with Nezumi, warmth was the feeling of Nezumi falling asleep next to him.
Nezumi, Nezumi, Nezumi... Where are you now, Nezumi?
He sometimes spoke of him, but mostly he wouldn’t. Weeks would pass without him saying that name out loud, but there wasn’t a day he wouldn’t think of him. In the beginning he would try to talk about him, but that made him feel even more alone.
His mother barely knew him, just a few days before he went away. Inukashi, for all that Shion was sure they cared for Nezumi, in that same sharp and distant way Nezumi cared for them, truly didn’t miss him. Inukashi didn’t care if Nezumi came back or not, and if they had even once truly wished for his return, it was only on Shion’s behalf.
Inukashi may not understand the truly extend of their relationship, but they saw enough to know Shion wouldn’t stop waiting, that he wouldn’t stop feeling like he was missing something essential.
Still, he rarely indulged Shion’s thirst of talking about Nezumi.
Rikuga was the worst of all. He really cared for Shion, but he also was convinced Shion was better off without Nezumi. He would sometimes speak so ill of Nezumi that even Inukashi felt the obligation to shut him up out of respect to Shion.
The only three people that also knew Nezumi, and they all had such distant ideas of him from what Nezumi truly was. Shion wouldn’t be as pretentious as to think he knew all about Nezumi, no one did. But he saw Nezumi being cold and cruel to the world, he saw the hatred in his heart, he heard him make the remarks that hurt the most, and he saw Nezumi cry at the idea of him dying, he remembered being led in a dance without music, and he still felt the ghost touch of gentle lips on his.
Rikuga thinks of Nezumi as the devil, and poor Shion having some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. Inukashi thought of Nezumi as mostly unpleasant and cold, and of Shion as being too naïve for letting himself get attached to someone as him. Karan thought of Nezumi as some sort of superhero that rescued her son and brought him back to her.
None of them understood.
During the first year and a half, Shion would sometimes talk to Tsukiyo, the mouse being the only one who missed Nezumi as much as him. After Tuskiyo died, without ever being reunited to his master or his brothers Hamlet and Cravat, Shion just stopped talking about him. He wondered if Nezumi had felt it the way Shion had just woken up one day knowing Hamlet was no more and experienced the same about Cravat some time at dinner a week after.
Some wishful part of him wanted to believe Nezumi would come back to him after that, but when the months continued to pass, he accepted he was still too optimist of a dreamer.
After his mother called him out on it, he tried to smile more, but he knew he wasn’t convincing, even if Karan never commented on it. Nezumi did tell him he was an awful actor. He tried to smile more, but every smile felt empty.
Nezumi, the world means nothing to me without you. Nothing.
It was still true.
I’m still waiting for you Nezumi, I will wait forever if that’s what it takes.
He really meant it, he was ready to wait all his life, but a not-so-small part of him also cried:
I can wait forever, but please don’t make me do it.
[***]
The day she got her son back, it was probably the happiest day in Karan’s life. He was really changed, his white hair and violet eyes the most obvious differences, but she immediately knew it wasn’t the only thing. She noted the small differences: how Shion was always a little bit tense, and how loud noises paralyzed him, but the day Nezumi left was the day she came face to face with the person her son was now.
His carefree smiles he would give to anyone who crossed his path were gone. Most of his smiles were gone, in general. She would go weeks without seeing more than the commissures of his lips going slightly up when he saw her in the morning or when he came home after work. In the beginning, she was sure it was the trauma of life in the West Block, but Rikiga and Inukashi got her out of her mistake, always talking about how Shion probably smiled to the guy that mugged him once, and Shion didn’t deny it.
“Shion, have you noticed? You don’t smile or laugh a lot anymore." She had told him, and it was obvious that he tried to do it more often after that, but it was also obvious that none of those smiles were authentic.
He seldom slept peacefully nowadays. He was quiet, always acting afraid of someone hearing him, but Karan sometimes heard anyways: Shion crying in his sleep. Sometimes he would mumble intelligible words, once Karan was sure to heard Safu’s name, but mostly he just called for Nezumi.
Nezumi. She would lie if she said she didn’t have conflicted feelings for the boy these days. On one hand, he was the one that took care of Shion, and for that she would forever be grateful. He even went the extra mile to tell her son was safe. That spoke of his kindness and compassion.
Yet, she had now to hear her son cry this boy’s name in his slept every night. She had to see her son feel his absence like a stab on his chest. Shion had told her Nezumi promised to come back, and she believed he would; Shion would not feel so strong for someone who didn’t deserve his trust, but as the years passed, she couldn’t help but wanting to know more about this guy she was trusting not to run off forever with her son’s heart, but Shion stopped talking about him.
First, she asked Rikiga about him. His answer did not comfort her at all.
“That rat is as bad of a person as they come. Manipulative, cruel, takes advantage of people’s feelings, maybe because he himself doesn’t have. His only redeeming qualities are his looks and his talent. The tears of someone as pure as Shion are wasted on him.”
That was... quite the antagonist view of the one Karan had of the boy. She had to remind herself that the West Block was a cruel place with no place for kindness. Everyone did what they had to survive. The only reason Shion must have gotten away with being too innocent and empathetic was because he had all these people looking out for him. Inukashi and Rikiga, but specially Nezumi.
“So, do you believe he was being honest when he told Shion he would come back?” She asked, still sure she wanted to hear an answer. This was her little boy, she had to be prepared for the heartbreak if one day Shion realized Nezumi wasn’t coming back.
Rikiga seem to be ready to answer, but he then took a long breath, followed by a sip of the coffee on his hand, he looked like he was considering for the first time.
“More than anything, I’m afraid he didn’t promise that. He’s good with his words, he may have said another thing, knowing Shion would misunderstand, thinking that would be enough for Shion to let him go. He has no consideration for anyone’s feelings.”
Karan had never once thought about that, but now she couldn’t shake off the fear of that being the reality. Was her son really waiting for someone who never said he would come back? Was he waiting for a lie? But Rikiga wasn’t done talking.
“And yet... there was something about the way he was around Shion. He acted almost like a person. He even let himself be ordered around, I once saw him helping dry Inukashi’s dogs without expecting anything in return, just because Shion asked him to.” A heavy sight scaped the man’s mouth. “If he has ever cared about anyone other than himself, then he cared about Shion. I hope he still cares enough to come back, because it would be a tragedy if Shion’s radiant smile disappeared forever with the unworthy rat.”
If that addition made her feel better or not, she wasn’t sure.
A month later, Inukashi dropped in the bakery, wanting a small cake for little Shionn’s birthday. After Shion had said the baby should had a birthday, Inukashi decided on the day the baby got entrusted into their care.
She offered some food and hot chocolate, which Inukashi happily accepted. They had a very sweet tooth, and with how mature they were, Karan sometimes forgot Inukashi was only seventeen. A kid, really.
After giving them the hot chocolate and some cookies, she had baked earlier that they, she confronted them with the same question she had confronted Rikiga.
“Nezumi?” Inukashi asked, as if the name sounded almost foreign. It probably did, Karan doubted they had heard the name in a long time. “He is a nightmare. Selfish, without empathy and... scary. Most of the time I wished I had never crossed paths with him. He always knew what to say to make you feel like shit, and he would take advantage of any weakness you showed.”
This time, Karan was slightly more prepared for the answer, but she still couldn’t help but feel at lost. How could Nezumi be so cruel and so kind? So selfish and so thoughtful? Who was this walking contradiction?
“Do you think he will come back?” asked Karan once again.
“If he promised Shion he would come back, he will. That boy is his weakness, if he ever had one. If I didn’t like Shion as much as I do, I would have tried to take revenge on Nezumi with him, but he is too likable. I will never understand how those two are so happy together, they are opposites in the worst ways.”
Karan couldn’t help but smile at Inukashi’s ramble. That sounded a lot more promising.
“Why do you say Shion is his weakness, if I may ask?”
After another bite to their cookie, Inukashi answered.
“He did stupid, dangerous things for him. He cared too much. Shion wasn’t material for the West Block, he was a burden to Nezumi. Even so, he never once tried to abandon him.” They stayed silence for a minute, as if trying to find their next words. “And he was different around Shion, he showed emotion I had never seen in the four years I knew him before Shion started living with him. He was afraid of Shion, and I didn’t understand why back then, but now I’m sure he was just afraid of what Shion made him feel. For a lonely rat like Nezumi, it must have been terrifying to suddenly care.”
Yes, that was something Karan could conceal with the Nezumi she had met. The Nezumi that acted annoyed at Shion’s antics and teased him mercilessly, but the fondness never leaving his eyes. The Nezumi that recited poetry and monologues and looked proud when Shion identified where did they come from.
A week later, she decided she would ask one last opinion. Shion had some rare free time, so she decided she would finally ask him. The pain in Shion’s eyes at hearing the name was evident, but the sweet smile that adorned his face was honest.
“Nezumi is kind, playful, smart and beautiful.” He said without hesitation. “He was also a pessimist; I think because he had too much hate inside. But when he relaxed, he was breathtaking. He had such a painful life...” His eyes filled with tears, but Karan knew better than to ask, that story was not for her ears. “He told me not to name the mice, and yet he started using the names as soon as he learnt them. I don’t know if he realized, but he always tried to make me happy or just make me feel better if he had the chance.”
Somehow, Karan felt as if that was the missing piece in this puzzle.
He even let himself be ordered around... That boy is his weakness, if he ever had one....
Nezumi stopped being a contradiction and went back to being just a boy in her mind. Still, she asked the question.
“Are you sure he will come back?”
The question seemed to take Shion by surprise, as if he couldn’t understand someone would doubt it.
“Of course he will, he promised me, and before that he promised me there would be no more farewell kisses. Nezumi wouldn’t break two promises just like that.” He seemed none the wiser about the bomb he had just dropped on his mother.
Farewell kisses?
Although in hindsight, Karan knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. She had been wrong before; this was the missing piece of the puzzle.
“How are you so sure?” Does he truly correspond you? Was the question she didn’t ask.
“Because that would hurt me, and he once told me he couldn’t even imagine wanting to hurt me, so he wouldn’t lie to me like that.” He sounded so sure, that all remainder of doubt vanished from her mind.
Nezumi, I think I finally have an idea of who you are, and I know you must miss Shion as much as he misses you. So please, please come back home.
Come back to him.
[***]
Nezumi liked bars. He never drank, of course, because that could leave him vulnerable. He needed all his senses to be as sharp as always. In fact, the only time he had ever drunk alcohol in the presence of another person was all those years ago with...
So, the reason Nezumi liked bars was because it was easy to get some amiable company that would forget about him the next day. That way no one would miss him when took his bag and jumped town. No one would get attached to him.
This afternoon was no exception. He had managed to get invited to a table with a group of friends. They were drunk and loud, but it helped ignore the ache in his chest. If he tried hard enough, he sometimes managed to convince himself he was having a good time.
The alternative was to stay all the night at whatever place he had gotten for the time being, thinking about...
Everything was going perfectly, until one of the girls started to flirt shamelessly with him, and it was not the kind of flirting that just came with the low inhibitions of the alcohol, it was the type that expected to get somewhere. Of course, being the master actor that he was, no one noted his shoulders tense at the thought of being with someone, even if just for one night. He couldn’t do that, he always ended up feeling like he was cheating.
Even if no one realized he was feeling uncomfortable, they did realize he was deflecting this girl advances.
“Come one, Hanna, take a hint and let the boy breath. You’re going to scare him away.” One of her friends said, and Nezumi couldn’t help but feel grateful when the girl, Hanna, listened and backed down.
Hanna... what’s with people and naming their children after flowers?
After that the night was pretty much ruined for Nezumi. He pretended to have fun, of course, but he disliked it even more than usual. His treacherous mind kept slipping to a basement with his books and soup and...
Stop.
After a few hours, he decided to just go back to the cheap hotel he was staying at, having decided he was not in the mood to keep on pretending.
I never had to pretend around him.
Even though his plan was to go to the hotel, his feet just lead him to the park near his hotel.
As this town was in the rise of the mountain, he had a great view. His eyes, as ever, looked south without his permission. Of course, he couldn’t see what he wanted; he was too far away, it was a futile effort.
Hamlet and Cravat always used make sad noises when they looked in the direction of No.6, they probably had missed Tsukiyo. Of course, both mice had passed away over a year ago, but Nezumi sometimes still thought of them.
That’s why you shouldn’t name them. You get attached. But you just had to name them, S-
“Hey, Nezumi, what a coincidence!"
He had heard someone coming close, so he wasn’t surprised, but he didn’t expect the stranger to know his name. He turned back and saw the girl from the bar earlier, what was her name...?
Right, Hanna.
“Should I be worried about you following me?” He asked, putting a mask back on. The girl laughed as if that was the most hilarious comment ever.
“No, don’t worry. I swear it was just a coincidence, I live down the street in the dark red house.” She explained, pointing the house she was talking about.
Such an idiot, telling her address to a perfect stranger without fear of all I could do with that information. I hate when people are so careless and trusting, it’s so annoying.
Except he used to just laugh about those people’s stupidity, it just started to annoy him when he couldn’t help but think of...
“I’m sorry for earlier,” she interrupted his thoughts “I tend to be a flirty drunk, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“Not at all.” He wished she would just accept his answer and go away, but clearly it wasn’t his lucky day. She took a step closer and look south.
“What’s that way? For the way you were looking, it must be important. Your home, perhaps?”
“I don’t have a home.”
“Childhood home, then? Family? You can tell me; we will never see each other again.” She sounded so sure, it annoyed Nezumi greatly.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you look like the type of people that can’t stay in one place. Are you running away, perhaps?”
“You’re a chatty drunk.” It was a weak comeback, he knew, but he couldn’t help but feel she had hit a little too close to home.
I’m not running away from anything. Then why won’t you say his name?
“Hit the nail, I see.” She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. Maybe she hadn’t. “So, running away from something, but you don’t look like the type to run away from a fight, or even from the past. That leaves us with... a person.”
He didn’t respond to that.
“What’s her name?”
He didn’t owe her an answer.
Say it.
She was just a stranger.
Why can’t I say his name?
He could just walk away right now.
And what, keep running away forever?
“His name is Shion.”
The pain hit him like a bullet, and he knew from own experience what bullets felt like. That’s why he had stop saying that name, thinking that name. It was dangerous, it made him want to go back.
“I see, I guess my name did not help my case.” She said it with such a lightness, it was clear she didn’t care at all. It looked like she was indeed just a flirty drunk. “You should go back to him.”
“How would you know? You don’t know anything about us.” The question came out weaker than intended. He sounded almost interested in the answer.
“If he is important enough to run away from, then he is important enough to come back to.” Then, like a second thought she added, “Is he waiting for you?”
“Yes.” He did not hesitate. Because for any other person there would be doubt. Three years apart, without a word. He just waited until he could walk enough to run away, and he did. Left with a kiss and a promise he didn’t intend to make in the first place.
He wasn’t supposed to promise anything, but Shion started crying, he was hurting, and Nezumi didn’t want to cause Shion any pain. He didn’t want to keep being the reason for his tears, so he made the stupid promise. And Shion promised to wait.
And that was all Nezumi needed to know that Shion would wait for forever.
“Then just go back to him, and everything else will fall into place.”
They stayed in silence for a while. The she turned around and kept going in her way back home. As if she hadn’t just destroyed the wall Nezumi used to hide his feelings for Shion. As if she hadn’t just told him to go back to what he had tried so desperately to run from.
It was mid-July; he was a little over a month away from No.6. Without realizing, he had gone nearer and nearer since he met Shion’s father. He briefly wondered if the man had arrived to the city, but then decided that probably not. Those were six months of travel; he didn’t look like someone with the commitment to travel that much to one place.
He could be in time for Shion’s birthday.
Eight years since he first met him in that stormy night. Four years since they had met again. Now, they would be reunited one last time. Nezumi had to appreciate the symmetry in their history, it was quite dramatic.
[***]
Two months later, Inukashi and Rikiga found out Nezumi came back because Shion dragged him to West Block to help wash the dogs. Both felt compelled to ask him what the hell had taken him so damn long to come back, and if he knew how bad Shion had been since he decided to just leave-
But one look at how he constantly reassured Shion with physical contact, like he was trying to convince him he was really here, and one look at how he went out of his way to remain in Shion’s visual field, how didn’t even try to argue about drying the dogs, and it was obvious Nezumi knew.
One look at how ecstatic Shion was, just ranting about topics no one understood, and smiling like he was trying to compensate for the last three and a half years that he didn’t, and it was clear Nezumi was forgiven, and Shion wouldn’t appreciate if they tried to defend his honor.
“Are you staying around this time?” Was all Inukashi asked when Shion was distracted enough.
Nezumi looked at where Shion was, washing an old dog as careful as ever, when answering.
“Yeah, probably, and if I want to travel again, I will just take him with me. Turns out, I got used to taking care of the airhead, traveling alone was too easy.” Inukashi knew Nezumi said it like that to get on their nerves, but this time it didn’t work.
Nezumi wouldn’t leave Shion behind again, no matter if they stayed or went away. That was enough for Inukashi.
Karan found out Nezumi came back the morning after Shion’s twentieth birthday. Her son came running down the stairs, the biggest smile ever on his face, and before he even opened his mouth, she just knew that couldn’t be for any other reason but Nezumi.
She was right, as few seconds later a second pair of footsteps followed down.
“Welcome back, Nezumi.” She didn’t give him a chance to escape before trapping him in a big hug, not that the boy resisted.
He looked thin, although not as much as the first time they met, and he looked tired, but his eyes shined every time he looked at Shion, which was all the time.
When Shion looked away, he did it with the fear of turning back again just to realize Nezumi was gone again. She was not the only one who noticed, because in question of minutes, Nezumi was already making sure some part of him was always in contact with Shion.
Karan knew her son, and so she knew it would take a while for him to fully interiorize that Nezumi wouldn’t disappear the moment he looked away, but they would get there. Maybe now that he had a Nezumi sleeping next to him, most of the nightmares would stop.
Eventually, Shion had to go to the bathroom and left Nezumi’s side for a pair of minutes.
“You won’t leave him again, right? I understand you had to leave, and Shion does too, but please promise me you won’t put him through that again.” She was pretty sure of the answer, but she needed a promise.
Because Nezumi didn’t break his promises, especially when they were about Shion.
Nezumi responded with an uncharacteristically earnest, at least for what she was used to from him, look on his face.
“I promise I won’t leave him again. He’s stuck with me from now on.”
The smile on her face rivaled Shion’s one when he came back to the sight of Nezumi still there, in the kitchen.
Everything would be okay.
Shion found out Nezumi came back on the night of his birthday. He was on his bed, reading Macbeth. It made him feel closer to Nezumi, as did his open window. He did not expect Nezumi to really come back that night, it just felt right.
Nowadays he was used to his mind playing tricks on him, so when he felt movement in the room, he refused to take his eyes from the book. He refused to let himself hope.
“Is Your Majesty waiting for me, or do I need to fight for the honor of using the window as my entrance with someone else?” The voice, the words, it sounded very real.
Afraid, Shion closed the book and looked up, and there he was.
Without thinking, Shion ran into Nezumi’s open arms. Hel felt real, he smelt real. If this was some cruel dream he would have to wake up from soon, maybe it would be the one to finally break him.
“Did your verbal capacity decay so much in my absence you won’t even great me back?” Nezumi teased, but he didn’t make a move to escape from the embrace.
“Is it really you?” Shion’s voice was so small and fearful that Nezumi would have almost preferred to find an enraged Shion that would had hit him and scream at him.
Almost, but he was still a selfish man, and he had dreamed about having Shion in his arms just like this every day since he left.
Carefully, putting his index finger under Shion’s chin, he made him look up. Finally, he once again had those captivating violet eyes focused on him.
“It’s me, Shion. I promised reunion would come, and here I am, asking you to take me back one more time.” He barely finished speaking when he had a pair of clumsy lips against his.
The kiss was sweet, but also passionate. Shion wondered if Nezumi had dreamt of this kiss as much as him. When they break the kiss, Nezumi can’t help but ask with a satisficed smile on his face.
“Which kind of kiss was that, your Majesty?”
“A welcome home kiss.”
Just then both realized the truth in that statement. Here, in each other’s arms, they were finally home.
“It’s good to be home.”
#no.6#no. 6#nezushi#shion#nezumi#happy birthday shion#atsuko asano#no.6 anime#no.6 manga#no.6 light novels#Reunion Will Come#My writing
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summary: you are a mermaid and you save a handsome man from drowning but little do you know it’s not his first rodeo when dealing with mermaids. seonghwa, a former prince, is currently hongjoong’s first mate and boyfriend. hongjoong is the captain, the pirate king of the most savage crew across the seas. and you want nothing to do with them. not because they’re pirates, but because they’re humans…
ship: mermaid!reader x prince/pirate!seonghwa x pirate!hongjoong
genre: little mermaid!au, pirate!au, romance, ANGST, fantasy
warnings: manipulation, betrayal, lying, jealousy, insecurities, death mentions, to sum up: everyone suffers a lot and i have no excuse
author’s note: actually nah, yeosang & soojin are living their best lives
word count: 3.5k
chapter one ☠️ chapter two ☠️ chapter three ☠️ chapter four ☠️ chapter six ☠️ chapter seven ☠️ chapter eight ☠️ chapter nine ☠️ chapter ten ☠️ chapter eleven ☠️ chapter twelve ☠️ chapter thirteen ☠️ spotify playlist
Hongjoong’s POV
I couldn’t take it anymore. The more time passed, the closer Seonghwa got to Y/N. It was destroying me slowly. I wanted her out of his life, out of my life. Everything was perfect before. But my boyfriend was spending more and more of his free minutes in her company. And it was so damn frustrating. Because these minutes were supposed to be mine.
I was the one he was supposed to cherish. But he barely paid any attention to me. I wanted to get rid of her so fucking badly. At first, I considered killing her. But then, I changed my mind. If Seonghwa ever found out, he would hate me for it. He would end things with me for good. It would have an opposite effect of what I wanted to achieve.
So, instead I came up with a different plan altogether. I wanted her out of the picture, right? I just had to convince her to leave on her own terms. To convince her that Seonghwa wasn’t good enough for her. And I knew just the thing that would make her walk away. Well, technically, she would swim away, but whatever.
A smile appeared on my face. It was perfect. I just had to figure out how to get her alone. Whenever she swam by, Seonghwa was always quick to go to her. I needed him to be distracted by something so that I could accomplish my plan. An idea was already forming in my head. But I needed Yeosang’s help. And I couldn’t tell him the truth about my intentions, because he might tell Seonghwa and then everything would go to hell. So, naturally, I improvised.
“Sangie, will you help me with something?” I cooed in the younger boy’s ear while he was cooking something.
“What is it, hyung?” Yeosang asked.
“Well, you remember what you suggested a while ago? About having more than one lover…”
“Oh my God, did you finally make up your mind? You’re going to stop being jealous of Y/N?”
“M-maybe,” I lied. “But I want it to be a surprise for Seonghwa. And in order to do that, I need to talk to her first. Alone.”
“What do you need me for?” Yeosang inquired, eager to help. Poor boy had no idea he was being deceived.
“I need you to distract Seonghwa while I’m discussing it with Y/N. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure thing! I’ll tell him there’s an emergency in the kitchen next time she swims by and make him come with me while you’re talking with Y/N.”
“Really? That sounds great. Thank you so much, Sangie!” I responded, trying not to sound too gleeful about it.
“Of course, it’s no big deal,” Yeosang replied. “I really hope things work out for the three of you. It’d be so nice for you to finally get along with Y/N. She really isn’t a bad person.”
I restrained myself from pointing out that she wasn’t even a person at all.
🧜♀️🧜♀️🧜♀️
Reader’s POV
During the past few weeks you’d been swimming to the pirates’ ship every day. Talking to Seonghwa about his adventures was the highlight of your day. You called his name as soon as you reached the ship. You were surprised when he didn’t show up immediately. So far, it had never taken him so long. A couple of moments later, you were greeted by Hongjoong, the captain of the ship and Seonghwa’s boyfriend. You frowned in suspicion, because he never regarded you. So, what changed? Why did he suddenly want to communicate with you. It was weird.
“What do you want?” you huffed. “Where is Seonghwa?”
“Unavailable at the moment, I’m afraid,” Hongjoong informed you.
So strange…
“Listen, I can tell you two are getting closer so I felt it’s only right to warn you.”
“I don’t need to hear anything from you,” you groaned in annoyance. “I know you’re jealous I might steal your boyfriend away. Whatever you say, it won’t stop me from wanting to be his friend.”
“I might as well go ahead and say it, then,” Hongjoong laughed. “If you’re so sure it’ll change nothing.”
Your raised an eyebrow in curiosity. What was he getting at? Did he actually have anything worth talking about or was he just bluffing for whatever reason?
“Go ahead,” you gave him permission needlessly, because he was already intent on telling you something very important.
“Didn’t you ever wonder how Seonghwa knew about Ariel?” Hongjoong suddenly questioned you.
“Many humans have heard the story,” you didn’t think much about it. But now that he mentioned it…Seonghwa had looked particularly heartbroken whenever Ariel’s name came up in conversation. You wondered…why was that?
“You’d be surprised what Seonghwa knows and hasn’t told you.”
You tilted your head slightly in confusion. What was he talking about?
“Shouldn’t I be asking him that?” you challenged Hongjoong. “Why should I trust you? All you’ve ever done since we met is be jealous.”
Hongjoong shook his head.
“Seonghwa’s not the man he claims to be. He’s hiding a terrible secret from you.”
“Stop being so ambiguous!” you were getting angry. “Just say whatever lie you’ve made up and leave me alone!”
Hongjoong nodded.
“Alright, then. You want a lie? The truth is Seonghwa is the reason Ariel turned into sea foam. She loved him,” he said, causing you to flinch. “That’s right,” he kept going. “He was the prince who abandoned her. She gave her voice, her tail and her life for him and he tossed it all away. Is that the kind of man you like?”
Tears began clouding your sight. This couldn’t be real. Hongjoong was lying.
“If he’s as terrible as you say he is, why are you with him?” you asked rightly. “Why would you feel threatened by me?”
Hongjoong laughed bitterly.
“You got it all wrong. I’m just as terrible as him, that’s why we belong together. I’ve killed people, Y/N. Seonghwa has, too. But you don’t belong in our world. You should save yourself before it’s too late.”
You couldn’t believe this. It had to be a lie. Right?
“After all, you don’t want to end up like her, do you?” Hongjoong dealt the killing blow.
By then, your eyes were filled with salty tears and your hands were shaking.
“Ask him if you don’t believe me,” Hongjoong chuckled sarcastically. “Unless…you’re afraid to hear him say it.”
“I’m not afraid of anything!” you screamed in frustration and returned where you have always belonged – to the bottom of the sea.
☠️☠️☠️
Seonghwa’s POV
I always warned Yeosang not to cook by himself, because it usually ended in disaster. So, naturally, I got a bit annoyed, because he didn’t listen to me. Of course, I couldn’t let him deal with the consequences all by himself and gave him a helping hand, whenever he needed assistance with his cooking adventures.
It wasn’t his fault that he burned something in the kitchen the minute Y/N came by to see me. However, by the time the chicken issue was dealt with, Y/N had already vanished without even talking to me. I felt a bit bummed out about that, but yet again, it couldn’t be helped. It was just an unpleasant coincidence. But when she didn’t show up the next day…and then, the following days, as well, I started to get worried.
I asked Yeosang if he knew anything about that, but he simply responded that Soojin hadn’t appeared recently, either. So, he was as concerned about our mermaid friends as I was. When a whole week passed without any trace of them, I knew that something had happened. This wasn’t like them at all. During the past month, Y/N and Soojin wouldn’t miss a day without interacting with us.
Their sudden disappearance was troubling, to say the least. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I reached out to Yeosang once more in hopes of finding out why they were no longer around. This time, he told me something different, which surprised me.
“Hongjoong was the last person who talked to Y/N before she and Soojin vanished.”
“Hongjoong?” my eyes narrowed in suspicion. “That doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t even like Y/N. Why would he talk to her?”
“That was my thought, as well,” Yeosang exclaimed. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but he asked me to distract you, while he was having a conversation with her.”
“What for?” I kept pressing Yeosang for information. This situation was getting really frustrating.
“He…wanted to convince her that he was okay with her being your lover. It was my idea, actually.”
“And what, you think Y/N found that idea so displeasing that she would leave without talking to me? And Soojin, too. Something doesn’t add up.”
Yeosang nodded, agreeing with me.
“Now that I think about it, Hongjoong seemed awfully cheerful about making peace with her.”
“Out of character much, no?” I frowned.
“Precisely. I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship, hyung, but it’s highly possible, he tricked us both.”
I bit my lips anxiously.
“I’m afraid you might be right. I have no choice but to ask him myself.”
“No, hyung, wait,” Yeosang made an attempt to stop me, probably because he didn’t want me to get hurt, but it was already too late, because I was determined to find out what exactly Hongjoong had told Y/N to make her leave without even bothering to say goodbye to me.
☠️☠️☠️
Hongjoong’s POV
Things were going great. Ever since I told Y/N about Seonghwa and Ariel’s history, I had my boyfriend all to myself. My plan had been executed so perfectly that I couldn’t help but worry it was too much of a good thing. I mean…Seonghwa would occasionally ask around if anyone had heard anything from Y/N. But I was certain he’d forget her soon enough and move on. Right?
Well, to put it simply, I was wrong. And I messed up so fucking badly I wanted to punch myself.
“What did you tell her, Hongjoong?” Seonghwa yelled at me angrily, grabbing me by the shirt, his face dangerously close to mine and not in the way I was used to and loved. He was furious. And he had every right to be. I was such an asshole for telling her. He’d trusted me with such a big secret and I’d betrayed him. I wasn’t sure he would ever forgive me for it. So, I played dumb.
“What are you talking about?” I feigned ignorance to the best of my abilities.
“Oh, don’t pull that shit,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Yeosang told me you were the last person on this ship who was seen talking to Y/N. Don’t make me ask again,” he threatened.
I gulped nervously.
“Why would I talk to her? It’s not like we have anything in common,” I lied.
“You have me,” Seonghwa chuckled darkly. “So, cut the crap and tell me...unless you want me to go to the bottom of the sea and ask her myself.”
I sighed. That was exactly the kind of thing I was trying to avoid. What was the use of me talking to Y/N if Seonghwa was going to go after her anyways? I was such an idiot it was embarrassing.
“Hwa, baby, I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t even need to verbalize what I’d told her. Seonghwa already knew.
“Please, tell me you didn’t,” he pleaded, his voice on the verge of breaking.
But I did. How could I deny it? So, instead, I just looked him in the eyes, my own were filled with regret.
Seonghwa shook his head in disappointment.
“How could you do this to me, Hongjoong? I trusted you and you betrayed me.”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I replied, immediately going on the offence, because it would hurt me less than admitting I was in the wrong. “Do you know how it feels to watch you watch her? It’s killing me, Hwa, it’s killing me that you’d rather be with someone else if you could. That I’m not good enough for you.”
Seonghwa flinched away from me as if I’d struck him with my words.
“You were good enough. But honestly, I’m looking at you right now and I can’t even recognize the man I fell in love with. I never did anything wrong, Hongjoong. So don’t project your insecurities onto me, because you and I both know I’m not the one who broke your trust.”
Fuck. I knew he was right but what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t take back what I’ve said or done. And if he hadn’t given me reason to question his loyalty, I wouldn’t have gotten this far.
“Fine. You didn’t do anything wrong, but you thought of it.”
“It’s not the same!” Seonghwa screamed. “Damn it, Hongjoong. If I think about killing someone, it’s not the same as actually killing them.”
“Are you thinking about killing me right now?” I asked him, my voice cold and devoid of any emotion. Inside, I was burning alive.
“I don’t know,” Seonghwa responded. “But I’m thinking I don’t want to stay in the same room with you.”
I nodded in understanding.
“That’s fair.”
And then, he walked away, taking the shattered pieces of my heart with him.
🧜♀️🧜♀️🧜♀️
Reader’s POV
You had spent the last week trying to distract yourself by doing all of your favourite activities. Collecting starfish with Soojin, observing corals, catching fish, dancing with dolphins, orchestrating concerts with the seagulls. Anything and everything that would take your mind off things. You were so desperately trying to forget everything you’d learned from Hongjoong that you forgot your initial plan. You were supposed to hear Seonghwa’s side of the story. You supposed that Hongjoong’s judgement was clouded by jealousy and he may or may not have exaggerated the extent to which Seonghwa was guilty of Ariel’s death. And yet, something was telling you that he was telling the truth...for the most part.
At one point, Soojin couldn’t put up with your refusal to talk to Seonghwa ever again.
“We have to go up! You guys should discuss this. Instead you’re just shutting him out without allowing him to explain.”
You scoffed.
“Oh, please, you just want to make out with Yeosang. You don’t give a shit about whether Seonghwa was actually responsible for our cousin’s demise.”
Soojin slapped your hand lightly, obviously offended.
“How could you say that? I cared about Ariel, too. But I don’t think Seonghwa is the type of guy who’d hurt her on purpose.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? Hongjoong told me everything. And who, if not him, would know Seonghwa’s secrets best? Seriously, Soojin, sometimes I think you live in an imaginary world where everything’s perfect and no one gets hurt. Well, wake up, sweetheart! Reality sucks and we have to think twice before trusting some dumb pirates.”
Soojin was getting even more angry with you.
“Even if it’s true, isn’t it only right to hear Seonghwa admit to it? You said it yourself. Hongjoong was jealous of you. What if he lied to you, huh? Wouldn’t you like to know for sure? And yes, maybe I do miss Yeosang. Like…a lot. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or Ariel. You know I have always had your back, Y/N. I’m on your side and I just want you to be happy again. Please, just give Seonghwa one last chance.”
You closed your eyes, trying to numb the pain. Soojin had a point, of course she had. But realizing it meant you had to admit you were wrong.
“Fine,” you finally conceded. “But if I don’t like his explanation, I’m going back here for good. You can do whatever you want with Yeosang but you won’t drag me with you ever again.”
“I swear you won’t regret it, sis!” Soojin vowed solemnly.
“I hope, for your own sake, that you’re right.”
She gave you a tight hug and made you promise not to act rashly and consider every side of the story before making a final decision. You said that you’d try your best to be more patient and she seemed pleased enough by that. All that remained now was to actually put this plan into practice.
☠️☠️☠️
Seonghwa’s POV
I knocked on Yeosang’s door lightly, hoping he’d answer. I was so angry and upset with Hongjoong that I couldn’t imagine sleeping in the same bed as him. How could he do this to me? At first, I hadn’t planned on ever telling Y/N about my love for Ariel. But the more I got to know her, the more I wanted to be completely honest with her.
It was my secret to tell. He had no right to take that away from me. He had no right to drive her away. I was willing to bet he hadn’t presented the facts, as they were. I should have seen this coming. I should have anticipated his jealousy leading him into making this decision. I shouldn’t have trusted him.
“Hyung?” Yeosang murmured sleepily and rubbed his eyes as he opened the door to his room.
“Can I stay here tonight?”
“Sure,” he stepped aside to let me in. “Did something happen?”
“Just go back to sleep, Sangie. I don’t want to talk about it,” I responded.
“Oh, okay. Well, you don’t have to talk,” Yeosang sat down next to me on the edge of the bed and wrapped his gentle arms around me. A silent tear rolled down my cheek as I tried to restrain myself from crumbling. Why did it have to hurt so much? “It’s okay, hyung. Everything will be okay.”
“T-thank you,” I mumbled and squeezed his hand tightly. “For being there for me.”
“Try to get some sleep, yeah? You’ll feel better in the morning,” Yeosang advised me and in that moment, I felt like I was the kid and he was the parent. Oh, how the tables have turned.
“When did you get so wise, huh?” I joked.
“I take it after you,” Yeosang smiled sweetly.
☠️☠️☠️
Yeosang’s POV
I couldn’t possibly kick Seonghwa out, not after what he’d been through. In a way, I related to the way he felt. After all, Soojin wasn’t anywhere to be seen, either. I couldn’t help but worry about her. Though I wasn’t a 100% sure of what Hongjoong had told Y/N that would drive the two mermaids away, I had a suspicion that was most likely correct. Naturally, I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. It wasn’t my secret to tell. But what I could do was be there for Seonghwa. Right now he needed a friend who wouldn’t betray his trust. And as much as I respected and cared for Hongjoong, I had a feeling he had done just that.
Seonghwa was sleeping uneasily, tossing and turning, obviously tormented by something. I wished I could make him open up and make his problems disappear just by listening to him talk about them. But after what I suspected he’d been through, I was fairly certain he’d a have a very difficult time ahead of him. I couldn’t do much but support him in my own silent way. It would have to be good enough.
Wondering about all these things, I couldn’t get any sleep. Which was somewhat fortunate, because if I had been asleep, I probably wouldn’t have heard Soojin calling my name in the middle of the night. I hurried out of my room, trying to be as quiet as possible, because I didn’t want to disturb Seonghwa’s already troublesome dreams.
“Soojin!” I whisper-yelled at her in the dark and jumped out of the ship, swimming towards her without thinking twice.
“Yeosang!” she greeted me happily and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I missed you so much!”
“What happened?” I asked her immediately, not wanting to waste any time in needless formalities.
“It’s so terrible. But I can’t tell you yet. It’s not my se-“
“Secret to tell,” I finished instead of her. “I understand.”
“All I can say is it involves Seonghwa’s past,” Soojin couldn’t refrain herself from sharing that piece of information.
“I figured as much,” I confessed. “You think Y/N will want to talk to him again?”
Soojin shook her head.
“I’ve been trying to convince her to hear him out for the past week. But I don’t know. Maybe she will, maybe she won’t.”
I nodded.
“Well, enough about them. I’m happy you came, I was worried sick.”
“I’m fine,” Soojin reassured me. “But I was terrified you’d think I left you on purpose or something.”
“Something was telling me that wasn’t the case, darling.”
It was too dark to see but Soojin’s warm face against my chest suggested to me that she was blushing. I smirked.
“I missed you, too, you know?”
“Of course you did, I’m awesome,” she giggled playfully and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
“And humble, I see,” I teased her and stroked her hair.
Soojin laughed and if someone asked, I’d tell them that sound was my favourite song.
To be continued…
#ateez#seonghwa#hongjoong#yeosang#seongjoong#seonghwa x reader#ateez angst#ateez x reader#soojin#(g)i-dle#pirate au#mermaid au#writing
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Two People You Never Piss Off
Or as I like to call it: Luka rips Lila a new one
This is the first story I’m posting on here and it’s very Lila bashing and takes place after the season 3 finale has happened so spoilers!!!! just in case
Word count: 2965
With all that out of the way, I hope any of y’all who read it enjoy it!
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Luka sat some distance away from his sister and her friends, perfectly content to listen to them having fun while he played his guitar and watched. Something nagged at his mind, however: he recognised everyone there - Juleka, Rose, Alix, Mylene and Alya - except one girl. With two ugly sausages on the side of her head - he really had no clue what type of aesthetic she was reaching for with those, but either way she failed miserably - and a meek expression on her face as she spoke that seemed too carefully crafted to feel real, he could already hear what sort of melody he associated with her. It was sour and impure, a garbled mess of everyone else’s melodies and, quite frankly, it made him feel a little bit queasy.
That wasn’t the main problem, however. He couldn’t help but be painfully aware of Marinette’s absence, and the way no one seemed to care about it either. Ever since Chloe had been akumatized on her parents’ anniversary, he’d been worried for her. He’d spoken with Juleka a few days after Ladybug had set everything back to normal, and he’d asked her if she’d noticed whether something was wrong with Marinette. Her answer hadn’t been very assuring.
“Well,” he remembered her starting, dragging out the word as she thought. When she spoke again, her words had been slow and careful. “Marinette has had something against Lila since she came back from Achu, and she never normally hates someone that much. She keeps saying she’s lying but whenever she does Alya just dismisses her and says that she’s just jealous because Lila is close to Adrien. I always thought that was a bit weird, because she helped Adrien go on that date with Kagami even though it hurt her, but that’s not the point. I don’t know if Lila did something to her, but I think Marinette has a point, even if Alya would kill me for saying that - I mean, she knows Jagged Stone personally.” Juleka looked out of the window nervously before continuing.
“But ever since Chloe and her parents got akumatized, she’s been acting really strange. It’s almost like she’s mourning someone, she’s been that upset. Whenever we ask her to hang out she either blows us off because she’s so busy or she comes but she ends up on her own. Alya asked her why she was so upset once and she just said she’d lost something important. Alya assumed it was because Adrien and Kagami were getting closer. But Rose thought she meant she’d lost something valuable, like an earring or something.”
Since then, he’d seen Marinette once or twice when he had to deliver something to the bakery. Every time, she seemed well. Happy, but reserved. Her melody was more subdued, but it also seemed more mature, like she herself had had an experience that made her wiser. It was unusual, but he’d just been happy that she’d been handling herself well.
So seeing her friends without her, he was inclined to believe that she was just busy again. He was also inclined to believe that the sausage-girl was the Lila that Juleka told him Marinette didn’t like. The girl who could be lying. He focused on his guitar again and began to strum Marinette’s new melody softly.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when he was interrupted by someone holding their hand out to him and quietly saying, “Hi.” He let his final chord finish playing before he looked up to see Lila in front of him, a warm albeit nervous smile on her face. “I’m Lila, and you must be Juleka’s brother Luka. I’ve heard a lot about you, you know. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Before he replied, she scooped up the skirt beneath her legs and sat next to her, making a point to flash him another smile. “The others have just gone to go and get some stuff, but they were so considerate of my arthritis that they told me to just wait up here so I didn’t injure myself! So I thought I’d come and introduce myself to you.”
As unpleasant as her melody was, he didn’t have any reason to distrust or dislike her yet, so he pushed those feelings aside in favour of watching her very carefully. “Well it’s nice to meet you too, Lila. Although, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”
She laughed with a wave of one hand. It was a pleasant, bubbly sound but there was something slightly off about it that he couldn’t place. “That’s because you haven’t seen me here before. See, Juleka has invited me here a lot but I’ve always been so busy fundraising or talking with leaders of charities or catching up on schoolwork I’ve missed while away for my mama’s business that this is the first time I’ve been able to accept it,” she explained. Immediately he noticed that she was someone who spoke with her hands, gesticulating and gesturing in random directions to make her explanations seem larger. Whether it was natural or something she’d learned to manipulate people, he wasn’t sure. She hadn’t done anything to indicate she was lying yet.
He tried to hide his skepticism as he spoke, opting for a neutral, “Well, I’m glad you could make it this time, Lila. I’m sure you must have been upset to miss those first few times.”
Her face dropped and she gathered her hands in her lap, staring down at them pointedly as she replied, her voice quivering as she spoke. “Oh, I was really upset about it, but Juleka and the others were so nice about it, they didn’t even get mad when I told them I already had plans. You’re so lucky to have Juleka as a sister, you know. I’d kill to have someone as understanding as her in my family, but you know how it as an only child - you can only emulate those sorts of relationships. It makes me sort of envious of you and Juleka. You guys have always had that, while I’m going to have to search for someone who will trust me the same way I would.” Then she looked up at him, eyes going wide as if she realised she’d done something wrong. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry for unloading on you like that, especially when we don’t know each other that well!”
“It’s fine,” he reassured her, despite the conflicting feelings in his chest. On one hand, if she was genuine, he knew he would feel sympathy for her - a mixture of guilt due to inadvertently upsetting her and worry due to how scared she was of upsetting him - but if she was a liar like Marinette said, he knew he would be furious with her for trying to manipulate him into feeling bad, probably to butter him up for a lie. Both mindsets fought the other. “We all have something we need to take off our chest sometimes.”
She sniffled, head in hands before she looked up, cheeks pink and eyes wet around the edges and stared up at him for a moment before her face split into a wide grin and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Oh, thank you Luka!” she hiccupped, tightening her hold on him. “How can I repay you for being so kind and understanding?”
“Repay?” he asked. Where was she going with this?
“Well, you- you like Jagged Stone, don’t you? I could get you a ticket to his next concert!” she offered, pulling away and clasping her hands in front of her chest. Her voice was hopeful. “It wouldn’t be hard!”
His gut squirmed as he contemplated what to do next. This is it, Luka, he thought. This is where you find out whether she’s lying or not. “How would you do that? I don’t want you paying money just because I listened to you rant about your feelings.”
“It’ll be no trouble at all!” Lila waved him off, her change in mood a little jarring. “I don’t know whether Juleka told you or not already, but Jagged loves me - I’m like his . honorary daughter! He even wrote a song for me once!”
“Really? What song?” There was something suspicious about the way she paled. “If you say it, I’ll know which one you’re talking about.”
“Well,” she spluttered, picking at her nails sheepishly. “I said he wrote a song for me, but I didn’t mean he published it. It would seem a bit weird to praise a 15 year old girl…”
“Actually, that depends on what he’s praised you for,” he countered. “Jagged Stone loved Marinette’s designs so much that he wouldn’t stop promoting her for another two months at least, but no one thought it was weird because he praised her designs, not her. Was he praising you for something you did or was it in a creepy, ‘this random girl is nice, she’s a minor, I’m an adult’ way?”
“I’m guessing Juleka didn’t tell you then?” she asked forcefully, eyes darting to where Juleka and her friends had gone. He shook his head and her shoulders tensed. “Well,” she dragged the word out as her melody began to go even more sour in the back of his mind. “Well, he made the song for me because I did something for him.”
“What did you do?” he asked curiously. “It must have been something dangerous if Jagged has had to keep quiet about it though, because he’s never mentioned you before on any of his social media.”
“I saved his pet from being run over at an airport once,” Lila admitted after what felt like ages, getting visibly nervous - tapping her foot against the floor and hunching her shoulders so that she was smaller, both of which were red flags for him. “My mama and I were on our way to another country for her work and I saw his pet nearly get run over by a plane so I saved it. I’ve had really bad tinnitus ever since.” As if to prove a point, she cupped her left ear with both hands and whimpered slightly. “It hurts, but I’m trying to be brave for everyone.”
“That doesn’t make sense though,” he mused out loud, watching as Lila froze. “Jagged loves Fang so much that he would never let him get anywhere close to somewhere he could be run over, so unless Fang escaped this would have never happened.”
“No, no!” Lila interrupted him hastily, waving both hands in front of her. “It wasn’t Fang, it was his kitten.”
He blinked in disbelief, then any sympathy he had for her was lost. She really had been lying to him and Juleka this entire time, without a care in the world. He took a deep breath before he said anything rash. Once he was calm, he continued. “Jagged is allergic to kittens, he said so in one of his interviews.”
“This was before he realised!”
“He said in his interview he found out about his allergies before he was an adult, and I’m pretty sure you weren’t born early enough to save his cat while he was a teenager.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s no reason to lie to me, Lila. Not if it’s just to impress me.”
“I’m not lying!” she protested, voice raising in volume. “I don’t know why you’re attacking me like that!”
He shuffled away from her, raising his hands in the air to prove a point. “I’m not attacking you, Lila. I told you that you shouldn’t have to lie to impress me, that’s all. I’d much rather know the real Lila over the Lila who lies about Jagged Stone.”
“Oh, why do you care so much?” she snapped, meek demeanor disappearing. “It’s one lie!”
“Yeah, and that’s one lie you’ve told my sister, her classmates and Marinette. For all I know, you could have told more,” he countered evenly, struggling to contain his anger. “I’m pretty sure you were on the Ladyblog as well, with an interview about Ladybug being your best friend. Was that a lie too?”
“It’s only what Alya wanted to hear!”
“People want you to tell the truth, not get their hopes up.” He stared her down. “I want my sister to know that everything she’s being told is genuine. I want her friends to know that everything you say is the truth-”
“They all think it’s the truth anyway,” she hissed. “What’s the difference?”
“The difference is you’re lying,” he said cooly. “And if you’re reacting like this to me knowing, god knows how you reacted to Marinette knowing.”
“It’s always about Marinette, isn’t it?” Lila all but yelled at him. Her eyes glared daggers at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I bet with your crush on her, she convinced you into believing I lied and you just went along with it, didn’t she?”
“Of course she didn’t. Marinette doesn’t like liars but she’s not cruel like that. I drew my own conclusions based on your inconsistencies. Besides, if Marinette wanted people to know you were a liar, she’d go about it in a way you wouldn’t expect her to. She’s not dumb.”
“Of course she’s not dumb!” Lila shot back. “If she’s smart enough to see through my lies she can’t be as dumb as this class! It’s why she’s so annoying!”
He folded his arms. “I’m guessing Ladybug doesn’t like you either?”
“How the hell do I know?” Lila shrugged viciously, expression getting more and more sour by the second. “She’s a bloody superhero, she doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve! I don’t even know if she has one! She has a brain where her heart is and a cavity in her head that makes her dangerous, because she could hate me and I’d never know because it’s stuck in her stupid head and not on her face! All I know is that she hasn’t called me out yet and every time she sees me she just encourages me to be honest instead of yelling at me, like she realised her mistake.”
“Mistake?”
“Doesn’t matter. But no, we’re not friends. There, you happy?” She was so angry that it was almost amusing, but he shoved that feeling down. “I hate her, she ruined my chances with Adrien and then gave me a half-assed apology like I was supposed to just accept it? Does she think I’m an idiot?”
“What you’re missing, Lila is a crucial piece of advice if you’re going to continue playing this stupid game.” He ran his fingers over the strings of his guitar as Lila opened her mouth, then closed it, then glared at him expectantly. “It doesn’t matter whether you’re an idiot or not. There are two people in this world that you never piss off.”
“And who would those people be?”
“I think you already know,” he smiled in vindication at the way her expression fell. “But just in case, I’ll remind you. There are two people you never piss off, and they’re Ladybug and Marinette.”
“And why might that be?” Lila was tense as she waited for his answer, eyes darting to and fro. They both knew Juleka could return at any moment. “What’s so special about them?”
“Ladybug has her mind, her Lucky Charm, her word and Chat Noir on her side, while you don’t even have your own word, you just have a reporter who blindly follows you, but even she’ll believe Ladybug over you. Marinette is your class representative, it wouldn’t be hard for her to expose you, especially considering she can contact Jagged Stone whenever she wants.”
“She can?” Lila spluttered. “But she’s a minor! Isn’t that illegal?”
“Not when it’s purely professional, or when his number is on her parents’ phones, or when her parents consented to it.” Lila paled. “Besides that, Marinette is as smart as Ladybug, maybe even smarter. If she wanted to, it would probably only take a day for her to take you down, like you did when she nearly got expelled, except she knows how to cover her tracks.”
At that, Lila scowled. “They still believed it.”
He shrugged. “From what I’ve heard, it was circumstantial at best, you just had so many disabilities people had to cater to that there was no way you could have stolen the papers, or planted the necklace to anyone who didn’t know. Besides, if they believed that, who’s to say they wouldn’t believe Marinette if she did the exact same thing to you, but with real, indisputable proof?”
“They haven’t believed her yet!”
“They haven’t, I’ll admit it, but what has Marinette done to you besides say you’re lying? She hasn’t even begun to gather evidence because she’s playing nice, god knows why.” Lila swallowed at that. Then her eyes widened as she looked past his shoulder.
“Well, I hate to cut this short,” she said, gritting her teeth into a smile. “But Juleka and her friends are back, so I have to go now. It was nice meeting you, Luka.” She stood up hurriedly, brushing any dirt off her skirt before she hurried over to his sister and her group of friends.
“It was nice meeting you Lila,” he murmured with a smile, knowing he’d won. Closing his eyes and leaning back, he returned to playing Marinette’s melody, noting somewhere in the back of his mind how similar it was to the one that played in the back of his mind when he met Ladybug when Desperada attacked as the sun shone across his face.
There were two people he knew to never piss off, and their melodies were so similar he knew exactly why that was the case.
#ml fic#luka couffaine#lila rossi#ml#ml season 3 spoilers#lila bashing#juleka couffaine#ml salt#ml salt fic#luka destroys lila#my writing
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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 2.2}
*Severus Snape x OC*
Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.
General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing
Words: 5.2k
Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!
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Robin ended up in front of his office even before breakfast was over. She hadn't been in the mood for sitting with anyone, and stuffing her face with enough toast and tea to last the day had taken no more than ten minutes. Thus she stood frozen in front of the wooden door with a deep frown, wondering if he was the kind of person who got mad over people being too early. He probably was… thus she sat down on the ground, leaning against the wall across from the door to wait another ten or fifteen minutes. Since he had so kindly let her know the previous night that she wouldn't be out of detention quite possibly until after dinner, she had actually put on a thick turtleneck jumper over her usual long sleeves. The dungeons were quite cold, especially now that it was nearing December, and even though she loved the place more than quite possibly any other inside the castle, she didn't want to be chilly the entire day. She frowned to herself suddenly, as the idea entered her mind that Professor Snape might be wearing so many layers of fabric all the time because he was down here all day, every day. He must feel quite cold in winter… Robin wondered if he preferred cold weather to warm weather just like she did, too.
"When will you learn to just knock?"
Robin startled at the all too familiar voice, and had to put her head all the way back into her neck to look up at him while seated on the ground like this. "Professor Snape! I… I didn't hear you coming…"
"Obviously." He sighed. "Get up, we have a lot of work to do."
Robin did as she was told and followed him into the office, still feeling incredibly small next to him even though she was standing straight now. Had she always been this short…? Well, duh… obviously. Robin cringed inwardly as she realized that she was picking up on his speech patterns now as well. Then again, it happened with everyone she actually wanted to get along with, no matter if peers, teachers or strangers.
"What exactly is it that one does in detention, sir?" She asked then, to give herself a change of topic as well.
He let out a small snort in return, then cleared his throat in a vain attempt to cover up for it somehow. "This isn't detention, Miss Mitchell."
"But you said-"
"And now I say that it is not." He glared at her for a moment, then pointed her towards her usual chair. "If someone ends up asking about it however, it very much is."
"So detention is our cover story." Robin concluded as she sat down and watched with surprise as he for once got his own chair out from behind his desk to place it directly across from hers, without the table in the way. "But for what exactly?"
"You came to me with a solution for your own problem already at hand last night, and while your means may have turned out to be unsuitable for the purpose, I intend to supply you with a more appropriate one. Do you understand?"
Damn, why did he always have to say things in the most complicated way possible?! Let's see… she had come with a solution… ah! "So… you're saying that you liked my idea to find some kind of thing that would counteract his spell?"
"I wouldn't quite go as far as to say 'liked', but generally, yes."
"And since you said there is no book or potion that can help me… we're talking about an act here?"
"No. We are talking about occlumency." His voice was harsh, and Robin immediately felt like she had done something wrong. However seeing as her face fell, his tone strayed back into neutral territory. "I will try to teach you to resist the external penetration of the mind. A day does not nearly suffice to learn, leave alone master this rare and difficult skill, but seeing as Professor Morgan isn't the most… accomplished wizard, maybe the basics will do for now."
Robin's eyes widened in honest surprise, astonishment and an overwhelming gratitude she couldn't even begin to express. A chance was all she could've hoped for, and here he was giving fuel to that hope. "Thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me. It is hard work to learn, and it certainly is going to be painful." He grumbled, but Robin didn't care. "It is nothing a second year student should even consider knowing about."
"And yet here we are…" Robin replied under her breath, but Snape ignored her and sat up straighter while keeping his gaze solely on her own.
"I understand your issues to lie with Professor Morgan rather than the magic itself, is that correct?" Once Robin nodded with an admittedly insecure frown, he continued. "In order to learn the art of occlumency, I will have to break into your mind, and you will try to resist. Do you understand that this is a serious invasion of your privacy?"
"Yes." She said, a little croaked, while trying to swallow down the lump in her throat. There was nothing she had to hide that he didn't already know about, really, there was no reason to be nervous. Only stupid childhood memories, fear and anxiety. Surely nothing he hadn't seen in other students before.
"Would you still like to proceed?"
"Yes." This time her reply came with more determination, and it indeed mirrored her sentiment. He was asking her permission for this, even though she had already once said that she wanted his help. He might not seem like the nicest or most trustworthy person to anyone else in the school or on the entire planet even, but if Robin trusted anyone in that moment, it was Severus Snape. "I want to learn this, professor, really. So just go ahead."
Without wasting any more time, he obviously quite gladly ignored the entire previous conversation and went straight into the topic. "I want you to clear your mind of every thought, every emotion, every memory. Keep your mind clear at all times, and do not. lose. focus." Once Robin nodded, he continued. "Closing your eyes should make it easier for a start. A direct gaze will make it easier for your opponent to enter your mind." Again, Robin nodded and closed her eyes like she had been instructed. "Prepare yourself, Miss Mitchell. This is not going to be pleasant."
Robin focused on keeping her mind blank, but how does one go about thinking not to think?! Was that even possible? Did it-
A startled gasp escaped her lips at the highly unpleasant, if not straight out torturous feeling of someone stabbing her conscience with a million needles, digging deeper and deeper into her brain. She let out a small cry, fingernails digging into the arms of her chair while her eyes remained squeezed shut in agony. In an instant the feeling was gone, leaving her breathless and confused.
"I told you it was painful." He said almost a little apologetically, but then his voice and expression shifted back to scolding. "And I told you to focus! Not to wail in fear and think about the nature of thinking!"
"Yes, sir…"
"Emotions are a weakness, a backdoor for people to use and manipulate you. Allow them to see your weakness and they will use it against you until your very demise. Protect your emotions. Shut them off." He explained entirely factually, before turning into command mode again. "Try again. And please, if that is not entirely impossible for you, focus!"
With a small nod Robin closed her eyes once more and took a deep breath. He was right, of course he was… she had to shut it all off. She had to try again. And again. And again.
… … …
They had been at it for hours already, and Robin hadn't gotten the least bit closer to accomplishing anything at all. She however did know now why Professor Snape had been so very insistent on her getting rest… this entire thing was beyond exhausting, and had she not been so very insistent on both learning the skill and not disappointing him, she would've given up before lunchtime.
Now however, an hour after dinner would've ended, she was still at it, and still trying to learn anything at all about bloody occlumency. Snape was scolding her half of the time and trying not to smack her the other half, and Robin could tell that he was growing increasingly impatient with her. Honestly, she couldn't even blame him for it. Her emotions and thoughts were all over the place, and the more worried she got about upsetting him, the worse she did in keeping him out of her mind. If he saw any of her worries and insecurities, he did remarkably well at not showing any reaction to it though.
"Come on, Mitchell! Are you even trying to resist?!" He snapped at her then, once again drawing her out of her thoughts.
"I am trying, sir!" Robin almost whined, fighting the tears in her eyes as she replied. "But the harder I try, the more difficult it gets…" It really was bloody ironic to think that the more she tried to suppress her emotions, the more desperately they came spilling out indeed. What the hell was she doing wrong?!
"I've seen muggles do better at this than you do…" He muttered more to himself than to her, fiddling with his sleeves in obvious frustration, and Robin thought she had never seen someone so young looking so old before. And it all was only her fault.
"I'm sorry…" She breathed as she looked down at her hands in her lap, still fighting the tears in her eyes in vain. He really didn't need to see even more of her being pathetically emotional.
"Don't be sorry. Be better." He replied in a surprisingly quiet voice that held no more scolding than Robin's did, and as twisted as it was, she knew that he was trying to encourage her. In his own weird way.
"I will." Robin said then, nodding her head to herself as if to make herself believe her own words. "Just… give me two minutes."
She needed reason, logic, a line to stand on to work from there. Reason… he certainly wouldn't tell her to be better if he didn't deem her capable of it. If he truly believed her to be as big of a dunderhead as he said he did, why would he still be here with her? Why would he spend his precious time on a goddamn weekend to teach her a skill she only needed because she was scared of another professor? He really must believe that she could do it. Maybe… it was time she started believing it for herself as well.
He had told her this morning to shut off her emotions, but her emotions had always run deeper than her mind's command. She couldn't simply shut them off, they were far too powerful for that. But she could do what she always did when they became too much: build a wall between her emotions and her reason. Separate her active mind from its core. That only left her mind to stay clear of superficial feelings and thoughts.
Feeling nothing, on the surface, was like feeling numb, wasn't it? And numbness she had a lot of experience with indeed. So instead of trying to feel nothing on the outside, to suppress what she did feel, Robin focused on the feeling of numbness she had grown more accustomed to ever since the start of term. Numbness was facts. Numbness was functioning without emotions
"Ready." She said, then released a slow and deliberate breath while closing her eyes, and waited for the needles in her brain to make her scream. But all she felt was a little prickle in the back of her head.
Mildly irritated, she opened her eyes to see if maybe he had stopped trying in the first place, but she only was met with the same intense gaze she had seen so many times before. The needles in her mind stung a little harder as she kept her eyes wide open, and she could tell that he saw her irritation. The question why it didn't hurt. Before she could help herself, she thought a quiet 'hello', even if only to test if it would work. The prickle in her mind stopped immediately, but Snape kept staring at her in surprise now.
"Was that… better?" Robin asked wearily as she dropped her internal wall, and the concern came right back. It hadn't hurt as much as before… but maybe she was growing numb to the pain too, and he would finally give up on her now.
"What did you do?" He asked in return, without answering her question in the first place.
"Uh, it's… I-I disconnected my brain from my emotions?" That sounded more like a suggestion than an answer, and thus she went on. "It's, uh… it's what I do when I feel too much, or when I don't want people to see how I truly feel. I know you said to shut off my emotions, and I really tried all day to do just that, but no matter what I did, I just… couldn't. So I tried it in my own way for once. If it didn't work, I'll stop, just tell me-"
"Do it again."
Robin barely had time to repeat her process of consciously disconnecting her actively processing brain from her emotions, memories and everything that made up her personality, before she felt the needles in her mind again. Or more precisely, a faint tingling in her brain. It wasn't all too unpleasant though, only little more than the very mild headache she got from focusing on keeping her wall up anyway, and thus Robin simply looked back at Professor Snape in the same manner as he was looking at her.
"Try thinking of an imagined scenario." He commanded then, focused but not menacing, and Robin followed his order immediately.
She thought of herself leaving the office, and walking up the spiral staircase, down the hallway past the many doors and towards the kitchen. She didn't really know what it looked like in there, so she made up a kitchen in her head, and how she snagged a piece of chocolate cake from a fridge. Then she dropped the scenario and focused back on the outside world, letting him see that she wondered what he was thinking now. The tingling in her mind stopped, but Robin found it difficult to shut off her numbness quite yet, so she simply stared at Snape while waiting for him to speak up first. He seemed to be doing the same however, and for a few minutes they both stared at each other in complete silence.
"Did you seriously have to imagine stealing chocolate cake?" He finally asked. "Or was that a memory?"
"I was feeling hungry. And I don't even know what the kitchen here looks like."
"Curious."
"Why?"
"Because I have known the real kitchens for a long time and yet did not doubt yours to be equally real."
"Is that good?"
"That would depend on the point of view. If one does consider your apparent talent for the subject to be 'good', then yes, that is good."
Robin's heart skipped a beat, and slowly her mind pieced itself back together in its normal ways. "I… I have a talent for it now?! You said literally five minutes ago that I was the biggest failure you had ever seen!"
Snape rolled his eyes and gave her a glare in feigned annoyance. "That was before you suddenly developed the ability to perfectly shield off entire parts of your mind!"
Robin's eyes widened at that and she found herself rather incredulous of what he was saying. "I actually shut you out completely?!"
"That you did."
"Wow…" She frowned to herself at first, then at him. "I don't know if that is even possible, but couldn't you simply try harder?"
Professor Snape scoffed at her remark, and rolled his eyes yet again. "Believe me, Miss Mitchell, what you did right there is all you will need to shut Professor Morgan out entirely."
"But…" Robin started, and only as he rose an eyebrow in question she allowed herself to continue. "I would like to know the limit of what you call 'talent'. Consider it practice, if you will. I just can't imagine that I could keep you out if you really tried to get into my mind, you know… I've only been able to do it twice, and you said it's a difficult skill to learn. I just can't imagine that I would be any good at it now, after a mere day of failing almost the entire time."
"Pride didn't suit you, Mitchell, but neither does exaggerated humbleness. But if you wish to test the limits, we will. It should be good practice indeed." With that he motioned for her to get ready, and sat up pin-straight.
The more Robin did this process of disconnection, consciously now instead of just by chance, the easier it became to do. More so than before, she focused on making her mind a mere mirror, a blank reflecting surface, before she looked Snape right back in the eye and nodded once. The feeling that followed was already a lot more intense, and Robin tensed up in return, which only worsened the unpleasant feeling inside her head.
"Relax, but focus." He reminded her as well, and Robin tried to consciously drop all stress from her body and mind. It lessened the discomfort for a moment, but he was quick to counter and soon Robin had to close her eyes to keep her barrier intact. It continued for roughly a minute, before finally she relented in both mental and physical exhaustion, causing him to come crashing into her brain like a bullet through rotten wood. The very moment he crossed her breaking point however, he stopped in an instant.
"Was that any good? Or did you not have to try at all?" Robin asked after a minute of silence, breathing a little more heavily than she would like in order to calm her heart and mind back down.
"Some would even say remarkably good." He mused, before he got up at last and moved his chair back to its rightful spot behind the desk. "I almost had to make an actual effort."
Robin scoffed, rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smirking nonetheless at his antics. "So you really think I'm good enough to keep Morgan out of my head?"
"Certainly." He sat back down, and folded his hands on the desk.
"Thank you." Robin gave him a smile, even if an exhausted one. "Really, I… You looked into my head, I'm sure you know how grateful I am."
"In fact, I do. Otherwise I would hardly have put up with you all day." He said absolutely neutrally, but upon Robin's slightly indignant look, the barely-even-there smirk just wouldn't stay off his face.
"I thought you did because you can't stand Professor Morgan either." She mused innocently, biting her bottom lip while her eyebrows rose. If he messed with her, she felt prone to return the favor.
The hard expression was back on his face in a second however, making it clear that the joking was over. "Do not believe for a moment that you know me or my intentions, Mitchell. I am obliged to take care of my students, however I would strongly advise you not to confuse my professional actions for my personal interests."
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to appear disrespectful." Robin apologized immediately, even if she didn't entirely believe his words. He didn't seem to believe them either, but it was one of the many things Robin knew better than to address by now. It was none of her business, after all. "Anyway, I'm very grateful for your help."
"Officially this never happened, Miss Mitchell, and you have never heard a word about occlumency."
"Of course. I had an absolutely dreadful day in detention today, counting beetle eyes and unicorn hairs, should anyone ask." Robin lied with an innocent smile. "And you scolded me the entire time for not paying enough attention."
"Good." The underlying amusement returned to his face, and Robin felt pleased with herself immediately. Somehow, she preferred to see him happy, or as close as he could get to that anyway.
"Still, thank you for today's 'detention'."
"You had the idea, made the plan and sought a course to action by yourself. And as it turned out, you also discovered your own way to acquire a new skill by yourself." He raised an eyebrow at her in mock-confusion. "I had absolutely no part in this."
"Of course not, sir." Robin bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling. "I promise."
"Indeed, I merely caused you pain and made you forego dinner." With an almost bored looking expression, he got out a piece of parchment and wrote down something in that spidery cursive Robin actually quite enjoyed looking at by now. It had an oddly pleasant aesthetic, and just enough sense of familiarity to be comforting. Then he folded the paper three times and handed it to her. "You should find out what the kitchens look like. Ask the house elves to make you whatever you would like."
"But sir, it's two hours past curfew…"
"Hence the note. Whoever tries to stop you will have to answer to me from now on. I do not wish to be bothered every time you happen to be out past curfew."
"Thank you, sir." Robin finally had to smile again. "Would you… like anything from the kitchens?"
"Don't try to be kind to me, Miss Mitchell, it's not worth your efforts." He replied surprisingly coldly, and picked up another empty piece of parchment. "That would be all."
"Well, I'm sure you will hear about tomorrow's outcomes before I get to tell you myself…" Robin's smile reduced to a crooked one. "Whatever happens, I will deny that you had any part in it."
"Hmm."
"Goodnight, professor."
"Good luck, Miss Mitchell."
With a small but sincere smile, Robin closed the office door behind herself and breathed in the cool air of the hallway. Well, who knew that detention could last well over twelve hours? But then again, it never had been detention in the first place. It had been something much more valuable. When this morning she had been but a bloody damsel in distress, she now was fairly decent at the basics of occlumency. One couldn't really expect more of a day's worth of practice.
With an almost happy sigh, Robin made her way up the staircase and down the hallways. Walking around the dark castle after curfew was way more fun than she had expected, especially considering that she had even been explicitly told to do so. It really was odd… whenever she knew Professor Snape to be on her side, there was barely anything that could stop her. He might not see it like that in return, but Robin considered him to be her biggest ally. Her only ally, actually, but a great one nonetheless. She only wished that there was anything she could help him with in return, for once.
Just as she rounded the next corner and crossed into the kitchens' hallway, she almost literally ran into Professor McGonagall. Who else would be patrolling tonight, huh? It wasn't really that Robin didn't like the transfiguration professor, but ever since the incidents of last March, there had been a mutual distrust between them, an air of unease and insecurity at least on Robin's part. She couldn't tell if the professor liked or despised her at all.
"Miss Mitchell! Why am I not at all surprised to see you wandering the corridors past curfew yet again?" The professor sighed, and put her hands on her hips in resignation. "What is your excuse this time?"
"Detention." Robin shrugged, and handed her professor the folded piece of parchment without another word.
McGonagall shot her a frowning glance, then read over the note in silence while her lips however formed the words as she read nonetheless. Robin still didn't understand a word, but it made her curious. Only once her professor had reached the end of the note, she looked at Robin with wide eyes, then at the note, back at Robin, and finally folded the paper and handed it back to Robin with a strange look on her face. Without another word, she stepped around Robin and continued her patrol without wasting another word on her or the incident.
Robin looked at the note in her hand with a frown, then over her shoulder, at the professor slowly vanishing in the distant darkness, and back down the hallway to the kitchen. Odd… but she was still in need of something to eat, and thus she made her way into the kitchen at last. It was nothing like she had imagined it to look like, not worse nor better though. A little more crowded with house elves, perhaps, but also very nice for a functional room almost nobody ever got to see.
"How may we help you, Miss?" One of them asked as soon as Robin closed the door behind herself quietly and stepped further into the large room.
"Uh, good evening." Robin gave them a small smile, which they reluctantly returned. "I was told I could find something to eat up here."
"Oh, certainly, Miss!" Came the immediate reply. "What would you like to have?"
"Do you have chocolate cake?" Robin asked with a hopeful expression on her face, and the house elves seemed fairly amused at her question, however not in a condescending kind of way.
"Certainly, Miss. Is that what you would like to have?"
"Yes, please. That would be very kind of you." She gave them another smile, and some of them giggled self-consciously in return.
"May I ask you a question, Miss?" A female elf asked, while a general commotion arose all throughout the kitchen.
"Of course!"
"What makes you come here so late in the evening? We rarely have students coming to the kitchen, leave alone at this time of night!" The elf asked curiously, and one of her peers nudged her in the side in return, but she kept looking up at Robin.
"Oh, you see, I was with Professor Snape until now. In detention, I mean." She shrugged, and sat down on one of the tiny chairs while waiting for her sweet dinner to be prepared. She actually felt quite guilty for just waiting around… "Is there anything I can do to, uh, help you? Or… do anything for you in return?"
"No, Miss, it's our pleasure to serve you."
"If you say so…" Robin sighed reluctantly, and waited for the remainder of the preparations in silence. When at last a small but beautiful chocolate cake was placed in front of her, her eyes lit up in immediate excitement. "Thank you so much, it's just perfect!"
And while the house elves giggled or grumbled once more and went to clean up after themselves, Robin happily cut off and dug into a piece of her cake. She had about three quarters of it (seeing as it really was a fairly small cake) before she felt filled up at last, and absolutely ready to just fall into bed. However she also couldn't really resist the idea that plopped into her head, and smiled to herself as she turned to one of the house elves once more. "Excuse me, is it true that you can teleport anything in Hogwarts from one place to another?"
"Yes, Miss! It's how we serve your meals every day."
"So… If I politely asked you to send this piece of chocolate cake to Professor Snape, could you do that for me?"
"Certainly! Is that what you would like, Miss?"
"I would like that very much indeed." Robin grinned, and with a snap of the elf's fingers, the cake disappeared right in front of her eyes.
"There you go, consider it done."
"Thank you, I really appreciate that." She smiled down at him happily, before turning to the rest of them and bidding her goodnight to them all, which was followed by even more giggles and grumbles.
On her way back to her dorm, Robin ran into Professor McGonagall once more, but the teacher merely nodded at Robin once in acknowledgement before moving along. Odd… Robin once again wondered what Snape had written on that note. Once she was in her room and had gotten ready for bed as quietly as she could to not wake up the other girl –even if they would most definitely deserve it–, she finally decided to give in to her curiosity. Casting a quiet lumos under her covers, she slowly unfolded the parchment to avoid noise. She really wasn't supposed to read this… but her curiosity was stronger than her wish to follow nonsensical rules. The short and to the point note only contained one single sentence:
‘I hereby give Miss Robin Mitchell the permanent permission to freely move around the castle at any time she sees fit. - Professor Severus Snape’
Again, Robin couldn't help but smile. He really must trust her if he allowed her to break curfew… but then again, he had spent hours looking into her head today. He hadn't seen everything, not even close to it, but obviously it had sufficed to know that she wouldn't ever abuse the little trust he put in her now. Was he even allowed to do such a thing as allowing her to walk around at will? Professor McGonagall at least hadn't questioned it, and she was deputy headmistress… maybe it was just fine, then.
Robin folded the note back together to how it had been and then even smaller, before storing it away in her locket as well. Who knew when a permit such as this might come in handy? She definitely didn't want to lose it, even if only as a reminder of today's 'detention'. As she placed her wand on her nightstand and laid down under her covers in darkness at last, she realized that today might just have been the first time in over two years that she had continuously been around the same person for a longer period of time without the desperate wish to escape and be by herself. Funny, in over twelve hours she hadn't even once thought that his company bothered her… And even funnier was that the one person she didn't feel bothered by was also the one person that bothered absolutely everyone else.
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Look Look Look
Summary: They both have one reason for interacting with each other, and that reason is to get Momota Kaito's attention.
Rating: T
Warnings: This is angst. It’s pretty bitter.
Notes: This is for Jen who wanted “Ouma using Saihara to get to Kaito” and my brain was like “okay but imagine Saihara being the same” and this is what I ended up with because I have Chapter 4 on the brain. Uh. Don’t read this if you’re looking for Saiouma Saiouma because it very much isn’t a Saiouma fic.
***Alternate Ao3 Link***
Commission? Donate?
“Oi, Shuuichi!” With a friendly wave and a friendlier grin, Momota Kaito shone brighter than the sun. “Hey, you got any free time or what?”
It’s so bright it hurts to look at. Bright enough that he wants to shrivel and retreat into the shadows, but that wasn’t going to happen when two thin arms latch onto his own like a vice.
“Soooorry, Momota-chan!” Ouma exclaims with the same amount of cheer, even if it’s just a cheap facsimile of the real thing. He presses against Saihara, his grip unforgiving rather than secure. “Saihara-chan already promised his day away to little ol’ me!”
“You again?!” Momota’s smile dropped, his teeth gritting. “Haven’t you been hogging enough of Shuuichi’s time! Seriously, Shuuichi...” Momota’s gaze darts towards him, and Saihara freezes under such a strong stare. He’d reach up to yank down the brim of his hat—but dammit. Momota had convinced him to toss the thing weeks ago. “He’s not blackmailing you, is he?”
“Wah! What a horrible thing to accuse someone!” Ouma squeezes his arm hard enough to cut off circulation. Saihara thinks of trapped wolves gnawing off their legs to escape. Ouma sniffles, exaggerated but still putting on an impeccable show regardless with tears welling up in his eyes. “T-That you’d even think so lowly of me, Momota-chan... That hurts! That really, really hurts!”
Momota looks unimpressed, but his gaze bores into Ouma. Saihara thinks of leeches.
“It’s nothing like that,” he whispers. “It’s not—anything like that, Momota-kun. I’m fine, it’s fine.”
Momota hardly looks relieved. He’s also hardly looking at Saihara at all, gaze still focused more on Ouma, wiping off his face and sniffling loudly. Momota’s brow furrows the way it does when he’s working on a puzzle.
Saihara thinks of drowning. Drowning with leeches.
“It’s fine,” he repeated. “I’ll talk to you later, Momota-kun.” A pause. A sharp inhale. “Ouma-kun. Let’s go.”
“M-Mm,” Ouma nods, still caught in his tearful act. “I wanna leave right away. Momota-chan is horrible!”
Momota rolled his eyes, but he does grin at Saihara. Easy and kind. Saihara eagerly searches his expression for a reassuring hint of disappointment.
“Later, Shuuichi.”
Momota waves him off, turning on his heel without another comment. Saihara feels cold.
“Ooh,” Ouma coos, quiet and pressing up against him again. Saihara can feel the other’s racing heart and contemplates digging his elbow into Ouma’s sternum. Of course. He’d never do anything like that. He wasn’t Momota Kaito, after all.
Momota, who does glance back. At Ouma. Ouma sticks his tongue out, and Momota hurriedly snaps his head forward with a huff.
He hadn’t given Saihara a second glance.
“Come oooon, Saihara-chan,” Ouma sing-songs, and pulls him along. Weakling that he is, worthless coward that he is, Saihara follows mutely.
--
No matter who it is, he just goes along with what the other person wants. Even if he doesn’t really want to do whatever they want to do, he just goes along with it. He can’t say he enjoys being around other people, honestly. He’s not like Akamatsu, who laughs with others and leads as easily as she breathes. Momota is like that, too, of course, but Momota is—
He’s special. Like that.
He’s special and shining, and someone like Saihara Shuuichi can’t stand being around him just as much as he wants to bask in that radiance until he burns to a crisp.
And that’s why he...tolerates Ouma. Sits with him and picks at the treats, at his teacup. It’s more tolerable than those weird card games that Ouma likes to force him through. Or the inane games of Clue. Or the detective dramas that he’s sure Ouma puts on just to watch him squirm.
He doesn’t enjoy it. But, he doesn’t think Ouma’s super crazy about his company either no matter how much he laughs.
They both have one reason for interacting with each other, and that reason—
“I think it’s best to break things off, Ouma-kun.”
“Eh? You’re breaking up with me, Saihara-chan?” Ouma doesn’t even pause in sipping his tea. It’s like they’re discussing how it might rain soon with his dry his tone is. “Just like that, huh.”
“It’s...” Saihara swallowed. He pushes away his own cup. “The more I hang out with you, the less Momota-kun looks at me.”
He just looks at you. You, you, you.
He can’t bear to say that because the last thing he needs is Ouma giving him one of those truly unpleasant smirks.
“You said that an upside to us hanging out would be that Momota-kun would pay me more attention.” Saihara tries not to grit his teeth. “But, it’s been the opposite. Because you’re nothing more than a dirty liar, Ouma-kun.”
Ouma doesn’t even look offended. He just looks bored.
“How was I supposed to know this was how things would turn out?” he asks, yawning into his hand. “Do I look like a seer? Well. It does break my heart that this backfired for you, Saihara-chan. My deepest, sincerest apologies.”
There’s not even an attempt to fake sincerity. For that, Saihara hates him.
“You had a suspicion it wouldn’t. You...”
“Me?” Ouma does feign innocence with wide eyes and pursed lips. “Don’t tell me that you think I’m trying to steal Momota-chan from you. Whyever would I do that? I already have Gonta, I have Amami-chan...” He ticks on his fingers. “Kiiboy’s so fun to mess with, too. And Akamatsu-chan! She’s so much better than Momota-chan. Whatever would I even need Momota-chan for?”
How is he supposed to answer that? Is he supposed to explain all the ways that Momota is kind and wonderful? How Momota is his strength and stability and how lucky he is to know him? How Momota is so overflowing with care and consideration that he looks out for everyone? Everyone—including Ouma?
How Momota keeps looking after Ouma, how he keeps bothering with Ouma, how he gets so worked up over Ouma, how he gets so fixated on Ouma because Ouma makes himself such a troublemaker—!
Ouma smiles at him, and Saihara knows in a heartbeat that the other is well aware. Of all that. There’s no point. There’s no point in trying to play along.
“The only reason you even pretended to notice me was because of Momota-kun.” That’s just a fact. He’s suspected it from the beginning. He’s not the kind of person to just attain another’s interest, after all. Even kind-hearted people like Akamatsu and Momota just treat him as they would any other person. “You wanted his attention, too.”
And you got it. You won. But.
“You don’t even know what to do with it. Momota-kun could look at you like you hung the moon and stars, and you wouldn’t have any idea what to do. You only know how to keep others at a distance, even as you manipulate them into chasing you. Ouma-kun...” Saihara blinked, realizing. “You’re pathetic.”
Ouma’s expression does change. He sets the tea aside. He leans in. There’s nothing but shadows encasing them both. Not a hint of light. Radiance. Anything.
“And you’re any better? If you wanted Momota-chan’s attention, surely there are better ways than trying to make him jealous. The two of you are supposed to be friends, right? Sai-ha-ra-chan?”
“You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m pathetic, too. But...at least being with you let me see the truth.”
That Momota-kun isn’t going to look at me the way he looks at you.
“Truth?”
It’s funny. Ouma looks genuinely confused. It’s really, really funny.
“What truth?”
“As a detective, it was easy to figure out,” he replied solemnly, shrugging as he did. “But, for a liar like you... It’ll probably take you a while, Ouma-kun.”
“What truth?” Ouma repeated, irritated. “You aren’t even going to tell me? You’re just going to keep that shit to yourself?! You sleazeball!”
Saihara stood up, pulling away even as Ouma scowled at him. With how small Ouma was, it was a wonder anyone could find him intimidating.
“I’m breaking things off. I’m just going to be a normal friend to Momota-kun. And you—you can do whatever, Ouma-kun. I don’t care. I really don’t.”
“Saihara-chan!” Ouma whined. Saihara doesn’t even twitch.
If he had been Momota, he would’ve at least grimaced with annoyance. But he’s not, so he doesn’t. There’s nothing to his expression at all.
“Do whatever you want,” he repeated, and he only lets his voice lower for this one thing. “Except, that’s a lie. I will keep an eye on what you do to Momota-kun. As his friend.”
“You liar,” Ouma hissed. “You’re an even worse liar than I am.”
“But I’m not as pathetic as you.”
Ouma opened his mouth, and then he shut it. His eyes glimmered with emotion—a storm of emotions that Saihara didn’t want to be caught up in, so he turned away.
“Have a nice day.”
--
“Ouma’s been in such a stormy mood lately,” Momota sighs later when they’re finally together. Except, Harukawa is there, too, and she’s outwardly irritated.
“Why do you care?” she griped.
“I don’t!” Momota exclaimed, and Saihara notes that it’s such an obvious lie that it’s despairing. Especially when Momota clears his throat a little, and even looks flustered. “I just...notice these things. You don’t think something happened, do ya?”
“I don’t know.” Harukawa rolled her eyes. “And I don’t care.”
Momota shuffles uncomfortably. He looks a little uncertain.
“What do you think, Shuuichi?” he asks next, looking at him—really looking towards him. And how dearly Saihara wanted to agree with Harukawa and tell him not to worry at all.
Except. He knows he doesn’t have that kind of control. And if he can’t do anything about Momota and Ouma getting closer, at the very least he doesn’t want himself and Momota to become more distant.
“Maybe... You should ask him yourself.”
Momota lights up.
“Yeah! Good point! I’ll do that, then! Thanks, Shuuichi!”
He shines brighter than the sun.
It hurts so much.
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They were both too young to know how to love.
Of course leave it to Harry Potter to be what drags me back into writing fan fiction. Apologies to people who follow me already since this is pretty different from posts I’ve done in the past, so feel free to ignore.
I just wanted to try and get some thoughts out about a fanfiction I’m currently writing, specifically the relationship between Harry and Daphne. Or the lack of one right now anyway. ;)
The basic background is that this is a soulmate AU with soulmate marks and empathy/semi-telepathy (I’m not sure what to call it honestly). The three main ships are Dramione, Ransy, and Pottgrass, and it’s a slowburn enemies to lovers starting from Goblet of Fire on. Emphasis on slowburn and enemies considering two of the involved are Draco and Pansy.
Before I started writing again, the only ones of those three I shippped/read fanfiction of were Draco/Hermione and Pansy/Ron. I originally picked Daphne because I’d read fics that had her as a character and liked her in them; after that I read two fanfics that made me really ship them, because the amount of ships I have due to fanart/fanfic is huge. (Previously I was, and actually still am, a Nottgrass shipper because I am a multi-shipper a lot of the time.)
I’m going to put the rest of my rambling under the cut.
So there are a couple different things going on here. The most superficial was that, when I had started writing, I’d been re-watching the Lizzie Bennet Diaries so I was a bit influenced by Pride and Prejudice when writing Daphne at first. Specifically the inspiration was Matthew Macfaden’s Darcy from the 2005 movie and Daniel Vincent Gordh’s William Darcy from LBD. (And as an aside Astoria was slightly based on Georgianna from the 2005 movie and Gigi Darcy from LBD.)
The inspiration became less strong the more I wrote, but her being standoffish/cold/rude to non-Slytherins (except Astoria) and the scene where Daphne tries to make a deal with Harry was inspired by Darcy's first, horrible proposal to Elizabeth. But that’s the shallower reason, let’s get into the meat of it, which is background vs appearance.
Harry Potter was orphaned at the age of one years old, was raised in an abusive family who didn’t even give him a room for ten years, had no friends until he got to Hogwarts, and was lied to by the Dursleys’ about what his parents were actually like. There were no pictures of his parents, he wasn’t told they were a witch and wizard, and he didn’t even know they were murdered. When he is told about his parents, he is given the romanticized view of James and Lily and their relationship. He thinks they were the perfect picture of soulmates, as he hasn’t been told that James was once a jerk that Lily really disliked. His first real experience of familial love was with the Weasleys and thinks of them as the best family in the world. Daphne knows nothing of this aside from the fact that he was raised by muggles; I don’t think she thought much about Harry at all outside of times parts of his adventures were found out by the school. Like the flying car incident. As she said in the fanfic, Harry just sort of existed to Daphne.
Harry is only fourteen years old at the start of the fic, and has only had a crush on Cho at this point, but he does know that he wants to have the real love and respect his parents had. He wants to have a family of his own that would actually be loving. He doesn’t want his potential future children to grow up without love. And, most importantly, he doesn’t think Daphne is capable of that.
What Harry knows about Daphne’s background is that she’s part of an old, wealthy pureblood family a la the Malfoys or the Parkinsons. (He wouldn’t know the term Sacred Twenty-Eight.) That’s pretty much it and would be about the amount of knowledge all the students from the other houses would know (except for Astoria, the Ravenclaw little sister, who is just as uncomfortable as Daphne when asked to talk about their parents). Harry is also generally dismissive of Slytherin house as a whole thanks to Draco and his gang; he thought they looked like a “pale and unpleasant lot'' at the Welcome Feast in first year.
Here’s how Daphne comes across to the kids outside of Slytherin: standoffish; doesn’t seem to talk much outside of class participation, and is often sarcastic when she does; doesn’t seem to have friends outside of Slytherin and the only non-Slytherin she is consistently genuinely affection towards is her little sister, and not everyone sees that; while not a member of Pansy’s gang is still known to be a good friend of Pansy’s, and is also close to Blaise who is seen as equally snobby.
(Speaking of Blaise, Daphne still wants to know why she’s the only one to get an insulting nickname like Ice Queen when Blaise and Theo are often just as anti-social towards the other houses as she is. In Theo’s case, more so. XD)
Of course, it’s easy to sympathize with Daphne when you know what her background is really like. Her parents, despite being soulmates, have an absolutely toxic relationship that their daughters had to witness: “Daphne Greengrass hadn’t been a fan of the soulmate concept for years now. She could even pinpoint the exact moment her disillusionment started: the night before her sixth birthday when her father finally told her mother that, soulmates or not, he had never loved her and had only married her out of both obligation to the bond and to the alliance with her family. This had then turned into a screaming match in her father’s study accompanied by the sound of glass being thrown at a wall.” This is just one incident.
Daphne was so used to her parents arguing (and to be really clear, I’m not talking about normal arguments couples have; I’m talking about full-blown trying to verbally/emotionally hurt the other as possible or just arguing to try and win against the other person) that she was already making it her job to comfort Astoria, who “was still a baby, and upset by it”. Daphne has grown up with a very dim view of romance and romantic love.
Now, Daphne does know that people can be genuinely in love. For all their many, many faults, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy are devoted to each other. Pansy’s parents aren’t on the same level, but are loving/affectionate enough with each other. However, she doesn’t think love and happiness are guaranteed so it’s better to have something more solid like respect or trust. However, that is hard to get across to Harry because she’s grown up to think being emotional is bad/a weakness and it’s hard for her to open up to people she doesn’t know well. (Pansy was her first friend at five years old and is still her best friend up until this point; it’s also the reason her other friends are the Slytherins she’s known for years at this point. People she’s used to.)
She could have approached Harry differently, flirted, or suggested dating, or tried to be romantic but she would have thought of that as dishonest/manipulative. Because Daphne knows love isn’t guaranteed for soulmates. Because Daphne knows she’s not the most likeable person. Because Daphne isn’t sure she could love Harry and doesn’t want to lie about it. Yes, Slytherins are all about cunning and clever ways to get what they want, but this is one of the areas Daphne would not even consider something like that. For all her issues, Daphne does have some standards.
Self-control and (just control in general) is something Daphne clings to because her parents were often unpredictable and she had to create a sense of being in control of her life. Her father is not a warm or empathetic person and he looks down on people being too emotional. (Yes, this is supposed to be hypocritical considering he’d get into screaming matches with his wife.) He would be out of the house a lot for both work and to get away from his wife. Her mother was emotionally and mentally in a bad place for a long time and withdrew from her children a bit. She improved by the time Daphne was at school, but her favorite is clearly Astoria for reasons that will be expanded on later. Daphne tells herself she gets it because Astoria is her favorite family member too. (Also I just want to make this clear, Daphne and Astoria are close siblings who genuinely love and care about each other. Daphne is also Astoria’s favorite family member. Their relationship, as I like to see/write it could be another post though so moving on.)
This need for self-control also was because of the stutter she had growing up. She was already self-conscious about it and she was very aware that her parents (her father in particular) saw it as a problem, which stressed her out more and made her stutter worse. The more emotional she’d get, the more likely she’d stutter. Whereas the more comfortable she was, the less often it happened. Pansy already mentioned in one of her POV’s that she barely heard Daphne stutter around her after a while; not a huge spoiler or surprise, but it was the same with Astoria. One of Daphne’s pre-Hogwarts tutors was essentially a wizard speech therapist, so she had it under control by first year but it was still recent enough at the time that she was pretty afraid of slipping up at school. Also consider the fact that some students (not just Slytherins either, but from all houses) made fun of Quirrell's stutter, and he was a teacher. (Yes he was evil, and only pretending to have one, but they didn’t know that then.) How much worse would the teasing be for a first year student? So as her father told her, sometimes it’s better not to talk at all.
Harry doesn’t know any of this.
Before things really started in the fanfic, Harry’s one interaction with Daphne that really stood out to him was that time she was sarcastic to him in first year after his first Quidditch game: “You know my family made the snitches used at Hogwarts. Please try not to choke on another of them next time.” When fourth year started, she ignored him completely in the Great Hall, and didn’t help her friend in a way he didn’t recognize/understand.
The next day, Daphne sends him a note ordering him to meet her during lunch, after not acknowledging him in public. (As Harry says, she didn’t even write please. It also didn’t ask him for a date and time to talk, just told him to meet her in a specific location.) When he asked if she was proposing to date him, she “made a truly exasperated sounding noise” which definitely hurt his pride a little. She also tried to approach a relationship (not necessarily even a romantic relationship, just in general) with him, someone she has barely spoken to, like a business deal, which he thinks is a cold way to look at it and he loses his temper. However, it should be noted that she asked him why when he rejected her out of hand and well, don’t ask a question you wouldn’t want an answer to.
Later on he sees her picking on a second year for seemingly no reason. In reality, this is a girl who did something to her sister and Daphne doesn’t let things like that slide when it comes to people she cares about.
Now afterwards things get murkier because Daphne is wanting to freeze him out/ignore him, but he is the one to poke at her. The soulmate bond is like an outside force that pushes down on two people to try and force them together, which can be downright unbearable if you really don’t like the other person. Harry finds the pressure it puts on them very hard and is stunned when she acts like she’s not affected at all. (He’d feel better if he knew she was feeling it just as much as him. Sort of like how Hermione and Ron both take comfort in the fact that Draco and Pansy are having as bad a time with the bond as they are.) He’s already under stress from the situation with his scar hurting and Sirius leaving his hideout to come back to England because of it, now add on to that the stress of an outside magical force trying to bond him to a girl he doesn't like and who doesn’t like him. No, he’s not handling it in a great way, but he’s young.
And Daphne could always try and talk to him about things good (sending him a song through the bond to help him sleep when worry for Sirius was keeping him up) and bad (the incident with the second year), but she doesn’t try. Partly it’s out of pride, but largely it’s because she’s developed unhealthy coping skills that she doesn’t realize are unhealthy.
#self indulgent#fanfiction#pottgrass#dramione#ransy#lions among the snakes#i think getting my thoughts down like this helped my muse#might ramble about my fanfiction again sometime#can you tell I’m an over thinker
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WIP WEDNESDAY- I see you down on your knees
Arya should like to imagine that Frey blood is different then other blood. Maybe that the smell is more putrid, or that the liquid more viscous. Perhaps even a different color; more brown. Dirty blood would be fitting for such a dirty, rotten family.
But this isn’t the case. Despite all odds, the blood of the Frey men is almost lovely; she doesn’t clean the blood out from under her fingernails for weeks in a futile hope to keep it there forever. It’s color seemed so bright in the candlelight of the Twins’ kitchen, runny and red like the wine she’d serve to the other family members later on. It was almost indescribable how it felt to watch it.
It was meant for her, she realized. Arya was meant to bleed men like them just like the sun was meant to rise in the east. It was destiny.
At night sometimes, Arya would shake with anticipation at the thought of Cersei Lannister’s blood. Would it be just as wonderful? Even more so? The expression on Cersei’s face would be of no matter to her because all that matters was her blood, because blood was her life force and Arya would weep with joy to have the chance to rip her life out of her, Needle forgotten at her side as she would instead dig it all out with her bare hands, the squelching sounds of flesh and muscle and blood combined with the cracking of bones would-
Oh. She’s getting ahead of herself again, isn’t she.
Sansa stares at her from across the table, obviously still waiting for an answer.
“I’ve been around,” she said, “Surviving. Training. Hiding.” She shrugged. “Nothing worth mentioning.” If Arya hadn’t been trained so well, she would've missed the almost imperceptible narrowing of her sisters eyes.
“I see.”
A pause.
“What about you?”
There was another pause, and Arya saw something in Sansa’s demeanor change - not for the better. On guard. Jaqen would have hit her for her mistake; Now Sansa either thought she was mocking her, since wherever she had been was obviously public knowledge, or her sister now knows that she’d spent the last years out of Westeros.
Jaqen would have hit her for it, the Waif would have beat her for it, Sansa now distrusts her for it. Arya just cursed herself for it instead.
“Lord Baelish got me out of King’s Landing,” the redhead began smoothly, ringing her hands together on her lap, “I was hidden in the Vale for a while(...)”
The silence between them was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but simply a reminder that they were essentially strangers, weren’t they, after so many years apart. Sansa was beautiful, sitting on the simple wooden chair as if it were a throne, back straight, hands folded and head held evenly as not to disturb the non-existent crown that rested upon it. Her red hair neatly braided and her face illuminated by the low fire, her displeased expression was identical to the one she’d given Arya almost every day growing up. This realization stopped her in her tracks.
She tilted her head. No, it couldn´t be. Couldn´t it? They wouldn't have sent someone to Winterfell this fast, they couldn't have. Oh, but they could have. They could have gotten to Winterfell in the time she was in The Twins, they could have taken it over, they could have taken her sister's face.
They had reasons too.
The House had reasons to be angry with Arya Stark, and they had the resources to tear her down, to kill her. All the shattered promises, all the ignored oaths, all the broken rules. But why? Revenge? That wasn’t their style, really; hadn’t that been the whole point? The lesson that Jaqen H’Ghar had tried to teach her, that The Waif had tried to beat into her?
We never give the gift to please ourselves. Nor do we choose the ones we kill. We are but servants of the God of Many Faces…
A lesson. That would be a motive. That would be a reason to kill and impersonate Sansa Stark. Maybe they needed more servants for the god then she’d thought. Maybe they wanted her back. Maybe-
The door creaks open.
She flinches, instinctively tracing the outline of the hidden knife beneath the sleeve of her tunic with her hand. The door opens too slow for it to be an attacker, the footsteps too loud for an assassin, she knows -- but flinches anyway.
Petyr Baelish looks different then from when she last saw him. Perhaps older, perhaps more weary.The last time she had seen him had been years ago after all, No, thats not it; he looks smaller, almost like a small child dwarfed by the thick winter furs he has to wear to stay warm.
Littlefinger isn’t made for winter, she realizes. A small grin briefly twists itself over her face. His beady little eyes fixed onto her and he smiled tightly, bowing deeply in their direction.
“My Lady Arya. It truly is wonderful to see you,” he said, taking a seat by Sansa, “When was the last time I saw you -- four, five years ago?” He says it like he doesn’t exactly know how long, which of course is a lie, seeing what kind of person Petyr Baelish is. “You were naught but a child then. I am delighted to see you have grown into a beautiful young lady, and are safely back in Winterfell.”
Are you? She thinks to herself. Outloud she says, “Yes.”
The simple reply throws Baelish off, and he awkwardly readjusts himself in his seat.
“You simply must tell me about what you’ve been doing all these years. No one has heard from you in years.” He trying to play with her, she knows, but she is not interested in playing his game. He is far more interested in him playing hers. The smile she wears in small and light, weightless and nonchalant. She needs to make Baelish believe she thinks she’s smarter than she is. Not to trick him later; no, like she says, she has little interest in the game of thrones. No, she needs both him and Sansa to believe she had no capabilities to kill him, that she was too dumb to try.
She shrugs. “Same could be said for you My Lord. I hear one moment you’re working for the Lannisters, next you’re marrying into House Arryn, only to move on to the Boltons. All quite conflicting reports, really.” Her voice is soft and dispassionate. “I was hoping, that as I tell you of my travels, I’d be able to hear about yours more. Oh, you know how the smallfolk speak -- all rumors and claims -- one can never really know the truth.”
“No,” Littlefinger replied, “One truly can’t. I-”
“So I must wonder, Lord Baelish, where your loyalties really lay.”
“My loyalties are solely with your sister and House Stark, my Lady,” he said smoothly, “Any mishaps or conflicts in my actions were purely to survive and to get your family back home.” Sansa stiffened slightly beside him but said nothing.
“As Lady Sansa can surely attest to, the Vale’s armies played an important part in defeating the Boltons and securing Winterfell. The Vale has sacrificed many a moon and many a man to get us where we are today. So if my word itself isn’t enough to make you not distrust me My Lady, then at least trust my actions.” He bowed his head to her with a smile, his hand on his chest.
It took her a moment to riffle through his words to actually gain some meaning from them; Littlefinger spoke fast and spoke many words whilst saying little. But aside from the acknowledgement that his loyalties to Sansa meant more to him then any other, and the mention of how indebted the North was to the Arryns, there wasn’t much behind his words.
She’d expected more from Lord Baelish after all she’d heard. Or maybe it was on purpose - perhaps he didn’t think she-
“Of course, you should know best that I can be trusted -- After all, I never revealed your secret to anyone, all those years ago.”
Ah. There it is.
Sansa’s sharp, icy gaze pierced through her. She didn’t even have to look over to see the question burning in those pale eyes. Baelish grinned wider.
“Harrenhal was such a terrible place, wasn’t it. I can’t imagine what it must have been there -- especially under Tywin Lannister.” Arya felt herself grinding her teeth together. “I just hope you managed to get out of there before before the Mountain took over,” he continued, “But it surely would have been hard to escape unnoticed -- especially being Tywin’s personal cupbearer.”
And there it was. The kick she’d been expecting.
Thick tension filled the room as silence took over. Baelish’s smile waned slightly, unnerved by the quiet. He’d surely been expecting some sort of revoke from her, a hurried defense, a glim of anger; even just a startled look.
But Arya Stark did not bend to the whims of men.
Sansa's dry voice broke the moment.
“Lord Baelish, you must excuse us. It seems my sister and I have much to discuss.”
The man stood and bowed, obviously pleased with his work, and left, footsteps loud and they echoey as he descended down the hall.
“You haven’t even been here half a day and he’s already trying to cause distrust between us.” Arya looked over, surprised. Now this she hadn’t been expecting. Sansa leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples and sighing. She caught her younger sisters inquisitive gaze and smiled faintly.
“He loves doing things like this,” the redhead murmured, tracing her finger along the wood of the table, “Trying to tear families apart, causing chaos wherever he steps foot,” she huffs. “I do understand why, I am easier to manipulate when alone. That doesn’t mean he’s any less despicable.”
Arya blinked. Sansa leaned over to her, laying her hand close to hers, close enough to feel the warmth without direct touch. She appreciated that, in a strange way.
“Why don’t you just...send him away?” Sansa smiles again, and Arya thinks it’s somewhere between patronizing and affectionate. Her younger self would have gotten at the gesture, but the last time anyone had looked at her with any kind of real affection had been years ago, so she didn’t even mind getting talked down too -- For all she’d been taught in Bravos, the House had not cared to teach her about Westerosi politics.
“Because we need the Vale’s army. We can’t afford to lose their alliance because, while Lord Royce cares little for him, if our dearest cousin hears that his lord regent and surrogate father is killed on flimsy claims of conspiracy and treason ...” Sansa paused, looking out the window. The bright grey light reflected on her blue eyes. Arya realizes, then, that she hadn’t suggested to murder him, only to remove him from Winterfell.
No, she realizes then. This was not a faceless man trying to trick by using the face of her sister. The amount of fury in her face, etched into the curve of her gentle smile, sparkling in her kind eyes, evident in every small nod and calm word - this is not the way of a faceless man. The subtlety of the anger, no - they would try to be much more obvious.They would not try to conceal their resentment as effectively as Sansa did.
Arya felt a twinge of pride at that, unable to imagine how the elder Stark had become this good of a liar -- what had caused it.
Satisfied with her discoveries, she excused herself, venturing out into the old, dusty, grey halls that she had once called her home. The dark stains, the crumbling corners, the burn marks on the tapestries and the nervous maids that have quick, hurried direwolves stitched into their overcoats to distract from the pinks and reds of their skirts that they are too poor to replace.
#yeah i aint ever gonna finish this#but i did like writing this part#title is taken from son luxs You Dont Know Me#Arya Stark#house stark#Sansa Stark#peter baelish#littlefinger#wip#wip wednesday#ASoIaF#A Song of Ice and Fire#got#game of thrones#implied vague arya x jaqen#the faceless men#the house of black and white#game of thrones season 7
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@eatyourdamnpears introduced me to The Darkest Minds book so I’ve been liveblogging my reactions as I read through. It’s a pretty fun book, not gonna lie, I had to stop myself from reading the entire thing all at once (so this reaction is up to chapter 9 which is where i started getting lazy liveblogging and knew it was time to quit while I was ahead). I was actually quite surprised at how good the descriptive writing was, since I’ve come to lower my expectations when it comes to YA novels or ones written in that sort of style, at least, lol.
Prologue:
Oof, how relatable. I’m mildly sensitive to loud sounds and I’ve done plenty of sound experiments where the signal is so loud in both ears that it feels like it’s living in your brain and not just sound coming from an external source. Highly unpleasant. Do not recommend.
Chapter 1:
I really like this line: And then it wasn’t just Michael’s disease. It was all of ours.
Shout out to all the disorders and syndromes out there that have multiple names because medicine just can’t stick to a singular naming system for anything.
The government was never scared of the kids who might die, or the empty spaces they would leave behind. They were afraid of us—the ones who lived.
This book has some really good lines on death and the gap it leaves in the lives of those who are still alive, which I like.
This is also kind of highly relatable given the current times. Reminds me of polio, too, which is a rightfully terrifying disease that could really make one question whether it was better to have to live with the side effects or have died from it.
Chapter 2:
Ruby actually reads like a kid character in her earlier memories and I cannot say how much I appreciate that. It’s difficult to write kids. But the little things, like arguing in the lunchroom over stupid things, how she notes she would have traced the raindrops on the window of the bus if she could, are all such kid things that I totally forgot ever happened to myself, once upon a time ago, lol.
Ooh, sleep deprivation. Nice.
And muzzles.
So the parents just kind of agreed to sending their kid off to who knows where? It seems like her mother was afraid of her, if she locked her in the garage.
Ah, is she an Orange? It would make sense if a few kids with those powers figured out how to manipulate the system.
Though aww, she thought she had a chance to run. In reality, this place seems so heavily guarded that even if she managed to get somewhere with her powers, she probably wouldn’t have made it out of there, especially tired, cold, hungry, and terrified as she was.
Chapter 3:
Woohoo, let’s add child labor to the equation, huh.
Though I’m surprised there isn’t more experimenting going on. Maybe in the background.
Sick whump! Gosh, reminds me of that one time I caught the flu a few years back.
Welp, I see you, creepy undertones.
So, uh, does she just wipe people’s memories randomly? She said she did it to her mother, and Sam acted like she didn’t know her at all at the end of this chapter. I guess it’s a good thing they don’t really physically interact at all around here, or else she’d have a lot more problems on her hands.
Chapter 4:
Oh, I thought the white noise was a sort of conditioning thing, but it turns out it’s something to do with their psychic abilities. aright.
Ohoho so they figured out other ways to re-check the classifications. At least they’ve improved over a few years.
The curious thing is why Ruby is any different from the other Oranges. They surely didn’t know how to use their abilities either when they first got them, yet hers have remained immature for years.
Aw, story-telling before bed!
Chapter 5:
Uh. Is that a seizure.
Yup.
Aright, mysterious lady lending a hand to help Ruby escape.
Chapter 6:
Huh, so what exactly makes it so that Ruby accidentally wipes the person’s memory instead of just viewing them…
Chapter 7:
“I…just did,” I said. “I told the man who was supposed to run my tests that I was Green. He listened.” “That’s weak,” Martin interrupted, looking right at me. “You probably didn’t even have to use your powers.”
I mean, but she kind of did? Martin, smarten up buddy. She did say “the man who was supposed to run my tests”…
Martin is like a typical teenage boy lol and my gosh is he a jerk.
Not a smart jerk either. Sure, explain exactly how your powers work to total strangers. You survived this long by keeping them a secret.
This is reminding me a lot of an old, old space opera manga/anime I loved way back, To Terra/Toward the Terra, right down to the color classifications. The people with psychic abilities trend comes and goes, and To Terra was one of the sad ones that ripped my heart out. I really hope this doesn’t do the same haha.
It’s super interesting how Ruby experiences people’s memories differently depending on the person. I really love the descriptions in this book, actually, I didn’t expect them to be so good. It really adds life to a work, instead of bland and lifeless descriptions.
Ohoho, so the rescue really was too good to be true and Rob is a murderer. Nice twist there.
Makes you wonder what their motive is for pulling the kids from the camps if it’s such a risk in the first place, since their intentions clearly aren’t 100% altruistic here.
Chapter 8:
Ruby is having such a great time. At least it seems she’s found some safety in the kid she scared half to death, haha.
Two more to add to the magic school bus!
“We’ll just have to try to make better mistakes tomorrow, right, Zu?”
I like this guy. He’s funny.
Ahh the name Suzume fits her! Suzume is a sparrow and she kinda gives off that vibe.
Also, fun car banter is great. As I do not have siblings and never had to suffer cross-country car rides full of bickering sibling banter, I can enjoy these scenes freely lol.
There’s something to be said about the way Ruby’s trauma is written, so knee-jerk and mixed with guilt, fear, and unknowns.
Whoops, car chase time!
Chapter 9:
Nothing to say, I kinda read this chapter really fast. That happens with action scenes like this one.
Except…
Her knee-jerk lies are kinda weird lol. I mean, truth is they were probably going to use her for some propaganda and whatever missions they run, so she didn’t need to come up with such an elaborate lie. But, well, the more details in the lie, the more real it seems.
The car is also a character, haha. Love it.
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