#i say i will never read Four Years again yet here i am

[let-me-cry-in-peace-guys]

Me rambling about my all time favourite fanfic "four years" on ao3 by lettersinpetals

OKAY. I cannot actually believe that my FIRST post on this hellsite is about a angsty atsumu x omiomi fanfic but what else did i expect from my life honestly

Anyway, here is me breaking my inner promise to never post anything on media because UYGCDUYJ this goddamn fanfic. THIS fanfic. It is written SO well and i understand why the writer wrote the ending that way, i really do. I loved the fic, and I'm not even that big of a sakuatsu shipper. 1000/10 reccomend.

BUT. a small, miniscule part of me HATES the ending lvhuwbhqve whyyyyyyyyy did atsumu have to forgive samu like that HONESTLY??? if that was ME, and it was MY SISTER that had CHEATED with MY boyfriend, i would cut ties and never look back. NOT because of the boyfriend so much than the fact that she BETRAYED me, ShatterED my trust, and TURNED her BACK on OUR RELATIONSHIP that we have built for, oh, i don't know, THE WHOLE OF OUR LIVES??? just for some Dick???

And in the fic osamu goes "oh, it was the first time we did that, blah blah, we weren't like, seeing each other behind your back for a LONG time.." to REDEEM himself and. FINE. OKAY. kudos to you for doing the BARE FUCKING MINIMUM and NOT sneaking around poor atsumus back for a long period of time. YAY!!! Give this man a medal people!!!

and MAYBE this is me being salty and wishing there was more g r o v e l i n g from the family to atsumu but GOD. and the worst part is that even if i HATED the ending, it was UNDERSTANDABLE and MADE SENSE that it ended that way!! and the writing WAS SO GOOD i couldn't drop it!! even though my inner self was CRYING because WHYYYYYYY are you FORGIVINGGG that TRAITOR>????

ANYway that was me trying to relieve some emotion before re-reading Four Years for like, the upteenth time

[bvidzsoo]

Obliviate Me

✩‧₊˚ Obliviate ⇄ to forget [Latin] ✩‧₊˚

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: dark!Park Seonghwa x female reader

✩‧₊˚ Warning: smut, addiction, ptsd, mentions of war, violence, fights ✩‧₊˚ Word count: 27.6k ✩‧₊˚ Rating: nsfw ✩‧₊˚ Genre: Harry Potter!au, set in the forties/Grindelwald's time, lovers to enemies!au, tragic love!au ✩‧₊˚ Summary: ✩‧₊˚ Grindelwald's reign holds everyone under terror, and you decide you want to join the right side and put an end to it. But the stars seem to refuse to align for you and your lover as you find yourselves on opposing teams. Will your love prevail, or will you succumb to the darkness? ✩‧₊˚

A/N: My lovelies, I...I am bawling my eyes out ngl, I can't believe I wrote this. Bring a box of tissues with you before you sit down reading, I am already forever sorry if I cause anyone any heartache<3 I have proofread this, but it's past 1am and you might still find mistakes, so I'm sorry about that! There's little time jumps in here, so for a quick clarification, after each divider you'll find them back in the current time (which is still in the forties!). I probably had a lot more things to say, but I forgot and I'm sleepy, so I'll settle for this much: there are probably some inaccuracies to the Harry Potter canon events as I took some creative liberty so yeah, keep that in mind when reading; also Mingi and MC aren't related, they just share the same surname! I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this oneshot y'all (as into everything I write LOL), so I hope you enjoy! I appreciate all of your thoughts, so please leave feedback, I love reading them!<3 (special shotout to @hwasbbyg because somehow I always have you in mind when I'm writing something Seonghwa related <3) divider

            Times were dire, both in the Wizarding World and the Muggle World. Supremist leaders with atrocious views unleashed attack after attack upon innocent civilians, creating more destruction than victory. My heart broke daily reading the newspaper, both the muggle and wizard one. It made my blood boil that two men, so different yet similar upon closer view, would play God and decide what was wrong and right. Who was pure and who deserved to suffer. Nobody was perfect, nobody will ever be. I couldn’t just sit idly at home and be the housewife many women dreamed of becoming after graduating. I wanted to make a name for myself, I wished to become strong enough to save the innocent, to take their side and advocate for those who were too scared or weak to do so for themselves. That is why upon graduating from Hogwarts, I became an Auror. The training was harsh and demanding, but it wasn’t anything I wasn’t ready to bear if it meant it would lead to saving millions of lives. I was sick of all the spilled blood and wailing on the streets, I wished to see peace and serenity, to go to bed without the fear of never waking up again. Four years have passed since I have left the confines of Hogwarts, since I was forced to face the horrors of the outside world, to fend for myself, and to become someone. It was hard and terrifying, but for once, I felt complete. I felt happy with where I stood in my life, I was proud of who I had become. And I knew that as long as Grindelwald isn’t stopped, I shall not rest even for a second.

The auditorium was small in size and stuffed, the benches placed in a circular shape around a platform that had a table sitting on it and a chair. It was deep down on the second level, far away from the Auror’s offices, hidden between the women’s and men’s restrooms. The auditorium wasn’t meant to be easily found and it was only used when a situation had turned dire, when an emergency meeting just had to be called. I had chosen to sit towards the back of the auditorium, closer to the exit as the air felt stale and warm inside the stuffed room, at least thirty aurors squeezed together towards the front of the room. My throat felt parched and my palms were sweaty as I had them placed in front of me, leveling my breaths as Theseus Scamander, the Head of the Auror Office, stood tall on the platform, a forlorn look on his face. Anyone who had picked up the newspaper earlier this morning must’ve seen the devastating news of the destruction caused to the small and welcoming wizarding village, Apo’s Nook. There was nothing left of it, just the ashes of ghosts that would haunt the land and the smoking foundations of destroyed homes that would never flourish again.

I felt a lump in my throat as Theseus sighed long and loud, eyes surveying the auditorium. It was deadly silent in here, everyone was either too mad or sad to say anything. The time was barely nine in the morning and we knew we had a long day ahead of us. This meeting was a top-secret one, whatever was said inside this auditorium would be never allowed to leave the confines of these walls. Only the best of the best aurors were called in, no doubt for a mission that would be challenging both physically and mentally. It wouldn’t be my first special mission, yet I couldn’t help but feel dread for what was to come. A tiny voice in the back of my head tried to whisper warnings this morning while I was getting ready to come to work, my gut twisting nauseatingly and making me more restless than I usually was. Something would happen here today that I wouldn’t like, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

“Good morning, aurors.” Theseus’ voice rang loudly in the quiet room and I gulped, feeling sweat collect on my nape, under my hair. I didn’t want to get rid of my jacket, finding the warmth it provided comforting, but I was sweating too much. Careful, not to make any sound, I wrestled out of the satin fabric and placed it onto the table in front of me. My dress was thick to protect me from the merciless winter, and it reached just below my ankles as the front had a V-cut that stopped just above the valley of my breasts, “I assume you all know by now why you’ve been called here.”

There was a collective murmur of confirmation to Theseus’ question and I gulped, patting my forehead free of any perspiration, “What occurred in the early hours of today’s morning is—terrible and unforgivable.”

I couldn’t help but let my eyes run over the aurors as Theseus’ voice shook with raw emotion. He was just as affected by the news as everyone else in the room. I fiddled with my fingers as my eyes finally fell on a familiar person, the tiniest smile slipping onto my lips. It brought little comfort and assurance to see my former professor in a place where I was surrounded by fearless warriors who were mere strangers to me, but would soon become my trusted companions. The only other two aurors that I did become friends with throughout the four years of working here were Song Mingi and Jeong Yunho, partners in missions and other aspects of life, and I haven’t seen them in over a month now. They were alive, and as safe as possible, but they were far away from our home, in a land colder and far scarier than what London was at the moment. They were close to the German border, spying on Grindelwald’s men having infiltrated themselves amongst them. They were our precious informants, their jobs far more dangerous than ours at the moment. I couldn’t help but pray every night to a God that listened, that the two people I started cherishing in such a short time would return to me in one piece and alive.

“Grindelwald has destroyed another village,” Theseus’ words snapped me out of my thoughts as Professor Dumbledore turned his head, gaze finding mine, “wizards and witches were killed once again because they refused to join his dark cause. This cannot go on anymore, I won’t allow it.”

Professor Dumbledore bowed his head slightly in a nonverbal greeting before he turned his head, looking at Theseus with an unreadable expression on his face. I gulped and subconsciously reached for the pocket of my coat, feeling around for the plastic holder in the shape of a tube.

“I was given full permission to construct a team that will directly take out Grindelwald’s men until he’s left with nothing, until he’s alone and powerless.” Theseus leered, face contorted into fury, “I shall task you with bringing down these disgraces one by one, dead or alive, I do not care as long they cannot help Grindelwald anymore.”

My fingers tightened around the plastic, my head turning when I saw a man stand up with a heavy-looking folder in his hands approach Theseus, “We have gathered all the information we could about Grindelwald’s most important wizards and witches, they are our main target. I want you all to look at these photographs closely, commit them to memory as each one of you will be handed one to capture and bring forth to the court.”

I watched from the back of the auditorium as the man opened the folder and placed it down on a table in the front row, starting to hand out photograph after photograph. Knowing that I sat way too far in the back, I rose to my feet and swiftly took the plastic bottle from my pocket, slipping it between my breasts so that nobody would see it. Pushing my hands behind my back, I walked down a few stairs until I reached the row that had more wizards sitting in it, grabbing a photograph that wasn’t being looked at yet. The picture was in black and white, but the face of the witch was clear. Something in my stomach coiled as I recognized her being my peer at Hogwarts, just a year above myself, and a Slytherin like I had been too. The man sitting next to me looked at me with a questioning gaze, and I passed him the photograph as he handed me another one, this one of an older wizard who had a cunning look in his eyes as he held a cigar between his teeth. Something was unsettling about his gaze as I leaned against the side of the table, passing it along as another then another photograph passed through my grasp as I committed their faces to memory. Some of these pictures seemed to have been taken recently, right at Apo’s Nook before it went up in flames. My jaw clenched as the witch in the next photograph was grinning widely as if she was taunting us, and I accidentally passed it to the man next to me a bit too harshly as he gave me a concerned look. I ignored him and took a deep breath, fingers itching to hold onto the plastic bottle hidden between my breasts. The news this morning had been too shocking, and I had no choice but to take two pills instead of one. It wasn’t healthy, but I did force my breakfast down my throat in hopes that it wouldn’t make me feel ill if I doubled the dose.

The next photograph that was passed to me was flipped upside down, and I sighed as I braced myself for another unfamiliar face to commit to memory, except that when I flipped it, my whole body froze, blood going cold. I tried to gulp, but I couldn’t due to the lump in my throat. My lungs contracted, and I desperately tried not to gasp as my fingers dug into the fragile paper and I fought the urge to rip the photograph into shreds. I knew this would happen sooner than later, but I realized how completely unprepared I was for it. The wizard in the photograph was smiling widely, the photo not recent at all, his round eyes turning upwards at the corners, his front teeth on full display. His hair had been freshly cut before the photograph was taken, yet it still fell in his eyes as he failed to style it—he was talented at many things, yet he never quite learned how to tame his wild hair. I could feel my hands start to shake the longer I stared at the face of my first love, my heart beating so fast my ears started to ring. I struggled to breathe and I knew I was turning pale as my lips parted, a quiet gasp leaving through them. It was enough to alert the man sitting next to me as I felt his eyes on me, but my body couldn’t react to anything as I crumbled up the photograph, throwing it far away from myself. I heard my name being called and words that sounded like they were asking if I was alright, but my vision had started turning black from the lack of oxygen. The room was too small, too stuffy, too warm; I couldn’t breathe.

Hands still shaking, I gripped my dress and lifted it above my ankles as I abruptly turned around, eyes settling on the exit desperately as I felt my feet take me up the stairs, running as I extended my hand way before I have reached the door to grab the handle. My heart was in my throat and the ringing in my ears was as loud as a kettle’s whistle, and I yanked the door open with all the force I could muster up due to the tremor of my whole body. The air of the hallway hit me hard, making me gasp loudly as I slammed the door shut behind me, feeling tears prick at my dry eyes as I flung myself forward, hands cushioning my crash as I flew into the wall in front of me, forehead banging against it. I needed it, I needed something painful to shake me out of my borderline psychotic state. I couldn’t take another pill so soon, I really just shouldn’t. I bit my lower lip as I struggled to take deep breaths, the tremors of my body worsening as my hands curled into fists, forcing me to close my eyes. The ringing in my ears had started to subside, but my heart was still beating way too fast and my throat was too dry. I really couldn’t take another pill just yet; however, my right hand was reaching for the bottle without wasting another second as I uncapped it and grabbed two pills out of it, throwing them back as my eyebrows furrowed, struggling to gulp them down at once.

I stood desperately waiting for the downers to kick in, the thumping of my head subsiding as the ringing of my ears went away completely, the tremors of my body remaining, however. I felt my muscles trying to relax, not even having noticed how tense they had become, and I gulped as I turned around to press my back against the wall, groaning as my head fell back. My throat had started hurting, the pills having scrapped it, but I couldn’t care less as my frantic heartbeat had finally started slowing down. I heard the door of the auditorium open, and my eyes opened as I watched my former professor approach me with a concerned look on his face. He held a plastic cup that he extended towards me, and I took it eagerly, downing the cool water as it finally soothed the ache in my throat. I crumpled the plastic in my fist, sighing long as I looked at Professor Dumbledore, wondering what was going through his mind having seen me in such a hysterical state.

“War is harsh,” As if reading my thoughts, his eyes twinkled with that familiar warm glint, “it affects everyone differently. You’ve seen things no woman your age should have, but you are a talented auror, Miss Song. However, I fear you won’t be amongst us for much longer if you continue abusing those.”

I felt shame crawl up my body as the professor’s eyes fell on the bottle, and I quickly hid it behind my back, “I’m sorry.”

I felt like a little child that was being scolded for doing something bad as I averted my gaze away from Professor Dumbledore’s, and sniffed as I noticed my heartbeat had finally returned to its natural rhythm.

“How are your parents doing, Miss Song?” Professor Dumbledore’s voice was soft, and I shrugged looking up at him.

“They are scared, as is everyone else.” I sighed, biting my lower lip, “I have moved them to the Wizarding World in hopes of keeping them safe, but nowhere is safe anymore, Professor.”

“It’s saddening, indeed.” The professor nodded, sharing my feelings of sadness that were slowly turning into despair, “But I think you did the right thing. The Wizarding World might not be the safest place at the moment, but it is a lot safer than the Muggle World.”

It was reassuring to hear the approval of my much wiser and smarter professor, and for a second, I believed that I had done something right for the first time in a long time. No matter how many dark wizards and witches I have captured, I never truly felt accomplished. It wasn’t enough, because I knew I could do better if sent on even more missions, and finally, the chance to fulfill my selfish desires while proving myself to be good and useful to my superiors, had come.

“Are you feeling any better now, Miss Song?” The professor’s eyebrows raised as I quickly hid the bottle back between my breasts and nodded, squaring my shoulders back. There it was, the condescending look of deep thought crossing the professor’s face as he looked towards the ground, humming lowly, “When it comes to the matters of the heart, it’s a slippery and unsure territory, Miss Song. You might think you are prepared to face whoever and take them out, but if you haven’t completely let go of them, your heart will outrule your conscious, your rationality. Even if you have long released the feelings you had once harbored for them, your more rational side might stop you, might hold you back from delivering the final blow.”

I felt tears trying to prick at my eyes as they snapped up, boring into Professor Dumbledore’s as he had a sad smile on his lips, “It’s difficult to forget your first love, Miss Song, no matter how deeply they have wronged you.”

The tremors in my hands haven’t disappeared and wouldn’t go away today, but they halted for a second as I gulped, throat feeling dry again, “He chose his path consciously, as I have chosen mine. Our beliefs have never truly aligned, it was just wishful thinking on my side, Professor. Love, an emotion I do not feel towards him anymore, isn’t stronger than my rational mind. If I would have allowed my heart to lead me throughout my life, I would be by his side now, wallowing in self-misery and pity for all the lives I allowed perish.”

“I have recognized your passion the moment you sat on the stool on the night of the sorting, Miss Song, you’ve known from the very first moment what you wanted and how to get it. I fear I haven’t met a Slytherin as determined and stubborn as yourself, Miss Song—”

“Not even Tom Riddle, sir?”

The professor’s expression suddenly became leveled, warm smile turning into a rather forced one, “I fear I cannot compare you to Tom Riddle, Miss Song.”

I hummed and smiled, memories of the younger boy bashing the professor for even the smallest inconvenience returning. I had never figured out where their distaste came for each other, but as it wasn’t my business, I never prodded more than necessary. I fixed my hair and made sure the little bottle couldn’t be seen as I glanced past the professor, feeling calm enough to join the aurors again, “We should head inside before they deem me unfit for this task, I would hate to miss out on this one, Professor.”

“They cannot afford to lose an auror like you.” Professor Dumbledore chuckled with a thoughtful look on his face as he led us towards the door, opening it for me like the true gentleman he was. I thanked him quietly as I stepped through the threshold, the lump back in my throat as the room went silent at once, everyone turning around to watch me and the professor as we descended the stairs. I went to sit at my initial spot, but Professor Dumbledore gently grabbed my elbow and veered me towards his seat, a witch making a place for me as she had an understanding look on her face.

“Is everything alright, Miss Song?” Theseus asked once the professor and I had taken our seats, the curious eyes of the other Aurors still watching me. I gulped and placed my hands on my knees, trying to hide the tremor behind the desk so that nobody would see it.

“Yes, Mr. Scamander, my apologies for storming out like that.” My voice was leveled as I forced my face to relax, and an easy smile appeared on my lips, “I felt a little ill this morning, I suppose it returned suddenly.”

“Right,” Theseus hummed, a smile matching mine on his lips, “that is reassuring to hear; however, I do wish for a quick recovery should it get worse.”

“Thank you.” I bowed my head as my hands fisted my dress, my heart rate picking up again as I felt the witch next to me gently rub my back. I wasn’t fond of being touched by strangers, but I didn’t have the willpower to ask her to stop. Finally, seemingly content with my half-assed lie, the attention wasn’t on me anymore as everyone went back to conversing with each other. Theseus cleared his throat and walked towards our table, Professor Dumbledore gathering the photographs as they were scattered around on the desk.

“While you were taking a breather, Miss Song, I have informed your colleagues that each one of them will be assigned a dark wizard to survey and consequently take down whenever the Office seems fitting.” I tried to gulp, my throat going dry once again. The witch was still rubbing my back and her touch had started burning my skin through my dress, making me fidget with my hands as I released the grip I had on my dress. I knew this was coming, but I didn’t feel ready. If I could’ve, I would’ve downed the whole bottle of pills, not minding if I would have been the one in need of a funeral.

“I see, Mr. Scamander, who had been assigned to me?” I felt the professor’s eyes take me in carefully as if I were a ticking time bomb, and the hand of the witch was finally away from my body, her sigh too loud as Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“Records say you have been peers with Park Seonghwa at Hogwarts, yes?” I failed to inhale air as my lungs contracted, my worst nightmare lay right in front of my eyes and ears, “Professor Dumbledore, could you confirm this for me?”

“Yes, Mr. Scamander, Miss Song and Mr. Park had been my students barely four years ago.” My eyes burned as I blinked them fast, scared that tears would flood them as my hands shook more, itching to grab the bottle even if for little reassurance. The sedatives weren’t working as they should have, I shouldn’t be so wired up and nervous still. I figured I should buy something stronger; the muggles were more lenient when handing out sedatives than the wizards if you knew how to put on your best act.

“Indeed,” My voice was emotionless, and I knew my face was unreadable as Theseus’ eyes narrowed, “I know Park Seonghwa, but just merely. He was a great student I often had to compete with for the first place in our year.”

The longer Theseus’ eyes bore into mine, the more prominent the soft prodding in my forehead became. I knew what he was doing, way too familiar with the feeling of having my mind invaded. He was searching for memories of Seonghwa and me, of anything that could prove I wasn’t lying and that our roots didn’t grow deeper than a surface-level acquittance. It was laughable how easy it was to veer Theseus around my mind, to trick him into seeing only what I wanted him to see. He wasn’t a born Legilimens, I could feel he was less strong than the likes of Tom Riddle, who was a born natural in his talent, and so, I knew Theseus wouldn’t figure out that I—in fact—was a born Occlumens, the will of my mind stronger than his surface-level talent. I watched as a satisfied expression settled on his features upon viewing the images I allowed him to see, like the brief snappy exchanges between Seonghwa and me when we were in class, trying to show off to the professors, or the duels where we loved to flaunt our skills, or the brief acknowledgments in the hallway when we so happened to pass by each other.

“Very well, Miss Song,” Theseus muttered and then slammed a photograph down in front of me, a much younger Seonghwa smiling mockingly at me, “I trust you to do your best and bring him to his downfall. Mr. Park is an important asset to Grindelwald’s army; we need him gone.”

“He shall be gone, then.”

1943

            The classroom was full of vigor as everyone pilled inside, rather excited to see what Professor Merrythought had up her sleeve for us today. She had promised a dueling class sooner than later, and, as we happened to be ahead on our curriculum in DADA class, we got permission from Headmaster Dippet to go ahead and transform our usual classroom into a dueling ring. This year, the Slytherins shared most of their classes with the Ravenclaws, the DADA class being one of them. I let my eyes run over the crowd of the gathering 6th-year Ravenclaws on the other side of the classroom, pressed up against the wall much like myself and my housemates. Despite the majority of students being in their 6th year, Professor Merrythought found it essential that all students above the age of fourteen learn how to duel due to the imminent threat looming above our heads, both in the Wizarding and Muggle World. Therefore, it came as no surprise that younger students were ushered inside by Professor Merrythought, who had a grin on her face. Finding the person I had been looking for in the crowd, on the other side of the classroom, a tiny smile made it onto my lips as I found him already looking at me attentively. His dark hair, once again, fell wildly around his head in curls that looked natural, framing his boyish features as his round eyes sparkled with excitement. I chuckled and felt more elated knowing that Seonghwa was here, the chance of getting paired up with him was rather high as we were the top students of our year.

“Miss Song.” I flinched at the sudden intrusive voice in my head, always taken aback when I was addressed telepathically. I looked away from Seonghwa, eyes falling onto the boy—who despite being younger, was a lot taller than me—was now standing next to me with a stoic expression, ice-cold blue eyes boring into my darker ones. I chuckled and pressed a hand against my chest, always impressed by his skills despite his younger age.

“Mr. Riddle.” I greeted back with a grin, the small prodding at my forehead proof that our telepathic connection worked both ways. It was rare that Tom allowed me inside his mind, and even then, he knew how to guide me around his thoughts to show me only what he wanted me to see—a skill he learned from me, rather quickly. He had a natural talent for learning and achieving accomplishments that wizards and witches older than him struggled to garnish. He was an admirable student and a force to reckon with, I was never too eager when he challenged me to a friendly duel under the pretext of gaining experience by dueling a student who was as outstanding as himself—in reality, he only wished to show off and torment me in the confines of the Room of Requirements when the two of us would head over to study.

“Now, children,” Professor Merrythought clapped her hands together as she walked between the parting crowd of students, everyone watching her curiously, “as you may know, Headmaster Dippet had granted us another dueling session, and I am beyond excited to teach you new tricks that may as well save your lives in the future. The rules are the same as always, no serious spells aimed to harm, and no maiming, Madam Gorsemoor has far more important tasks than to heal some children who didn’t take the rules seriously, yes?”

Everyone muttered a ‘yes’ at once, and Professor Merrythought had a pleased grin on her lips as she pulled her wide shoulders back, her golden eyes surveying the crowd, probably counting how many of us were here. Usually, no more than twenty students were allowed inside the classroom as Professor Merrythought wished to watch and help everyone, not just those few she noticed lacking in their skill, “Can someone tell me what we’ve learned in our last class?”

Several hands shoot up high in the air, mine included, and I felt compelled to look over to the Ravenclaws, not surprised at all to see Seonghwa’s arm high up in the air, shoulders pulled back to make him look taller. I stifled a chuckle and faced the front of the classroom again, feeling Tom’s questioning gaze on the back of my head, but I paid him no mind.

“Mr. Lovegood, perhaps?” Professor Merrythought pointed at the platinum blonde-haired wizard from Ravenclaw, who stood on his tiptoes, about to bounce up and down to gain the professor’s attention.

“Diffindo!” He exclaimed, cheeks flushing instantly as the students from his house snickered, the Slytherins remaining uninterested, “I mean, Diffindo and Relashio.”

“Very well, Mr. Lovegood, thank you.” Professor Merrythought hummed, eyes narrowing as she looked over the crowd once again, her eyes stopping on me as I offered her a small smile.

“I must remind you that Diffindo is a spell that brings great harm if not death to your opponent, and inside this classroom, we shall not use it against each other. And even outside of it, I advise you use it wisely and level-headed only if the occurrence calls for it—”

“Like—if it were for Grindelwald to attack us?!” A younger boy—from Ravenclaw—asked, heads turning in his direction as he yet had to grow a few inches.

“Yes, that’s the likely scenario I had in mind.” Professor Merrythought muttered pleased, nodding at the curious boy with big round eyes. He reminded me of Seonghwa when we had just started our journey at Hogwarts, always eager to learn more and curious about how everything around him worked. Since then, his nature remained but he learned how to control it, how to make it less obvious how big of a nerd he actually was. Some would say he tries to impersonate the ‘cool guy’ archetype, but I know him too well to believe those silly ‘rumors’, “Well, before we learn something new, I’d like to see a duel from our best duellists.”

I gulped, feeling eyes bore into the side of my head as I looked over to Seonghwa again, finding his eyes on me already once again. He was smirking, round eyes fierce as we both knew who Professor Merrythought would call to the front for a demonstration, “Miss Song, Mr. Park, would you grace us with your presence?”

I heard Tom chuckle behind me, unamused, no doubt having known we’d be the chosen ones for this task. It was rarely not us, even Seonghwa and I knew it. I patted down the front of my robe, dusting it off, then squared my shoulders as I made my way through the crowd, getting a few pats on the back from people who I was familiar with. I had grabbed my wand out of my pocket, and Seonghwa and I made it to the front of the class at the same time. His smirk had turned cheeky as he held his wand in his hands elegantly, twirling it playfully as I took a few steps backward and then adjusted my stance.

“Miss Song.” Seonghwa’s voice was deep, tone almost seductive, and I couldn’t help but grin and narrow my eyes at him.

“Mr. Park.” My tone was confident and full of assurance because I knew I would win this duel. I usually did. Seonghwa was very good at dueling, but I was better since I was faster and more agile. I was also a little more talented at wandless magic than he was, I found it amusing whenever he’d exercise next to me, growing frustrated with himself way too quickly. Professor Merrythought clapped her hands and stepped back as Seonghwa and I bowed to each other, wands gripped firmly in our hands as we took our stance for the duel. I zeroed in on Seonghwa only, focusing on the movements of his body, eyes boring into his as if I would read his mind—I could, but I knew he hated it, and what I hated more was when I made him hurt. Seonghwa stood alert, his dark eyes boring into mine, a curious glint in them, laced with mischief and anticipation as he was patiently waiting for me to make my first move. He usually wasn’t the one to attack first, and we both knew that. We’ve dueled each other many times already, we knew each other’s tricks and weakest points.

“Stupefy!” I exclaimed, throwing my hand out, my wand pulsing with power as a light blue zap quickly shot towards Seonghwa, who expertly threw up his defense wall, nulling my attack with a pleased expression. I chuckled under my breath and raised an eyebrow as I threw my next attack at him, “Flipendo!”

Seonghwa huffed as another jinx was thrown his way, raising his arm high as he cast another shield in front of his body, eyes narrowing as he realized I was trying to get him to fly to the other side of the classroom. I knew he was wary of injuring himself, and unless I teased him a little bit at the beginning of our duel, I knew he would try to go easy on me. But I didn’t want easy and friendly, I wanted him to have no mercy and fight as if we were in a real fight, against each other, with only one winner standing tall in the end.

“Stupefy!” Seonghwa exclaimed, the same light blue zap flying towards me, making me easily block his attack as I threw my arms up, casting an invisible shield. Unlike Seonghwa’s, mine remained blue and violet ripples the tell-tale sign that there was something in front of me. Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, calculating his next move as I sent a hot air charm his way, which he dodged skilfully, his black hair falling into his eyes. Seonghwa chuckled and twirled the strands behind his ear, graciously raising his hand, not even looking my way as suddenly electric blue flames came barrelling towards my shield, making the students in the classroom gasp in surprise, but also fear. Someone had started clapping hard, and I knew it was Professor Merrythought as she enjoyed the show the most out of everyone.

Seonghwa was smart, and so, he knew the blue flames would demolish my shield without hurting me, and I could hear Professor Merrythought explain just this to the students who watched us with even more excitement in their eyes. Deciding to not verbalize my next spell, I winked at Seonghwa as I made the hand movement that was required for the Waddiwasi spell, Seonghwa realized a moment too late as, suddenly, crumbled up parchments floated around me for a second, before propelling towards Seonghwa with force and speed that left him defenseless. Seonghwa gasped as he turned sideways, the little balls of parchment crashing against the side of his body without causing any damage—physical because his ego was probably bruised—and the students started laughing as Seonghwa hissed, facing me once again with piercing eyes. I grinned and curtsied teasingly, enjoying the way his cheeks had flushed from embarrassment, his grip tightening around his black wand. His lips didn’t move, but his hand did, and I narrowed my eyes as for a second nothing happened, and then I felt invisible ropes binding around my body, trying to immobilize me as my eyes widened in surprise.

“Emancipare!” I yelped the counterattack of Brachiabindo, the defensive spell Seonghwa had used, and felt the ropes instantly disappear from my body. Seonghwa huffed, running his fingers through his rich curls, looking frustrated as he walked a few steps closer. It wasn’t like him to lose his wits when we were dueling, and so, this was the first sign that told me something was bothering him as he couldn’t completely focus on the task at hand. But this was an exercise, a duel in which we had to demonstrate to the other students, so I pushed my worries aside and cast my next spell, “Fulgari!”

Much like Seonghwa’s spell, it was another one that bid your arms together, however, the ropes weren’t invisible anymore but red and thick, painful, as the charm tied your wrists together tightly. But Seonghwa knew how to counterattack it, and the ropes dropped midair as a white light was cast from his wand. Knowing that we didn’t have much time anymore and that Professor Merrythought was waiting for one of us to disarm the other, I acted quickly, “Expelliarmus!”

However, Seonghwa’s simultaneous attack was silent as it shot from his wand, and our spells clashed in the middle, exploding with a loud boom after they’d tangled up for a few seconds. I gasped as the force pushed me backward, almost making me stumble to the floor. The hem of my robe had caught in the heel of my boots, and as I tried to manage the issue, I felt my mind being prodded at. Not even having to concentrate on the action, my mind instantly blocked the intruder out, my mind’s barriers strong and stubborn, no matter how insistent the intruder became. I knew who it was, in this classroom only Tom Riddle was so talented enough to use Legilimens wandless and non-verbally, but he was least of my worries as Seonghwa’s glare was deep, mouth moving before I could register his words, “Relashio!”

I gasped as my wand was snapped out of my hand, clattering to the floor, making the students roar with claps and cheers, Professor Merrythought not even trying to calm them down as she walked towards Seonghwa and me. I gulped, feeling my cheeks tinge pink at the amateur mistake I had made, the fact even more embarrassing as I was disarmed by such a pathetic spell. But this is what a duel encompassed, and I took a deep breath and released it slowly as I felt Professor Merrythought’s hand on my shoulder, pulling me next to her as she had grabbed onto Seonghwa as well.

“Brilliant!” She exclaimed lips pulled into a huge grin, “Simply brilliant, my students! You will make such fine Aurors, the department will be blessed upon your arrival!”

I muttered a quiet thank you and bowed my head abashed, missing the cold look that crossed Seonghwa’s face upon hearing our professor’s words. Then, when the class had finally settled down, Seonghwa and I were ushered back to our previous spots, Professor Merrythought taking the lead as she started explaining the new spell we’d be learning today. I felt the uncomfortable prodding once again, and a little frustrated, I turned around and snapped at Tom without considering my actions first, “Stop it, Riddle!”

My exclamation thankfully wasn’t too loud, but it made a few heads turn our way. I gulped and averted my eyes flustered as Tom grinned, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “My apologies, but I failed to gain your attention any other way.”

“I am trying to pay attention to the new spell, Riddle,” I muttered as I faced the front of the classroom again, feeling the younger boy step closer as he loomed over my shoulders.

“But you already know it,” He muttered, voice devoid of any emotion and I just sighed, nodding and confirming his claim, “Well, then, let me offer you some friendly advice.”

“The Tom Riddle offering me some friendly advice?” I teased, looking over my shoulder with a chuckle, “So you finally admit that we’re friends?”

“Well,” Tom cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, “if you think of us as friends, we shall be that, Y/N.”

Tom hadn’t been keen on addressing each other casually in public, but he’s been calling me by my name rather often lately, “And your advice is?”

“Ah, yes,” He cleared his throat again, leaning just a little bit closer to whisper in my ear, “use more non-verbal spells next time and maybe even wandless magic too, Park seems to struggle to defend those. And, try not to lose focus so easily, getting disarmed by Relashio out of all spells is rather embarrassing, Miss Song.”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my chest, watching Professor Merrythought’s wand as she drew the movement of the spell slowly for us to see, “Thank you for pointing out that Relashio isn’t even a disarming spell.”

It was rare to see any sort of positive reaction from Tom, but he snickered as I felt him take a step back to offer me more space as he was done with the conversation, “Meet me later in the Room of Requirements?”

But apparently, he wasn’t done with the telepathic conversation, “Yes, at the agreed-upon time, I won’t be late this time.”

“You better not be.” Tom’s voice sounded unimpressed in my mind and I rolled my eyes, hoping nobody saw it, “And tell your boyfriend to stop staring daggers at my head, I could disarm and harm him in just a few seconds—”

“Thank you, Tom, that’s enough.” I snapped, never too keen when he tried to bash Seonghwa and his skills—or lack of them as Tom had so often remarked, “And get out of my head, now.”

His chuckle was cut short as I raised the barrier once again, forcing Tom out of my mind. I knew it would be painful to him and I didn’t mind as lately he’s been trying to prod at my mind way too often. But being a born Occlumens came with its perks, no matter how much Tom tried to peek inside my head, he’d only be allowed inside as long as I let him. Having realized that he had some control issues, I didn’t let him know about that little piece of information, for my own peace of mind, really. Feeling like somebody was drilling holes into the side of my head, I looked over to the Ravenclaws, a little taken aback by the dark look in Seonghwa’s eyes and the sneer on his lips. He looked irritated, and as we made eye contact his expression hardened for a second before he looked away, ignoring me for the rest of the class. I had only sighed, paying attention to Professor Merrythought for the rest of the class.

            Once class was over everyone pilled outside quickly, eager for the short break before our next class would start. Wanting to speak to Seonghwa in private, I stayed back with the hopes that he’d do the same, but when Professor Merrythought noticed me and asked if I had wanted to speak to her, I realized it was just her, myself, and Lovegood in the classroom. I bid her farewell and then scurried outside, sighing long as I felt disappointed that Seonghwa had left without me even noticing it. He was mad at me, that was now certain, and we wouldn’t have the possibility to meet until dinner or our Prefect duties as this was the last class we shared today. I held the strap of my satchel bag tightly as I gnawed on my bottom lip, wondering whether I could use an excuse and search for him between my classes, when suddenly a classroom door was thrown open and I was harshly yanked to the left by my arm. I gasped as I stumbled, failing to keep up with the aggressive tugging, my back hitting a wall rather painfully as my heart had started racing, eyes widening as I felt warm lips pressing against mine. It took me a second to register what was happening.

I was face to face with Seonghwa, who had me pinned between himself and the wall, holding the side of my neck firmly with his right hand as his left one gripped my hip, fingers digging into the fabric of my uniform. His eyes were open and glaring at me despite his heated kiss, and it only made me flush more as I felt his tongue force itself between my lips while his fingers sneaked up towards my jaw, tilting my head up as he had to lean down, just slightly, due to our height difference. My heart hammered against my ribcage as the satchel bag fell from my shoulder, landing with a loud thud as I gripped his robe’s collar, the fabric a lot softer than mine. Seonghwa’s tongue lapped at mine fiercely, stealing my breath away as I felt his hand slip from my hip, trace the inside of my thigh as it slowly slipped underneath my knee-length skirt. I gasped and gently pushed him back, breathing hard as his right hand held my nape, fingernails pressing into my frail skin, “Seonghwa—”

“Did you have fun flirting with Riddle right in front of me?” His tone was harsh, voice raspier than usual, and I gulped, his hand slipping higher up underneath my skirt.

“Seonghwa, I wasn’t flirting with him.” My voice trembled as he leaned closer again, lips tracing the skin of my neck, feather-like, making goosebumps erupt all over my skin. My hands released the collar of his robe as they slipped higher up, circling his neck as my fingers got tangled in the wavy strands of his hair, “I’ve told you so many times that I’m not interested in him—”

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it.” I gasped as his sharp teeth sunk into the skin of my neck, making my stomach coil as his other hand stopped at my groin, caressing my flesh through my stockings, “I’m sick of seeing him prance around you like a lost puppy, my love.”

“He’s just a boy.” My eyebrows furrowed as Seonghwa’s head snapped up, a sneer on his face.

“Just a boy?” He scoffed and leaned incredibly close, lips brushing against mine as he spoke, “He’s barely one year younger than us, Y/N.”

Sighing loudly, I pressed a chaste kiss against his lips, seeing his eyes shake for a second, his anger dissipating slightly, “Yet I only see the little boy I guided to the Slytherin common room in his first year in him, my love, he’s nothing but like a brother to me.”

“He has no boundaries.” Seonghwa huffed, jaw clenching and unclenching as I kissed his cheek, right side and then left side, then pulled him slightly lower to kiss his forehead too. Seonghwa’s grip visibly softened, his finger rubbing circles into my hipbone under my skirt.

“I know how to put him in his place if he ever goes too far, which he has never done before.” I muttered reassuringly as I ran my fingers through his hair gently, knowing that he loved the ministration, “Abraxas is touchier than Tom will ever be, yet you make no scene when he’s with me.”

Seonghwa scoffed, gripping my chin as he tilted my head up again, “Because it’s clear he’s not interested in courting you, he’s touchy with everyone.”

I chuckled as I coaxed his lips towards mine, my eyes fluttering closed as Seonghwa’s lips gently, but firmly, pressed against mine, our lips playing a gentle dance as they moved at a calmer pace, following the other’s rhythm as I let Seonghwa take the lead, our lips slotting perfectly against each other. His breath hit my face as he nipped at my bottom lip, enjoying the way my lips chased after his again, capturing his bottom lip between mine as I felt his hand very slowly slip towards my crotch. I keened, pushing him back by the shoulders when he had started rubbing circles against my clothed core, “I need to get to the greenhouse, Hwa, we can’t do this now.”

“You can skip Herbology,” Seonghwa whispered as his lips brushed against my ear, I bit my bottom lip, eyes fluttering closed, “it’s not that important.”

Before I could succumb to the feeling of Seonghwa’s fingers teasing me, I gripped his wrist and pushed his hand away, blinking my eyes open, “I’m not going to skip classes because you want to have sex, Seonghwa. You can wait until tonight.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, round eyes glinting dangerously, “I can?”

“Unless you want to throw another jealous fit over the fact that I’ll be studying with Tom later on.” I mused and pursed my lips as Seonghwa’s expression hardened again. He was so easy to irk, his face hid nothing as I cocked an eyebrow in challenge at him.

“Right,” He muttered, clearing his throat, “You’ll be busy with Riddle this afternoon—”

“I’ll be busy perfecting my Legilimency, yes.” I raised my eyebrows at Seonghwa as he hummed and stepped back, detaching himself fully from me. I licked at my lips and ran my hands through my hair, trying to get rid of any knots that may have formed.

“Find me after you’re done patrolling, then,” Seonghwa adjusted his tie and then patted down his robe, “I won’t be coming to dinner tonight.”

“Something wrong?” I asked with furrowing eyebrows as I leaned down to pick up my satchel bag.

“No, I just need to catch up on some assignments, is all.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I didn’t say anything as he caressed my cheek with his warm hand, “I love you.”

I smiled widely, turning my head lightly to press a kiss against his wrist, “I love you too, Hwa.”

            Despite the sun trying to shine some light on the dire streets of London, the ever-grey clouds were everlasting, casting a gloomy shadow over the streets and the people that ventured outside. Lately, it seemed to be safer to go out and enjoy the much-needed social interactions, but people were still wary of the imminent threat posing over their heads. You just never knew when the enemy would strike, making you look over your shoulder at any given moment. London wasn’t anymore what it used to be, but reconstructions have started and there seemed to be light at the end of the permeating dark tunnel.

My coffee’s steam reached my nose as I forgot of its existence, my eyes having fallen on two children who had their palms out and were timidly asking for money from the passerby people. My heart broke at the sight of such innocent lives having to suffer so much, unwanted scenarios clouding my mind. They could’ve lost their parents, or maybe they still had them, but the war made them homeless and this is was the best they could do. I hated how most people didn’t even cast a glance at the obviously suffering children, their clothes strewn in places, cheeks dirty with dust. They clung to each other, the boy taller by a head as he clutched the younger girl to his side, pulling her back when a postman paid them no mind as he barrelled down with his bicycle on the pavement. But before my anger could get the best of me, the bell to the small coffee shop chimed, and I looked over, heart settling at the familiarity of the man that was approaching my table. He wasn’t a coffee lover, not when we were mere teenagers, so I had ordered tea instead for him.

“Mr. Kim.” I smiled as I abandoned my cup and pushed my chair back, fighting the wide smile that tried to make it onto my lips. Kim Hongjoong and I haven’t been close during our days at Hogwarts, but due to a person that was present in both of our lives, we had the chance to share some fond memories. Hongjoong had always been a free spirit, unafraid to break rules here and there, trying to break free of the chains society placed on all of us. Even now, his hair was brushed back in an uncharacteristic way, the black ends tinged almost blonde. His clothes didn’t match in colour, his pants burgundy and his shirt a rather atrocious colour of yellow, the grey sweater thrown over it saving the outfit somewhat. His green coat was dark, and due to the colour of his pants, it made him look like a Christmas tree.

“Dear,” Hongjoong chuckled, his hug warm and comforting, arms circling my middle tightly, “are we back to being formal with each other now? Has it been that long since we left Hogwarts?”

I chuckled, arms tightening around him subconsciously as my chin pressed against his shoulder, eyes glazing over with sudden tears that took me off guard. I have missed the faces I have become familiar with at Hogwarts, the place where I was still innocent and in love with life, with the prospect of a bright future. A future that was now my present, neither bright nor innocent. I have never had many friends, keen on keeping to myself, and the life of an Auror made it hard to keep up with others. It was better for them; my field of work had no guarantee of me returning alive. And knowing that two of the people I considered my family, Mingi and Yunho, were first in line in harm’s way, made me prolong my hug with Hongjoong. It felt nice to be in a warm embrace for once.

“Four years and three months, more specifically.” I whispered as I reluctantly let go of Hongjoong, who gripped my bicep and gave it a reassuring squeeze before we both claimed our seats at the small round table.

“So, you’ve been counting,” Hongjoong muttered, looking down at his steaming hot tea, “as have I.”

I hummed, feeling a certain sad aura around Hongjoong as he carefully cradled the teacup in his hands, humming to himself as my eyes bore into the side of his head. I was curious of what was running through his mind, but entering it without his consent was a breech of privacy and the break of trust between the two of us. Picking his fragile mind apart would’ve been very easy. Finding what I was looking for would’ve taken only a few seconds and I could be on my merry way in no time, hunting down the man I was tasked to take out, but I was yearning for just a second of normalcy, for a second that could take me back to the past where I was happy, unafraid, in love.

“How is the Auror life, dear?” I smiled at the nickname, Hongjoong being the only person who’s ever addressed me so affectionately—besides my former lover, Seonghwa.

“Dangerous,” I sighed, raising my cup of coffee to take a small sip, “exhausting, and time consuming.”

“I’ve had to treat many Aurors since I’ve started working at St. Mungo’s, and each time I pray I do not come across you, dear.” Hongjoong’s expression was solemn, as if he was trying to repress memories that weren’t kind nor pleasant, “But you seem to be in great health, so I shall not worry so much anymore.”

I chuckled and placed the cup down, fingertips tracing the porcelain in order to keep my hands busy with something, “I’m rather agile, one of the best they have. But sometimes even I worry for my own safety, thank you for thinking of me so often, Hongjoongie.”

He smiled, reaching out to grab my wrist, “Sometimes I feel bad for the way things have ended between us—between the three of us, I mean.”

I gulped, the topic of Seonghwa inevitable anymore. But still, I tried to stall it for a little bit longer, trying to enjoy Hongjoong’s company for a little bit more before the real reason I was here would ruin our nostalgic reunion.

“Don’t fret on the past, Hongjoong, what’s lost is lost.” I gripped his hand with my right one, patting it gently, “How are the other nurses treating you at St. Mungo’s? I’ve heard there’s not many wizards working there.”

“The witches seem to love me,” Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly his cheeks red, “they praise me a lot and always fight on who gets to work with me. I’m treated nicely and they’ve accepted me rather quickly despite being a wizard.”

I gulped, knowing the tumultuous history of the Kim family, “And your parents?”

Hongjoong froze, eyebrows furrowing as he averted his eyes, “My mother is speaking to me again. My father…we know how he feels about me.”

“You’ve always done just fine without them,” I encouraged him, watching curiously as he grabbed my hand and flipped my palm upside down, “and if you need a friendly advice or just an evening spent drinking wine and reminiscing, you know were to find me, Hongjoongie.”

He chuckled, forefinger gingerly tracing the inside of my palm, making me shiver. It’s been long since someone had treated me so tenderly, ever since Yunho and Mingi have been sent onto their mission actually, “Have you cut yourself here?”

“Yes.” I answered surprised, “How did you know?”

“The skin is rougher here,” Hongjoong pressed his finger a little harder against where the cut was healed up, not even a trace of a scar, “Stop by St. Mungo’s when you have a little free time, I have the perfect potion to fix your skin. I’ve got quite the tricks up my sleeve now.”

As our eyes met, a beat of silence passed, then we both burst out in quiet giggles, pressing our hands against our mouths. Memories of all the failed potions made by Hongjoong resurfaced, most of those times Seonghwa or me being his test subjects. There were too few fingers on my hands to count the number of times Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and I had ended up in the Infirmary, on the brink of dying from dangerous toxins found in Hongjoong’s brews. And yet, we continued indulging in his shenanigans as he was too endearing to say ‘no’ to.

“I suppose you’ve stopped poisoning people now, right?” I raised an eyebrow, tone joking as Hongjoong bit his lower lip, cheeks flushing once again.

“No more failed experiments or potions that would send Slughorn up the wall if he were to know about them.” And once again, we started giggling behind our palms as Hongjoong seemed to finally loosen up, making me feel bad that I would soon deter the conversation to a delicate topic. But I didn’t have much time, I had to move fast if I wanted to catch Seonghwa when he least expected it.

“I suppose you meet all sorts of people at the hospital…” I trailed off as I grabbed my cup of coffee yet again and took a long sip, Hongjoong’s lips pursing as he traced the wooden design of the table.

“Yes, quite the personalities.” He mused, eyebrows raised slightly in question as I swallowed the coffee, biting my lower lip in hesitance.

“As a nurse your allegiances do not matter, you must save everyone—”

“That is correct.” Hongjoong’s tone had turned colder, his face losing its warm glow, a mask of indifference now replacing it. I sighed knowing that Hongjoong had probably caught on to where our conversation was headed now.

“I know you still keep in touch with Park Seonghwa.” I lowered my voice so nobody would hear us. Everyone knew who Grindelwald’s men were, I didn’t want to risk the chance of anyone overhearing our conversation, even if the coffee shop was only frequented by muggles. I chose this place for this specific reason, few wizards and witches ventured out into the heart of London, not keen of the life muggles lived here.

Hongjoong had frozen, jaw clenching as his cat-like eyes narrowed at me, “What does that have to do with me being a nurse at St. Mungo’s? Are you accusing me of something, Miss Song?”

I sighed, but I knew the jabbing was inevitable. Hongjoong had been very protective of Seonghwa even before our years at Hogwarts, “I am not accusing you of anything, I was just merely curious on who’s side you stand—”

“I stand on nobody’s side.” Hongjoong snapped, pushing his teacup far away from himself, glaring at it suspiciously. He must be wondering whether I had slipped Veritaserum in it, but I would never do that to him, “I stand on the side of the victims I must save, on the side of justice, and on the side that doesn’t harm but protects instead. Do you fathom there’s a side like that? One that does not harm, but only protects?”

“No.” I whispered, averting my eyes from Hongjoong’s intense gaze, visibly irritated, “We’re trying to do our best, I promise, but I cannot guarantee that innocent folk won’t be harmed in the process of stopping Grindelwald.”

“You’re just doing your job,” Hongjoong’s tone softened, “and so am I, and so is Seonghwa—”

“Seonghwa is killing innocent wizards and witches for a cause that is irrational, for a cause that aims to harm muggles that aren’t at fault for being the way that they are. This isn’t a job!” Hongjoong’s eyes widened as my voice gradually raised, never the type to lose my cool. My heart had started racing and I felt anxiety creeping up my chest, through my throat, making me chew on the inside of my cheeks. I scrapped at my hand, averting my eyes as Hongjoong’s stare became too much, making me feel like he was judging me. Maybe I have misjudged his character, maybe he is on Seonghwa’s side, after all.

“Y/N,” But his voice was soft and I felt his hand grip mine, gently stopping me from scratching my skin until it was raw and red, “I know how hard it was when you found out about Seonghwa’s ambitions and beliefs, and I know you still feel guilty and think you played a part in him becoming like this. But as someone who’s known him since he was a little boy, Seonghwa’s always dreamed of doing big things, of changing our world into the better. You couldn’t have stopped him even if you had known of his plans since early on—”

“Then help me.” I felt choked up as I looked at Hongjoong swiftly, eyes shaking as I gripped his hand. His eyebrows were furrowed and he gulped as my eyes glossed over, his words ringing through my ears. He was right, I have always felt guilty for not noticing the blatant signs of Seonghwa’s true beliefs. He’s never been kind to muggles at Hogwarts, he’s always made snide remarks about them, and he’s mentioned joining a cause one day that purified our Wizarding World. I thought he was simply aspiring to join the Ministry, like many others wanted. Instead, he decided to join the cause of a man who thought wizards were superior to muggles and wished to subdue them, and force them to live in fear for the rest of their lives, “I need to talk to Seonghwa, please tell me where he is. Hongjoongie, you’ll be helping a greater cause than yourself and even myself. I must find him and—”

“You’re an Auror, Y/N.” He cut me off sharply, yanking his hand out of my grip as he shook his head feverishly, “If you find him, then what? Will you interrogate him and lock him up in Azkaban for a few months until he gives in and admits to his mistakes? We both know that’s the last thing Seonghwa will do if he’s ever captured. You’ll kill him—”

“I won’t—”

“You’ll kill him, and I cannot set up my best friend for his death.” He snapped angrily, cheeks red as his eyes were tear-filled, “I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that you sought me out for such a feat. You should be ashamed of yourself, Miss Song, for even thinking that I would help you out with such an atrocious thing. I love Seonghwa more than anyone, you have deeply wounded me, Miss Song, I have expected more of you.”

“Hongjoong—” Heart breaking as he swiftly stood and left with a last piercing look, I slumped back in my chair and tried not to let the sob break through my lips, cheeks damp from the tears that fell down them. Yes, I have been a fool for seeking out Hongjoong, I knew he’d never give away Seonghwa’s location, but he was my first and last option in trying to find Seonghwa in a way that I could negotiate with him, try to deter him from his cause, save him from a harsh sentence. And I have failed, and now I’ll have to kill the man that I have never stopped loving.

Having lost my appetite for anything, I stood hastily and wore my dark coat, pulling on my gloves to protect my hands from the freezing air. I gathered my purse and clutched it tightly in my hands, storming out of the coffee shop as I felt around for my bonnet inside the purse. The heart of the city was buzzing with people as the hour was nearing noon, the loudness of it all irritating my ears as I tried to walk between the people to the closest Portkey leading to the Wizarding World. But just as I was about to cross the road, I felt a hesitant tug on my coat. Alarmed and ready to defend myself, I whirled around and searched for whoever had touched me, only to find the siblings looking up at me with pleading eyes. Tapping the tears off my cheeks quickly, I opened my purse and crouched down as I fetched the pastries I have bought earlier for breakfast.

“Have this,” I handed them to the little girl, who had a runny nose and whispered a ‘thank you’. I pushed around in search for the little muggle money I still had, and once I found it, I gave it to the boy who looked beyond grateful and even bowed his head in gratitude. Feeling helpless that I couldn’t do more for them, I grabbed the bonnet that I knew I wouldn’t wear again, and placed it onto the little girl’s head. It was big and it fell in her eyes, but she grinned as her brother tried to adjust it for her, making my heart swell, “Take care of each other.”

The two nodded with eyes glistening, and I gulped down the lump that’s formed in my throat and stood tall once again, hurrying away before I felt the overbearing need to break down in the middle of a muggle filled street. I would finish this mission even if I lost my life in the process of it, it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter because innocent children and innocent common folk were the one suffering the consequences of these tyrants that ruled over our worlds.

20th of December, 1943

             Slughorn’s Christmas parties were catalogued somewhat legendary and, thus, have always been talked about in the hallways of Hogwarts. Those who were invited mentioned it in excited exclamations and those who weren’t in whispers with envious tones. I had been part of the lucky few who got invited, being part of Slughorn’s Slug Club for a good two years now, and I couldn’t have been happier. These parties were perfect for mingling with socialites and people of importance in the Ministry and other fields that piqued your interest. I had been lucky enough to meet a few well-known Aurors tonight, but my utmost luck struck when, despite his drunken state, Professor Slughorn pulled me aside to introduce me Theseus Scamander, the Head of the Auror Office. The professor had rambled on about my abilities and how talented and knowledgeable I was in the Dark Arts, painting me as a very talented duellist to Mr. Scamander. He had been eager to listen to his former professor, giving me knowing glances and a dashing smile. I couldn’t help but blush a little, the Fire Whiskey I had—secretly—drunk with Abraxas getting the best of me. Unable to hide his amused smile anymore, Theseus had excused us with the pretext that we’d head over to the delicious candy bar and serve ourselves with chocolate frogs, to which our professor couldn’t object as, he, himself loved it.

“He’s quite the talker, isn’t he?” Theseus laughed as he gently guided me through the crowd of students and outsiders, his hand holding my gloved elbow. My dress was modest, adorning the emerald green of my house that I wore proudly. The neckline was a sweetheart design, sleeveless, and the upper part of the dress was moulded tightly against my body, a silvery fabric creating the illusion of a belt around my waist. From the waist, it flowed down to my ankles in a simple A-line, highlighting my long legs. I had a thin, sheer, shawl around my shoulders—but I have abandoned that at the dinner table as it had started annoying me—and instead wore my silvery satin gloves that reached just above my elbows.

“He certainly let’s go of himself when alcohol is involved.” I said quietly, earning a chuckle from Theseus as we reached the candy bar. It was hard to choose just one delicacy as the table was littered with at least fifteen types of desserts, and I watched as Theseus grabbed a plate rather eagerly.

“I couldn’t wait for the annual Christmas party back when I was a student here,” Theseus said as he started placing different delicacies on his plate, “the dessert was the best part of the night—apart from the Fire Whiskey.”

He glanced at me briefly and winked cheekily, making me chuckle as I averted my eyes with a shy blush on my cheeks. He chose a rose shaped tart that was filled with marzipan, and it reminded me of Seonghwa as it was his favourite dessert. Wondering where he was—since he had disappeared around half an hour ago—I searched the crowd while Theseus was busy filling his plate.

“Is it you who wants to be an Auror, or are your professors pushing you towards this job?” Theseus’ question earned my attention as I looked back at him, unsuccessful in my mission of finding Seonghwa.

“It is me.” I answered with a smile, fiddling with my fingers nervously, “I hate injustice, and I hate seeing our world get torn apart as Grindelwald is trying to ruin us. I want to help in stopping him, I want to be a figure that others can entrust their lives to. I want to protect the innocent, and I am not scared to sacrifice myself for others. And when he’ll finally be stopped, I will continue dedicating my life to help the right cause.”

Theseus hummed, his eyes softening as they quickly took in my form, a pleased look crossing his features, “You sound quite determined, and you look tough too. I have spoken to Professor Merrythought about any student she deemed fit for the role of an Auror, and I am positive she talked about you for almost an hour, Miss Song.”

I gulped, feeling warmth spread through my chest in happiness that I had been praised so extensively by my professor to a very important and prominent person in the Ministry, “I’ve still got two years until I graduate, but I hope to join you as soon as possible.”

“I cannot wait for that day to come, Miss Song.” Theseus grinned, grabbing the rose dessert, “I can already tell you’ll be great; you sort of remind me of myself, actually.”

“I do?” I asked with a surprised tone, feeling my smile get even bigger.

“Indeed.” Theseus hummed and then took a bite of the rose as I tried to contain my glee, my mouth hurting from smiling so widely. Suddenly, there was a presence next to me, and I felt a hand gently grip my shoulder, the hold familiar but rather cold. I turned my head and was met with Tom’s piercing-blue cold eyes looking down at me impassively.

“Mr. Scamander.” He greeted the Auror with a tight smile on his lips.

“Mr. Riddle.” Theseus was in the middle of chewing his dessert, but he quickly forced it down his throat and shook Tom’s hand.

“Do you mind if I steal Miss Song for a dance?” Tom’s voice was suddenly light, dripping with sweetness as his face morphed into a warm smile, “Have I interrupted an important conversation?”

“I have said what I wanted to Miss Song, if she wishes so, you can steal her for a dance.” Theseus winked, our gazes meeting as suddenly his thoughts flooded my mind. For a powerful Auror like him, it took me off guard to find his mind so defenceless. Perhaps he didn’t see a reason to guard his thoughts in the confines of Hogwarts, and before I could correct him that there was nothing between Tom and myself—as Theseus’ thoughts claimed—I was already whirled around and guided towards the crowded dance floor. The orchestra played a nice tune, slow but not to the point all you could do was step left and right. Tom placed his hand on the middle of my back as he held my hand in his other one, a respectable distance between our bodies as he started leading.

“Any reason you wanted to dance with me?” I asked with narrowed eyes, knowing for a fact that Tom never danced. He hated dancing or standing as close to somebody as we were stood right now.

“Hmm,” He hummed, his tone low and his voice pleasant to the ears as he spoke up again, “you looked like you needed a little saving.”

“Speaking to Mr. Scamander was pleasant,” I shrugged, holding onto Tom’s shoulder tighter as we narrowly avoided a drunken couple, “You could’ve tried to save me when I was talking to Professor Slughorn and the spouses that work at St. Mungo’s, instead. They are weird.”

“They are peculiar people, indeed.” Tom muttered, eyes falling on my face, “But they are incredibly smart and good assets to a team.”

“What team?” I asked confused, eyebrows furrowing. Tom was leading us out of the crowded dance floor, thankfully, more towards the side where we’d have more space and wouldn’t have to avoid every second drunken couple. A platinum blonde hair popped up in the crowd not far from us, and I stifled a laugh as Abraxas tried not to topple over as he was led towards the exit by his date.

“Well,” Tom started, eyebrows lightly furrowing as he mused over his words, like he didn’t know how to formulate his next words. That was unexpected from Tom as he was a good speaker, and an intelligent person, “let’s put it this way. You build an army of people that are magically gifted, but smart too, and you lead them to victory.”

“Why would you need this army?” I asked as I grew even more confused, “Are you talking about Grindelwald?”

“We can take him as an example, yes.” Tom chuckled, a smirk pulling at his lips as our eyes bore into each other’s, making me wonder for a split second if he was hiding something from me, “The people he has on his side aren’t just strong and powerful wizards and witches who excel at magic, they are also intelligent and strategize with him, leading him towards victory—”

“You think Grindelwald will prosper in this war?” I asked, feeling myself irked at such vile thoughts. Grindelwald wouldn’t win, I would become an Auror just to make sure of it.

“No, of course not.” Tom whispered, an easy smile adorning his lips and I felt his fingers gently rub against my knuckles. I sighed and looked away, surveying the crowd in hopes that I would finally find my lover. I missed him, I wanted to be by his side and dance with him, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Of course.” I chuckled, but my eyes were still searching the crowd as Tom cleared his throat, turning us around so that I was facing the exit now. My eyes stopped on the familiar form of my lover, and my eyebrows furrowed in wonder as I realized Seonghwa was speaking to Rabastan Lestrange and his parents, “Are you?”

“I hate these events, actually, even the Slug Club, but if I wish to remain in the graces of our daft professor, I must—”

“I am really sorry for cutting you off like this, Tom.” I released my hold on Tom and took a step back, eyes hastily falling back on the Slytherin boy, “But I’ve finally found my lover, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Right,” Tom’s expression faltered, then returned to being cold as he nodded towards Seonghwa, “I’ll see you around. But, Y/N, did you know Park and Lestrange have been acquittances for quite a while now?”

My eyebrows furrowed as I bit my lower lip, wondering if Seonghwa had ever mention Lestrange to me, “Of course, there are no secrets between Seonghwa and I.”

I felt the slight prodding at my mind, but Tom got nowhere near my thoughts as I have carefully guarded them all night. I bowed my head slightly before I walked away from the dance floor, nearing my lover and the Lestrange family with a soft smile on my lips. Rabastan was the first one to notice me, and he loudly cleared his throat, eyes jumping between Seonghwa and my approaching form. Seonghwa stiffened and I tried to mask my confusion as I stood next to my lover, “Good evening.”

“Good evening, Miss…?” Rabastan’s father was a gruff man, scary-looking, and rather unfriendly as his voice was harsh.

“Song, Song Y/N.” I answered and offered him my hand before I greeted his wife, who looked stoic and glared at me viciously. But I remained unphased as I continued smiling.

“Song,” She muttered, eyes narrowing as she shared a glance with her husband, “your parents are quite prominent figures in the Ministry, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” I answered, not keen of talking about my parents. It was always about them, never about me. They’ve made their own reputation already, I wanted to make one for myself.

“Y/N is just as brilliant as her parents, if not more.” Seonghwa mused with a warm tone, lips pulled into a dashing smile as I felt his arm sneak around my middle and gently pull me into his side. My muscles softened as his familiar warmth and cologne embraced my being, making me look up at him with a small grin. Rabastan’s parents exchanged a glance as their son cleared his throat again, looking rather awkward.

“And you make a pair, I assume.” Rabastan’s father quirked an eyebrow, not looking very impressed by the prospect. Before I could answer, Seonghwa hummed lowly and I felt his fingers flex against my hips in a quiet request to remain silent. I bit my bottom lip, but adhered to his request.

“Yes, Miss Song and I had been quite the academic rivals, but I suppose in our fifth year we found common ground and discovered together we are more powerful, our knowledge forever expanding.” Seonghwa’s answer made my eyebrows furrow as I turned my head to look at him with a questioning gaze, but he continued looking at the Lestranges, who seemed pleased with his answer.

“Well, yes, she is a Slytherin like our son,” Rabastan’s mother said with a chuckle that was filled with vice, “but she might take after her parents, after all.”

Fed up with the cryptic conversation, I chuckled and flashed the Rabastans an apologetic smile before I cradled Seonghwa’s cheek in my hand and turned his head to face me, “May we dance? You’ve neglected me the whole night, my love.”

“My apologies,” Seonghwa hummed and kissed my wrist as I let my hand fall from his face, the two of us looking back at the Lestranges, “It was a pleasure talking to you and meeting you Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange, I shall see you around—hopefully.”

They nodded wordlessly as Rabastan bid us farewell, and I intertwined my fingers with Seonghwa’s as I led us back to the dance floor, the crowd a little more dispersed now than it has been when I was dancing with Tom. The orchestra now had started playing slow tunes, all the dancing couples swaying gently to the music. I sighed as I felt Seonghwa’s arms slip around my hips to pull me close in, my arms circling his shoulders as our bodies flushed together, my nerves and muscles easing at the familiar press of his body against mine. Seonghwa’s round eyes had a warm glow in them, his cherry-like lips pulled into a soft smile. I chuckled and fought the muscles in my body yearning to press a kiss against his lips, and instead let my eyes travel down to the early Christmas gift I had given him earlier this morning. Seonghwa and I would be going home tomorrow, meaning that we wouldn’t spend the holidays together like last year, when Hongjoong, his best friend, decided to stay at Hogwarts due to his horrible parents and Seonghwa and I decided to stay too, to keep him company. It was one of the best Christmases I have ever had.

My gift was something small, a thin silver chain necklace with a small star pendant hanging on it, representing the way I viewed Seonghwa. He was bright and beautiful, always glimmering in the darkness and guiding me through my hardships, helping me sparkle as bright as him. He was an inspiration and so easily lovable that sometimes I felt like I fell for him over and over again each day.

“I had no idea you knew Rabastan Lestrange?” I raised an eyebrow as Seonghwa sighed, our moves smooth as he twirled us around.

“Barely.” He muttered, dipping his head low, his breath fanning my face, “Did Professor Slughorn introduce you to Theseus Scamander? I saw you talking to him.”

“He did!” I beamed, Seonghwa’s eyes creasing as he smiled back at me, “I am so happy I met him tonight, he said he cannot wait for me to join the Auror’s Office.”

“Is that so?” Seonghwa hummed, making my eyebrows furrow in confusion. He didn’t look too eager, but he chuckled upon seeing my reaction, it didn’t sound amused, “With how eager Riddle was to whisk you away for a dance, I figured you couldn’t talk much to Mr. Scamander.”

“Seonghwa,” I sighed, interlacing my fingers around his neck as I tilted my head back, “can we not do this here? Can we just not talk about Tom for one second?”

“How can I not talk about Riddle when he’s openly trying to court my partner—”

“Seonghwa.” I snapped quietly as I didn’t want anyone to overhear our useless argument, “Tom hates every female that breaths around him withing a meter radius, can you please for the love of Merlin stop this nonsense?!”

“I cannot.” He hissed, eyes narrowing as our steps faltered, “You fail to see the issue at hand, Y/N, he hates every female but you. And I cannot stand that—”

“Why are you so jealous when I have never given you a reason to be?” I cut him off, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“Because you’re mine and I cannot fathom losing you, I just—”

“Park Seonghwa.” I sighed, cupping his cheeks as I shook my head at him, “You are the love of my life, I have never loved anyone before you and I will never love anyone else but you. I don’t want anyone else that isn’t you, and I will never do. You are my star and the reason I live for, and I trust you with my whole being and have given all of myself to you. Sometimes—I just wish you trusted me as much as I trust you. When you act like this, you make me feel guilty and bad, like I don’t deserve your love and you.”

Seonghwa’s bottom lip was between his teeth and he released a long sigh as his hands sneaked back to grip my hips, “Only Merlin know how much I love you, Y/N, how much faith I have in you, and just how much I trust you. It’s this irrational fear that I will lose you if I make a wrong move that makes me act like this. I don’t even care about Riddle—or anyone else—if I have one fear, it’s that of losing the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I might be your star, but a star cannot shine without darkness. I need you, promise me you’ll stay by my side no matter what.”

“I promise to forever stay by your side, Hwa.”

            Hongjoong was a good friend to Seonghwa, righteous, and ferociously protective. But even Hongjoong could tell apart right from wrong, unlike Seonghwa. And when I had gotten home after meeting him at the coffee shop, in the haste of searching for my yellow bottle of pills as my hands had started trembling once again, I found a small rolled up paper nestled between the white tablets. Eager to swallow the sedatives, I held the paper carefully, and after downing two tablets, I unrolled the paper, eyebrows furrowing when I realized it was an address to a fancy place in high-end London, where socialites mingled to their hearts wishes—both muggles, wizards, and witches alike. Hongjoong would never help me in taking down his best friend, but he also knew I was offering his best friend the easy way out this time. I would let him flee if he promises to never show himself around Grindelwald—I would do that because it’s Seonghwa. Because I cannot imagine a life without him even if he’s not by my side, just the thought of knowing he’s out there breathing and living keeps me going.

The casino Hongjoong had given me the address of was fancy and elite, only those who had an invite could enter. But I had connections, getting in was the easiest part. And perhaps, feeling nostalgic after having seen Hongjoong, I yearned to see more familiar faces that reminded me of my innocent childhood, familiar faces that could help me forget that I haven’t heard from Mingi and Yunho in a week. They were alive, that much we knew, but we had no idea if they had been discovered or injured, or if they have gone low-key in order to have even fewer chances of compromising their mission. Nonetheless, when I sent an owl to an old-time friend, I did not expect to receive an answer this eager, at least not from this particular person. Having taken my time to tidy up and make myself presentable, I slipped my bottle of pills inside my purse, knowing that there were great chances I would be seeing Seonghwa tonight—that was the whole point of me going to the casino. I was restless all day long and I had probably already taken too many of them, but the tremors of my hands never once stopped, and I could feel my heart race all day long. It was unsettling, but I knew there was nothing more I could do about it but slip the bottle in my purse and pray to Merlin for a successful mission. If I managed to get Seonghwa on my side tonight, much would change—the war would change.

There was a light smog in the air of London as I neared the casino, the evening breeze pleasant for once as the cobblestones were slippery from the previous rain. There was a light drizzle in the air still, but the invisible shield I had casted around myself to protect me from it was doing its job fairly well to keep me dry. My fur coat kept me warm as the nature of my dress was more daring tonight, attention grabbing on purpose. As I neared the entrance of the casino, lit up brightly and bustling with ladies and gentlemen that had bright smiles on their faces, I noticed a tall figure looming to the side in the darker corner of the street. Heartbeat halting, I hurried my steps as I clutched the invitation tighter in my hands, eager to see the man’s face from up-close. It’s been a few years since we’ve seen each other, I didn’t think he’d actually join me tonight. I knew he had his own ambitions, what those were exactly, I couldn’t tell. He’s always been secretive, but he’s made quite the reputation for himself after finishing Hogwarts. He was a young promising man, eager to chase after his desires.

“Miss Song!” His voice had gotten deeper over the years, but remained as velvety as always. My lips pulled into a smile as I was finally close enough to see his face clearly, and I was taken aback by the obvious changes the years have brought to his once youthful face. His eyes were still as bright and blue, perhaps even icier than they used to be, but his cheekbones had become hollower, skin ashier. He looked good, but he looked ghastly.

“Mr. Riddle.” I came to a stop in front of him with a big smile on my face, and was taken aback by the arms that have wrapped around me in a hug. Tom had always hated physical contact, I wondered if the passing of years had changed that, “You’ve changed. A lot.”

“Hopefully in a good way.” He chuckled as he released me, smirking dashingly at me. I would be lying if I said my heart didn’t skip a beat. I chuckled and shook my head, taking in his even taller, but lanky, form.

“I suppose yes,” I hummed, realizing that there were no traces of the young boy I have once viewed as perhaps my little brother, “You’ve grown taller, I didn’t think that was possible.”

Tom and I chuckled at the same time as he reached out again, squeezing my lower arm, “And you look stronger than ever.”

I hummed and tried to hide the way my tremors only worsened at his words, wanting to tell him that I was on the brink of falling apart every day. I wasn’t strong, I was far from being strong, I just refused to give in to the darkness until I have fulfilled my purpose, then I could finally let go. Give in to whatever madness threatened to pull my thoughts to an everlasting field of blackness, the stars absent from the night sky. Stars that have long abandoned me, left me alone to fend for myself, to figure things out without a guiding light.

“Let’s head inside, I’m beginning to feel cold.” I muttered as Tom hummed, offering his arm for me to take as he confidently waltzed us towards the entrance, the bouncer smiling at us pleasantly as I handed over our invitation. It seems that he already knew Tom, who, it turns out, frequents this casino rather often. The question was on the tip of my tongue, whether he sees Seonghwa here often or not, but I didn’t want to know. It was better not to know. I couldn’t start questioning Tom’s morality right now, I had to stay focused on the task at hand, which was finding Seonghwa and trying to coerce him onto my side.

            The place was buzzing with all sorts of people, all seemingly eager to socialize and make lasting connections. The interior of the casino was vast and covered in red and black décor, giving it a sultry but eloquent touch. We had barely walked in when our coats and purses were taken to a garderobe for safe keeping. And before Tom could explain much about the place and the type of events that were held here, we were swarmed by quite a few wizards and witches, all very keen of talking to Tom, of holding his attention for more than five minutes. It seems like that hasn’t changed since Hogwarts.

I remained by his side and smiled, only spoke up when I was addressed to as I was too busy searching the room—the crowd—for the familiar face that I was here in the first place. I had opted to wear a long-sleeved dress as it was still cold outside, the velvet fabric feeling soft against my skin, keeping me perhaps too warm inside the parched room. The neckline of it was a deeper cut, just shy of stopping at the swell of my breasts, and I had decorated my long neck with emeralds that glinted prettily under the light. The dress was long, I had to be careful not to step on it with the heel of my high heels, and it was a poison green, tricky as under the light it glimmered green, however, otherwise it appeared black. I had pulled my hair away from my face and curled the strands, letting them fall free against my back as simple emerald earrings decorated my ears.

I was itching to hold onto something as I tried not to fidget with my hands, preferably to feel the comforting weight of the bottle of pills, but as they were hidden away in my purse, the only reassurance that I wasn’t completely defenceless lay hidden under my long dress, strapped against my shin was my wand. Over the years, I have learned to excel in wandless magic completely, but just knowing that I had my wand on me helped ease my nervous heartbeat. My eyes never stopped surveying the crowd, waiting to spot those round eyes and cherry-red lips.

“Aren’t you the Songs’ daughter, my dear?” I felt a lady gently touch my arm in order to grab my attention, and I averted my eyes from the back of a man who seemed to have a form similar to Seonghwa’s.

“I am.” I answered the older lady with a pleasant smile, trying to seem cordial despite my nerves.

“Oh, you are gorgeous.” She whispered, fingering the velvet sleeve of my dress, lips pursed, “You were a Slytherin, yes?”

“Yes.” I hummed, glancing side ways at Tom, wondering whether he could save me from this stranger, but he was busy speaking to who seemed to be the lady’s husband, “Does that matter?”

“Well, Slytherins are highly regarded in our society, we are prestige, you know?” The old lady smirked, and I gently pulled my hands behind my back, feeling uncomfortable that she wouldn’t stop touching my dress.

“I wouldn’t call ourselves prestige when most from our house turn towards the usage of the Dark Arts in inconvenient and illegal ways.” I grumbled, trying to hide my distaste as the older lady chuckled, eyes narrowing at me.

“So, you seem to share your parents’ beliefs, after all.” I heaved a long sigh, looking at the lady with a pressing glare. It was always about my parents, about sharing their beliefs. I was fed up with hearing that over and over again. What did people expect of me? To follow the ‘path’ of other Slytherins and join dark causes? Why did everyone have prejudices of us? And most of all, why did everyone assume all Slytherins were evil and would turn against what was right to do?

“My parents are mighty people and proud of their legacy.” My voice was harsh as I squared my shoulders back, the older lady’s eyes slightly widened, “My mother was a Hufflepuff and she raised me with compassion and fierce love that taught me how to differentiate wrong from right. My father was a Ravenclaw that is beyond wise his years and values knowledge above anything else, he taught me that there is no reason to live if you don’t learn constantly, if you don’t find a passion that you excel in. Excuse me if I find no joy in slaying those innocents around me, if I don’t enjoy tea parties organized to discuss who would and who wouldn’t live another day. You, and everyone else, should know basic human decency and stop playing the Gods you’ll never be. I am Slytherin proud of my heritage, and Merlin be damned if I let another one look down on me because of my parents, who have achieved things far beyond your capability in this fragile life that we live. So, if you happen to have a problem with me, or the fact that I am a Song, please, speak to be bluntly and not in riddles.”

The older lady’s mouth hung open in shock, and we have earned the attention of Tom and the man he was talking to, the two looking just as taken aback as the lady. Well, Tom didn’t look that much surprised, his frown told me of his distaste towards my words, and the swift glare sent my way signalled to me to shut up. But I didn’t want to, my nerves were on a high and if one more person mentions my parents and the fact that I am the ‘Songs’ daughter’, I shall repeat my speech proud and loud for the whole room to hear. It wasn’t hard to guess that it was infested with Grindelwald’s people, and my stomach churned as I felt Tom’s fingers sneak around my wrist, holding it so firmly I almost winced in pain.

“She’s opiniated.” Is what the old man said at last, eyes narrowed as he pulled his wife closer into his side, “Is this who you’ve looked up to at Hogwarts? The woman you’ve mentioned before?”

My breath stilled as I looked at Tom confused, feeling suddenly uncomfortable as I tried to untangle his fingers from my wrist but he wasn’t letting go. Was Seonghwa right all along? Was Tom trying to veer me away from Seonghwa while we were at Hogwarts? Had I been actually blind to Tom’s advances? But that mustn’t have been possible, I’ve heard Tom say multiple times that he wasn’t capable of feeling love for anyone, nor was he interested in maintaining any relationships, not even friendships.

“I apologize for her harsh words,” Tom bowed his head humbly, making my eyebrows furrow, “in her field of work she must be blunt and unfiltered, sometimes that slips into her everyday life too.”

I grit my teeth, but remained silent as the older man chuckled, eyes twinkling as he took me in. My face was a mask of impassiveness despite the urge to jinx both him and his wife. Deciding that I didn’t want to partake in this wretched conversation anymore, I turned my head and allowed my eyes to survey the crowd again. I heard Tom’s voice, but I paid no mind to what words were said. I knew the older couple walked away with a laugh on their lips, and I felt Tom’s eyes piercing the side of my head, but I was frozen. My tremors returned in the worst way, making my arms tremble as I tried to gulp but my throat felt dry, eyes glassing over the longer I looked at the familiar, yet so foreign face of my once lover. He was far from us, in the heart of the crowd as he tipped his head back, lips pulled into a charming smile as he laughed. The sound was swallowed by the cacophony created by the conversing people and the playing orchestra, yet I could hear its warm timbre as if he were right next to me.

He had also changed, became less boyish looking and turned sharper in angles he didn’t have before. His jaw was sharp and his nose tall, his round eyes void of the softness I was so used to receiving from him. His cheekbones were more defined than before, his cheeks having lost the baby fat I so loved pinching, and his black hair was longer than I have ever seen it before, framing his face, falling onto his forehead as his bangs were styled carefully. Gone were his wild curls that he always struggled to keep in one place. Park Seonghwa has changed since the last time I’ve seen him, and I was afraid I couldn’t recognize him anymore. Had Grindelwald stolen away even the last remnants of my lover?

“I can’t breathe.” I croaked out as I held onto my middle, my muscles so tense I was in pain as I tried not to double over and empty the contents of my stomach. I needed my pills, I had to take them before I would cause a scene. Suddenly, as Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes turned sharp, vigilante, and found mine, Tom obscured my view of him, eyebrows furrowed in concern, yet I couldn’t actually see the concern in his eyes, or on his face.

“Let’s head over to the bar,” He said quietly, grabbing my hand and stopping the absent-minded scratching I had started doing, “water will do you good.”

I hummed, unable to will my legs to move, and felt thankful when Tom gently coerced me towards the bar, nestling my arm in his as he pulled me into his side, his cologne foreign. There was nothing comforting about his presence, unlike how Hongjoong’s had been, and I struggled to regulate my breathing and frantic heartbeats, telling myself that I was here on a mission and that I had to place aside any feelings I felt towards Seonghwa. I couldn’t compromise my mission this way, I was here to offer Seonghwa a way out. If I wasn’t able to keep it together for just one night, then why was I even here?

Too wrapped up in my mind, I didn’t hear Tom speak to the bartender, nor did I see the glass of water that was placed in front of me until Tom poked my trembling hands and pushed the glass towards me. I quickly took it and gulped down the cool water in a few sips, thankful that the ache in my throat was finally soothed. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I placed the glass back onto the surface of the bar, willing my muscles to loosen up as I licked my lips, Tom’s pressing stare becoming irritating. I exhaled slowly and opened my eyes, glancing over to Tom, voice raspy as I spoke up, “Thank you.”

“I’m here for you.” Tom muttered, grabbing my hand and making the hairs stand on my arms as I didn’t want to be touched. But I said nothing as I gulped and nodded once, focusing on my trembling hands as I knew Tom had noticed them, his eyes straying towards them. If only I could fetch my purse to take just one pill, it would help a lot right now. I sighed and had started pulling my hand away from Tom’s just as a person appeared right next to Tom, lean body leaning against the bar as his eyes were cold, narrow, and piercing.

“Good evening.” He spoke up upon making eye contact with me, and I forgot how to breathe all over again, “Miss Song, Mr. Riddle.”

“Mr. Park.” My voice was a mere whisper as our eyes bore into each other, mine desperately searching for a semblance of the man I used to love. But it was gone, innocence and youth long ripped from him, now only a shell of the dorky and geeky boy that used to recite poems to me that he found in muggle books. It broke my heart; it made me mad—it made my hands tremble even worse.

“Oh, and who are these?” A very thick accented female voice spoke up, her dark red lips pulled into a pleasant and friendly smile as her eyes rivalled Tom’s blueness. I gulped, eyes straying from her onto Seonghwa as he looked down at her, his expression softening as he placed an arm around her middle. I didn’t allow myself to feel anything upon seeing that as my eyes snapped back up to Seonghwa’s face, waiting for his next move.

“Old acquittances from Hogwarts.” He said easily, flashing the woman a quick fake smile, “This is Rhaena, she went to Beauxbatons.”

“Pleased to meet you!” Her French accent was irritating as she extended her hand to shake, eyes stalling on Tom for a second too long. I bit the insides of my cheeks, trying to reign in my scowl as Tom elegantly pressed a kiss against her knuckles, smirking at her with a charming gaze.

“My name is Song Y/N.” I introduced myself confidently once it was my turn to shake her hand, my handshake firm and perhaps too strong as Rhaena winced while my eyes landed on Seonghwa, my own lips pulling into an unamused smirk, “I must admit being introduced as mere acquittances leaves me with a distaste I didn’t think I’d harbour towards you, Mr. Park.”

Tom laughed loudly, watching Seonghwa with a challenging look as Rhaena turned and looked back at him with a quirk to her eyebrow, “My memories must be murky, my apologies, it’s been long since we’ve last seen each other, Miss Song. But I see you continue entertaining your old admirers—”

“Admirer is a strong word,” Tom cut him off with a chuckle, but it was far from being friendly as he glared at Seonghwa, “I merely admire Miss Song’s working etiquette, always have, ever since our time at Hogwarts, I suppose. Is it such a crime to look up to a strong, ambitious, and independent woman?”

I could see the spark of interest in Rhaena’s eyes the longer Tom talked, and it irked me. If she was with Seonghwa, why was she so openly interested in other men? Did Seonghwa not see? Did he not care? Seonghwa deserved better than a woman who couldn’t remain loyal to him.

“Ambitious with foolish ideas—” Before Seonghwa could finish his jab and break my heart more than it was already, Rhaena interjected, smiling widely at Tom. I knew he wasn’t interested in her, but it was scary how well he played his act of looking interested in the eager woman.

“I have always loved a man who is able to recognize the power his partner holds and worship her like a queen.” Rhaena’s lips pulled into a suggestive smirk as she licked her lips, eyes raking over Tom’s body, making me feel uncomfortable as I eyed the two. Tom chuckled under his breath but I noticed the way his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“You’re too daring for me, Miss Rhaena.” Tom settled with saying, making the French woman pout as she suddenly pressed herself to Seonghwa’s side, who was glaring at Tom’s blatant rejection.

“And Miss Song isn’t?” Seonghwa’s lips pulled into a vicious smile, face contorting into something sinister as he continued with an air of insignificance, “After all, Aurors take great pride in their work and never place anyone above themselves.”

“Miss Song knows the distinction between her personal life and her work.” Tom snapped back, grabbing the sleeve of my dress when I started shuffling on my feet, feeling uncomfortable by the exchange. I felt a little prodding in my mind and as I glanced at Tom, he was already looking at me with a frown. I nonverbally reassured him that I was okay, and finally admitted to him that I was here on a mission. He understood quickly and didn’t ask questions, only stated that he’d help me with whatever.

“So, you two are married, then? Rhaena kept on antagonizing us as our telepathic conversation was broken, and my eyebrows furrowed as I scoffed.

“Tom is an old friend that I have always been fond of, are you married to Seonghwa?” Perhaps my tone was too snappy, perhaps my words gave away too much. I gulped, realizing that my emotions were getting the best of me, making me ponder again whether I should just go ask for my purse to take another pill. Things were going horribly; this isn’t what I had planned for the night.

“No.” It was Seonghwa who answered, voice deep and laced with anger, “What are you doing here, Miss Song? I haven’t seen you at the casino before.”

“I’m here to accompany Tom as he’s told me he’s been feeling rather lonely on his visits to the casino.” I plastered on a fake smile, levelling my voice so that they wouldn’t be able to tell that I was lying. Even Tom seemed to be surprised as he hummed next to me in confirmation of said lie, tilting his head as he looked at Seonghwa challengingly, “It’s a nice break from my work that you seem to know so much of, Mr. Park.”

But Rhaena seemed to be stuck on a different part of the conversation, “Mr. Riddle, would you like to be my first dance partner of the night?”

I stiffened as Tom chuckled, giving me a quick glance before he nodded and extended his hand for Rhaena to take. She batted her eyelashes at him and pursed her lips as she waved at Seonghwa, walking off with Tom towards the dance floor. I gulped, eyes stuck onto them as I subconsciously started rubbing my left hand, nails digging into my skin painfully, scratching the skin as it left marks. My heart had started hammering against my chest, and I couldn’t face Seonghwa as I felt his piercing gaze bore into the side of my head. I knew why I was here; I knew what I wanted to say to him, but his hostile attitude wasn’t something I had expected, and now I felt like I needed to rethink and reformulate everything I had wanted to say to him.

Jumping at the sudden warm touch against my hand, I faced Seonghwa with wide eyes as he squeezed my fingers, stopping me from scratching my skin up more. My eyebrows furrowed as my hand tingled, leaving my throat dry once again as Seonghwa’s expression was blank, his round eyes having lost their beautiful and warm glimmer.

“Will you dance with me?” His voice was quiet, tone almost dejected, and I gulped as I nodded wordlessly. He didn’t release my hand, instead, he intertwined his fingers with mine as he led the way towards the dancing crowd, making my insides churn at the familiar feel of his larger palm pressing against my small one.

For a second, I felt like a teenager back at Hogwarts, dancing with Seonghwa under the moonlight to a melody that he so often hummed. But the bodies that nearly collided into mine did a good job of helping me repress the memory to stay level-headed, and instead, I straightened my back and finally remembered what I was taught when I was training to become an Auror. The mission was my number one priority now, and so, I repressed all emotions and slipped a neutral expression onto my face as Seonghwa stopped in the middle of the crowd and turned around to face me. He raised our intertwined hands and yanked me towards himself, taking me off guard as I stumbled into his body. He swiftly grabbed onto my hip and I steadied myself as I held onto his shoulder, turning my head away to gaze over it as Seonghwa’s eyes landed on my face. My heart was hammering against my ribcage, skin burning everywhere it touched Seonghwa’s.

It felt familiar being in his hold, warm and comforting, yet his body was tense and on-alert. Seonghwa was a smart man, he knew if I was here, other Aurors might be too, he was on the look-out in case he needed to flee. My body was tense too, but for different reasons. I was trying not to give in to the yearning of my consciousness after the warm body that I knew so well, the embrace that made me feel like the luckiest person on the planet, the lips that ignited my skin on fire wherever they touched. I have missed Seonghwa so much that sometimes I wondered if my impeding madness was imposed upon me by our separation.

“It’s unexpected seeing you here.” Seonghwa muttered carefully, voice void of the previous hostility. I gulped and nodded, having to agree with him.

“I was curious of this place.” That wasn’t a total lie, and Seonghwa could tell. I felt his finger graze against my knuckles, gently rubbing them, but I ignored it for my peace of mind—which I was already struggling with.

“And how do you like it?”

“It’s too pompous, fake, prestigious.”

“People are here to make beneficial connections, of course it’s fake.” Seonghwa’s voice had dropped low so that nobody but me would hear him. I hummed, licking my lips as I felt him pull me more into himself as we danced around in a small circle, his familiar cologne making my head spin. Even after all these years, he looked and felt like the Seonghwa I once fell in love with.

“Your hair is long now.” I had no idea why I said that but I couldn’t take it back now, and Seonghwa’s steps stuttered for a second, making me step on my dress.

“I’ve always liked it better like this,” He said once he cleared his throat, “I kept it short because my parents didn’t like it.”

“I know.” I whispered and closed my eyes, giving in to my body’s cravings as I felt Seonghwa’s hand slip lower, press firmly against my lower back as our bodies flushed together, making me let out a stuttered breath.

“And your parents, are they well?” I felt bile rise up in my throat upon the question that left his mouth. He knew about them, of course he did, it was his people who sent them into hiding. My parents had played an enormous part in discovering the identity of Grindelwald’s men and their hideout. Of course, they were being hunted by Grindelwald now. I wasn’t safe either, but I was an Auror now, a talented one, Grindelwald wouldn’t waste his time on somebody who could very well defend themselves against him and his army. At least, not yet. I’m sure my time will come too.

“You’re being a hypocrite right now, Seonghwa.” I snapped, hearing him heave a sigh.

“They’ve always been kind to me, I do not wish mal-intent towards them—”

“And towards others?” I snapped, eyebrows furrowed as I pulled my head back to be able to look him in the eyes, “Towards all the innocent lives Grindelwald has taken—you have taken?!”

Seonghwa gulped, jaw clenching as his eyes narrowed, “There’s nothing innocent about being oppressed and having to hide our true nature while those mudbloods continue living their lives carefree and in peace.”

“Mudbloods.” I whispered, shaking my head in disappointment at Seonghwa, “You’re a half-blood, Seonghwa—”

“Enough.” Seonghwa snapped, his grip on my hand turning just a little painful, “I do not want to hear whatever you have to say—”

“Well, that is hilarious, Seonghwa.” I chuckled humourless, eyes narrowing at him in annoyance, “You cannot silence me, you cannot tell me what to do.”

“I can silence you,” He gulped, eyebrows furrowing, “for forever, if I want to.”

I froze, feeling a chill run down my spine, and then I just chuckled. I raised my eyebrows at him, looking him in the eyes challengingly, “Like you’ve silenced all those unassuming folk living in those village you burned to a crisp?!”

Seonghwa’s face contorted in anger, his round eyes narrowing as they stared me down fiercely, a dangerous glint in them, “What had to be done was done. They refused to join our cause.”

“A cause that is wrong and harms others, Seonghwa.” My voice raised slightly as I had lost my patience, our faces leaning in close as we both breathed through our noses harshly, glaring down each other, “You’ve done so many atrocities that you’re afraid to face the repercussions, isn’t it? It’s still not late, Seonghwa, if you come with me tonight, I can make things less painful for you. I can convince the officials to lessen your sentence, I can make them reason with you. If you say you regret everything you’ve done and that you will strive to fix your mistake, they will—”

“I will never do that.” Seonghwa hissed and I felt his breath fan my face, “I stand by what I believe in, I stand by what I have done, Y/N. You are on the wrong side, and you all will pay.”

Body shaking from both anger and anxiety, I tried to inhale deeply and exhale, but my throat felt restricted, and the longer I remained in Seonghwa’s arms the more choked up I would feel. I needed to get away, to get away from the man that didn’t resemble my once lover. This wasn’t the Seonghwa I had fallen in love with, this was—a monster standing in front of me. I bit my lower lip, feeling them tremble as I tried to supress the desperate need to cry, I wouldn’t do it. Not here, not in front of him, not ever again. I have cried enough because of him.

Feeling unsafe and cold in his arms, I tried to detach myself from Seonghwa, but his hold only tightened as his eyebrows further furrowed, looking like he was fighting with himself, a turmoil going on inside his mind. My blood froze over when my eyes slipped from his face, falling onto the necklace that sat against his black shirt, sparkling underneath the dim lights. It was the star necklace I had gifted him. Shaking my head, I looked back up in his eyes, grabbing onto the collar of his vest as Seonghwa’s arms held me in a firm embrace, fingers pressing painfully so into my lower back, “Seonghwa.”

And when his eyes shook, I knew he had lost control over himself, over his emotions, over his mind. I felt my eyes fill with tears for breaking even the little trust that’s remained between the two of us as our eyes bled into each other, making it easy for me to push through his fragile mind’s barriers. It was frightening how dark his thoughts were, revolving around murder and strategies of taking down even more people, of converting even more wizards and witches for their ‘greater’ cause. It was terrifying how good of a manipulator Grindelwald was, the fatherly look in his eyes when he looked at Seonghwa, the praises that left his mouth addicting—the complete opposite of Seonghwa’s muggle father who would never understand our world. I felt a small resistance trying to build itself back up in his mind, but I was stronger—Tom’s lessons at Hogwarts had paid off, the Auror training only making my acquired skills stronger—and so, I pushed forward, searching for anything that would be of use for future purposes.

In my search, I stumbled past sleepless nights spent staring up at the ceiling, of tear-filled eyes and salty cheeks as a familiar man cradled Seonghwa to his chest, shushing him and reassuring him of a bright ending. I heard broken whispers of my name as he’d wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare, of lustful touches that were turned down in a haste at last, and ear-piercing shouts that sent everything tumbling to the ground, shattering. And then, painfilled screams and pleas for mercy, people on their knees crying, mothers cradling their children to their chests as their houses burned down and—a piece of parchment that would’ve been blank if it wasn’t for the name of the town scribbled down on it, Grindelwald’s harsh voice commanding my once lover to make everyone perish, nobody spared. He didn’t need anyone on his side from that village, he wanted revenge. Revenge on my parents and on everyone who’s ever tried to mislead him and take him down. Mingi. Yunho.

Seonghwa and I gasped loudly as he finally managed to push me out of his mind, not that I wanted to see anything beyond this. I have seen everything I needed. I had to alert the aurors of the attack Grindelwald had planned on our hideout. My heart raced in fear for my loved ones, and suddenly, I became aware of the hands holding my arms painfully, making me hiss out in pain as I looked up at Seonghwa’s face, feeling my heart still as his eyes were filled with tears, shaking, mouth agape as he looked speechless. I knew he’d hate me for invading his mind without permission, but I had to do it. Our trust in each other has been long broken; I was doing this for the greater good. Seonghwa wouldn’t understand, but he didn’t have to. Despite being a monster, he did something good, he contributed to saving hundreds of lives by weakening his mental barrier.

“You-you—” His voice was shaky as his eyebrows furrowed, body starting to shake from anger, “how could you?!”

“You made me do this, Seonghwa.” I gulped, jumping when he grabbed my nape painfully so, yanking our heads so close to each other that our lips brushed together. I felt my knees grow weak, it would be so easy to press my lips against his now, to feel the soft and plush skin against mine, to devour him and taste him. He’s always felt like home, but would he still feel like it? “You gave me no choice, Seonghwa.”

He scoffed, sneering at me as I whimpered when his fingernails dug into the sensitive skin of my neck, “You’re a monster, they’ve turned you into a monster.”

“As they have with you.” I whispered, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying, to keep myself from surrendering to Seonghwa completely. Seonghwa huffed, looking like he couldn’t believe what I have just said, eyes falling onto my lips as I tilted my head back, hands smoothing against his chest as my fingers ached from griping onto his vest so tightly. And my eyelashes threatened to flutter closed when Seonghwa angled his head just a little lower, his plump lips slotted perfectly against mine if one of us were to just tip our heads even the slightest forward.

But we were monsters to each other, the bogeyman of each other’s stories.

 1943

            I was close to finishing my patrolling duties, the Astronomy Tower my last stop before I could head back to the Slytherin common room and catch up on some much-needed sleep. Our examinations for the end of the year were nearing, more notedly, we only had one more week to catch up on every lesson before we’d be subjected to the long week of finals. It was stressful and I barely had any time for anything besides studying, so, much like others, I was cooped up in the library, scribbling down any necessary information that I might’ve missed during classes. Seonghwa and I only met up when we’d have breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the dining hall—unless one of us decided to skip due to not having studied enough that day. But that was alright, we both valued our studies and grades above all and, besides, we left little messages for each other in hidden places that we knew the other would patrol in the evenings after curfew.

The steps to the Astronomy Tower were steep and made of thick concrete, I pressed my palm against the stone wall for guidance and to feel safer as I was headed up to the tower. I had a slight fear of heights, which wasn’t too handy when I had to fly on a broom, hence why I never even considered playing Quidditch despite finding it cool and entertaining. Hongjoong could’ve probably brewed me a potion that made my fear halt but then again, I don’t know how smart it would have been to trust Hongjoong with even the simplest potions. He loved experimenting, and I had been on the receiving end of his failed brews one too many times. I am sure Madam Gorsemoor, herself, will banish me from this school if I turn up with an aching tummy to her Infirmary one more time.

I was panting by the time I reached the top of the stairs, all I had to do was round the corner and peek around it, then I could bolt back down to the Slytherin dormitories. However, just as I was about to do that, I heard hushed voices echoing around the stone walls. I couldn’t tell exactly what was being said as the voices were low, nonetheless, I did have to interrupt whatever was going on as I was a Prefect—I would even need to deduct house points if these were students and not professors. Squaring my shoulders and straightening my back to look more menacing than I actually was—with hopes of scaring off the students—I power-walked around the corner, only to freeze in the next second. Seonghwa stood leaning against the railing of the terrace, the wind howling loudly without the walls protecting us, and he was speaking to Rabastan Lestrange. My eyebrows furrowed as I noticed another figure sitting down, feet dangling over the ledge as he was leaned back on his hands, gazing up at the bright starry night sky, Hongjoong.

I didn’t understand what was happening, and I gulped as I carefully hid back around the corner, grateful that the three boys hadn’t noticed me. I peeked my head around the stone wall, still, and cast a wandless eavesdropping spell, Seonghwa and Rabastan’s voices suddenly tangible to my ears.

“So, what you’re saying is that your parents got everything ready for us?” Seonghwa’s usually warm voice lacked emotion now, and I could see that his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.

“Yes, all we have to do is give them the go.” Rabastan’s voice was harsh much like his father’s, and my eyebrows furrowed even more as I felt more confused than ever. What was this about and how did Seonghwa know Rabastan? What even was the purpose of this meeting after curfew? Was it worth it for Rabastan and Hongjoong to get caught and have house points reduced?

“But are you certain we’ve got enough people on the inside?” Seonghwa pressed on, sounding stressed, “Out of twenty-five people I have talked to, only ten wanted to join the cause.”

“Is he one of them?” Rabastan scoffed, tilting his head in Hongjoong’s direction as he remained ignorant of the two. I chewed on my bottom lip as Seonghwa glanced back at his best friend then shook his head slightly.

“Don’t worry about him,” Seonghwa muttered and Hongjoong gave him a lopsided smirk and a wink. Rabastan looked disgusted as he averted his eyes, glaring at Seonghwa now.

“If Grindelwald arrives and marches inside the school, we need to have enough students on his side to defend against the other fools, Park.” Rabastan hissed and my eyes widened, a tiny gasp slipping past my lips in shock, “He’s been planning this for way too long for you to mess it up—”

“And I have been planning alongside him just as much, Lestrange.” Seonghwa leered as he got all up in Rabastan’s face, his face contorted in anger. I had never seen Seonghwa look like that, I couldn’t believe this was real, that my Seonghwa was saying such things. What did he mean he’s been planning alongside him—alongside Grindelwald?! Was Seonghwa doing bad things behind my back? There had to be an explanation to all of this, this can only be a sick joke. Before I could react, Hongjoong tipped his head back, looking rather bored until we made eye contact. His eyes widened instantly and his mouth fell open as he struggled to scramble up as I shook my head at him ‘no’, but it was already too late.

“Seonghwa!” He hissed, and I watched as my lover looked over to his best friend with an irked expression on his face until he followed Hongjoong’s line of sight, our eyes meeting. I gasped, my heart racing in my chest as I whirled around and took off running, waving off the spell I had cast. I held onto the railing tightly as I tried to make my way fast down the stairs, struggling not to stumble and accidentally fall as I heard hurried footsteps echo behind me, laboured breaths leaving the person’s mouth. I didn’t dare look back to see who was following after me, but if they weren’t casting jinxes my way it meant that I was somewhat safe. At least as long as they didn’t reach the end of the staircase. The winding stairs seemed to suddenly never end as the wind howled in the distance the closer I got to the bottom, to the wooden door that was ajar as I had left it like that, the key to the door sitting in my pocket.

My lungs heaved for air as I finally reached the last stone step, letting go of the railing as I ran for the wooden door, screaming in fright when I felt a hand wrap around my bicep and yank me back before I could leave. I was whirled around and pushed against the door as I frantically tried to fight off the hands gripping my arms now.

“Y/N, it’s me.” The breathy voice was gentle, “My love, it’s Seonghwa.”

But that wasn’t comforting to hear anymore as my head snapped up, wide eyes staring at Seonghwa’s worried face. I gulped and gripped his forearms, pulling him closer towards me as our chests rose and fell quickly, “Explain.”

Seonghwa’s face blanched, skin paling as he gulped, his grip softening against my biceps, “I—what you heard isn’t—my love, let’s stay level-headed—”

“Is it true?” I snapped, jaw clenching as I couldn’t stand to hear him stutter, “What Lestrange has said, is it true, Seonghwa?!”

“Calm down first—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I screamed and fought his grip off, pushing him away from me. My hands had started trembling as I stared at him with disgust, trying to make sense of everything, “It is true?! Are you on-on Grindelwald’s side?!”

“Y/N,” Seonghwa froze, his expression suddenly faltering as he looked past me, at the wooden door, “Yes—Yes, I am.”

I felt my heart clench as tears flooded my eyes in an instant, and I was gripping Seonghwa’s shirt in a flash, yanking him down to be eye-level with me, “Tell me you’re lying. Look me in the eyes.”

Seonghwa’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he licked his lips, struggling to take a long breath as his eyes fell on my face, searching for something that he didn’t find as suddenly he looked resigned, “It’s not a lie, my love, I have chosen to support Grindelwald’s cause. We’ve been forced to suffer for too long, shunned into hiding while those creatures do as they please, while they live the lives we are supposed to live.”

I shuddered at his words and released him as if he had burned me, hugging my arms around my middle as I bit my bottom lip, a few tears having escaped my eyes, “You were there. At Lucy’s funeral, you were there, Seonghwa. She died because of Grindelwald. Her entire family—eradicated, burned down, because she was an innocent Muggle.”

Seonghwa’s eyes were filled with tears too as I had started crying now, hands shaking even more as I tried to wipe my cheeks dry, but the tears just kept flowing, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?!” I snapped, voice shaking from the betrayal I was feeling, from anger, and from feeling like my heart’s been ripped out, “How could you look me in the eyes every single day, touch me, when you’ve been going behind my back and plotting such atrocious thing, Seonghwa?!”

“I wanted to tell you but you—you—” I took a step back as Seonghwa tried to reach out for me, watching the hurt expression on his face due to my rejection, “I knew you’d react like this; I just couldn’t tell you. You’d—ruin our plans.”

It felt like a punch to the gut hearing the love of my life say those things and I laughed, body shaking in despair and pain that this is the side my lover had chosen. The man I thought I would marry one day, give children to, grow old with. Yet here he stood in front of me, with tears streaming down his face—an abomination, just a mere shell of what he used to be, “Your father is a muggle, Hwa.”

His jaw clenched and he swiftly wiped his tears off his cheeks, taking deep breaths to calm himself down, “And he’s never been good to me.”

I gulped as I closed my eyes and willed my muscles to ease up a bit so that I could move again. I brushed my hair back as I blinked my eyes open, a little blurry from the tears that still threatened to spill out, but I sucked it up and nodded, ignoring my heart that was crying out for my mind to stop, not to say the words that would leave my lips soon, “Goodbye, Mr. Park.”

“What?” Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed as I grabbed the door handle behind me and bowed my head respectfully.

“Finish your Prefect duties and go back to your dormitory.” My voice was devoid of any emotion as I yanked the wooden door open behind myself, mind numb and silent for once, “I shall do the same, I won’t report this to Headmaster Dippet just yet.”

“Y/N, what are you—”

“I believe it’s Miss Song to you, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened as I stepped outside, hands trembling beyond normal as I had started feeling faint, “Y/N, no. No, you cannot leave me, I don’t—I cannot—please, Y/N, my love, please don’t. I cannot live without you, Y/N—”

The wooden door was loud as it slammed shut in my face, making my knees go weak as I tumbled to the floor, gasping for air as my whole chest felt on fire, tears wetting my cheeks before I could even try to stop them from escaping. The gut-wrenching sob that rippled through the hallway despite the wooden door that separated us made my skin crawl, my heart screaming at me to go back and take back everything I’d said to Seonghwa, but my mind knew what was right. My mind knew there was no further future for us, for Seonghwa.

He had chosen his path, and I have chosen mine.

            Like many knew, my work etiquette was beyond pristine and precise. I valued my missions above anything else, and so, I had wasted no time in reporting back to the Auror’s Office—to Theseus Scamander—about what I had found out at the casino. The attack that Grindelwald’s men—Seonghwa—was tasked to lead to avenge their leader. I could only hope that I was on time, that they hadn’t gotten to the village just yet, but with Seonghwa knowing that I had discovered their plans, it was probable that I was either too late, or they wouldn’t attack anymore. Either way, I was compromised and I needed to move, to go into hiding at one of our safe houses. I had requested to be placed close to Yunho and Mingi, in hopes that I could finally find them and speak to them. I missed them gravely, and slowly I had started feeling crazy without their safe and comforting presence around me.

But my mission wasn’t over yet, due to the weight of Seonghwa’s own mission, now I was tasked with killing him. It was a straight-up order, nothing could change their minds. Even if Seonghwa apologized and begged, they wouldn’t forgive him. In their eyes, he deserved to die—and I knew this. He did deserve to die, but I couldn’t ignore the growing lump in my throat and the coil of my stomach any time I tried to come up with a plan to lure him towards me. I was a trained professional, and I was tasked to kill a man. It would have been like second nature if said main wasn’t Seonghwa. I didn’t know how to proceed just yet, but I knew upon seeing Mingi and Yunho I would find solace in their presence and inspiration in their ideas. But one thing was certain, I would never be able to face Hongjoong again if my mission was successful.

I had woken up early in the morning to pack away my most important belongings, stuffing old polaroids deep into my satchel bag—the same one I had used at Hogwarts. At times when I felt nostalgic and missed the good old times, I would flip through the moving polaroids that had been taken at Hogwarts, many of them of Seonghwa and I, or of Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and I. Despite Yunho and Mingi having entered my life recently—three years ago, more specifically—the pictures of the three of us belonged in the same pile. Those two were like the brothers I never had.

I had taken my time to venture into the Muggle World and buy enough pills to last me three months in case I had to hide for a longer period of time, and I was already tempted to abuse the prescribed amount as I placed the third bottle away in my satchel bag, zipping it closed and placing it down onto the floor, next to my other bags. Now all I had to do was wait for the official that would fetch me and Apparate me to the safe house. Only a select few knew of its location, and I would be granted permission only once we have arrived to it. It didn’t help either that last night I was plagued with nightmares, the lack of sleep and the pills I had taken earlier this morning made me feel drowsy now, making me contemplate if taking a nap right now was smart or not. But I felt too restless to sleep, and thus, I couldn’t stop pacing around my main hallway, chewing away at my bottom lip. I was thinking of ways that I could deal with Seonghwa, desperately trying to find a way out in which he remained alive, when there were three firm knocks at my front door. I released a stressed sigh, grateful that the official was finally here and that I wouldn’t have to think about my issues for a little while.

I hurried over to the door, unlocking it quickly and yanking it open, freezing in surprise. The black cloaked figure was tall, head leaning down and obscured by a hood, making me wonder if the Ministry had changed up their customs and forgot to update me about them. But then, the person raised their head just until I could see their eyes, and I froze. Round eyes were narrowed into a ferocious glare and I gasped as I went to slam the door shut, fear striking my whole body as Seonghwa threw himself against my front door, pushing with all of his force to throw it open. I hissed as I leaned against the door heavily, refusing to give up, but Seonghwa gave it an aggressive push and I was sent tumbling back as I crashed into the round table placed in the middle of the hallway. He pushed the door open with his foot and unclipped his cloak from around his shoulders as he elegantly stepped inside, eyes cautiously glancing around, surveying the place. Perhaps he was looking to make sure I was alone.

I quickly snapped out of my initial shock and pushed off the table, heart beating fast as I ran around the table, going to fetch my wand which was placed atop the fireplace, but suddenly I felt my feet tangle together, sending me face first down onto the floor. I groaned as I narrowly avoided banging my head against the surface and rolled onto my back as I heard footsteps quickly approach. Staring up at Seonghwa wide eyed, his wand pointed at me, I narrowed my eyes and watched as the wand flew out of his hand at my non-verbal spell. His jaw clenched and I quickly jumped up to my feet, eyeing his wand, contemplating whether I should grab his instead as I knew he was never too good at wandless magic. I could only hope that was still true.

But as I lunged towards his wand, which had rolled underneath the table, Seonghwa lunged for me, arms wrapping around me and tackling me onto the table. I gasped as I collided against the surface painfully so, my shoulder digging into the sturdy wood as Seonghwa pressed my cheek with his hand against the surface without mercy.

“You’ve got a nice little cottage for yourself, Miss Song.” He sneered leaning down, “A little too daring for my taste. You didn’t even have wards set up.”

I huffed and grabbed his wrist with my left hand, which wasn’t trapped underneath my body, and yanked his hand off my face, kicking his shin hard with my leg, “I fear no one, Mr. Park. One doesn’t need wards when they live on the edge a Wizarding and Muggle town.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my love.” I gulped at the once endearing nickname, and trashed around until Seonghwa’s hold loosened, “You made tracking you so easy.”

I chuckled as I finally wrestled my way out from underneath Seonghwa, “Perhaps I wanted to be found, my love, perhaps you just willingly walked into my trap, Hwa.”

Seonghwa froze for a second, face falling as I smirked and jumped up, hand curling around his neck as I threw him into the wall behind him, making him gasp at the sheer force I had used. I had never fought physically against Seonghwa, we had only duelled at Hogwarts. He had no idea what I was capable of in hand-to-hand combat. But I also had no idea how he fought, and I was certainly taken aback when I felt his knee raise into my stomach, making me suck in a sharp breath of air. My hand left his neck as I doubled over, fighting the urge to vomit as Seonghwa looked down at me with a dark look in his eyes. I felt fingers card through my hair and my head was yanked back as I groaned, looking up into his eyes with venom.

“You’re rather unprepared for someone who’s just lured me into their trap.” Seonghwa leered, leaning down, but before he could get too close, I stomped on his foot harshly, making him cry out as he let go of me, pushing me to the side. Regaining my balance, I dashed towards the fireplace to retrieve my wand and I heard hurried movement behind myself as well as we both turned around at the same time, wands held in each other’s direction threateningly. Neither of us moved nor spoke, our eyes boring into each other’s to see who would make the first attack. Based on experience, Seonghwa wouldn’t attack first, he would wait for me to do that, but I suppose times have changed us as I was forced to dodge an attack that almost made my fireplace explode into pieces. My eyes widened at the aggressive nature of Seonghwa’s attack and decided to return the energy. If he wanted to play dirty and use non-verbal magic, I could certainly match his energy.

I sent a Stupefy his way and watched in satisfaction as it took him off guard and sent him flying into the wall, breaking the small shoe rack that I have mounted myself. I smirked at Seonghwa, tilting my head with a challenging glint in my eyes, until I suddenly lost my footing again. It had seemed like he was fond of the spell. Seonghwa looked slightly dazed as I tried to regain my bearings, my head having hit the floor a little hard this time, but the duel must go on, I have gone through far worse things compared to this.

Sharp icy arrows were shot towards me as I scrambled backward, raising an invisible shield with my left hand as I sent blue fireballs towards Seonghwa using wandless magic. His eyebrows furrowed as he raised his own shield last minute, looking taken aback that I could use my magic so sharply while utilizing three methods at once. I knew he couldn’t when his eyes hardened again, giving me time to finally stand up and continue my attack with a spell that had birds materializing and diving for Seonghwa. He yelped and shielded himself, his barrier broken by the bird’s beaks as I shot another Stupefy at him, which he barely avoided as it crashed into the portraits hung onto the wall, sending them crashing to the floor.

I knew his next move before he even did it—I didn’t need to read his mind to know—as I raised another shield, dodging his strong Stupefy as it shattered my spell quite instantly. This duel felt childlike, as if we were testing each other’s patience, wanting to see who would give in first. It almost felt petty, like he was only teasing me because he was so certain that he’d win. I could count on my fingers how often he had beat me in a duel, and I knew for a fact that he still wasn’t better than me. Fed up with our useless fight, I decided to put an end to it as my eyes hardened, Seonghwa’s eyes narrowing upon seeing my expression. But before I could yell out Expelliarmus, I felt my right hand burn, the wand so hot that I had no choice but to drop it as I gasped, the tremors of my hands worsening as I looked back up at Seonghwa. He was smirking, thinking he had won the duel, but I raised my left hand and screamed, “Expelliarmus!”

He didn’t expect me not to give in right away, and so, his wand flew out of his hand as I whirled it against the wall, hearing a crack. My breath halted in my throat as my eyes widened in horror, watching as Seonghwa’s broken wand fell to the floor, his jaw falling open as he flinched. The apology was on the tip of my tongue, but the pure rage that had encompassed Seonghwa’s face made me shiver, and I dashed for the front door, trying to escape before his wrath could reach me. But had I miscalculated our distance, and as I grabbed the handle and tried to open the door, I felt a warm presence behind myself as the door was slammed back shut, my breathing loud in the silent room as my heart had started beating fast.

I was frozen, too afraid to move as I didn’t know what Seonghwa would do now. The man that stood behind me, stopping me from fleeing, was somebody I didn’t know. I could hear Seonghwa trying to level his breaths as his palm remained pressing against the door, his arm brushing against my hair. I tried to calculate my next move, work out what would be the smartest thing to do next, but his proximity made it hard to focus. I had seen him barely two days ago and his touch was still fresh in my mind, haunting my every waking moment, making me crave him like never before.

“Where’s Riddle when you need him, huh?” Seonghwa’s tone was poisonous, laced with hatred as I tensed, eyebrows furrowing.

“I don’t need Riddle,” I hissed, jaw clenching as my grip tightened around the handle, “I can protect myself; I don’t need anyone.”

“One would assume he’d be running here to save you like the lost puppy he was following you around at Hogwarts—”

“Tom has no part in my life!” My voice raised as I grew angrier, whirling around to face Seonghwa. I faltered for a second, finding him too close for comfort as he glared down at me, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes as I gulped, “I only used him to get an invite to the casino because I heard he goes there often—like you.”

Seonghwa’s careful mask cracked for a second as his eyebrows twitched, almost turning into a frown, but he caught himself and smirked instead, leaning down, “You think you can fool me with your pathetic lies?”

“Want me to show you?” I raised an eyebrow challengingly, knowing that it would only make Seonghwa angrier as he detested Legillimency, especially after I have used it on him at the casino.

He scoffed, leaning down closer to my face, “I should’ve killed you on the spot two nights ago—”

“Yet you didn’t,” I breathed out with a scoff, “like I haven’t told anyone about you and Lestrange’s stupid plan of bringing Grindelwald inside Hogwarts.”

“It wasn’t stupid—”

“You failed.”

“Because Riddle caused a scene, as always.” Seonghwa hissed, and I jumped when his fist made contact with the door above my head, making me melt back into the sturdy door, heart racing all over again, “I would’ve killed him a long time ago if Grindelwald hadn’t seen potential in him.”

Dread washed over me as I felt my stomach drop, “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry,” Seonghwa leered, tilting his head to the side as his glare made me feel sick to my stomach. He’s never looked at me like that, with so much venom and hatred, “your little lover refused his offer and Grindelwald decided to let him live for a little longer.”

“He’s not my lover.” I snapped, chest rising and falling quickly once again as I started getting angry. When would he understand that I could never look at Tom the way he thinks I did, “I have never harboured any romantic feelings towards Tom—I don’t even understand how my personal life is any of your business. You don’t see me talking ill of Rhaena or questioning her motives with you, Seonghwa.”

He paused as he gulped loudly, his hand slipping lower on the door until it was right next to my head, his wrist brushing against my cheekbone, “Rhaena is someone I work with, it’s all professional.”

“I do not care, Seonghwa.”

“You don’t, right.”

I gulped as suddenly an uncertain look crossed Seonghwa’s features, his eyes momentarily softening as I felt my whole body tingle as he stepped closer, his clothes brushing against mine. I felt my mouth go dry as my eyes roamed his face, palms turning into fists as I felt the sudden urge to reach out to him and touch him. Seonghwa placed his other hand against the door too, caging me in between himself and the sturdy surface. His eyebrows furrowed as his dark eyes bore into mine, bangs slightly obscuring his beautiful eyes as he exhaled slowly, closing the distance between our bodies. I shuddered and tilted my head back as he straightened up, my eyes landing on his plush lips as he parted them, tongue poking out to lick his dry lips. My whole body was buzzing as my eyebrows furrowed, my heart and mind fighting a never-ending battle as I couldn’t contain myself anymore and reached up, fingers reluctantly touching his cheek.

I wasn’t certain if he’d let me as his eyebrows furrowed even more, obvious that he was also struggling to make up his mind. But at last, I decided to be brave and cupped his warm cheek, my hand trembling against his soft skin. Seonghwa gasped quietly as his eyes widened, searching my gaze before his eyes fluttered shut, bringing tears into my eyes. I so desperately wanted to be engulfed by his familiar embrace, the warmth of his safe hug, the feeling of belonging, something I haven’t felt ever since we parted ways. Then, just slightly, as my fingers have started tracing his cheekbone, he turned his head and pressed a firm kiss against my wrist, alighting a vicious fire in my body.

“Seonghwa.” I had barely finished whispering his name when my lips were muffled by his, the familiarity of them making me moan as I threw my arms around his shoulders, clinging to him with desperation. Seonghwa inhaled loudly as he gripped my hips and flushed our bodies together to the point you couldn’t tell where he started and where I ended, and I pushed up on my tiptoes to better kiss him. His pace was sloppy and desperate as I returned the aggressivity of his own lips, fingers tangling in his dark and long locks, pulling on the strands and making him groan in the back of his throat. He leaned down and I felt his hands travel to my thighs, and I jumped before he could signal for me to, legs wrapping around his hips firmly as he pressed me back up against the sturdy door, moaning against my mouth when I finally parted my lips for his tongue to explore. He tasted like the old Seonghwa, he smelled like the old Seonghwa, he even felt like the old Seonghwa.

His body had gotten sturdier, stronger, and yet despite the desperate way he clung to me, fingers pressing into my cheeks or grabbing at my neck, he remained mindful of hurting me, of being gentle even in our desperation to feel each other, to love each other. His tongue lapped at mine eagerly, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth when he pulled back for a scarce breather, making me chase after his lips again as I couldn’t let go of him just yet. Our lips were swollen and covered in our mixed saliva, but I couldn’t care less as finally my thoughts were silent, my body and mind only focusing on Seonghwa. He gripped the back of my thighs and I made sure to hold onto him tighter as he pulled me off the door and started walking aimlessly around my cottage, having to pull away from my lips just slightly so that I could give him directions towards my bedroom.

Our clothes were quick to come off, even before we made it to the bedroom, and I found his once flawless skin now littered with scars, bringing tears to my eyes as he shuddered when I gently traced them with my fingertips. My body wasn’t perfect either, but it definitely harboured less scars than his, and it made me wonder just how many times he’s been in harms way with no guarantee that he’ll make it out alive. Before I could cry, Seonghwa’s lips were pressing against my cheeks, my forehead, my eyes, my nose, my jaw and chin, at last finding my lips as I was guided backwards onto the bed, pressing me down gently as he wasted no time getting on top of me. Despite the passing of time and being away from each other for four years, our bodies seemed to still know the other, our minds remembering every little thing that made the other tick, and it felt natural as we were guided by pure lust and desire for each other.

I had tried to remain composed and focused on Seonghwa, to give back just as much as I was receiving, but when he had settled between my legs, lips pressing feather-like kisses against my thighs until he drove me crazy and had me begging for more, I was a gone woman only able to focus on the immense pleasure his long tongue and plush lips brought, his fingers helping out when it wasn’t enough anymore. When my fingers yanked on his hair so hard that it made him whine, tongue lapping at my juices even faster, making me writ around until he held me down by the hips, Seonghwa knew I was close to unravelling, to coming undone on nothing but his tongue and fingers. But he pulled back, he always did, because he wanted to fill me up, to make me scream his name while I came undone on his dick. His lips kissed all the way up to my lips as I whispered his name over and over again, scratching down his back with my long nails, legs hooking around his hips as he wouldn’t lay on me just yet, tongue tangling with mine and making me taste myself as I reached down between us, grabbing his twitching member.

Seonghwa froze, moaning against my mouth as his eyebrows furrowed, rutting against my palm as I jerked my hand faster, until he was begging me to stop because he didn’t want to finish like this. And I did, I cradled his face in my hands as our eyes bore into each other’s, his dick finally lined up with my entrance as he slowly pushed inside, holding himself up by the forearms. It was painful, it was bittersweet, and it was the most pleasure I have felt in years, all in the arms of the man I had once loved—I still loved. My mouth had fallen open as I hissed in pain, eyebrows furrowing and eyes falling shut as Seonghwa kissed my wrists, whispering reassuring words, understanding that I haven’t done this since we went our separate ways.

But I didn’t need much to get accustomed to the once familiar feel of his dick splitting me open, stretching me out and making me feel filled to the brim, the only thought on my mind being him, Seonghwa. And I tried to swallow the noises that wanted to tear through my throat, but the harder Seonghwa slammed back in, the faster his hips thrust, I could only moan and whine, call out his name repeatedly as he fondled my breasts and made my back arch, hitting my sensitive spot over and over again. I grabbed onto his arms for leverage as he sat back on his heels, holding my hips up tightly as he pulled me down on each thrust to meet him halfway, making me curse out loudly as my stomach had started coiling, the pleasure building up until I couldn’t bear with it anymore.

“Seonghwa.” His name was nothing but a broken whisper as I bit my bottom lip, opening my arms, knowing that he’d understand my request. And he did, because he pressed himself completely against me, my arms going underneath his to hug him tightly as my fingernails pressed into his shoulder blades once again, painfully so, making Seonghwa hiss in pain and pleasure at the same time. He buried his head in my neck as he was panting, hips jerking messily as he was nearing his own undoing, much like I was. Our bodies were covered in a thin layer of sweat, chasing our own orgasms as Seonghwa’s right hand lowered between our bodies and started quickly rubbing my bundle of nerves, making me throw my head back and come undone in just a few seconds. His name left my lips like a mantra as I felt tears spring into my eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, body trembling as he stilled, and then I felt hot liquid spill inside me as he lazily continued to move his hips, making my body ache as it all felt too much.

“My love.” His lips brushed against my ear with one final thrust and then he stilled, body going lax as I was panting hard, trying to swallow but my throat felt parched. Seonghwa muttered something against the skin of my neck but I didn’t understand, and I turned my head to press kisses against his hair, his shoulder blade, and ultimately his lips when he raised his head. I instantly felt cold and like I was missing something as he rolled over and pulled out, his chest rising and falling just as frantically as mine. My heart was beating so fast that it felt like a vein would pop in my forehead and I felt Seonghwa’s fingers intertwine with mine. I gulped and looked over, finding nothing but a pained expression on his face and eyes that were overflowing with tears. I couldn’t hold it back in anymore, and let mine fall free as Seonghwa sniffed loudly, his beautiful black hair strewn across my pillow, the cloudy weather casting my bedroom in a dim light.

“I love you, Y/N,” Seonghwa’s voice was raspy and it trembled as he pressed a long-lasting kiss against my knuckles, “I love you so much, my love.”

I bit my bottom lip to fight the sob that threatened to rip through my throat and nodded, bringing our hands up to my cheek to nuzzle it against Seonghwa’s skin, “I love you too, Hwa, always have. Always will.”

But we weren’t meant to be since we were on opposing sides. And we both knew that as our tears stopped flowing, our fingers going numb from how tightly we held onto each other. Seonghwa sighed then released my hand reluctantly, making me bite back a whine as he sat up, running his fingers through his hair. Before he could get off my bed, I sat up hurriedly and threw my arms around him, letting out a long exhale as he returned the embrace, cradling my head against his naked chest. I wanted to grow old with him, I wanted to have children that would gift us grandchildren, I wanted us to never be separated again. And maybe Seonghwa wanted that too because his whole body trembled as we somehow found the strength to separate from each other, eyes yearning for something we’d never have.

I watched as he rolled over, then sat on the edge of my bed as I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging my bare legs, looking for even the smallest comfort now that I knew I would let him leave, just this once. This was our final goodbye, the closure we never got. Once Seonghwa was out of my cottage, we’d play our parts, we’d be the enemies everyone thought we were. I was ready, and perhaps he was ready to. An easy smile settled on my lips as I watched Seonghwa lean down and fetch something, his back muscles tensing as he glanced back over his shoulder. My eyebrows furrowed upon the solemn look on his face and I went rigid as he turned his torso around, my own wand pointed at me. His voice was resigned, a whisper, pained.

“Obliviate.”

1944

            The train came to a screeching halt as we neared the next village, sending me back in my seat as I stared out the window, feeling bored as I knew nobody who shared the compartment with me. But that’s how it is when you don’t have friends of your own. It was alright, I had always done just fine on my own. As the train stopped and the doors opened, I watched the students who lived in this village get off, pulling their heavy luggage after themselves, greeted by their families who couldn’t wait for them to return home for the summer holiday. My chin was resting in my palm as I pursed my lips, finding it hard to enjoy my last train ride back home, never to return to Hogwarts. There was an ache in my chest that grew the longer I stared out the window, the longer I stared at the messy black-haired boy that had stopped close to the edge of the platform, gazing inside the train, dark and soft eyes landing on me unmistakably.

I gulped, feeling my heartbeat pick up the longer our gazes remained connected, confused by the ache in my chest that only got worse the longer we looked at each other. My eyebrows furrowed as I felt this sudden urge to reach out to him, to get off the train and run into his arms, to breathe in his familiar scent and feel his plush lips press against my skin, and his low voice whisper reassuring words into my ears. I didn’t know why I felt like that, I couldn’t explain the yearning of my own body as the boy’s once familiar face became hazy, unclear. No matter how hard I tried to look, I couldn’t see his features clearly. I couldn’t remember his name.

He became a murky memory in the back of my mind as the train whistled, signalling its departure, and as we took off, I felt the lurch of my heart and the coil of my stomach worsen as I jumped up from my seat, pulling the window open and scaring those sitting in the compartment with me. I looked out the window, head leaning outside as my eyebrows furrowed, the name of the boy on the tip of my tongue as I desperately tried to cry out his name—but I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know who he was. The alarmed cries of the people who rode with me snapped me out of my unexplainable actions, and I settled back into my seat feeling confused and embarrassed as I apologized.

I couldn’t tell anymore why my heart ached like I had loved someone with my whole being, with my soul, like I had sworn to remain by their side forever and even beyond. It confused me as to why I wanted to sob and scream after a boy that once was my guiding light in the darkness, my star. A face once familiar now became just the whisper of a distant memory that I couldn’t put my finger on, a nostalgic ache of a love that felt real, yet intangible.

The stars couldn’t shine bright without their darkness.

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[hotshotsxyz]

“You know me better than anyone. You always have.” for the prompts if it sparks!

(buddie) (788 words) i still have so many of these prompts left lmao, hope you like this one!

“I’m fine,” Buck says, and to his genuine surprise, he really means it.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. Rude, but fair. “You’re fine,” he echoes, flat and disbelieving.

Buck shrugs. “Yeah, man, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Eddie blinks a few times. “Is this what denial looks like? I think this might be what denial looks like.”

“Denial is a river in Egypt,” Buck replies cheerfully.

Eddie snorts. “I don’t think that’s how that saying goes.”

“Maybe not,” Buck allows. “Still fine, though.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie says.

“I am!” Buck protests. “I’ll prove it. Ask me what happened.”

Eddie heaves a sigh and stands. “I’m getting a beer. Do you want a beer?”

“I mean, yeah, but not if it's a pity beer,” Buck calls after him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie tosses over his shoulder.

He comes back with a bottle of Buck’s favorite sour, which is ridiculous because the only place that sells it is a full thirty minutes farther than the closest grocery store. It’s absolutely a pity beer.

“Eddie!” Buck exclaims.

He feigns innocence. “I already had it!”

Buck narrows his eyes and takes the bottle from Eddie. “I’m choosing to believe you, but only because I really don’t want one of your godawful IPAs.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and settles back on the couch beside him. “If that’s what it takes,” he says.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me,” Buck says accusingly.

“I am nice to you,” Eddie says. He leans his head against the back of the couch and rolls it lazily to the side to look at Buck directly. “I’ll be nicer if you can find an adjective other that ‘fine’ to describe your current state of being.”

Buck blows a soft breath out through his nose. “I’m good, Eds, I promise.”

“I just—you were more broken up about Natalia,” Eddie says softly. “Why are you so okay with this?”

And that—that is the sixty-four thousand dollar question, isn’t it? Because Buck is fine. He’s not emotionless, but nothing he’s feeling is particularly painful or consuming. Being with Tommy was good and fun and nice, but breaking up with him didn’t feel like some terrible ending. It felt like finishing a chapter in a book that you can’t put down and staying up late because you just can’t wait to start the next one. He’s never really felt like that before.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I just am. You know me better than anyone. You always have. Why don’t you tell me?”

Eddie huffs a soft laugh. “Contrary to the beliefs of our friends and coworkers, I can’t actually read your mind, Buck.”

“I don’t know,” Buck teases, “I think you probably could if you tried.”

“Sure,” Eddie says. “Think of a number between one and ten.”

Eleven, Buck thinks, just to be an asshole. He grins at Eddie, who stares at him in mock concentration.

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Stop cheating,” he says.

Buck bursts out laughing. “See? Knew you were a little bit psychic.”

“More like fluent in Buck,” Eddie snarks back.

He feels soft and loose, and it hits him that this is what he’d never quite had with Tommy. They were never as in sync as he is with Eddie. He’s never felt so comfortable, so known as he does when he’s here. It’s an impossibly high bar to hold a partner to, but—

Buck’s jaw drops.

Eddie’s expression shifts to vaguely concerned confusion. “What?”

“Nothing,” Buck says quickly.

Eddie fixes him with an unimpressed look.

“I just, uh—” Buck stalls, frantically searching for words that haven’t quite coalesced yet in his mind. “Um. I think I—”

Eddie sits up a little straighter. “Buck,” he says, soft and worried. “It’s just me.”

It’s just Eddie. Eddie who knows him. Eddie who sees him. Eddie who makes fun of him and trusts him and treasures the little pieces of him he’s handed over throughout the years. It’s just Eddie.

It’s Eddie, and all at once Buck is realizing that it’s never going to be anyone else.

“I, uh—” Buck tries again. “I have to—I forgot to feed my neighbor’s cat,” he lies, standing so quickly that he bumps the coffee table and nearly knocks over Eddie’s mostly full beer.

Eddie’s brow creases. “Okay,” he says quietly, and Buck doesn’t think for a second he believes him.

“I’m just gonna—I’ll see you tomorrow?” Buck asks desperately.

“Course,” Eddie says.

“Thanks for the—bye!” Buck squeaks.

He hightails it out the door and throws himself behind the wheel of his Jeep. Of course he isn’t upset about Tommy. How could he be?

He’s been in love with Eddie the whole fucking time.

[its-time-to-write]

hi! Could you please write something with like reader opening the door one day when Roy stars knocking for training but reader and Jamie aren’t open about their relationship yet? I think it would be cute xx

I also thought this was cute. Not sure if anyone notices/cares, but all my titles are song lyrics based ever so loosely on the vibe I am trying to convey. Thanks for another great request!

what it is

Someone’s aggressively knocking on the door and as you roll over to check the time. It’s 4am, and you poke Jamie who is fast asleep beside you.

“Babe,” you whisper, “someone’s at the door.”

Jamie groans and mumbles something incoherent. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell something’s off. You reach out your hand and feel his forehead. It’s burning up.

The knocking continues and Jamie lets out another groan and says something that sounds like raining? Oh. Training. You remember he trains every morning at 4, but you’ve never seen who he goes with. He just kisses you in your sleep and is back right as you wake up for the day. 

You roll out of bed, grab one his sweatshirts from the floor, and pad downstairs to the door.

You swing open the door mid-knock. The man on the other side lowers his fist, looks at you all squinty for a moment, then says, “Who the fuck’re you?”

You return the look. “I live here. Who the fuck are you?”

The man scoffs. “No, you fucking don’t. This is Jamie Tartt’s house. Jesus fucking Christ, is he fucking blowing off training because of a fucking one-night stand?”

Oh. You know who this is. This is Roy Kent. You didn’t know he was the one training Jamie, but you guess it makes sense based on how much Jamie talks about him. It’s Roy Kent this, and Roy Kent that, and Roy says I need to eat more protein, and Roy said my hair looked funny today, does it look funny to you? 

You sigh. You and Jamie have been together for three months, and you basically live at his house. You’re really only at your flat to change clothes. You have a toothbrush, pajamas, and half a wardrobe at Jamie’s. Your books have started to make their way onto his shelves too, as you read them and then leave them for him to start. That was a little bit of an accident at first, after you left This Side of Paradise one night and came back to a different bookmark on page 34.

Anyway, Roy Kent doesn’t know you’re dating Jamie, or that anyone is. You suppose in his mind, Jamie is happily single, fucking around like the twenty-something year old footballer he is. 

Roy is still looking at you expectantly, so say, “I do live here. Why don’t you come in?” and hold open the door a bit wider. 

Roy’s face says fuck it, and he follows you inside to the kitchen. 

“Can I get you some tea?” you ask quietly, although Jamie can sleep through anything. 

Roy seems surprised by the question, but says, “Yeah, sure,” as he stands by the kitchen island.

“Jamie’s sick,” you say. “He’s still asleep upstairs. I doubt he’ll be up for training today.”

“Right, yeah,” says Roy, “I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you? Jamie’s not fucking supposed to be doing the whole one-night stand thing, he told me it’s too fucking distracting from training.”

You chuckle. “That’s comedy gold right there. Yeah, no, I’m not a one-night stand. I’m his girlfriend.”

Roy’s impressive eyebrows lift in shock, and you laugh again and give him your name. “Didn’t know I existed, did you? I’m not one for crowds or a big fuss. I told Jamie if we made it four months than he could start telling people. He was a little upset, but,” you shrug, “no point in making it a big deal if we just break up, right?”

You can practically see the wheels turning in Roy’s brain as he does the math.

“So you’re telling me that you’ve been fucking dating this little prick for three fucking months, and he hasn’t fucking said anything?”

You nod. 

“Fuckkk,” Roy whispers, “that makes so much fucking sense.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“He’s been less of a prick recently,” Roy explains, “More considerate, been carrying around fucking books and shit. Not fucking flirting with everything that fucking moves. Thought maybe he was just taking beating Zava too fucking seriously.”

You nod and move to pour the tea. You and Roy both turn as you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. It’s Jamie, who is wearing a headlamp, pajama shirt, athletic vest, and a single sock. And, thank God, pants.

“Ready for training coach,” he says with a salute, but the action almost makes him fall over. He looks all pale and sweaty, with bags under his eyes.

“Told you he was sick,” you say.

“Fuckin’ hell,” is all Roy can come up with.

Jamie seems to notice you for the first time and breaks out into a smile. “Roy! Look! I have a girlfriend,” he says, words a little slurred while pointing to you.

It’s punctuated by a “Jesus Christ,” from Roy as Jamie wobbles, unsteady on his feet from his fever.

“Alright, mister,” you say. “Back to bed.”

Jamie frowns. “Always so mean,” he says. He does an imitation of your voice, “No Jamie, you can’t tell Roy about us. Yes Jamie, I know Roy’s your best friend. No Jamie, I don’t think you love Roy more than me.” He looks at Roy as you sling his arm around your shoulders, supporting him at his waist. He puts his fingertips on your lips as he says, “See what I have to put up with?”

You roll your eyes and suppress a smile as Roy says, “What you have to put up with?”

Jamie is so loopy right now. He lays his head on yours and smiles again. “Look at this. Me two favorite people, finally meeting. You should stay for dinner, coach.”

Roy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. You can tell he’s trying not to laugh as you both mutually decide not to point out that it is now 4:30am and dinner is a long, long way away.

“Let’s go get you out of those clothes and into bed,” you say as you start to lead him back to your room. 

Jamie casts a look back at Roy and wiggles his eyebrows. “Babe, you can’t just say things like that in front of granddad. Might give him a heart attack. Old people are such prudes.”

“Go to sleep, Tartt,” Roy says. He looks at you and says softly, “I can see myself out.”

You smile and wave with your free hand. “It was nice to meet you,” you say. “Hopefully we can meet again under more normal circumstances.”

Roy nods once and does what you think is a smile? He turns and heads out the door as you maneuver Jamie upstairs. Jamie Tartt has a girlfriend. And a good one at that. What is the world coming to?

[mccardswife]

You are enough

heyy! this is my first one shot so it is not the best but feel free to give any tips!

arsenal wfc x teen!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, bruise, angst, sh, a few cuss words, suicidal thoughts, protective awfc and fluff in the end. Please remind me if I have forgotten some! (don't read if you get triggered)

(not proofread so if any mistakes give me a heads up)

word count: 2144

enjoy!

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Being a 16 year old professional football player is not the easiest thing in the world. Yes, you do what you love everyday but it has its up and downs. I signed for arsenal 3 months ago but I had no idea it would be that difficult. I don't feel like I belong here, all the girls on the team are truly amazing don't get me wrong, but it is so hard living up to the standards. Especially when I am me, just me and only me. I don't feel enough

After my alarm went signaling me to get ready for another day of training, the thought of going to training today dreaded me, and it has for weeks. Silence, I lay in my bed in silence just thinking of all the bad things that can happen today. If you are wondering where my parents are, the truth is. I live alone, yes, alone as a 16 year old in England. My parents has never supported me playing footy, not even when I was little. They wanted me to have a career that was meant for "girls" and not "boys", but that sounded bizarre. Football is for everyone, but they don't seem get that into their head. My parents kicked me out when they found out I signed for Arsenal, we lived in London, but since I got kicked out I had to get an apartment for myself. It was pretty hard but my best friend helped me and I am so grateful thankful for her. I have not told the team about me living alone for 6 months, they would go all protective and wanting to know why but I can't tell them, not yet. I don't want to be judged. Saying to the girls that I got kicked out of home, even thinking about it makes me feel so embarrassed and ashamed of myself.

I lay in bed, in pain. Physically and emotionally. Last night, after I was out grocery shopping I took the metro home as always, when a man probably doubled my age walked over to me. I then realized that it was my father, he dragged me into a corner and asked me if I still was into all that "football shit". I got furious and started whisper shout at him, turned out that was not the best idea. He started going about me being a disgrace to the family, not only the family but the world, that no one is ever going to love me for playing football, and then he punched me right in my cheek. I felt thrilling pain in my face, but he grabbed my wrists hard and said in my face "You useless bitch, no one cares about you and never will".

That sentence goes through my mind over and over again. I was almost impossible to fall asleep last night, because of the pain I was in both physically and emotionally. What my father told me, got to my head and I was thinking. Maybe he was right, I am a disgrace, no one will ever love me, maybe if it would be better if I just disappeared.

Well, well. Got to get up for training and stop thinking. Seriously y/n, get your shit together...

I walked downstairs to the bathroom and got dressed and tried to cover the bruise on my cheek that now has gotten all blue, yellow and purple. It was really painful and very difficult but totally worth it when I was done and I literally could not see a damn thing. Then I did the same to the bruises on my wrists and after I tried to cover up the dark bags under my eyes but that was a bit more of a job.

Suddenly I got the urge, the painful urge. I took the hidden blade from the mirror cabinet and drawed lines on my right arm. One, two, three, four.

Then I looked at the clock. Shit, I thought. The training starts in two hours and we have breakfast together in the dining room an hour before. The metro usually took 30 minutes, I packed my bag in a hurry and left.

When I walked in to the facility I heard two voices yelling my name behind me. Lotte and Alessia walked quickly over to me. "You excited for training?" Alessia asked you. "Yes totally" I said in a lie, I think they saw that I lied because it did not look like they believed me at all. "What about you Less and Lotte?" you said to try getting the attention away from you. It seemed that it worked because they said in sync "Yes". Less and Lotte looked at each other and we giggled.

When we walked in to the dining room, everyone was there. I tried to brush off all the looks I got. Why does everyone look so suspicious today...

"Come here Y/n, sit with us", Leah said after I served myself food. Leah sat with Katie, Kim, Lia, Caitlin, Steph, Beth, Viv and Kyra. I walked nervously over to them and sat down in the seat beside Beth. They started talking and I just sat there quietly eating my food being in my thoughts until Viv said "Y/n, you've been quiet, are you good". They looked at me concerned, "Me? Yes of course Im good, just sat thinking about the upcoming training today". I lied straight through my teeth. "Okay, if you're sure. but you can talk to us though", Caitlin said. I just said a quietly thank you, and then we walked to the locker room and got ready for training.

We started doing some light jog then got into some training drills. I was already sweating, it was surprisingly very sunny outside today and I wore a long sleeve training jersey because of my scars. "Aren't you hot in that", said Jen to me. I just simply shrugged her off saying no.

I was so exhausted, my body is so tired and I really want to lay down. When we had water break I just laid down on the grass. Sweating, I rubbed my face because I was so tired.

Beth and Viv walked over worriedly, they have become my unofficial parents after my transfer to Arsenal. They looked shocked when they saw me. "What" I said in a panicked voice. "Why do you have a big black bruise on your cheek?" Beth said, "And on your wrists?" Viv said. "Is something going on at home?" Viv asked with a knowing look. "No, no of course not, why would you assume that".

After training everyone looked worried and concerned, my passes and shots got sloppier and sloppier, I was hurting more and more. When I was about to leave, Kim, Katie, Leah and Jen cornered me. With Beth and Viv looking guilty behind. They brought me into a private room and they started telling me what Beth and Viv told me. Then all of a sudden Kim said "You know, all the team has been worried and concerned for a while, I can't remember how many times the girls have repeatedly come and talked to me". I looked at her ashamed. "Why do you have bruised?" Katie asked, "I just fell" I said, the lie obvious.

I started scratching because my scars got really itchy, I really wanted to just disappear right there and then. Then Leah grabbed my right wrist softly and pulled up my sleeve, the last thing before I broke down was gasps from the girls. I started trying to make up excuses but none of them were having it, "come with us" said Beth, "We will bring you to the medical room and then we want you to tell us everything". I desperately did not want to but I knew it was no chance of me getting out of this.

When we got to the medical room they put me on one of the beds. My scars were infected, that is why they itched so damn much. Jen was cleaning up my bruises while Kim cleaned up my scars. I know the people who worked here could do it but I did not want them right now, it is bad enough that now the whole team knows.

Leah then said in her stern but soft captain voice "Now tell us everything". I tried to tell her that it was nothing. What Katie said broke me "Please babe, we only want to help you. We know it has been hard for you but please". Then I broke down again, full on shaking and crying. Desperately gasping for air.

I started telling them everything, how my parents are and that they has never supported me once for the choices I have made, that I don't feel like I belong here because I am only me... When I spit out the truth about me living alone for 3 months because my parents kicked me out and that they were abusing me for years before, I saw tears in all of the girls faces. It was a heartbreaking sight. I told them how I ran into my father last night and what he did and said to me and I started sobbing again and saying silently to myself "It is true, what he said. I am a reckless disgrace full kid".

"You are enough y/nn, I promise you babe" Viv said. All of the others agree but I could not help believing my fathers words. "Actually me and Beth have been thinking for a while, we have a spare room and big enough place for 3, and you are like our kid. I am being for real, we love you as our own family. All the team does, but we wondered if you wanted to come live with us?" Viv asked me. I was hesitant and I think Beth saw that because she said "We are not taking no for an answer". I felt a smile creep up on my face and as desperate I was trying to hide it all the others saw and started smiling too. I said to Meadema, "thank you moms". I realized what I said "shit fuck, sorry I did not mean to".

"Y/nn it is okay, you have no idea how glad that made us, you are like our kid" Beth and Viv said.

After a while of me telling them about my thoughts, how I have been feeling for the last weeks, they decided to get me into therapy. We have a therapist at the facility so we agreed to be going to her twice a week. "I am grateful for all of you, I really am but I just feel like a bother" I said quietly.

"No babe stop" Jen said, Katie walked over to me, she took her hands on my head and said "You are enough, a hundred times enough". "You are like a younger sister to me, it breaks me to see you like this, not only me but all of us. We and all the team loves you. You are the baby of the team."

"We will always protect you, and we will get your so called parents locked up." Kim said to me. "Not Viv and Beth but the other parents" Jen said in a playful tone.

"That I understand" I said with a smile of my face.

Leah asked me if she could tell the other girls and the Gaffer, she needed to anyway but it was nice she asked me. I said yes then she walked outside.

A few minutes later they all came in. Kyra, being kind of like my annoying twin ran over to me and hanged on for me for dear life in a bear hug. I started explaining to them a bit more, and reassured them that it was not their fault but my manipulative parents.

I also said that I called Viv and Beth mum and that I am moving in with them and Lessi and Laura said at the same time "about damn time". All the team broke out in laughter.

"I am sorry for not telling you but I feel a thousand times better now after telling you, I have been scared and not felt at home here for a while but telling you and knowing that I can count on you girls will help me. The whole team is kind of like my family I never got and I can't ask for more than that. I am so grateful for all of you, and I love you"

"We love you too y/nn", Leah said with the softest most heartwarming smile ever. "You are our family, blood or not you will always be family" Kim said reassuring.

"Always," Katie said

"And you are enough" the team said lovingly.

[jimlingss]

Three years!

Hello, everyone and happy Jimlingss anniversary! Woohoo! It has been three years since my official retirement and eight years since I’ve began this blog. That’s absolutely crazy since it all feels like yesterday. Time flies when you’re having fun.

First and foremost, thank you to all who still send me messages and give me feedback on my stories! I do check back once in a while and read everything, so nothing goes unnoticed. Your kind words always make me miss the simpler days of writing. :’) It really gets me nostalgic.

Second, here is my yearly update!

I’ve finished my second year of law school! I finished off this year with a bang and did quite well, if I do say so myself. There’s one more year left to go and that’s insane since I remember the first day so vividly. I’m a bit sad for it to be all over — I never thought I’d ever feel this way. But I’ve made so many friends and created so many memories. When it’s all over, everyone will be going their own path. Luckily, I’m sure we’ll remain connected and be close friends no matter what.

I don’t think I’ve had such a positive experience quite like this in all my years of schooling. I’ve always been the type to just scurry on home, never liked what I was studying, and never had too many friends. So this change has been unexpected yet very welcome.

In terms of career, I’ve been working this summer and I have something lined up for when I’m finished school! So soon I’ll be racking in the dough, wooooooo!! Let’s get it!

My family is also doing well — and I feel very fortunate for that. 

Third, and most important, I am happy to announce that I have a boy I absolutely adore! We’ve officially been dating for four months? That seems so short on paper, but we’ve known each other for close to two years! I’m living out one of my friends to lovers fics, I swear (lol).

He’s been a close friend since the start of law school and somewhere along the line I gradually caught feelings (of course I did lmao). I was sure rejection was on the horizon and I wanted to preserve our dear friendship, so I was trying to get over it for months by myself. This included online dating and going on a string of dates (hahaha). I ended up cracking and calling him on the phone one night, but then aborted mission. Thanks to the advice of a friend, I stopped avoiding him and being an embarrassment, and I finally confronted him. He said we should give it a shot, and here we are!

He has brown, curly hair that reminds me of a poodle. And he made me realize why love is so loved — why it’s so revered — talked about — imprinted in each other’s minds. Everywhere. I’ve written countless love stories but never truly experienced the feeling before, and yet, he’s made the heart of my stories come to life. He’s let me live them in real time. 

I really hope it works out! LOL

Anyway, I’m always happy to do these updates and for all those who may be just a bit curious enough about me to check in. Although this is a very positive update (and I hope it continues to be), my life isn’t without its ups and downs either. It just seems to be in a general upwards trajectory. 

Thank you to everyone who still remembers me, and who may still read my stories! I definitely haven’t forgotten about you all, so I hope you haven’t forgotten me either.

Here’s to another year! See you again!

[prythianpages]

Stuck On You | Part Four

cassian x reader | Cassian can't seem to forget about you since the night you met seven years ago. he thought he would never see you again but when he does, he's determined to make you his. this time for good.

“Don’t worry. She likes your butt and fancy hair. I know, I read her diary.”

[series masterlist]

A/N: this was supposed to be the last part but I felt like it was becoming too long so I split it in half. I rewrote so many scenes from this so many times because I wasn't too happy with them but I think I finally am now. you can find my masterlist here.

Warnings: angst with mentions of violence/abuse/choking/death/killing

Closing the door behind you, you leaned against it, the dam of your emotions breaking through. You allowed the first tear to slide down your cheek. It was quickly followed by others and they burned, each one a painful reminder of the damage you had done. Trembling fingers pressed against your forehead, attempting to soothe the throbbing pain while your other hand found its place against your chest. Your actions were crushing your heart, making you feel like you couldn’t breathe.

What have you done?

Pushing Cassian away seemed necessary. For his safety. For yours. For Seraphine’s. It was for the best, you had to keep telling yourself. Yet, the ache in your chest betrayed that notion because if that was the case, why did it hurt so much?

There was a soft knock at your door. “y/n?”

You took deep breaths and wiped at your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. A futile attempt to compose yourself. You didn’t want your little sister to see you like this. You were now the matriarch of your family. You had to be strong… or at least appear to be.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you upon opening the door. Seraphine stood on the other side, her shoulders slumped and eyes glistening with tears. “Cassian left.”

“I know.”

She looked up at you. “Why does everyone leave?”

It seemed as though the shards of your broken heart had found new, more intricate ways to splinter. The weight of responsibility bore down on you. A burden you never intended to place on Seraphine’s shoulders.This was all your fault.

You drew in a steadying breath and crouched down to meet her at eye level. You gently wiped away her tears. “Not everyone,” you reminded her softly. “I’m still here. We’ll always be together.”

"You promise?" she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of a fragile hope.

Your eyes locked with hers. “I promise.”

The abrupt sound of a door slamming open startled you both. You jumped to your feet and Seraphine hid behind you. As you clasped her trembling hand in yours, the both of you cautiously walked to the living room. Aerik stood in the middle of the room. His features contorted into pure anger, filling the atmosphere with tension.

His eyes were scanning the house, chest heaving in anger. “Where the fuck is he?”

“He’s not here.” You replied, your voice a breathless whisper. “He’s gone.”

Aerik stormed over to you both. His hand wrapped around your arm, right where your healing bruise was, and he pressed harshly on it, prompting a cry from you. You looked up and were met with the white rage within Aerik’s eyes. His nostrils flared as he looked down at you, lips curled in disgust.

“Was Kallon’s warning not enough?” Aerik glared, intimidating you. “Should I inform him of your treason?”

He was grasping you by your other arm, yanking your grasp from Seraphine’s and forcing you closer to him. When you didn’t answer, he growled and tightened his grip. “You answer when spoken to.”

“Please don’t hurt her!” Seraphine cried as she darted toward you, coming to stand in between you both. She wrapped her arms around your waist, her back to her uncle and tiny wings wrapped around you as a shield. 

“Please don’t.” You managed to say. “I’m sorry for defying your wishes.”

Aerik stared at you, contemplating on what to do with you. Upon shifting his gaze to Seraphine, he realized he destroyed all the effort he had made with her the past days. There was a look of betrayal in her eyes, her lips quivering with fear and she tightened her hold on you when she met his gaze. The facade was gone. There was no purpose in keeping up pretenses anymore.

With a snarl, he yanked Seraphine away from you, not caring that his force sent the young girl stumbling and falling to the floor. She let out a cry and raw anger shot through you, flooding your veins.

“Don’t you dare touch her!”

Aerik scoffed as he turned his attention back to you. He stepped forward, prompting you to take a step back. He continued until your back hit the kitchen table and he had you cornered. “You are in no position to tell me what I can’t do.”

“Seraphine is my responsibility now.” He reminded you in a taunting manner, tightening a hand around your throat. He squeezed, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. He leaned down so close to you, you could feel his disgusting breath fan your face. Your fingers grasped at his, a futile attempt to pry his grip from you.

“Please stop hurting her, Uncle Aerik!”

“This is my house.” Aerik ignored your little sister’s cries and you dropped your hands, one of them falling behind your back, reaching for anything as the desperation to breathe and run to your sister overtook you. 

“I want you gone.” He seethed, his grip on you tensing. “Now.”

**

Azriel had noticed the change in Cassian lately, the heaviness in his steps, and the shadows lingering in his eyes. Despite the night hour, he invited Cassian to spar with him on the training grounds of the house of wind, hoping that it’d allow him to work out his pent up emotions and lift his spirits. Even if only temporarily.

The two Illyrians circled each other. Azriel's movements were fluid and precise, a stark contrast to Cassian, who appeared to be lost in thought. Cassian's punches lacked their usual force, and his defenses faltered. Azriel furrowed his brow, a deep concern for his friend settling in. Cassian was typically energetic and enthusiastic during training, reveling in the thrill of besting his opponents. Azriel had once remarked his haughty demeanor to be annoying, but now, he longed for one of Cassian's vain remarks.

In a swift move, Azriel feigned a strike, and Cassian, too distracted to react properly, lost his balance. He stumbled and fell to the ground, his frustration evident in the way his jaw tensed.

"Enough, Cassian," Azriel urged, crouching beside him. He knew why Cassian was so defeated, so disheartened. But he asked anyway.  "What's going on?"

Cassian sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair that had come undone from the elastic tie you had given him. "I just don’t understand why she’d push me away. I thought we were making progress…”

You had shattered Cassian’s heart. Yet, as promised, he continued to love you with all the fractured pieces left behind. He always would. No matter how much it hurt.

It required every ounce of his strength to resist turning back the last night he saw you. He would’ve begged on his knees for you. For you to not marry whoever Aerik had picked out for you. For you to come back with him to Velaris, where it would be safe for you and Seraphine. 

Then there was poor Seraphine, whose wounds from losing her parents were still fresh and apparent in the way she clung to anyone who offered her comfort. It dawned on him then–the reason for your protectiveness and hesitancy concerning your sister. The heart-wrenching look on her face when he was leaving haunted him.

 He should’ve begged on his knees, should’ve dug deeper into the distress reflected in your eyes. Gods, had he made a mistake in conceding to your wishes and not fighting for you? In letting you slip away?

“Then keep fighting for her, Cas.” Azriel told him, sensing where his thoughts had headed. He extended his hand out to Cassian, helping him up to his feet.

Cassian felt Azriel’s hand briefly stiffen before letting go. The shadows clinging to Azriel seemed to stir and come alive, swirling around him. A dark tendril emerged in the distance, curling against Azriel's ears before merging with the swarm of shadows, who eagerly welcomed the dark tendril back. By the way Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he could sense whatever his shadow had whispered was urgent.

“What is it?”

“It’s Kallon.” Azriel said, meeting Cassian’s gaze. “He’s sent some of his men to go look for y/n. Her and Seraphine are missing.”

The news jolted Cassian out of his emotional haze. Without another word, he unfurled his wings and soared into the sky, determination gleaming in his eyes. He was going to find you.

**

The air in the Inn was thick with the scent of burning wood from the fireplace, its warmth battling against the chill that seeped through the cracks in the walls. You and Seraphine found solace in a corner, sitting at a worn wooden table that creaked under your every move. It reminded you of the tavern back at Ironcrest, the familiarity of it filling you with a sad twinge of nostalgia.

Outside, the world was blanketed in a thin layer of snow. A promise of a strong winter to come. The winds howled, carrying with them the secrets of the desolate mountains that surrounded the humble establishment. It was your second night at the Inn located around the Illyrian Steppes. You were well familiar with it as it was a place you and your mother often frequented.

You adjusted the scarf around your neck self consciously, wanting to keep the evidence from two nights ago well hidden. Despite washing your hands until the skin was raw, all you saw was dark red. Blood. Aerik’s blood pooling around his head after you knocked him out with a vase. You had run to your sister to shield her from the gory scene, praying to the cauldron that she hadn’t caught a glimpse. If she had, she pretended as if she didn’t.

Your hands trembled as you helped Seraphine with her dinner, the memories of that night resurfacing again and again.

“Listen to me, Sera.” You had whispered, gently cradling her cheek in your hand and coaxing her worried gaze from your burning neck to meet yours. “I need you to pack some clothes, a few essentials—just the things you can't bear to leave behind–and do so quickly.”

Her eyes widened even more, confusion settling on her features. You understood the look on her face. At her age, you had been put in this position so often. It struck you now that the roles had reversed. “Why? This is our home. Uncle Aerik should leave.”

“It’s not safe here anymore. We have to go somewhere else, somewhere far away.”

A frown creased Seraphine's forehead. “Is that why you told Cassian to leave?”

“Yes and now it’s our turn.” You nodded solemnly, heart aching at the mention of his name. 

You blinked, your sister’s gentle touch pulling you from the sea of haunting memories that threatened to engulf you and drag you down into its dark abyss. “Yes?”

You met her worried gaze as it flitted from your face to your untouched plate. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Yes,” you said again, forcing a smile onto your face as you picked up a spoon. Seraphine watched you carefully with a concerned look on her face. She only relaxed once you had brought a spoonful of soup to your mouth. With a relieved smile, she returned to her own dinner. She hummed softly to herself, casting glances your way to make sure you were still eating.

As you and Seraphine finished your dinner, the doors to the Inn swung open. A gust of frigid air roared in, causing the flames in the fireplace to waver. Your gaze shot toward the entrance, as it did every time you heard the door open, heart skipping a beat when you recognized the sigils the males who had entered wore on their leathers. They were from Ironcrest. You watched them carefully as they approached the Innkeeper and panic set in as you overheard snippets of their conversations. Their inquiries directed toward two specific individuals. A small winged girl no older than a decade accompanied by a young female with no wings. You and Seraphine.

This place was no longer safe and you felt your stomach sicken, your dinner wanting to come right back up. The walls seemed to close in as the gravity of your situation became apparent. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, chest growing extremely tight. You watched as some of the males made their way upstairs, knowing exactly where they were headed and when the ones that had remained began to disperse, you knew you had little time. You had to run and you had to run now.

 You quietly instructed Seraphine to put her coat on, grateful that she hadn’t left it up in the room you were staying in as she would need it for the relentless weather outside. You were also grateful that your bow and arrow remained secured to your back. Seraphine barely had enough time to grab Scrumps, her plush, before the two of you were slipping and sneaking out through the back door of the Inn.

“Why are we running?” Seraphine said, wincing as the cold winds bit at her cheeks. “I left my coloring books in the room!”

“I’ll buy you more.” You reassured her, urging her to keep her pace with you as you ran into the forest.

You paused for a moment once you were deep into the forest to catch your breath, instantly regretting it. Your blood ran as cold as the wind whirling around you as you heard it. The crack of branches under the weight of heavy footsteps. Those approaching steps grew closer, and suddenly, an arrow whizzed by, narrowly missing your ear.

Seraphine’s frightened cry pierced the air and you swiftly scooped her into your arms. You held her close to your chest as you ran, determined to shield her from the impending danger. The bitter chill of the night bit through your worn boots as you raced through the unforgiving forest, the frosty tendrils of snow creeping into every crevice. Seraphine clung to your chest, her small form shivering against the cold and the fear that gripped you both. The haunting echo of arrows whistled through the air.

Suddenly, pain seared through your leg as an arrow found its mark, sending you sprawling to the ground with a desperate cry. You propped yourself up on your hands, sparing Seraphine the weight of your body. The harsh reality of your situation struck, but there was no time to dwell in the pain of it all. Your life was daring to flash before your eyes.

“Sera, you need to run.” Your voice strained with urgency as you came to the decision that you would distract the men to allow your sister a chance of escaping. A chance of living. 

“No,” she cried, shaking her head desperately.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you brought yourself to stand and helped your little sister up to her feet. “Sera, please.”

But Seraphine didn’t run. She stood by your side, frozen in place by both fear and loyalty. Her eyes betrayed her bewilderment at your request. “You promised we’d always be together.” She murmured in defiance. 

Another arrow pierced your shoulder from behind and you let out a sharp gasp in pain. You fumbled for your bow and arrow, wincing as the pain seared through you at every movement of your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the inky darkness for the men who were chasing you.

“There’s nowhere left to run.”

A male stepped out from the shadows, teeth flashing with a wicked grin. You recognized him as the one who had spoken with the Innkeeper. He casted a glance toward your sister, his eyes roaming over her body in a way that disgusted you. “You have something that belongs to us.”

“Sera, get behind me.” You instructed, not wanting her to witness what was about to unfold. She listened to your request this time, burying her face into your back. Her hands gripped tightly onto your uninjured leg.

The way the male continued to approach you and Seraphine hinted that he didn’t think you were capable of shooting at him. Your throat tightened. Your gaze fixed on his chest, right where his heart was beating. You’d never shot someone before. Your bow and arrow had only been used to hunt out of necessity, never for sport. But your hands were already stained red and if you wanted any chance of surviving, you had to. If not for yourself, then for your sister.

Pretending that you were hunting and the male in front of you was a deer, you drew the bowstring back, muscles tensing. You didn’t leave room for another moment to pass, for doubt to cross over your mind. You released and your arrow swiftly met its target.

More Illyrian males stepped out from the trees, coming to a stop once they saw you. Unlike the first male, they were heavily armed and upon seeing their companion bleeding out on the snow, the look they sent you had you shaking. Their siphons began to glow, their eyes following shortly after with a primal, savage anger that wanted to consume you whole. There were three of them. You only had two arrows left.

You notched another arrow onto the taut string of your bow, praying to the Mother for a miracle.

It seemed as if she answered you right away as a sudden burst of crimson light cast away the darkness around you. The ground beneath you trembled. Cassian emerged, his powerful presence radiating strength as he stood between you and the males. His back was to you, his wings extended protectively, blocking the males from you. 

“This is none of your business, bastard.” One of the males berated, attempting to assert dominance. He spat on the ground. “Stay out of it.”

“Oh,” Cassian said, his words cutting through the tension like a blade. “But it is my business.”

“All this for a murderous and thieving whore?” The male chuckled, having the nerve to challenge Cassian, despite his friends taking a step backwards. “Come on, you poor bastard. Even you can do better than that.”

 Each of Cassian’s siphons ignited, radiating an overwhelming crimson cascade of power. He let out a low, guttural growl. The sound seized attention and instilled fear in its wake. Even you felt the urge to bow down. Seraphine’s grip on your leg loosened but you urged her to keep her head pressed into your back, shielding her ears with your hands.

 He reached for the sword strapped down his spine, taking pleasure in the flash of fear in the male’s eyes. The snow crunched beneath his feet as he charged forward, killing the male who dared to challenge him with such ease that it filled him with disappointment. He didn’t have time to linger on it or turn to you as an arrow was soaring at him. 

He caught it with one hand, crushing it between his fingers. He turned to the two remaining males, who looked at him in horror. They fled like the cowards Cassian knew they were and he chased after them, hoping that they’d at least grant him the fight his Illyrian blood yearned for.

**

Your skin was cold and clammy, your heartbeat quickening as you willed yourself not to fall. The world around you began to blur. There was another thunderous sound and you could make out a flash of purple and obsidian…was that the High Lord’s voice? What was happening?

“y/n?” 

“M’okay,” you murmured to your sister but your voice was weak as the blood continued to seep from your wounds. You were caught in a disorienting whirlwind, where the world was spinning around you in a chaotic dance. The ground beneath you was becoming unsteady and you fell to your knees.

“y/n!” Seraphine’s voice was calling your name again but this time more frantic. You felt her tiny hands press against your wounds, a desperate attempt to keep your blood from escaping further. “You can’t leave me. You promised, y/n. You promised.”

The dizziness wrapped around you in its embrace and you gave in to it, wanting the world to stop spinning. Your eyelids fluttered shut, despite your sister’s cries. You didn’t want to leave her but you couldn’t help it. You were falling forward but instead of your face plummeting to the cold, hard ground, you found yourself falling into a warm and familiar embrace.

“I got you, Sweetheart.”

"Cassian." 

You uttered his name as if it were sacred, a relieved response to a cherished prayer, and then the world faded to black.

**

A dull ache permeated your body. Each breath, each movement was accompanied by a protesting soreness. The effort to open your eyes was met with resistance but when you finally fought through it, your surroundings were blurring in and out of focus.

Your senses gradually tuned in to the gentle embrace of the mattress beneath you and as the haze lifted from your vision, a realization unfolded. This wasn’t your room. It struck you then. Everything that had happened, a cascade of memories rushing back. 

“Sera,” you rasped, your body jolting forward and head whipping around. A searing pain shot through your shoulder but you ignored it as your eyes frantically searched for your sister, your breath catching.

“You’re awake.” A familiar voice exhaled with relief.

Warm hands cupped your face, guiding your head toward the source of the voice. Your eyes met a pair of warm hazel eyes and you allowed yourself to breathe again.

 “Cassian.”

Cassian smiled at you, cherishing the way his name sounded coming from your lips. You spoke his name as if it were a breath of fresh air, a tender exhale that swept through his soul like a gentle breeze. He’d never grow tired of it.

“Where are we?” You asked and then your eyebrows knitted together when you spotted Scrumps beside you. “Where’s Sera?”

“We’re in Velaris.” Cassian replied and at your blank stare, he added: “The City of Starlight. A hidden city in the Night Court. You and Sera will be safe here. Only the citizens and the High Lord’s closest friends know about this place.”

“And Se–”

“She’s with Azriel.”

You shifted forward and Cassian dropped his hands from your face to place them on your shoulder, carefully avoiding the area around your injured one to keep you from moving. Although Madja had taken care of you, the arrows the Illyrians from Ironcrest had used were laced with poison and while you were stable, it would take longer than expected for the puncture wounds on your shoulder and thigh to properly heal. 

“It’s okay, she’s alright.” Cassian reassured you. “You were out a whole day from your injuries. She wouldn’t leave your side at all. I was able to convince her to go eat breakfast but she would only go if I stayed by your side. She didn’t want you to wake up alone. Azriel offered to take her down for breakfast. She’s perfectly safe with him.”

You met his eyes again. “It’s not Azriel I’m worried about.”

Cassian shrugged his shoulders, waving off your concern. “Nothing he can’t handle, I’m sure.”

You sent him a look and then the two of you were bursting into laughter. 

You missed being with him. The first night you met, things had been so simple and easy flowing between you two. It was a stark contrast to the complexity that had since seeped into your relationship. A complexity you blame yourself for. You thought you were doing what was best but instead, you felt like you had ruined everything.

As the laughter subsided, a wave of remorse swept over you, turning the light moment heavy. Tears welled up and you gave in to them, not holding back. You were finally releasing all the emotional turmoil that had been building within that started with the loss of your mother. 

Cassian responded instinctively. His strong arms enveloped you, offering a comforting refuge from the storm of emotions raging within. This time, you let him. You buried your head into his chest, flooding your senses with his scent that soothed you and he nestled his in the crook of your neck. He held you close. So, so close. He could sense you were breaking within and wanted nothing more than to keep you whole. To wrap you in the safety of his arms until the storm within you subsided.

“Kallon,” you began as you pulled away just enough to speak. “He found out about your visits–he found out about what I was doing. Then, he found Aerik and they both came into the tavern one night. He threatened to hurt you, hurt Seraphine, and then me if you came over again…–”your voice broke as you sharply inhaled and the tears were coming down again.  “--He said he’d save me for last so I could watch.”

“I’m so sorry for lying to you. I should’ve told you. But I–I couldn’t.I asked you to leave. Not because I wanted to but because I was scared and I didn’t want you or Sera to get hurt. And then Aerik came home after he saw you. He wanted to take Sera away from me. He wanted to–he–he was–oh gods. I–I killed–”

“It’s okay,” his voice was a soft murmur, not needing to hear more. He saw the bruises littering your neck earlier. He steadied his breath, resting his head on top of yours.  “You’re safe now.”

“I’m sorry.” You cried against Cassian’s chest, tears flowing freely and staining the fabric of his shirt. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he told you, his voice soothing amidst the discord of your emotions.

“I pushed you away. I hurt you.” 

“You were only trying to protect your sister. I understand.” Cassian reassured you. It tore him apart to see you like this and it destroyed him even more that he had unintentionally played a role in it. If he had just stayed, if he had refused to leave, Aerik wouldn’t have been able to lay his hands on you. Those Illyrian males wouldn’t have been able to harm you.

“I don’t deserve your kindness. Your hospitality.” You said as your regret continued to pour out. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense.” Cassian was quick to respond, his arms holding you tighter as if trying to shield you from your own self-doubt. You could hear his steady heartbeat, a rhythmic reassurance, yearning to steady the erratic cadence of your own. “You deserve everything and so much more.”

As the tears subsided, Cassian tilted your chin upward, meeting your gaze with a tender intensity. “I meant what I said,” he whispered softly. “I loved you then and I love you now. I will always love you.”

“If there’s even the slightest chance that you feel the same, I’ll wait for you. I’ve waited seven years to have you by my side. I’ll wait seven more or however long it takes. And if you can’t open your heart to me, that’s okay too. I’ll be your friend. But please,” he said, his voice a soft plea as his eyes fluttered shut. “Please don’t push me away. I'd rather be your friend than nothing at all because I don’t want to let you go. I can’t let you go.”

Your eyes still glistened with traces of your emotion and he wiped them away, his nose brushing against yours.

“I don’t want to let you go either.”

Silence fell as the two of you looked at each other, locked in a gaze overwhelmed with yearning and longing. You were willing to let him in again. There was hope. A soft, shared breath of anticipation passed through you both. And then Cassian was bridging the small distance between you. 

He cupped your face as he kissed you, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency. He moved to deepen the kiss, teetering on the balance of passion and restraint. His chest pressed against yours and you could feel his heartbeat. It was quicker now and as it met yours, you surrendered to it, your heartbeat matching his in a timeless rhythm.

series masterlist

tagging: @kemillyfreitas, @wallacewillow0773638 @justdreamstars @63angel @fightmedraco

a/n: if you asked to be tagged and I didn't, I'm so sorry. Please let me know so I can tag you for the last part! thank you so much for reading and your comments. I love reading them! the next part should be up soon, I just need to finish one more scene &lt;;3 you'll get to see another fun scene between Azriel and Seraphine in the next part lol, I debated on whether including it here but decided to save all the fluff for the next part

[axkirak]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : VI]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content waring : 18+ smut/nsfw, manipulation, fingering, p in v, virgnity loss, unprotected sex, creampie (Just asking for a friend: Do the Bene Gesserit need a condom?🤔)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: On your twentieth birthday, after spending nearly three years with Qimir, you finally decide to reveal your secret to him. And from that moment, your relationship with him will never be the same again.

Status: finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

A/N : As mentioned, This fan fiction mixes elements from two universes, so some details might not match canon perfectly. I’ve made adjustments but will try to keep key canon elements intact. I hope you read this for enjoyment, not to nitpick details.

ps. Writing smut in English is rather demanding for me. I hope you can forgive any mistakes in this EP. I’ve done my best 😭

➡  Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)

Special OS : Phantom Thread // My mother is my enemy

[Episodes 6] Four things cannot be hidden—love, smoke, a pillar of fire and a man striding across the open bled.

On your twentieth birthday, after spending three years with Qimir, you finally decide to reveal your secret to him.

There is no point in hiding it any longer, especially after he has already seen something he shouldn’t have on that ship. Besides, you no longer wish to conceal it. That near-death experience has changed your perspective—not just on your own feelings but also on the visions that have surfaced from deep within your subconscious. Through the fog of time, you sense profound changes—both in the future paths and in the bond between you and him.

A bond you never wanted to form. Feelings you wish to deny. But no matter how hard you try, in the end, you can’t escape it.

Sometimes, fate has a strange way of twisting things—you can’t help but think that when you recall your first meeting. You hated Qimir with all the intensity of your feelings. You couldn’t stand him. There were moments you even plotted his death, planning to flee far away. But who would have thought that three years later, you’d find yourself lying in his arms on a small bed in a rundown hotel near the Starports on Olega, far removed from the bloody events on Tatooine.

You are uncertain if it can even be called love. But one thing is certain: Qimir's presence changes your life forever. He changes you. You change him. And you have no idea if it is for better or worse.

Resting your head on Qimir's chest, you let his large hand caress your back. It's strange how safe you feel with him, despite having witnessed him kill so many people.

But it's not just you who feels this way. Qimir doesn't seem to fear you either. His words are blunt and direct when he finally asks about what he's seen. "I saw what you did—you control people with just your words," Qimir says. "What exactly are you? A member of some witch's coven?"

He turns on his side, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, holding you close as if to comfort you from the terrifying events that have unfolded earlier. Yet at the same time, it is clear he intends to keep you there, preventing you from leaving until you answer his question honestly.

You know Qimir’s intent, but do not push back. You remain silent for a moment before replying.

"It is an ancient technique passed down by my people," you confess, feeling as though you are revealing a terrible sin to some forgotten god. "We use our voice to command others, bending their will to our desires." You pause before adding, "And no, I am not part of any witch’s coven. My mother said those covens are nothing but lowly imitators, trying to replicate what we truly are."

"Your people? What do you mean?" Qimir frowns, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. A wave of unease washes over you as you realize that the moment of truth is finally upon you.

“I am Bene Gesserit.”

Bene Gesserit—those words, foreign to most in this age, are known only to a select few who have studied ancient history.

According to old records, before the rise of the Jedi Order, the Bene Gesserit was a powerful religious order that held great power throughout the galaxy, known as the Sisterhood. They only accepted women deemed worthy into their ranks.

It is said that the Bene Gesserit were the true originators of the Force, passing down their teachings through generations. The Bene Gesserit sisters possessed mysterious powers and physical capabilities far beyond the reach of ordinary people. They could neutralize poisons within their own bodies, control others with the power of the voice, and train their minds and bodies to heights that defied natural limits. Some could even glimpse into the future with an eerie sense of prophecy, though only fragments of what was to come—except for the Reverend Mothers who led the order. They alone held the power to peer through the memories of their ancestors, journeying through the past, present, and distant future.

And it was this obsession with the visions they received that drove their beliefs. The Bene Gesserit were convinced that the universe was heading toward destruction, haunted by the prospect of a terrible future. Their only solution was to guide human evolution to its pinnacle through meticulous breeding programs that spanned generations. They strengthened their power by sending their sisters to marry and breed with the ruling houses of various planets, integrating themselves into the political and religious structures, and influencing every layer of society, from the lowest to the highest ranks—all for one ultimate goal: the creation of the Kwisatz Haderach, a superior human who transcended all others.

Yet ironically, it was the Kwisatz Haderach himself who brought about the very doom of the universe, which the Bene Gesserit had feared and attempted to avoid all along.

The Bene Gesserit succeeded in creating the Kwisatz Haderach as intended, but they utterly failed to control him. Paul Atreides, the only son of Duke Leto Atreides and Lady Jessica of the Atreides, a Bene Gesserit sister, became a religious icon before he reached twenty. He was revered as the Lisan al Gaib—Voice from the Outer World—and was worshiped as a godhead. He led the Fremen, the ancient people of Arrakis, in a jihad that spread across the galaxy. Tens of millions perished in the holy war, and hundreds of millions more during the tyrannical rule of the Kwisatz Haderach’s own son.

Eventually, the Kwisatz Haderach's dynasty was annihilated by the vengeful masses, and the universe slowly began to heal, giving rise to numerous new sects, including the Jedi Order.

The Bene Gesserit were said to have vanished during this time, and rumors of their demise were widespread. Some claimed that the Kwisatz Haderach, driven by his hatred for the Sisterhood, had eradicated them entirely, while others believed they were blamed for the jihad and were hunted down by the vengeful populace.

Regardless of the cause, the true reason for the destruction of the Bene Gesserit was their overwhelming power and the mysterious goals they pursued. It was decided that the Bene Gesserit witches should no longer exist in the universe, as no one wanted to risk the emergence of a second Kwisatz Haderach.

For thousands of years, you have been the last Bene Gesserit. Although your skills and powers are far weaker than those of your ancestors due to a lack of proper training, you still surpass both Jedi and Sith. Your power is the source of the Force they wield—an ancient power that none can fully replicate unless they are also Bene Gesserit.

“I am not only a Bene Gesserit; I am also a Fremen,” you reveal, deciding to share another layer of your secret with him. You point to your deep blue eyes, the eyes of Ibad, the distinct mark of your ancient race, now long extinct along with the Bene Gesserit. “My Fremen name is Hara[1], a name known only to my mother."

You are surprised at yourself for disclosing your Fremen name to him. For the Fremen, a tribal name carries deep meaning and significance, given only to those who can be trusted completely.

However, you feel a sense of relief after finally speaking, though it's not complete. There are still secrets you haven’t shared with him, but revealing this much is already more than enough. You trust Qimir, but you are unsure how much of this truth he can truly accept. Deep down, you are terrified he might see you as a monster, shun you, or worse, decide to eliminate you like others might. Your very existence might be too dangerous to allow you to survive.

But Qimir says nothing. He appears deep in thought, his expression unreadable. You can’t discern his feelings, and the silence grows unbearable. Finally, you ask, 'Do you fear me now that you know who I am?'"

As the words leave your mouth, you bite your lip unconsciously while waiting for his reply, worry gnawing at you. How strange it is to be afraid of his rejection more than your own death."

"Fear?" Qimir tilts his head, puzzled by your question for a moment. Seeing your distressed expression, he quickly grasps your concern. "I have no reason to fear you," he says, stepping closer to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, then the tip of your nose. "I do not fear you," he emphasizes, sealing his words with a firm kiss on your lips.

You let Qimir kiss you a little longer. When he finally gives you a chance to catch your breath, you ask, 'Even though I am dangerous?' Your voice is barely a whisper, filled with uncertainty.

Everything feels too perfect and too smooth, and instead of providing reassurance, it only makes you feel more uneasy.

Qimir smiles widely, almost as if he wants to laugh but is holding it back. "Oh, in that case, it’s me you should fear more." He teases, his tone playful, as he resumes kissing you. Not on your lips, but now on your ear, nibbling playfully, while one of his hands moves up to your breast, caressing and teasing your nipple through the fabric with his thumb.

Your eyes widen as you realize what is about to happen. You grab Qimir’s arm, quickly halting his mischievous actions before things can go any further. “Qimir,” you call out his name, your heart pounding, your voice faltering with each shaky breath.

Qimir stops immediately, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. You see the clear reflection of desire in his dark eyes. “Don’t want to?” he asks, his voice carrying a hint of pleading, though the playful smirk at the corner of his mouth suggests something more sly, as if he knows every thought in your mind without reading it, knowing that you won’t refuse.

His knowing demeanor makes you feel annoyed, but there is little you can do. In a situation like this, you are at a disadvantage in nearly every way.

“Well, I…” You try to speak but hesitate for a moment, your cheeks burning hot as if set aflame. You don’t know how to explain it to him without making yourself feel even more embarrassed. “I don’t know how... I’ve never... you understand, right?”

That isn’t entirely true. Even though you have never been intimate with anyone, you aren’t that naive. As a Bene Gesserit, you can see the past through ancestral memories, which sometimes bring you glimpses of things you shouldn’t see, intruding into your dreams. But dreams and reality are entirely different. You feel out of place, unsure of what to do, like someone who has read extensively but fails when it comes to practical application.

Qimir lets out a clear laugh, his sly smile shifting to one of genuine amusement, making you blush even more. Before you can protest, he seizes the moment and silences you with a kiss.

This time, though, it feels different.

Never before has a kiss between you two felt so deep and intense. His lips and tongue are sharp and distinct as they invade, filled with a potent desire that permeates every touch, burning with unwavering purpose, as if he wants to touch the very core of your being, reaching the true self you have never revealed to anyone.

When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t move far. His mouth lingers on your lips, and his hands gently cradle your cheeks. “Relax, don’t be afraid,” Qimir whispers, his lips trailing to your neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath your skin, then moving down to your chest. “I told you before, you don’t need to hide yourself when you’re with me.” His voice is soft, almost dreamlike, but every touch is real.

You follow his lead, as if under a spell, letting him undress you without resistance. His large hands roam over every part of your soft skin, planting kisses along the curves of your body, from your shoulders down to your hips, and finally to the inside of your thighs. His dark eyes examine your naked form without looking away, not missing a single detail, taking in every perfection and flaw—nothing hidden, nothing concealed.

“I want you to feel every emotion within you—anger, fear, and desire…” The word ‘desire’ from Qimir’s lips was as sweet as honey. “Embrace who you truly are, what you can be, and what you can do when you’re with me—only with me.”

You flinch as his fingertips brush against your delicate folds before sliding inside you. You can feel every knuckle as he slowly works his way deeper, one finger becoming two, gently stretching you as he allows you to grow accustomed to the sensation. He then begins to move them slowly, his thumb rubbing your bud, massaging every sensitive spot inside and out, sending shivers of unfamiliar pleasure through your body.

Waves of strange, stinging bliss ripple across your skin, making you restless as you writhe in the throes of sharp delight. But his other hand presses firmly on your lower abdomen, forcing you to stay still.

“Be a good girl,” Qimir admonishes, a grin tugging at his lips, clearly enjoying watching you struggle helplessly beneath him.

You moan, burying your face in the pillow, your entire body trembling with the intensity of your climax, making you feel like you are floating in a sea of stars. After catching your breath for a moment, you look up to see Qimir hastily removing his own clothes. His skin is pale, his body sculpted with lean, defined muscles, as beautiful as a statue in a temple. But what sets him apart are the scars, some small, some large, like cracks in marble. Yet these imperfections only make him more striking, unique, and beautiful.

Qimir turns to look at you, fully aware that you have been watching him the entire time. His face softens in the dim light, but his eyes remain dark. You sense the intense longing within them—a desire he’s harbored for a long time. You wonder why you never noticed the fragile restraint in him until now. He seems on the verge of snapping, as if he’s been wound too tight, ready to unravel at any moment.

Qimir wastes no time, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close until there’s no space left between you and him. His hardness presses firmly against the crevice of your thighs, the heat spreading through your body as his cock gradually sinks into your swollen slit, filling you completely.

A low moan escapes his lips, soft and barely audible. Qimir pauses briefly, giving you a chance to catch your breath and adjust. As he takes a moment to relish the closeness, he revels in the warmth of your tight, slick, silky walls that embrace his length perfectly.

"It might hurt at first, but it’ll get better soon. Just bear with it," he murmurs, his hand gently stroking your hair. He plants a warm kiss on your cheek, trying to comfort you as your face contorts with pain. It feels like he’s about to tear you apart as he pushes in fully. You lock eyes with him in shock as a flood of emotions washes over you—strange, frightening, painful, and thrilling all at once.

Your lips part, letting out a silent moan as Qimir begins to move, thrusting in to the hilt until you can feel every inch of him deep within you. He brushes away a stray lock of black hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His lips press a kiss to your sweat-dampened temple as his hips thrust forward, quickening the pace. Your soft inner walls tighten, clenching around him as his tip repeatedly hits your sweet spot.

By now, the pain has subsided, replaced by waves of pleasure building inside you, ready to explode.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you grip Qimir's shoulders as if your life depends on his mercy. Your hips rise to meet his movements, every fiber of your being striving to get closer to him, nearly melding into one.

The rhythm changes slightly, slowing down and becoming less steady but more forceful. You pant heavily, feeling the climax approaching, each movement bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Just a few more thrusts, and you both reach the peak together. He spills into you, his release filling you up and spilling over. The hot, wet feeling of his cum makes your body shiver and feel dizzy, still unaccustomed to these new sensations.

The room gradually returns to calm. When Qimir pulls away, your body suddenly feels light and empty, like weightless cotton. You drift in the calm afterglow, enveloped in his embrace as he nuzzles you, kisses your cheeks and forehead, and caresses your hair tenderly, just as lovers do."

But there are no words of 'love' from his lips. The last thing you hear from Qimir before slipping into sleep is, 'You’re no longer alone. You belong to me.”

Instead of feeling reassured by these words, a strange unease flickers through your mind, as if you've just stepped onto a path of grave mistake.

Footnotes:

[1] In Fremen culture (as depicted in the film Dune), Fremen names are special names that differ from regular ones, only shared with outsiders when there’s deep trust and acceptance. For example, Chani tells Paul her Fremen name, 'Sihaya,' as a sign of accepting him as a lover. That’s why the reader needs a Fremen name—it’s culturally important (and I certainly WILL NOT USE Y/N as a Fremen name, absolutely no way!). I’ve hinted at this name since EP : I (if you pay attention, you’ll notice it), and it ties into the story, so I hope you're okay with the name I picked.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF THE BEST AUTHORS ON THIS PLATFORM.

I have a request is there any way you could do the “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and I can’t stop thinking about you" prompt but with Zoro. Having a female reader just recently joined the crew only for them to be enemies. Both of them have a history of being enemies and now the whole crew sees them fight so the other is 5ft feet under. Only for them to be confused as to why their heart beats like crazy around each other.

Would really appreciate it if you did my request! 🥰🙏

Thank you so much for your kind words @mars-mizuko and @beachaddict48 🥰🥰 I love reading your reactions to my little silly stories and I tried my hardest to make you happy with this request! It turned out a bit bigger than the others, but I don't want to limit myself with the story I want to tell and I've accepted that some requests will have bigger fics than others! I do sincerely hope you enjoy this! Thank you for participating in the event and for all of your support!

Source for Pic

Backstabber

Word Count: 3637

Tags: fem!reader; enemies to lovers; suggestive content; implied sex; cursing; sexual tension; idiots in love;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You never thought you'd meet the infamous bounty hunter Roronoa Zoro again after four years apart. Yet here you are, part of his crew, and all he wants is to get rid of you.

|Masterlist|

“No, Luffy.” 

Two words. Just two words and I already want to rip his head off his shoulders. This is gonna be great!

“Why?” Luffy cocks his head to the side, his pinky reaching inside his nose in search of the annoyance there.

“Shut up, Mosshead!” Sanji growls, his face close to Zoro’s closed-off expression. “Luffy, yes. She would be the most wonderful addition to our crew.”

Aw, see, the cook’s nice!

“She’s not trustworthy.” The swordsman has both his eyes closed but you can see the way his jaw ticks as he tries to keep his emotions at bay.

“Ditto, Roronoa, yet I just helped save your ass.” You bite back. Two can play the accusation game. It’s actually been four years since the last time you saw Roronoa Zoro. He was skinnier then, less… bulk. Still the same asshole, though.

His eye snaps open and you notice yet another difference. He’s more dangerous, ruthless, and predatory. “Measure your words, Backstabber. I’m not the same man I was four years ago.”

You inch forward, squaring your shoulders and measuring up to his height, even if you can’t reach it. “It’s too bad I am not the same woman I was four years ago, either.”

Nami and Robin watch the interaction with veiled smirks. Sanji is seething and being restrained by Franky to prevent him from attacking Zoro for speaking rudely to a lady. 

“Welcome her in, Luffy.” Robin says with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“I’d say she fits right in, Cap.” Nami says with a chuckle.

And just like that, you’re welcomed into the most dysfunctional pirate crew you’ve ever met.

-*-

You and Zoro don’t like each other. Period. There’s no truce, there isn’t even a semblance of a fake peace. It’s an all-out conflict between the two of you and the Sunny has become an active warzone. 

“I don’t want you anywhere near my space, Backstabber!”

“You don’t own the ship, Roronoa!” 

Nami accepts the refreshment Sanji brings her and sighs, tilting her head up to where the two of you are bickering. You just wanted to train and shake away inertia, and the crow’s nest is where the barbells are. 

But nooo, Mr. Salty claims that this is his space! As if he fucking owns the ship.

“LUFFY!” You both yell out the window trying to get your captain to resolve your issue this time. 

“It’s been a week.” Robin says weakly from her perch on the lawn chair.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Nami whispers back to her.

“Guys, make it stop, they’re so loud!” Chopper whines as he cuddles in Robin’s lap.

Luffy, bless him, doesn’t even move from his spot, so you sigh, pushing your index finger and thumb against the bridge of your nose trying to contain the massive migraine threatening to settle behind your eyes. 

“Look here, Roronoa, we have to make this work. Whether we like it or not, we are now Nakama and-...”

“I could never be your Nakama!” He hisses, dropping the barbell near his feet with the loudest thud imaginable. Sweat drips from his hair and runs down his temples, making the vein there glisten as it throbs menacingly. His (big, muscular, defined) chest heaves from barely contained rage and you force your eyes to settle back on his face because, somehow, the sight of his sweaty, glistening pecs turns you hot and bothered for reasons that have nothing to do with anger. 

“Well boo-freaking-hoo. Learn to deal with it, will you? You’re a big boy.” You say slowly, emphasising each word with a step in his direction. You’re taken aback by your closeness when his scent envelops you and dazes you in more ways than one. 

It’s familiar and comforting: steel, salt, sweat…

But it’s also intoxicating and dangerous and new…

Fuck.

-*-

It’s only been one week and Zoro is ready to throw you overboard. Too bad you don’t have a devil fruit or he could watch you sink without a hint of remorse. That being the case, it would just be funny as hell to watch you get pissed off at him while soaking wet.

Wet like you are now. 

He found you in the middle of your workout in his crow’s nest using his training equipment in his space. You’d been there long enough for sweat to make your hair cling to your forehead, for your top to turn a darker shade and cling sinfully to your curves, and for your sweet scent to mingle with his sanctuary, making his head spin. 

Zoro feels like growling, though he’s not sure if he’s growling for the right reasons. 

And now you’re approaching him with fearless steps, your finger pointing at him accusingly, while your lusciously plump lips form words: ‘boo-freaking-hoo’. And all he can think about is how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.

“Get the fuck out.” He growls for real this time and you stop pacing. He knows he’s giving off a dangerous aura and he means it. Because his heart is doing some freaking weird shit he doesn’t want to dissect right now and he needs you out of his sight.

Immediately.

It’s a good thing you obey and scurry out - still pissed and calling him all sorts of names, though - because the strain in his pants was about to force him to bend you over the nearest surface and have his way with you.

And he definitely can’t do that.

-*-

Eventually, with mediation from Robin and Franky, you and Zoro settle on a schedule for using the crow’s nest to train. It’s not so hard, since Zoro spends half the morning and afternoon napping, leaving you plenty of time for your daily workout.

“Why do you and Zoro hate each other?” Chopper asks innocently during lunch, and the table falls into an awkward silence. No one tries to change the subject since everyone’s curious.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as memories from the past come rushing back. You and Zoro used to bounty hunt together. You met randomly while tracking the same wanted pirate. After beating the pirate’s crew and helping each other out, you split the bounty and became friends. 

From then on, the friendship blossomed. Zoro had an easier laugh before, he wasn’t so guarded, so closed off. 

Did I cause him to be like that?

You bonded. Actually, so much more than that, you were head over heels for him. The whole works: stomach aflutter with butterflies, fireworks exploding behind closed eyelids, a drum instead of a heart. 

And then there was a misunderstanding. You got a tip about a small-time fry, barely 6k berries, hardly worth your time. But the asshole was harassing a town and you knew you could take him alone. Zoro was collecting a previous bounty so you didn’t even tell him where you were going. 

Turns out the fry wasn’t easy or small. It was huge. It was 16k, not 6k, and he was a tough nut to crack. You could’ve used Zoro’s strength, but you managed. Scraped, bruised but prideful. When you went to collect, intending to share the bounty with him, Zoro was beyond angry. He found out where you’d gone and assumed you’d gone behind his back to collect the bounty and the fame for yourself. 

Things escalated. You fell out with each other.

Over a freaking misunderstanding. 

You were stubborn as fuck. And you soon found out he was equally stubborn, if not more. So here you were. Still mad at each other over something that had happened more than four years ago.

“We just don’t get along, Chopper. We used to be friends, and then… we stopped.”

Zoro’s glass nearly shatters with the force he uses to set it down on the table. “Bullshit, Backstabber.”

“Stop calling me that, asshole.”

“Guys, guys, you’re at the table…” Franky starts.

“Backstabber? Why? You went behind my back and collected a huge bounty without telling me. That sounds like backstabbing to me!”

“You didn’t even let me explain!” You rise, palms slapping against the wood, causing your water glass to turn and spill. 

“What was there to explain? How you got greedy? How you abandoned me without a word? Because that shit stung more than the fucking bounty!”

You gasp and take a step back, grasping the underlying hurt in his words. Abandoned him…? Is that what he thinks happened?

“I… I never meant to abandon you…” Lowering your eyes, you sense the crew shifting uncomfortably under your words. 

Zoro is silent. 

Just as you raise your head to meet his eyes, a cannon blast shakes the ship, forcing the crew outside to battle an oncoming enemy. 

-*-

In the heat of the battle, all animosities are forgotten. You and Zoro move as one, even after four years apart, you can still fight back to back as you used to. It’s both exhilarating and overwhelming. 

Zoro still hasn’t calmed the frenzied rhythm of his heart. You had claimed you never meant to abandon him. Were you speaking the truth? Because, as far as he knew, you had chosen to leave him behind, collect the big bounty and disappear from his life without ever looking back. 

That had been the biggest disappointment he'd faced in a long while. After four years, he thought you were part of his past. No longer a constant presence in his mind, or worse,  in his dreams. 

You were gone, and good riddance.

What were the chances of him meeting you again in the Grand Line, anyway?

The Marines attacking the Straw Hats are predictably weak, but there are many of them and Zoro is distracted by the earlier conversation. Apparently, so are you, because there’s no way in hell four-years-ago-you would’ve let that attack slip through your defences, let alone now-you. 

Zoro grunts and slices through the three Marines in front of him to reach the bastard pinning you against the Sunny’s wall. His sword blade pressed to your throat, your arm laying limp and bloodied, rendered useless for the rest of the fight. 

“I’m gonna count to three and before I fucking reach two, you’d better have let go of her and be out of my fucking sight, or you’ll lose your limbs one by one to my blades. Starting with that hand.” He growls as he notices the Marine pressing his hand against your chest to keep you pinned to the wall. 

-*-

Fuck, that was hot. 

How can your heart be racing this fast when you’re facing possible death at the hands of a freaking weak Marine? You have no idea how you got into this position. You know how to fight better than any of these army fools! 

You were distracted, dumbass.

Yeah, you were distracted. You were thinking about the possibilities and the what-ifs of four years ago, if only you had spoken to Zoro before he thought you abandoned him. And all that thinking got you pinned to the wall with an injured arm and a blade to your throat.  

“One…” Zoro starts counting and you hold your breath. You’ve seen him fight, the Marine better run. “Two…”

His voice is eerily calm, but the intensity of his words leaves no room for argument. He’s dangerous, he’s lethal, and he’s not playing games.  

Even though the Marine drops you unceremoniously and starts to run, you know he isn't getting far. The manic grin on Zoro’s face just before he slashes the Marine makes the critters in your belly flutter and dance all at once.

Fuck.

Zoro did start with his hand.

-*-

“She’s fine!” Chopper exclaims as he steps out of the infirmary with a wide smile, his hoof clasping your uninjured hand as you join your Nakama by the galley. The crew receives you with cheers and you feel a bit ashamed. You wanted to prove your worth but the battle didn’t go the way you meant it to. Still, none of them make you feel unworthy.

Robin fusses over you, Luffy tries to hug you before Nami stops him with a punch, Usopp is already retelling the tale of the thousand Marines who attacked you and Sanji glides to your side with a refreshment and amiable words, worried, anxious and happy you’re safe.

And that’s where Zoro draws the line. “Can we talk?” His gruff voice rolls over you like a caress, and you bite the inside of your cheek trying to snap out of it. 

“Yeah.” You follow him to the crow’s nest unsure of what he wants to say. The entire walk is wrapped in piercing silence, tension hanging like a thick fog. Once you arrive, you’re too wound up to sit, so you start pacing. 

“Explain.” He says, apparently too wound up to sit as well.

The fuck?

“Explain what?”

“What you meant at lunch.”

You try to cross your arms over your chest, but the injured limb is still out of action so, instead, you place your good hand on your hip and stamp your foot. “Listen, honey,” you mock, “you better start using your big boy words because I’m not going to play riddles with you and-...”

Your sentence is cut short when he takes two strides forward, forcing you to step back until you collide with the training bars. Zoro’s face is inches from yours and the ticking in his jaw is back. 

His eye pins yours, and your legs wobble under the intensity of his stare. “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you,” he drawls, slamming his hand against the bars beside your face. “And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The world spins as you suck in a breath, trying to understand his words. What does he mean?

“I can’t stop thinking about your lips…” His thumb presses against your lower lip, tracing it roughly. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing your neck.” His lips brush against the pulse on your neck, teeth nibbling and pinching. “I can’t stop thinking about you… squirming under me!”

Zoro’s hand gropes the flesh of your hip, his fingers sinking in, pulling a soft moan from your lips. “Tell me to stop.” He whispers, his tongue tracing your earlobe with sinful licks. “Fuck. Just say the words.”

Your head falls back against the bars in abandon as his hand drops from your hips, fingers inching under the waistband of your jeans. 

“Don’t stop.” You sigh.

And he doesn’t.

-*-

“I didn’t abandon you.” You’re still in bliss after the moment you just shared. You had thought about this, fantasied, dreamed, imagined… every possible variation of what just happened. But it was still better. “I didn’t know the pirate had a 16k berries bounty. I thought it was 6k. I was going to take care of him, call it a day and meet you to collect the bounty.”

Zoro’s still, his chest still heaving slightly, sweat clinging sinfully to where your mouth had been moments ago. 

“But then you left, thinking I betrayed you, without giving me a chance to explain before disappearing from my life.” Your legs are still shaking and aching. Zoro was brutal and intense. And you loved every second of it. 

“Well that makes sense…” He says as his expression softens.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your disbelief makes you face him with a scowl and bared teeth. 

“Look at how much fun we could’ve been having for four years instead of hating each other. My bad, I guess!” His cheeky grin only makes you seethe more and you scramble to your feet to collect your clothes and leave him there. 

“Unbelievable! You’re an ass, Zoro.” You state as you open the hatch to leave him and his smugness behind.

“Meet me later?”

The blush spreads from your cheeks to your nose and then to your ears as you face him. If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man. You show him the middle finger before closing the hatch. “After dinner in this spot. Be naked and don’t be late. Asshole.”

Roronoa Zoro used to be a friend, then an enemy, then a Nakama… now you can’t deny all the fluttering in your belly when he looks at you. But the fluttering’s fine. You can live with that, it’s actually exhilarating. 

It’s the frenzied beating of your heart that you have a problem with. That, and the clenching in your chest when you and Zoro gaze at each other. 

That’s what scares you.

-*-

Dinner that evening is the tensest meal you’ve had on the Sunny since joining the crew. On the outside everything looks normal. Luffy is eating from everybody’s plate, Sanji is fawning over Nami, Robin and you, and Usopp is entertaining the table with how he single-handedly defeated one hundred marines in the fight you had earlier. 

But every time you glance at Zoro, he’s pinning you under his gaze, an infuriating smirk lifting the corner of his lips as he downs an entire bottle of sake. You try your damn hardest to focus on the food in front of you instead of letting your mind revisit the most mind-shattering and intense moment of your life. 

Nami asks if you’re alright and you weakly respond with a yes, saying that you’re just tired from the fight, but you don’t miss her curious expression when she catches the way Zoro is staring at you. Fuck. If he doesn’t stop doing that, he might as well wear a sign on his forehead saying you just had sex. 

Bastard.

Zoro leaves first and after helping Sanji clear the plates - even if he vehemently refuses your help - you make your way up to the crow’s nest. You told Zoro to be waiting naked, but you’re actually having second thoughts. Has he forgiven you for what happened four years ago? Have you forgiven him for not even wanting to hear your explanations? 

You’re not even sure if you’re friends, acquaintances, enemies or something else entirely. And that needs to be settled. 

Taking a deep steadying breath before opening the hatch, you brace yourself for whatever is coming, but you can’t help a small squeak from escaping your lips as you see Zoro waiting for you, bare-chested, cross-legged and leaning up against the bars.

“You’re late, Backstabber.”

“Your pants are still on, Mr. Salty.”

He chuckles and the sound makes your heart skip a beat weirdly. Should you talk to Chopper about this? It seems like something you should worry about. 

Zoro moves away from the bars and takes a step your way, that smug grin tilting his lips in an endearing way. “You want them off that bad?”

You take another step back, though your legs feel like jelly. “Smug asshole.”

He doesn’t answer you with a cheeky reply and his lips turn into a thin line again. That same closed-off expression he had when you first joined and now it seems like the step back you took was a step back in… whatever this is.

“Look…” He says your name while scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry. About the way things ended between us all that time ago. It seems silly to still be upset about it, especially now that you’ve explained yourself.”

You nod, agreeing and there’s a lightness to your chest that wasn’t there before. A sort of closure to that chapter of your lives, something you’ve carried with you even if you were unaware of it. 

“Also,” he continues as he takes another step forward. This time you don’t back away. “About what I said the other day - about us not being Nakama - I didn’t mean it that way.” He sighs and reaches for your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I was just angry.”

“Are you still angry?” You ask, your breath catching slightly in your throat. 

Zoro’s finger brushes the inside of your wrist, absentmindedly. “I don’t even know.” He lets out a sigh that resembles a grunt and tugs at your wrist, pulling you to him. “But I know I can’t go another day without you, let alone four years.”

Your heart skips another beat as his words sink in, and this time it continues to beat in this weird staccato rhythm. “Then don’t…” You finally murmur, pressing yourself against him, feeling the heat of his skin against your fingers. 

He grins again, that shit-eating grin he used to give you back when things were still fine. “Good.” He drawls out as he pinches your chin and crashes his lips against yours in a desperate claim. His touch electrifies you and tingles in places it shouldn’t, lighting you up from within and making you feel more alive than ever. 

-*-

Time passes and something shifts. The crew notices it since you bicker less. You’re pretty sure Nami and Robin know what is going on between the both of you, though they don’t say anything. But it should be a dead giveaway since you’re ‘training’ together now instead of sticking to your separate training schedule. 

You still argue on a daily basis, though now there’s an underlying understanding that wasn’t there before. You’re not arguing out of past sorrows, hurt, or unresolved conflict. You’re arguing because it’s just your nature. And you notice that there’s something deeper in your connection. Those skipped beats of your heart, that fluttering in your belly… Those are all part of something far more intense that you don’t want to name yet. But you realise that there’s no rush in naming whatever you have. You have time.

Because Zoro might still call you ‘Backstabber’ with an annoyingly smug smirk, and you might call him ‘Mr. Salty’ with equal fervour now and again, but at the end of the day, you’re both exactly where you want to be: right beside each other.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi

[verbenaa]

to eden | chapter nine

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Astarion/F! Tav 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: E 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 11.1k 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: blowjobs 😎; canon-compliant, non-graphic mentions of SA 😔 (Astarion 😭)

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: “Do you trust me, Astarion?” Rin asks. She’s waited patiently enough for weeks upon weeks upon weeks, she can easily manage another minute for a proper answer from him first.

He shivers just slightly under her touch as her hands still, and Astarion averts his eyes from hers for a moment before huffing a breath and returning her gaze.

“Stop asking me questions you already know the answer to.” The bite in his words is softened by their meaning, his swallow audible as he stares down at her, a veiled vulnerability shining in his eyes as they run over the planes of her face.

𝒶/𝓃: hello!!!!! apologies it took me so long to get this chapter completed. But it is finally done and I very much hope you enjoy it. Here's to chapter 10 taking me half the time to write as this one did. please let me know your thoughts down in the comments and I appreciate you all!!!

read on ao3 | masterlist

“Are you even listening to me?” 

Rin blocks out the sound of Astarion, positively incensed about absolutely nothing of consequence, as he follows her around the grounds of the Last Light Inn, complaining rather loudly for her tastes.

She sighs as she trudges down one of the dirt paths leading away from the inn and back towards their camp, the area thankfully empty as he strides just behind her at a clipped pace. 

“I stopped listening about five minutes ago, Astarion, when you decided to keep saying the same thing over and over again,” Rin says, annoyance sneaking into her words as she cuts a look back towards the angry vampire somehow managing to stomp elegantly after her.

“I’ll stop saying it over and over again when you realize that I am right.”

Gods, he could be so irritating. 

While their encounter with Ketheric Thorm went surprisingly well and no one dared to second guess them in their ruse of pretending to be True Souls, Rin still felt somewhat unmoored by it all. The plot was thickening with a quickness and intensity she didn’t care for; something that was only growing more and more sinister brewing just beneath the surface, and she isn’t looking forward to figuring out whatever that something might be.

There’s a very large part of her the longs to run—to simply disappear into the darkness and never return; to sprint away from all of this madness, the constant battles, the sharp malice of it all.

Her life may not have accumulated to very much back in Baldur’s Gate—little money, the occasional performance at a shitty tavern, the more-than-occasional odd job for the Guild—but at the very least it was predicable in its unpredictability. 

Sure, she didn’t always have the money that she quite desperately needed, but she always knew to expect the possibility of not having it. She always knew how to sweet talk her way into getting more time to pay her debts, how to charm the baker into giving her an extra roll or two, or when times were particularly tough, how to steal what she needed to without even getting caught (most of the time). 

They were skills she had honed over a lifetime of living on the streets and in the murky shadows of the Lower City, things that she had worked hard to perfect to the best of her ability in order to survive. If there was one thing Rin knew, it was how to work to the system.

Thirty-four years in and she’s yet to meet a magistrate while draped in chains, so she must be doing something right.

But the only thing she can dare to expect these days is the unexpected. 

And Rin is not a fan of unexpected things—unless said things happen to be a nice bottle of wine or a fancy necklace; though as far as she can remember, no one has ever gifted her much of anything.

“What exactly did you want me to do, Astarion?”

“We should have stayed longer,” he hisses towards her, eyes narrowed and lip curled menacingly. “There was more information we could have dug out. There were merchants we could have bought more weapons and potions from. There were plenty of things we could have done, and yet you had us running away scared. You even let those goblins fight for their lives instead of just killing them outright. Absolutely ridiculous.”

Clearly, she doesn’t see the issue the same as Astarion, because she couldn’t find a single problem with the plan. It was the sane, normal thing to do after such a covert operation. They were a rag-tag group of adventurers, not spies.

They had maintained their cover, eventually killed the goblins, talked to the decidedly awful Disciple Z’rell, and then got the hells out of there as fast as they could.

The memory of Z’rell searching through her mind draws a minute shiver to her form, the sensation of another tadpole clawing through her brain with a wave of energy and touching on the darker things she keeps hidden in the depths of her thoughts—old memories that were purposely forgotten, hopes that she had long given up on having, disappointments that had been left to languish in the corners like dusty cobwebs—had been very unwelcome, to say the least.

She hadn’t been expecting to have to defend herself against Z’rell’s invasion, and she hated having to use her desire for Astarion as a distraction, even it if had worked. 

It had left her feeling as though she had been stripped bare, like some raw part of her had been left exposed to salt.

She didn’t dare to show Z’rell any of the truly illicit memories, for the half-orc certainly didn’t deserve to see Astarion in such a way and Rin was not about to put his body on display for her, even within the relative safety of her own mind or for the sake of the mission. 

Thankfully, she had plenty of other memories to use to showcase her more…amorous feelings about him.

The memory of him crowding her up against a cave wall, the feeling of his lips on her neck as he kissed it seconds before biting in, his lips claiming hers for the first time in the forest clearing what feels like forever ago, his fingers removing her armor piece by piece in the Underdark as heat had begun to curl in her belly…she could, theoretically, probably go on for forever.  

Rin breathes out a frustrated breath, attempting to steady herself as she turns around to face Astarion with little thought, and he pulls up short to avoid running into her, stopping right before they collide.

“Here’s the thing. You are not in charge because you did not want to be, and so now I am. And as such, I made a decision to leave, and so we did. If you don’t like it, Astarion, then by all means, go march your way back to Moonrise and have a look around, if you’d like.” 

Rin is careful to annunciate her every word as her finger pokes in the center of his chest, eyes steely as she glares up at him. 

“But,” she continues, “in the event that you decide to not trot off back to that hellish place, can you please tell me how to possibly shut you up now? Because as much as I honor and appreciate your opinion, I am tiring of hearing it.”

Astarion casts a slow look down at the finger resting innocuously against him before dragging his gaze back up to hers, brow raised alongside the casual arrogance painted on his face.

Rin knows she couldn’t look any less threatening—camp clothes slightly wrinkled from where she had pulled them on hurriedly after bathing, her hair still slightly damp, and at least a full head shorter than Astarion.

Anger has never been her strong suit, she’s far better at using the written word as a weapon than she is at yelling, and she realizes she probably has all the intimidation of a hissing cat rather than something terrifyingly ferocious and beautiful.

At the very least, the letter she writes him later tonight will be properly vicious—or at least her version of it. She’s not sure she’s capable of the raw rage of someone like Karlach or the steel-sharpened vitriol of Lae’zel, but she can at least use several choice adjectives to describe him that she has no doubt will irritate him. 

“Well, if you don’t want to hear it then you shouldn’t make stupid decisions,” Astarion says through gritted teeth, claret eyes glaring down at her. “and if you want to shut me up, you’re going to have to make me.”

“‘Make you’? How old are you, ten?” She presses her finger into his chest harder as her patience thins, biting down on her lip hard in failed attempt to take a calming breath.

Her heart is still pounding in her chest even after a relatively relaxing bath, and Astarion yelling at her about it does not help one bit. She aches to wipe the smirk off his lips as her eyes dart down to them, the way they curve up into a maddening off-kilter smile one that burns itself into her memory.

The traitorous part of her mind, the one that won’t disappear no matter how hard she tries to banish it and instead only serves to grow stronger as if to spite her, taunts her to kiss him if she really wants to shut him up. 

No better way to rid his mouth of that self-righteous smirk than by giving his lips something better to do instead, after all.

She had thought after that night, the one where he had so coldly thrown her out while still in the haze of their shared pleasure, that whatever it was that had been growing between them would be no more. It had seemed, at the time at least, that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

Instead, Astarion had shown up every night since at her tent. 

And every single night, he’d ruined her.

It had become their new routine, apparently. Every night they start by the fire as they always do—talking, drinking, divulging secrets in one another; and then afterwards, he follows her back to her tent, sets her alight with his touch, only to leave when he’s done with her.

They make something that Rin thinks must be akin to love; although she’s never really made love with anyone else before, so what does she know?

Perhaps he simply fucks everyone like the way he does her.  

The Traitor in her mind is quick to point out the falsehood that statement, reminding her that he didn’t lay with her at first like he does now. At first, there had been no mistaking what they were doing—it was sex, pure and simple, between two people indulging in a mutual curiosity and need. 

Looking back, it feels like Astarion had barely even enjoyed their first few liaisons together, his actions mostly halfhearted and his mind barely present. 

Now, though, there’s a marked difference in the press of lips, each and every one meaningful and every caress upon her skin intentional during the house they spend lost in one another.

She could no longer call it just sex, at least by her standards.

Rin didn’t know what to think. 

And how could she know, when he comes to her and sends her into complete bliss with a touch that only seems to grow more reverent with every passing night, the look in his eyes when they twine together that of a fire only growing as if being fed by more and more fuel.

But no matter how rough or how gentle he handles her—his touch somehow both softer and more intense with each night that passes, no matter how passionate or sweet the presses of his lips are against hers are as they find their completion together—he never stays.

Astarion’s interests, it seemed, were only in her physical attributes.

She shouldn’t be surprised, in the end. She was nothing more than a half-rate bard whose skills amounted to little of importance, so she can’t quite blame him for not being interested in the rest of her.

She was no sagely wizard like Gale nor a noble warlock like Wyll. She patroned no cause like Shadowheart or Lae’zel, no matter how questionable Rin finds their worship and ideals. 

She has no greater calling, no reason to be; neither a paragon of good nor an avatar of evil. 

She simply exists, day to day, in whatever way she can make it through. 

Perhaps if she were someone greater, someone of skill or importance, someone of knowledge; he would want her for more than just nights of shared passion.

The thought rankles something in her, though it shouldn’t. People like her weren’t meant for much more, and she’s never done anything to be worthy of things like tenderness, affection, or love.

If she were, then surely everyone else wouldn’t have left her. She wouldn’t have been abandoned if she’d been worth it.

Rin has nothing more to offer anyone but simply who she is—and who she is has never, ever been enough for anyone to ever take a chance on.

She’ll just have to make do with what she gets when it comes to Astarion, though he’ll no doubt leave her like all the rest when he’s had his fill of her.

But in the meantime, she’d rather have him in whatever way she can—in whatever way he will let her have him—than not get have him at all. 

And so she gives in to that traitorous part of her brain, the one still whispering of all the ways she can distract him, of the limited chances she has to revel in his closeness, and makes her move.

“You know what, fine. You want me to shut you up? I’d love the honor.”

Rin flattens her hand against his chest and pushes before taking a step forward into his space. Astarion glances down at her hand once before gracing her with a very skeptically raised brow.

Slowly, Rin steps forward again and Astarion steps back; one step followed by another and then another as they walk backwards until his back hits the stone of the wall behind them, dirt and chipped rock crumbling onto the ground next to them.

“Many have tried, most have failed.” He’s devastatingly handsome with such a devious smile, and she almost hates the way it makes anticipation startle to life in her chest. Almost.

Rin keeps her hand where it is as a small smirk of her own forms on her lips. “Most have not been me.”

“Do tell, little bard, what is to be your perfect strategy, hm?” He’s teasing and taunting her again as his head leans down towards hers, eyes narrowed in challenge.

She’s not quire sure what sparks the idea in her head; but she blames it on her ever-evolving and only growing adoration of him—slightly painful to admit, despite being very, very true. 

Regardless of whatever the reason is, she takes her chance.

No time like the present, they say.  

“Maybe I don’t need to shut you up so much as I want to hear you say something else instead,” And for the first time, it’s her own register that drops, words hushed as her cheeks flush despite herself. 

Astarion is quick to catch on, a knowing glint sparking to life in his eyes as he gleans something in her own gaze. In an instant, Rin feels an arm come to circle around her waist, dragging her closer to him until they’re flush together.

“And what is it that you have in mind, darling?” Her skin tingles where his hand rests upon her lower back, thumb brushing teasing strokes that send her mind swirling with a rush of delight at his touch.

Rin runs her hand up, drawing it across the expanse of his chest with enough pressure to make sure that he can feel the drag of it until it finds its home around his neck, her fingers curling into the hair at his nape.

She stays silent in the wake of his query, answering with only an innocent quirk of her lips before giving the path they’re standing on a quick, covert glance. She can see or hear no other being near them and, so long as they’re quick about it, she doubts anyone else will be coming this way. 

Hopefully.

“I must say, I’m intrigued. Are you thinking what I think you are thinking?”

“I guess it depends on what you think I plan to do.” She flicks her gaze back to his.

“I think that you want to—” Astarion’s voice cuts off and the smirk falls from his lips as Rin slides the hand from around his neck down his front and she lowers with it.

Rin looks up at him from under lowered lashes as her knees hit the dusty earth below her with a soft thump and she runs her hands up and down his thighs in teasing passes, thumbs pressing into the muscles of them intently.

He looks momentarily bewildered at the sight of her before him, expression going slack as his brows knit in surprise. Clearly, of all the things he expected of her, dropping to her knees on a decently well-trodden pathway wasn’t one of them.

For all the times he’s tasted her, Astarion’s yet to give her the same opportunity and she has plans to fix such a terrible discrepancy. He has no idea how long she’s waited to worship him like this—to touch and taste and learn his body as well as he’s studied her own.

She wishes that she had more time to make such an important scholarly pursuit, and the privacy of one of their tents would be vastly preferable, but Rin was nothing if not adaptable.

“Do you trust me, Astarion?” Rin asks. She’s waited patiently enough for weeks upon weeks upon weeks, she can easily manage another minute for a proper answer from him first.

He shivers just slightly under her touch as her hands still, and Astarion averts his eyes from hers for a moment before huffing a breath and returning her gaze.

“Stop asking me questions you already know the answer to.” The bite in his words is softened by their meaning, his swallow audible as he stares down at her, a veiled vulnerability shining in his eyes as they run over the planes of her face.

He’s flustered, and it’s an absolute wonder to see.

Her cheeks flush and her heart swells, despite that fact that she is technically still mad at him. Or at least she’s supposed to be. 

She can’t feel her agitation quite as keenly as she could a few minutes ago.

Rin had lowered herself onto her knees for only a few people in her lifetime, the act one she couldn’t say she had the most practice at. Men were always so typical, shoving themselves into her mouth without care until they reached their end; it was no wonder she rarely offered herself up in such a manner. 

But, Astarion—Astarion she knows will be different.

“I can’t promise to be the best you’ve ever had, but—”

“Don’t sell yourself so short.” Astarion cuts her off, his hand coming down to trace her jaw lightly as she looks up at him from beneath her lashes.

Rin leans her head slightly into his hand as it runs along the line of her face, turning slightly to press her lips against his fingers. “Is this alright, then? Will you let me suck your cock?” 

Astarion’s thumb brushes along the plush of her lower lip, and she takes the opportunity to open her mouth and nip at it playfully.

“Do you think you can take it, darling?” His eyes darken as her lips encircle the tip of his finger and she sucks, Rin relishing the almost imperceptible intake of his breath.

“I guess we’ll just have to see what I can handle.” 

“Well. By all means, then. Have at it,” Astarion says, eyebrows raising in smug challenge.

At his permission Rin’s hands jump to life, fingertips tracing up his covered thighs to hook into the waistband of his pants. She keeps her eyes on his as she slowly pulls them down, revealing his hardening length still hidden behind his underwear. 

She leans in to press kisses to the defined line of muscles along his hips, nosing his shirt out of the way as she runs her lips over the indentations of each and every one of them as she slowly traces her way down, moving ever closer to where his member twitches with every press of her lips.  

“I must say, our pretty little leader on her knees is quite a sight.” The words are meant to be easy, teasing; but the tightness in his voice belies any ease, his hips jumping as she traces her lips over the silhouette of him through his underwear.

Astarion chokes back a moan at the feeling and she smiles up at him, fingers playing at the edge of the final barrier between them before she begins to pull. Her fingers find his length once she’s freed it from his underwear, quick to run them down the velvet softness of his shaft as the deep green of her gaze meets the darkened ruby of his own once more.

“Only for you, Astarion.” Rin cuts off anything further he could have to say by leaning her head forward to press a searing kiss to the side of his erection before tracing her lips over his length.   

The first touch of her mouth against his cock has him exhaling sharply, one of the hands at his side coming up reflexively to rest atop top her head, fingers sliding through her curls as his hips jump.

She wastes no time as she licks a line across his slit, the heady saltiness of him hitting her tongue as she brings a hand up to grip him at the base, pumping him gently in her palm.    

“Does it feel good like this?” Rin swirls her tongue around the head of him, savoring her first real taste of his essence. “You’ll have to let me know how you like it, Astarion.”

His hand curls in her hair, brushing stray locks back from her face as he watches her mouth move along his length, tongue slicking across a vein before she finally wraps her lips around him.

“I assure you, you’re already doing a very, very good job.” He sags back against the crumbling stone facade of the wall as Rin takes him deeper into the warmth of her mouth, her hand pumping at the base of him as her lips work the rest that she doesn’t yet fit inside.

His praise sends a trail of heat straight to the core of her, pleasure of her own ebbing deep in her stomach as her thighs rub together. She leaves his length for no more than a second, adjusting her position on her knees before pressing more kisses to the side of him. “And this?” 

Astarion moans as her lips envelop him once more, sucking at his cock with hollowed cheeks as she takes him in, her hand moving in time with her mouth as she begins to bob her head.

“Decidedly perfect technique,” He’s practically breathless as he speaks, eyes closing as his head falls back against the wall behind him with a dull thud.

His moans echo off the ancient stone as she sucks and licks and kisses his cock, pouring every ounce of her wayward affection for him into this moment.

Astarion, she’s learned, doesn’t give up his iron-clad self control very easily; and Rin’s not going to let herself think about what it means that he trusts her enough to let her take care of him, even if it’s only like this.

It’s intoxicating to have him so utterly undone as she alternates her ministrations, each and every one only serving to push him further and further to the brink as she laves at his length, pleasure flitting openly across his handsome face.

She should tell him to be quieter, but she doesn’t have it in her to halt those beautiful moans and breathy gasps leaving his mouth, not when she revels in the sound of them far too much.

Rin pops off him to take a breath, tongue running around the crown of him before she renews her attentions, swallowing him down deeper and taking as much of him as she can fit into her mouth.

Dots of crystalline tears settle on her lashes as the head of him brushes against the back of her throat, but the ragged moan he releases is more than worth it, another bolt of heat surging down to the place between her legs.

She’s lucky she cares nothing for her reputation, because being found on her knees in front of her most dubious companion with his cock shoved deep down her throat would most certainly ruin it. 

“Such pretty noises you make, Astarion,” She hums as she pops off his cock, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his length as she breathes in another lungful of air. “Please don’t stop making them.”

The hands in her hair tighten as her mouth envelops the head of his length again and he whines, Rin once again savoring the tang of him as she sucks before taking him back into her mouth, deep again as he slides against her tongue.

“Fuck, darling—” She breaths through her nose as his thighs quiver, making sure to keep her mouth moving back and forth on his cock. “Don’t stop. Rin, sweetheart, I’m going to—”

Sweetheart. It was a new one from him, one that she finds that she likes. 

Quite a lot. 

He breaks off as Rin hollows her cheeks once more around him just as his cock hits the back of her throat again, stray tears breaking free to run down her cheeks and she can barely breathe with him like this in her mouth but can’t seem to find it in her to care. 

The thrill of finally being able to taste him and to bring him to the edge of pleasure is one she knows she would do anything to feel again, the weight of his cock nothing short of exquisite in her mouth.

She gives him a final suck and Astarion comes down her throat with a wanton moan, hips bucking as his brows crease and he cries out his completion, the sounds of his ecstasy nothing short of beautiful as they ring off the rock and stone and dirt around them.

Rin swallows his come down as his body quivers and his hips rut into her, the hands in her hair tightening into a vice grip as he rides her mouth. 

He tastes as perfect as she knew he would as words fall from his lips in a torrent—a chorus of praise, moans, and the occasional elvish word or phrase she doesn’t understand all flowing freely from his lips.

Rin lets him ride out his orgasm however long he pleases, a deep satisfaction coursing through her as she watches the pleasure painted across his features until his hips begin to slow and air he doesn’t need finally begins to return to his lungs.

“Dear Gods—” Astarion groans as his eyes open as the hands in her hair loosen  and he stares down at her, one of them migrating down from her curls to her cheeks, softly brushing away the tears that have tracked down the planes of her face.

She pulls off his softening cock slowly, taking in a much needed breath of air.

“Do you still question my decision making skills?” Rin licks off a stray drop of his come from her bottom lip before she smiles.

“Absolutely; and if this is the treatment I’m going to get every time I do, then I think I’ll have to disagree with you more often.” Astarion’s still catching his breath as he replies, but it doesn’t stop a wolfish grin from spreading across his face.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Astarion.” Rin gently tucks him back into his pants, patting his hip with a smirk before she rises back up to her full height, knees aching slightly with the motion. “If I did that every time we had a disagreement, I’m not sure I would have much time to do anything else.”

Astarion has an arm wrapped back around her waist in a mere moment and she’s pulled close again, the one hand still in her hair curving around the back of her head to tilt her face up to his own.

“Then maybe you should try to be less difficult, dearest.” His hand runs down, caressing the curve of her bottom before sweeping back up and around to hover at the front of her pants.

His touch sends a spark of heat down to her neglected arousal, Rin taking a steadying breath as she braces her hands on his chest. “If I were less difficult, you would be bored.”

Astarion chuckles as his fingertips dip below her waistband, more heat curling deep in her core as they quickly slip beneath the band of her underwear, intent to find the wetness that has settled between her thighs.

He wastes no time gliding them through her folds, running them up and down her center as Rin gasps, Astarion’s eyes intent on hers as he slicks his fingers with her arousal before finding her entrance and sinking two of them inside her with ease.

“I see I wasn’t the only one enjoying myself,” Astarion groans at the evidence of her own lust he finds waiting, pushing his fingers deeper.

“Far from it, Astarion.” She moans as her head falls forward onto his shoulder, eyes drifting shut as he curls them once, twice; her limbs tightening as he seats them fully inside her.

It would be so easy to let Astarion bring her to brink and push her over into euphoria, no doubt only a few quirks of his fingers and she’d be gone, clinging to him with every ounce of her strength as he makes her come. 

But she doesn’t want it to be about her. Not right now. 

Despite the breath that rushes free and the soft whine she lets out as Astarion pumps the fingers he has buried in her, the desire almost painfully hot in her core; Rin reaches one of her hands down to grasp his wrist, pulling his hand away from where she wants him most.

She’ll take care of herself later. She certainly has plenty of material to think about.

Astarion sends her a questioning look as he slips his fingers out of her, Rin’s hand still on his as she guides him out of her leggings. “Is there a problem, sweet? Need something else inside of you instead?”

Rin huffs a soft laugh as she intertwines her fingers with his, squeezing his hand. She fears that her expression is entirely too open as she looks up at him and her lips quirk into a smile, but it’s too late for her to take it back so she commits to it, letting a tiny bit of the feeling that’s been growing inside her show on her features.

“I just—it doesn’t always need to be about me. Take your pleasure and enjoy it. You don’t owe me one back, or anything silly like that.”

Astarion stares at her as his expression clouds with confusion, but the hand in hers doesn’t weaken, his grip still strong and sure. 

Rin stands up on her tiptoes, lips seeking his cheek as she bestows a light kiss upon it before whispering, “Thank you, Astarion, for letting me give you something for once. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

She steals her hand back, the slide of his skin against her own slow as she takes a step away from him, sending a little wave his way before she turns and walks back towards camp, leaving Astarion to stare perplexed at her retreating form.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

Astarion sits perched on his favorite rock in camp, handsome and brooding, no doubt the perfect portrait of a mercurial and mysterious vampire to anyone with eyes who chose to look his way.

Or he would be, if anybody in this damn camp would pay any attention to him.

He rolls his eyes with a scoff as he directs his gaze towards the small group of idiots that are now his companions; a preposterous notion that he even considers them to be such. 

They make their merry by the fire, passing around a bottle of what is clearly a very strong whiskey if the faces they pull after taking swigs of it are anything to go by.

He can imagine the smell of it, smokey and stout, and is very glad to have a goblet of wine beside him instead. 

Whiskey was all fine and good and certainly had its uses, but it lacked the elegance of a fine wine; no whiskey ever as smooth on its own as a delectable vintage feels gliding over his tongue and down.

It’s a chilling thought that he’s been in such close contact with these fools for months now, Astarion learning all their little intricacies whether he wants to or not. 

Yet, he doesn’t find himself hating the growing familiarity quite as much as he did at the beginning. 

He knew his siblings, of course. But that bond was different, one forged by mutual fear and shared pain. He didn’t know what kinds of books they liked to read or what their favorite sweets had been. Instead, he knew how each of their screams sounded and how their bodies had looked torn apart under Cazador and Godey’s punishments, flesh rent from bone.

No, he firmly knew more about this merry little band of imbeciles he had been thrown together with than the six souls he had known for years and years and years, with one individual in particular standing out above the rest.

Astarion, it seems, now knew more about Rin than he had ever cared to know about another person in over 200 years. Useless, meaningless information she’s offered up about herself seemingly at random and without purpose or prize. 

She was a complete and utter fool.

And yet, he drank up each and every tiny piece about herself that she gave him as though it were her blood, flowing free and pomegranate-sweet from her neck. 

Astarion knew her favorite flowers—a hard choice, according to her, but she tends to favor the perfect, happy purple of the crocus a little more than the rest. 

He had rolled his eyes at this, swiftly informing her that flowers were essentially no more than useless, pretty things with little substance; and had earned himself a very sound swat upon his arm.

He knew her favorite foods—any sort of sweet berry at midsummer, along with a nice loaf of bread and perhaps some butter or cheese. 

Her taste in food was pitifully simple, though Astarion supposes a life on the Lower City streets didn’t usually imbue people with a terribly complicated palate for the finer delicacies life had to offer.

He knew that Rin did not know her father—only that he had been an elf come to the city on some sort of business from a far away place and Rin her human mother’s only token of remembrance from an affair she only wanted to forget about, and one she eventually did forget about when she left Rin to fend for herself.

She knew nothing of the Elvish ways and customs, nothing of the language that should sit so naturally on her tongue.

The knowledge that he could say anything he wanted to her in their language and she would be hopeless to ever understand him is one that tempts him in a variety of ways that he doesn’t indulge, lest his mind find its way heading into dangerous territory.

He knew that she’d had no sweeping romances with tender touches and soft sighs—only quick nighttime flings helped along by pints of cheap ale from equally cheap taverns and that while they had perhaps filled a need, they tended to leave her feeling more empty and decidedly less than, in the end. 

Astarion all too well understood that particular feeling. He hated that she had ever felt the same.

He readily ignores the inkling in the back of his mind warning him that he, perhaps, is no better than the others when he leaves her every night staring up at him, poorly concealed disappointment etched across her pretty face.

Uselessly, he also knew her favorite color—the deep, turquoise blue-green of the Chionthar on a clear day at noontime, naturally, when the sun sparkled off the undulating current of the water. 

It could never be anything quite so easy as simply ‘the color blue’ with her.

Astarion himself had long forgotten the color of the river, having only seen it as the darkened muddy blue-black of the midnight hours for centuries now.

Rin had been utterly shocked when she asked him for his own and he had told her he didn’t have one.

“You don’t have a favorite color? Astarion,” She had said aghast, drawing out the syllables of his name as her bright eyes had widened in surprise. 

He had no use for frivolous things like favorite colors. 

What colors, exactly, was he to have had the time to enjoy?

Certainly not the darkly stained, ornately paneled woods of the chamber he used to entertain his victims; or the gaudy, overly saturated reds and too brightly shined golds in that room meant to invoke opulence and luxury, yet another layer designed to further lure them into the fantasy he provided.

Nor the watery yellow glow of torchlight against the dull, muddied brown of wet cobblestones as he led whoever had been chosen that night back to the Szarr Palace, charming and seductive as he promised them his body and their control over it. 

There was nothing beautiful about the metallic shine of a silver cage in the kennel, dotted with the rusty brown of dried blood, though whether it was his own or belonged to one of his siblings he never really knew.

How was there to be any joy found in color beyond the allure of the deepest burgundy wine as it filled up his cup to help dull his mind as he lowered himself to do the things his mark that evening wanted of him, mind drifting to focus on anything else as he did whatever he needed to do in order to survive.

Astarion grimaces, throwing back another swallow of his wine as the thoughts leave him tinged with the sickly yellow-green of disgust and the feeling of shame: a blistering, burning, glowing red.

At first, right after the Nautiloid had crashed and he had escaped the closeness of that dreadful pod, his chest having constricted at the tightness of it around him—it was just another cage in the end, wasn’t it? Just another leash for him to be collared to—the riot of colors in the bright light of the sun had hurt his newly sensitive eyes as he had hid in the shadow of the wreckage.

It was only once he had realized he wouldn’t be burned to a crisp in the sunshine, a wonder in its own right, that he began to take notice of them all. There were far too many colors and all of them were so…so saturated; all the different shades and intensities unbearably overwhelming.

From the small green leaves of the scrubby trees, to the brown grains of sand, to the grotesque purple of the Nautiloid and the soon-to-be rotting corpses of mindflayers—terribly, horribly overwhelming.

She was overwhelming to look at when he first saw her, too. Shining eyes of emerald green, warm skin thoroughly kissed by the sun, dark blonde curls gleaming in the unbearable brightness of the light. That awful outfit she wore that marked her as none other but a bard, albeit one with terrible sartorial sense. 

Rin was the first person he had set eyes on in the sunshine in over 200 years and he had hated the very sight of her. 

She had been a clash of colors, all dreadfully uncomplimentary to him, that he shied away from the sight of. Colors like that were never quite so bold in the darkness that he was so used to, their vivacity dulled by dancing firelight and the shadows of night.

She was too brilliant to bear the sight of, utterly casual and downright flippant, too unbothered by it all to be trusted—though, he knows better now; and looking back he can see that her confidence was all nothing more than a well-executed performance on her part.

He still doesn’t feel bad about holding that knife to her neck as he had dragged her down into the coarse sand with him, the scent of her scarlet blood still rich despite it drying against her cheek, dots of it mixing in with the freckles that were scattered across her cheeks like the tiniest of constellations.

Perhaps that was his first mistake in all of this, allowing himself to get so near someone so dazzling and warm. It was like playing with fire—dance too close to the flame and you were bound to be burned. 

And going up into flames was something Astarion could not afford. 

But now, slowly, the color has begun to come back to him little by little and he could start to appreciate again it for the first time in centuries.

The precise cornflower blue of the sky on a cloudless day or the deep violet of it at twilight as the stars wink to life. 

The way sunlight dappled onto the ground through a forested canopy to illuminate the all the tiny flowers that grow up from the ground in a rainbow of colors—purples, pinks, yellows, blues. 

The myriad of all the different greens that he could now truly behold: the dark, bountiful leaves of a fern, a fragile spring green stem of a flower, the lush and verdant shade of her eyes.

Astarion still didn’t have a favorite color. Not really.

But he was coming around to the idea of having one.

A laugh carries across camp, melodic and light and lovely, dragging him from the depths of his musings over to where Rin sits by the fire, their companions all floating around her like moths to a flame.

He absolutely hates the way they all look at her. 

He can see it on their faces, a blatant adoration that she somehow seems to completely disregard for reasons he can’t fathom, instead intent to spend her time with him of all people.

But he cannot blame them, after all, because he’s no better. Just as desperate for her attention and her closeness, it seems, if the way his feet kept finding their way to her tent night after night was anything to go by.

Astarion wonders sometimes if they can see the very same hopeless look on his own face as he gazes upon her, despite how well he tries to hide it. 

Rin leans against Halsin as she laughs, cheeks flushing at whatever it is the oversized elf says to her. Her curls are unbound, falling freely around her tonight in a wave of shining gold to her waist and he wishes he could bury his fingers in the strands to feel the softness of them for himself. 

The druid does nothing to dissuade Rin from the circle of his arms as he claps a hand on her shoulder before sliding it down to the small of her back, smiling at her a touch too friendly for Astarion’s liking and a stab of something hits him straight in the chest.

Jealousy.

He has no claim to her, of course. He’s not made one and has no plans to. But the sudden thought of her underneath Halsin—or any of them, really—has his jaw clenching tight. 

The other elf is attractive and strong, no doubt a good lover; and the thought of the warmth he could so easily provide her that Astarion cannot churns his long-empty stomach.

He can see it all too easily, imagining Rin so very pretty with cheeks flushed pink and body inviting as Halsin leans over and takes her sweetness for his own.

He can see Rin on her knees, looking up at the druid with the same look of affection in her eyes that she had given him earlier that day as she had tasted him.

Or perhaps the worst thoughts of them all—Rin telling Halsin all the inane things she would normally bother him with; Rin playing tiny bits of melodies and sweet little songs on her lyre for Halsin while he whittles by the light of the fire; Rin writing the druid letters that she would then hide poorly in his tent, ensuring they can always be found and read and replied to— 

He was spiraling, and he needed to stop.

Astarion shakes the thoughts away with a frown, bringing his goblet back to his lips for another sip. He doesn’t know why she favors him so, why she allows him into her orbit when there’s a group full of others who would so readily take his place, all of whom would no doubt treat her better than he has. 

He wouldn’t blame her, if she sought after any of the others.

Certainly not after that night, the one where he had made her undress before him for his entertainment and then kicked her out of his tent when she was still wrapped up in the afterglow of what was a very intimate evening.

Perhaps too intimate.

His chest gnaws at itself at the thought of the way he had handled it all.

Astarion had lost count of how many times he had undressed in front of others, so many of their faces blessedly long blurred by time.

He had unbuttoned and unlaced countless of his shirts, pants, doublets—a liar’s allure painted upon his features as he gave whoever it was a show, forever the night’s entertainment for his quarry. 

Yet, he had made her do the same.

He had enjoyed it, too. He had enjoyed watching her undress solely for him, piece by piece, her gaze piercing his own as she reveled in his attention on her.

She hadn’t said no or objected to it. But he could see the challenge in her eyes just as easily as she could see right through him and his attempt to gain back his precious lead in their little game, the perceptive little thing. 

A strange feeling—remorse—settles itself in his chest as he watches her from across camp.

The remorse only grows the longer Astarion fixates on it, leading to more and more questions that he doesn’t have the answers to, the weight of them near unbearable upon his scarred shoulders.

The crushing reality was that his plan was crumbling bit by bit, like a tiny pebble crushed under foot; and the worst part about it was that he was finding it harder and harder to care. 

Rin has made it abundantly clear that she is on his side.

He’d seduced her, had won her sword (mediocre skill notwithstanding), and had long secured her dedication to his cause.

By all accounts, his plan is practically complete where she’s concerned.

All they needed to do now was get back to Baldur’s Gate and—well, he wasn’t quite sure what would come after they get back into the city, Astarion was still a little fuzzy on the details of it all, but she’d help him figure it out when the time came, of course. 

Rin was aways helpful when it really mattered.

So why is it that he can’t stop with the first part? Even if he were to decide to stop sleeping with her, he wasn’t particularly concerned that she would suddenly turn on him. 

He has no reason to find his way into her bed now; no reason other than his own selfish, deep-seated desire for her company and attention and affection.

Rin catches his eye in a poorly timed glance of his own, and smiles so full of a sickening fondness—nose crinkled and flushed cheeks—at him.

Faster than he can follow she’s out of Halsin’s embrace, gracing the druid with a playful smile and a pat on the shoulder before she saunters over to where he sits perched on his rock, limbs unnaturally loose as she pads closer—drunk indeed.

Astarion doesn’t miss the way the light from the fire limns her figure from behind, setting her aglow in a halo of golden-red as she finds her way over to him, something in his chest warming as she nears.

She sways slightly when she stops before him and he can smell the rich tang of the whiskey on her as she sends him a mischievous look that has his lips already quirking up at the corners. 

“You,” she pokes him in the chest to add an emphasis that he did not need. “Should come join us”

“And you,” he refrains from poking her back in response, though the thought amuses him. “Are drunk.”

Rin takes a step closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning forward, slotting herself between his legs and blithely ignoring the glances the motion garners from their companions.

Astarion’s eyes widen at the blatant display of affection, taken aback by the ease of it as the scent of her surrounds him—honey and flowers and all around loveliness. 

On anyone else he would hate the perfume she wears, but on her it smells nothing short of wonderful; tempting him to bury his face into her neck and breathe her in.

Her hands play with the hair on his neck, as they always seem to, delicate fingertips running through the waves and he resists the urge to lean into her soothing touch.

He can feel multiple sets of eyes upon the two of them, voices lowered into whispers as the group no doubt gossips. The nature of his relationship with Rin is far from a secret, he’s drawn too many beautiful sounds from her lips for anyone to be unaware of their trysts. 

Astarion secretly revels in the idea that they are quite possibly jealous of what Rin gives to him; something that none of them have ever received from her. 

So let them see, then. 

Let them see that it is him who she seeks out, his arms the ones she wants to find herself in, his lips the ones she wishes to kiss.

Astarion’s arms find their way to her waist with an uncomfortable ease, hands settling along the indent of it as his thumbs run up and down her covered skin without thought, dragging her closer between his legs until their faces are mere inches from one another’s, only the rock beneath him stopping her chest from pressing fully against his own.

“I’m not drunk enough, I fear.” Rin cocks her head to the side with a smile, as she whispers covertly to him. “Maybe, if you come share a drink with me, we can fix that.”  

Astarion allows himself the temptation to brush an errant curl away from her face, the lock just as soft as he knew it’d be, before matching her tone. “Don’t be such a lush, dear.”

“Oh, come on, Astarion. I know that you enjoy a good drink as much as I do. And I promise, the whiskey is good.” 

He swears that he can hear her breath hitch as his fingers accidentally brush against her cheek, her eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise as he tucks the curl behind her ear.

“Oh, I’ve got no doubt of that, my dear,” He chuckles, a corner of his mouth turning up without his permission. “If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be quite so tipsy in front of me.” 

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing,” Rin tuts, pouting. 

The way her bottom lip pushes out and her eyes widen under lowered brows is, dare he say, cute; and he can’t help the inward sigh that he’s now been relegated to thinking of a beautiful woman something as absurd as cute. 

It’s a blow to his seductive charm, surely, to use such a word to describe her; but all of the other adjectives he’s thought of in the past seem to had fled his mind under her spell when she looks at him like that. 

What in the absolute hells has she done to him?

“Pouting? Really, darling?” Astarion drawls, the hand he had used to tuck her hair back now brushing openly down her cheek in a touch that has her face heating to a most becoming shade of pink.

Rin instinctively leans into his hand and he resists the urge to cup her cheek, suddenly possessed by the want to draw her face closer to his.

“You don’t have to come drink with me at all, of course.” Her voice takes on that same tone it had taken on earlier, intention dripping from her words like the thickest of honey as her she bites her lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. “We can always go find something else to do instead. Just the two of us.”

The pink of her tongue peeks out to wet her bottom lip, soothing the place where she bit down upon it, and if Astarion hadn’t been paying attention already, he certainly would be now.

“Oh? Just the two of us?” He teases her, his other hand moving to curl around her lower back to pull her even closer, Rin curving herself into him, and Gods if the feeling of her against him didn’t feel like heaven. “What do you have in mind? A game of cards? Or, perhaps we should practice our calligraphy together, hm?”

Rin leans in to let her lips brush against the tip of his ear, Astarion barely holding back the shiver that threatens to break free as her hands comb through his hair and she speaks low, “I can make you feel good again, Astarion. If you want me to.”

Her words bleed with affection and genuine sweetness, and Astarion finds it very difficult to say no to her when she asks like that.

His mind flashes back to earlier, the image of Rin on her knees as she had waited for his answer, hands poised at his waistband streaking through his mind along with others as his stomach tightens. 

Her perfect lips wrapped around his cock, the feeling of coming down her throat, drops of diamond-like tears tracing down flushed cheeks, his hands buried in her hair.

How she had told him to take his pleasure and not worry about hers. A very sweet sentiment that he deeply appreciated for reasons he very much didn’t want to think about at the moment.

‘Thank you, Astarion, for letting me give you something for once,’Rin had said. 

As if she didn’t already give him plenty.

He’s thoroughly enjoyed being at her mercy, her touch always soft and gentle while she asks for permission. It had been so many years since he had indulged in wanting to be touched like that, and having affection heaped upon him by someone so eager to please him has quickly become nothing short of addicting. 

“Oh? And do tell, how you plan on doing that?” Astarion lets his fingers drift slowly up her spine, enjoying the way her body presses harder into his and her breath catches, the sound lovely.

“Follow me and I’ll show you,” Rin whispers as she steps out of the circle of his arms, swaying slightly as she does, and Astarion’s brows knit together in consternation.

She grabs his hand, and Astarion swears the feeling of hers wrapped around his could scald him, every nerve in his body set alight by that innocent touch.

He allows himself to be lead to her tent, content to follow after her with hands still connected; but there seemed to be a single glaring issue standing in Astarion’s way that he was apparently now unable to ignore. 

She was quite drunk tonight. 

Too drunk, according to a newer, still unfamiliar voice in his head. 

It’s a step too far for him now, or at least it is where she’s concerned; a step that, granted, months ago he wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at taking. 

All the better if they were too drunk, it only made his job easier in the end.

But Rin’s not like that, she’s not a mark and she deserves so much better than being taken advantage of in such a state, even if for his plan or his own personal desires of her. 

She would be so easy to please like this, with the alcohol addling her mind. 

And oh, how he could please her. 

He could so easily touch and kiss and fuck any thoughts she may have about Halsin or any of the rest of them right out of her mind, ensuring that his name is the only one that falls from her lips.

She steps through the flap of her tent, her hand still holding his, and once he’s inside she’s turning again, wrapping her arms around his neck as she balances up on tiptoes, staring earnestly into his eyes. 

“I’ll do whatever you want, Astarion. Just tell me, I want to know more about what you like.” She sways again, and his arm wraps around her waist to steady her as their bodies press together.

“Let’s get you lying down, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t meant to say such a word earlier, but it had slipped out of his mouth as he had hit the burning, white hot peak of his pleasure at her worship. 

Astarion finds, though, that he likes the way it flows off his tongue when directed at her. 

It fits her well enough, in his opinion.

He lets Rin drag him to the ground until her back is against her bedroll and he hovers over her, staring down into hazy green eyes as her curls spread around her. She’s a vision like this, and he memorizes the sight of her without thinking to, his eyes moving to capture every inch of her before his mind even realizes what he’s doing and can tell himself to stop.

“And now, Astarion?” 

She waits on a bated breath, waiting, as his eyes finding their way again to her lips.

Kiss her. That voice in the back of his mind is nothing but a traitor as it whispers to him, knowing full well he can’t give in to such dizzying impulses like that on a whim.

He knows better than to allow himself to kiss her. Because once starts he won’t be able to stop.

It would be so easy to fall into her, to kiss her into utter oblivion and lose himself in the body she so readily offers. To forget all about his pathetic life if only for the little bit of time they steal away to spend together in temporary bliss.

But it always comes back after. 

The memories, the reality of who is he and what he’s done, the feeling of his skin crawling in the aftermath of so many hands that have touched him without permission.

Her touch is different, but when he’s been touched thousands of times by thousands of people, it all seems to blend together in the end no matter what he wants—even if hers is the only one he wants to think about and remember the feeling of, thoughts of her consuming him even with just a gentle brush of her arm against his.

“And now, darling, you sleep.”

He doubts she’ll remember much come morning, the whiskey burning through her veins hotter than a flask of alchemist’s fire; but Astarion finds that he wants to be remembered, if only by her, just this once.

Wants her to remember their time together the way he always will. If they survive this, even when he has his freedom and is long gone to wherever it is he wants to go—he will always remember. 

He ignores the stutter of loneliness that pangs in his chest as he imagines ever so briefly what his freedom will look like when he’s on his own with no one else around.

It would certainly be quiet. Perhaps even peaceful. 

He would be able to spend his time however he wished it in the solitude, not a soul around to bother him with foolish chatter unless he went in search of such a thing. 

Strange how the thought of it doesn’t hold the same appeal that it once did.

A hand running along his cheek draws him out of his thoughts, dragging him back to the present as Rin looks up at him, eyes soft and yet somehow still managing to pierce straight through his un-beating heart as she studies his features.

“I meant it, you know—what I said to you that night. You don’t have to fuck me, Astarion. You can come sleep with me and we can just lay together. Or even just talk. I know my conversation doesn’t mean much, but—” She cups his cheek in her palm, the tenderness of it threatening to burn him to cinders. “It doesn’t have to be just about sex between us. We’re friends too, aren’t we? Friends can simply enjoy each other’s company and presence and take care of each other, can’t they?”

She’s babbling, words falling out of her mouth freed by the whiskey; but the innate truth he hears in them threaten the remaining bits of resolve that he has left.

Astarion’s not quite sure who she’s trying to convince—herself or him—but his determination wanes regardless, like a thread pulled too tight and on the verge of snapping.

But it wasn’t just about the sex, and if it’s not just about his plan, then what was it about?

He’s fairly certain friends don’t typically know each other’s bodies as intimately as they do, or know how beautiful they look as they fall apart, or find themselves craving nothing more than to simply exist with the other near.

Friends probably also don’t think about each other in the depths of the night when they’re cold and alone and hurting, the thought of the other a shining light in the eternal darkness of their existence.  

Astarion, though, has never had any friends that he can remember.

With more gentleness than he would prefer, Astarion removes her hand from his cheek and rights himself to a kneel, his knees finding their home on either side of her hips. 

He holds her hand within his own, turning his attention where he cradles it in his palm. Her hand is smaller than his, several calluses along the places where she holds her rapier and her quill, fingers still decorated with the ink she must have used earlier to write him a very scathing letter.

He had briefly considered tearing the letter to bits, the words contained on the piece of paper properly irritating and, in Astarion’s opinion, practically libel, but he couldn’t do it; instead relegating it to the pile where he keeps all the other useless slips of parchment from her in a neat stack hidden out of plain sight in his tent.

Her letters were, after all, the first tangible thing anyone had given him since he was bestowed with his sanguine hunger, his dark curse. 

And whether he wants to admit it or not, he’s so far been unable to find a valid reason to rid himself of them, useless though they may be.

Before he can catch himself, he’s leaning his head down to the hand he holds within his own, and with a damning softness he brushes a kiss onto each of her ink-stained fingertips where they had touched his face, lips light against them before placing a final, reverent kiss in the center of her palm.

She’s looks as though she’s not even breathing when Astarion raises his head to stare down at her, her hand still clasped in his own. 

He can hear the beat of her heart, drumming loudly against her ribcage with a rhythm he’s become so very familiar with, and he can smell the ambrosia of her blood as it soars through her veins.

Even in the darkness he can see the pink of her cheeks and the freckles that dust over the tops of them and he’s half-tempted to count them, wishing to brush his fingers over each and every one of them, if only to feel his skin against the sunny warmth of her own.

But it’s too much, and he’s spiraling downdowndown again into the depths of somewhere he’s not yet ready to be, and so he needs to leave. Needs to leave for the same reason he has to leave her every night, despite the weakness that has him indulging in anything and everything else she’ll afford him.

He has no other choice, for when she speaks such innocent words to him, offering him the simple solace of rest so full of a tender, blossoming affection, he’s filled with a want so heavy it threatens to drag him under.

Because if Astarion allows himself to give in—to know what it would be like to be warm, comfortable, safe—he knows he would never be able to go without it again.

Warmth, kisses, attention, kindness—all heaped upon him without wanting anything in return. No money, no favors, no motive other than her pure wish to spend time with him.

It’s a good thing his heart no longer beats, for if it did, Astarion has no doubt that she would be able to hear the rampant sound of it in his chest just as he can hear her own.

He rests her hand back down, letting it settle across her stomach as he swallows down the torrent of things that threaten to break free from him, Rin looking at him with a confused sort of wonder, as though he were a puzzle she was trying desperately to fit the pieces of together in her mind.

“Good night.” He stands to leave, movements as quiet as the night around them thanks to the unnatural grace he possess, before turning toward the tent flap. “Sleep well, my darling.”

He’ll allow himself that much, at least; for what was the harm in letting himself indulge in getting to call her his own just this once, if only to see what it feels like?

“You too, Astarion.” He turns his head briefly at her whispered words and meets her eyes, something molten and unguarded smoldering in her gaze as she watches him leave.

He can’t bear the sight of it a moment more, another utterance from her all it would take for him to succumb to his most secret desires—things he can barely stand to admit to himself—and so he turns his head forward and walks back out into the darkness, letting the honest and true longing that has been slowly burning him from the inside out finally consume him. 

[andrea-lyn]

Roswell New Mexico - Master Fic Rec Post

See under the cut for thirty-four total recs, predominantly Malex. There's also 10 additional in the "Recs Less Travelled" project here.

a few drinks and some conversation by @christchex

Michael Guerin makes a friend who isn’t his sibling, an ex, or a sibling’s ex.

Astriferous Sea by hrhbrittany, Sismyn

Alex has always been the baby among the sirens in the Dead Sea. Michael is performing beard services for his sister. Communication is a little wishy-washy.

This AU came out of nowhere and smacked me right with the ‘I’ve always wanted this and I just never knew’. It has sirens and rescues and bad guys and false relationships and real marriages and rings and drama and romance. It honestly reminds me (in the best way) of an exciting romance novel and I’m so jazzed there’s still one part left to it.

The Bachelor by Sweetgirl2019

After the events of high school, Michael, Isobel & Max moved to California while Liz, Maria & Kyle stayed in Roswell and Alex went to war overseas. Once his enlistment period ends, Alex gets thrown into something that brings him and Michael back together again.

So I think this might be my favourite to see updated right now. It should be a run-of-the-mill fluffy AU, yet the author threw this incredible curveball by using the alien background in a canon divergence to turn The Bachelor into both a romantic dramedy for the boys, but also keeping the looming threat of people finding out about aliens in the background. Also, I think this is top tier pining that you will actively feel in your own chest, that’s how good it is. 

blink back to let me know by haloud - Roswell New Mexico

Alex doesn’t have important conversations over the phone when he can avoid them. It feels too much like going in blind. But in some ways, the phone makes it easier–it’s easier to break when no one’s looking.

It’s Mylex and the 5th in a series, and every part is worth reading, but I definitely re-read parts 4 and 5 a lot. It’s so well written and the dynamic is mwah and I love how Kyle fits into this. One of my favourite pieces in this is how Kyle reacts to his father in relation to Michael & Caulfield and it’s an amazing read.

built this house on memories by @villanellve

He wakes up eight years in the future, and everything is strange, but Alex is there.

YOU GUYS. If you were to write a list of tropes I adore, this would be way up there at the top because of how much I love it. I am a sucker for a character having to be removed from their situation to learn (whether it’s an alternate universe or the future or the past), but this one is so achingly painful and perfect and hopeful. I love the callout that the situation is almost too hard for Alex, I love the resolution at the end on Michael’s part, and you could just soak in the happiness and comfort of their future lives if you let yourself.

Can’t Get No by one_flying_ace

“They’re on round two already,” he says, tilting his head towards the truck again, “or maybe three.” Guerin grimaces, and that’s fair; it’s his brother, after all. “You know how they’re feeling. Could I handle it, if you stopped-” being in control, he doesn’t say, but Guerin shudders. “I’m good, Alex. Just keep the hell away.” (Or: alien sex rocks don’t make them do it, but they sure do help.)

Sex pollen/sex-or-die fics are pretty much a requirement, but this is my absolute favourite and I have re-read it more times than I can tell you (let’s put it at six or seven?) The restraint that Michael has in this is amazing, but the mental images of it are incredible as well. I loved Max and Liz’s secondary presence as well and how each character was tonally perfect down to the little things (like Max not noticing Michael’s sex marks). What a good. What a hot. What amazing.

Constant as the Northern Star by celzmccelz

Michael stares at Kyle. “But I’m a guy! How can I be pregnant?” Kyle looks embarrassed. “Well, you appear to have a fully functioning set of female reproductive organs—or, I mean, like, the kind of reproductive organs that are associated with a double X-chromosome in humans, so I’d assume that you probably became pregnant when semen was introduced into your reproductive tract—” “Jesus Christ, Kyle!” says Michael. He could have happily lived the rest of his life without ever hearing Kyle Valenti say the words “semen” and “reproductive tract.” Kyle’s eyes widen. “Have you been having unprotected sex?” “Oh my God, I am not having this conversation with you!”

Yes, going in, there are some warnings to be cognizant of. It’s mpreg, there’s a lot of medical stuff to go through, but I think this is my absolute favourite of the mpregs I’ve read and it actually comes down to Michael’s support system outside of Alex, namely in Kyle. There’s no sudden BFF bracelets being given, but that morality that makes Kyle Valenti who he is, that’s right there. Also, given that this is an mpreg fic, it delves into family and plot in a way that I haven’t often seen. Plus, you get the ‘getting back together’ Malex that I so deeply crave.

Contigo me encontré by beautifulcheat (Katalyst), ladynox

The Lockhart House was once a home, although it was never a happy one. Steeped in tragedy, it still stands today, in the heart of Old Town Roswell, attracting ghost hunters and those seeking to catch a peak of something from beyond the veil.

Contrary to popular myth, it wasn’t currently haunted (except by one paranormally talented docent). It was Michael’s favorite job and the best part of his summer home from UNM. Or at least was until Alex Manes was hired to man the gift shop, complicating an otherwise fun and easy job.

everywhere on earth you go - @evepolastried

Across the room, he can still see how Michael Guerin is looking at him. And that’s something different, something new, something so very familiar. The thrill of nerves, of guilt, of want. Alex smiles, and he starts to sing. (OR: Alex Manes grabs his guitar and gets the hell out of Roswell in 2008, and he leaves behind a letter. Here’s what happens ten years later)

I love this. This one has something incredible, and it’s something I called out, but it has this amazing work with pace. There’s a frantic moment at the bar and it’s chaos, and you feel it. It’s rushed and wild and crazy, but then everything slows down and it gets perfect. There’s Michael, there’s Alex, there’s music, and it’s such a great ride.

Family Matters by @bestillmyslashyheart

Isobel is telepathic. Most of the time she ignores it. She used to pick up on other’s people’s emotions but she’s long since learned to tune that out. Until one night she can’t. Someone, somewhere is in such a state that it’s spilling over and she’s left to deal with the brunt of it. Or, Michael keeps things close to the vest until he can’t. The night after Alex leaves him at the drive-in, everything he’s feeling bubbles up inside until it spills over onto Isobel. Suddenly he’s left with no other choice but to open up.

This is an early fandom piece, but I still think it’s held up to an immensely amazing rate. Not only that, but I love how it delves into powers, Michael and Isobel’s relationship, and the incredible idea of spillover, which I still actively wish would become canon because of this fic. I think it’s so IC, especially with Michael’s active wish not to talk about it that he screws himself over in his sleep and seriously, it’s such a good read for both Isobel & Michael stuff, but also Michael & Alex.

the first who ever did - nostaljinks

Five times Michael saves Alex + 1 time Alex saves Michael back.

I feel like there aren’t enough words that I can heap onto this of praise. This fic is well-written, well-plotted, well-thought out, well-everything. It’s a beautiful emotional roller coaster and will make you ACHE, but in a great way. It also is the right amount of long that you want more, but you also get it, and it’s just as quality as the rest. ABSOLUTE must read.

fish bowl by @sabrinachill

Alex makes a series of phone calls and bad choices that lead him directly here — an Airstream on the edge of a junkyard with a distractingly attractive mechanic showing him how the dining table converts into a bed that he can sleep on for just $75 a week. It is, of course, completely absurd. But there’s something cozy about the fuzzy yellow blanket on the bed/table and the sparkling sunlight streaming through the mostly-clean windows, in the smell of leather and motor oil and aftershave and summer storms, in the hopeful half-smile on Michael’s face. That’s his name — Michael. Alex’s potential new roommate and landlord. (AKA An AU About Quarantined Roommates Who Fall in Love)

I highly recommend anything by @sabrinachill, but this fic is a really clear argument about why. It’s an AU that involves quarantine, and you might think ‘oh, I’ve read that before’, but then it will take you down the unexpected road that you didn’t expect to go down, but as soon as you take that twist, you instantly realize how much better it is that way. Hats off to the clever plotting not just in Fish Bowl, but other fics! 

Funny How Things Never Change - @waroftheposes​

“What can I do for you?” Michael asks, turning to face Alex. Alex can tell the moment that Michael’s mind registers who he’s addressing, because the polite smile drops from his face and the hat falls from his hand. He stands there, eyes wide and unbelieving, looking at Alex. Alex takes a deep breath, willing his racing heart to settle. “Well,” he begins and is his voice shaking? “For starters you can get your stubborn ass over here and give me a divorce.” – (A Sweet Home Alabama AU)

Yooooo, guess who was bereft when she thought she lost this link. It was absolutely me. This AU makes me happy in so many ways, especially the storms in the desert motif that keeps coming back around, and also that it’s messy. I like that it’s not cut and dry, that it goes right up until the wedding, and that it takes some real talk for them to get back together. I love fics where they all get to be human and this one is just so good. 

I Know Nothing Stays The Same by aewriting

“Alex doesn’t believe in miracles until one happens to him. His father has a hammer in one hand and Alex’s throat in the other. As Alex’s consciousness fades, he’s dimly aware of movement. His father’s about to swing the hammer, and this is how Alex will die.” When an unexplainable force puts a stop to Jesse’s attack in the shed, Alex and Michael are forced to go on the run. Leaving Roswell is an easy decision, but navigating the consequences of that choice months and even years later proves to be much more complicated.

I think this one became a must read very early on, but then it’s continued to deliver. There’s been a few stories that delve into the characters getting therapy, but there’s a whole chapter here where it genuinely feels cathartic as we go through the process with Alex. This fic also is an excellent and long version of an AU I think that we’ve all wondered, about what would happen if they ran away, and it’s so well written and so real that I know I will be re-reading this a ton. Like many of the others, why I love it is because it’s not perfection, but it’s the kind of real where I want to wrap myself up in it. 

i won’t go, i can’t do it on my own by @queersirius

alex tries to let go by giving back the pieces of michael he’s kept

Millie has a bunch of AMAZING AUs (guys, the 10 Things I Hate About You is something I never thought I’d get, especially from a favourite author), but i think this one is actually my favourite, especially when it comes to the ship piece that Alex has. Again, when I talk about ‘fics that make me want to be better’, this one was one. The writing is engaging, the characterization is fabulous, and the emotions are so honest and real. Then there’s this line, like a gut punch:  “Because it’s the last thing I have of you,” he admits. “The last piece of you I have to let go of.” which I love because it’s still Alex’s journey, an honest attempt to offer closure (if closure is wanted). 

in some other life - @spaceskam​

michael tries to build a time machine, but ends up in a different reality all together

There are a lot of these that have been written and they are all quality, but I love this one especially because of how we get into Alex in the other universe, get the glimpse of this unknown Michael, but also the scene that strikes this one out for me is that Alex doesn’t want to let him go. I love that Alex gets to be selfish, that he begs for him to stay, and that we don’t get the automatic happy ending in that, but there’s still the hope for it. Also, Alex the Angel, unf. 

intimate encounters of the third kind by @alexmanes

Three years after Antar and its people take Earth under their wings, Roswell becomes the epicenter for human-alien relations between both planets. It doesn’t take very long for Alex Manes to find himself embroiled in a scandal that threatens this intergalactic partnership, all thanks to a beautiful man named Michael Guerin who is not nearly as human as he claims to be.

Okay, so, if you like No Love Like Your Love, the truth is that you have this fic to thank. This was my first introduction in RNM fandom as to what a really amazing fic could be that incorporated the royalty elements into the pairing. Once 1x12 aired and we met Michael’s mother, it was pretty much a done deal that I wanted to do something that played with that, but this is the actual inspiration. It’s well plotted, it has a great ensemble cast, and plays with the kind of care that it takes to know your plot inside and out, but also to leave breadcrumbs that guide the reader along. It’s very methodical in the sense that nothing is by accident and it has you on the edge of your seat.

It’s a long road back to you by @magsthemagical

Michael finds out that Alex is dating Forrest and he’s okay with it, until he’s not. Maria suggests a double date to show they can all hang out as friends. But they can’t… not really. [OR the one where Michael & Alex realize that they belong together and so they say goodbye to their respective relationships and start anew]

Honest truth time - in terms of ‘ships, while I always love people to ship and let ship, my personal preference for both Michael and Alex is one another, so both Maria/Michael and Forrest/Alex aren’t things that I usually seek out when trawling Ao3. This fic is so good to all parties involved. No one is a villain and I appreciate that they get to talk about things like Alex’s reticence to do certain things in public, but also being aware that Alex deserves to have something new as much as Michael.

Last Stop: This Town by @ubiestcaelum

Someone asked what it would have been like if Michael had gone home with the Evan’s and I couldn’t let it go.

Am I cheating because I requested this? idk, maybe, because another one I requested will end up here too. I am addicted to the idea of Michael getting the support system he needs, but THIS FIC takes it to the most impossibly amazing level and fleshes out the Evans parents in such an incredible way. I love that it’s not super sunshine and rainbows, but it’s an honest telling of raising kids (and maybe too many kids versus what you expected). I know this is only in progress (several today will be), but even as it is, it’s worth reading multiple times, because I know I have.

let me count the ways by @queersirius

liz ortecho isn’t allowed to date until her snarky, determined-not-to-date brother, alex ortecho, does. luckily, one of her suitors has a plan. well, max goes to isobel for a plan, which involves getting their brother, michael, to woo alex. or, the 10 things i hate about you AU

Obviously this needs to be here as I desperately pleaded for it to exist, but it’s so beyond what it might be as a mini tumblr ficlet and has become a whole world. It’s not just a great Malex story, it’s an amazing story for all the characters and really fleshes out a world, but weaves in the RNM characters perfectly, but also gives me a dynamic I want more of, in Alex being an Ortecho. It’s not quite finished yet, but Millie has never steered us wrong and I can’t wait for more.

Loathly by @aewriting

When King Manes and his sons are caught illegally hunting on Antarian lands, King Noah gives King Manes a choice - correctly answer a riddle or accept death. A year-long search for the correct answer ensues, leading the youngest son of the king, Alex, to strike a bargain with a mysterious woman who claims to know the answer. This is an AU of the Arthurian legend “Sir Gawain and the Dame Ragnell.”

Love at First Sass - @daffietjuh

Taking a class of 30 high school kids on a school trip to an Air Force base was about as exhausting as it sounds, luckily, the Captain giving them the tour is perfectly capable of handling a group of rowdy teenagers. Michael may be slightly in love Okay, so first of all, if you haven’t read any of the author’s other work, you should. The AUs are fantastic and the hockey one is still one of my favourites ever, but this one also just was exactly what I needed. It was sexy and flirty and fun, but also fit their personalities perfectly!

Everything in the Michael Sanders AU, by prouvaireafterdark which is a fantastic series that gives us what we all wanted, which is Walt Sanders giving Michael the home he deserved (and getting one right back).

My love is a life taker by @jocarthage

By the time he turned 15, Captain Alex Manes had been to every war zone and unofficial conflict the United States of America was involved in. It wasn’t regular practice, or even heard of, for a Colonel to bring his son along on combat missions; the exception was if the child had been identified as Time Aware, able to travel in time along their own timeline using stolen alien technology. So here Alex Manes was, 28, and ducking bombs, killing who he’s told to. On his way back from a mission, Alex slips into another timestream. It should be impossible. But he can hear a child crying and he heads towards the sound. This is the story of how Alex saved Michael and Michael saved Alex, with lots of time travel shenanigans and angst.

This story is incredible for so many reasons and one of them I continue to praise is the balance. It’s an Alex driven story, but you can break his life down into friends, mission, family, and Michael, and often those elements combine, but there’s never any update that doesn’t give you enough (imo). It’s excellent writing with engaging OCs and wonderful plot, and the most incredible love story.

not in this world (or the next) by @hannah-writes

It isn’t until he realises he can’t find the keys for his fucking truck anywhere and that there’s mail on the table addressed to Mr M Evans that Noah called him ‘Evans’, too. He fumbles inside the wallet that he’d managed to locate and pulls out a New Mexico licence with his picture on it; he doesn’t have a black eye and a split lip in this one, his hair’s tamed and he doesn’t look like he’s gone three days without showering. His date of birth is stamped, clear and correct, but then where his name should read ‘Michael Guerin’, it reads “Michael Evans’ and the address registered on the license is that of Max and Isobel’s childhood home. Noah had also said ‘your mom’s’. Not ‘Mrs Evans’. It feels like a bucket of ice water’s dumped over his head as he finally accepts that something is very, very wrong. (aka, the fic spawned from a tumblr prompt about Michael waking up in a parallel reality.)

This one, guys. This is an absolute beast of angst and love and a really well plotted story, but also is really amazing for how it creates Mikey, but also creates motive behind what drives both Michael and Mikey in ways that are the same, but also different. Genuinely, this fic is a great read because you get so much attention to the characters while also driving along the relationships, and who they are. 

nursery sharks by christchex

Six firsts in the Sanders household and a second.

Otherwise Engaged by JustAsSweet

Alex Manes was perfectly happy with his job at Colden Records but when his visa is rejected and deportation looms, marrying his assistant Michael Evans is his only option. And when they make a trip to Alaska to see Michael’s family, everything becomes a lot more complicated.

AKA: The Proposal AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway.

Shadow Work - @myrmidryad

After his discharge from the Air Force, Alex Manes is working as a shade - a professional ghost hunter - when Michael Guerin tracks him down. Alex left Roswell thirteen years ago and never went back, but overnight Michael’s family has vanished and the supernatural activity in Roswell has exploded, and he wants Alex’s help. Featuring: ghosts, more ghosts, metaphorical ghosts, and a lot of sex without talking about feelings. Also missing family members, government conspiracies, and gratuitous worldbuilding.

No, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. I can’t rec this enough. Literally, this is a novel-type rec. If this were a book on a shelf, I would be shouting that you need to go read it, because it is literally good enough to be a published work on a best-selling list. It’s so fucking good. Every time you think it can’t get better, it does. It has nuance and plot and world-building and it is So. Fucking. Good. I could sit here and sing praises all day and it still wouldn’t be enough. Please give yourself a holiday treat and read it.

The World Forgetting, By The World Forgot by Anonymous

Michael and Alex erase each other from their memories. It does not go according to plan. [Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Roswell style]

I mean, I could rec anything by Anonymous and it would be worth your read. They’re so good and so in character,  but this one is my favourite. It’s angsty as fuck, don’t get me wrong, but it plays with the movie plot in such a Roswell-specific way that makes sense that I honestly never even compared or contrasted it to the movie past the first few beats. The pain is visceral, and the memory loss segment is incredible, but also delivers on a positive ending. 

To Trust Love by @laughsalot3412 

The prisoner’s voice sounded like home. He could have been raised in Roswell, the way his accent stretched his vowels. He definitely hadn’t been. Alex would have remembered eyes like those. (AU where Alex Manes goes on an undercover rescue mission in Caulfield Prison and forms a bond with one of the prisoners in the process.)

I don’t have enough words in the English language to praise this one. Honestly, I don’t. For one, the pace and the length is perfect. That we got the parts as quickly as we did was honestly such a treat, but then every part was just as high quality as the last. There are chapters in this one that made me go, “holy shit, this would’ve been a novel I read”, and then there are little emotional impacts where the tone shifts, but it works so well. It’s SO HOT, and the AU is so perfect, and also helped inspire the one that I wrote last night with the “genie”. 

Unwind Me - delgay

“Think you can manage that? Sitting next to me, without picking a fight?” Michael challenged. “Can you?” Alex returned. “No idea,” Michael admitted with a sideways grin that never failed to make Alex’s stomach turn over, “But I’m eager to find out.” Alex is avoiding everyone, but he can’t seem to escape Michael.

This whole fic is intensely amazing, but it got on my rec list for the absolutely electric scene with the dancing that was absolutely beyond incredible. You also get Michael courting Alex, which is something he utterly deserves and I love the way Michael goes about it. 

we feel so american by thepredatorywasp

“Papa’s on the spaceship again?” River asks, his bright green eyes welling with tears and his face growing red. “Comin’ back?” “Of course he is,” Alex says, smoothing down the son’s hair and adjusting the Mickey ears atop his head. “Always.” There is no easy way to explain to your three year-old that not only is he an alien, but his Papa is an alien and that apparently, Michael loves leaning hard into irony because he has gone on Space Mountain approximately ten times over the course of four days.

LOOK. I LOVE A SWEET KID FIC. The next rec will prove this, but this one will melt your fucking heart. I love it because it’s not perfect and easy. There’s difficulties, there are issues, but it’s Michael and Alex and their baby boy in Disney and if you do not come away feeling warmer from this, then I just don’t know. 

We’re Waking Up Slow by myrmyriad

“I think need a little time to process all of this. Um. Storm’s getting closer and I don’t really wanna get snowed in here, so…let’s just talk later, okay?” What if the storm that blew in during S01E10 came in a lot faster and heavier, and Alex was snowed in at the junkyard?

Again, fic that makes me wish that I could write as well as this. This one makes you feel it all. You’ll feel the cold, the wet, the storm, the pain, the hope, the healing. You feel the connection between Michael and Alex, and you’ll be left wishing at the end that this had been how canon went, but also that it’s justifiably not that far off from how it could have, had they taken a different tack, because of how well it’s written. 

What’s Up, Pregnant? by Marie_L

Michael Guerin is broke, practically homeless, and a knocked up secret alien. What now?

Speaking of kid fics, this mpreg is one that I really like, because if nothing else, it introduced the concept of mpreg using pods to me in the fandom, and I kind of went, “YES, of course”. I love that it’s got everyone rallying, but I mostly love the psychic connection between Michael and his baby, and the softness of loving sugar and Alex. 

With Love Overflowing by Nestra

"We both agree that this is not the place we belong, right? Please say yes."

Michael tossed his hat on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch. "If you mean that your dad's been dead since CrashCon and some kind of crazy shit is going on, then yeah, I agree."

(This one was for me for Secret Santa, it is just THAT GOOD that I want everyone in the world to read it)

x marks the spot (where we fell apart) by catching_paper_moons, preciousthings

“Don’t write it off,” Alex says, and Liz is so relieved someone is coming to her defense, even if it’s someone who already knew beforehand. “Liz and Kyle have ideas, and there are people in this room with literal superpowers. It’s pretty much our only option.” “Our only option?” Isobel scoffs. “What are we, Ocean’s Eleven?”

[rosiecqtt]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary; Your back in the capital for the 75 annual Hunger Games waiting for the opening parade ceremony to begin when one of the victors, namely the male from four, comes over to talk to you which sparks certain emotions in Peeta.

Notes; Okay so I’m thinking of maybe perhaps writing a rewrite fic for the Hunger Games because, like a lot of others, I am once again in my Peeta Mellark phase. This is a little snippet from that said potential fic. Read it and let me know if you’d be interested in more? Let me know if you think its lacking anything or has too much, any feed back would be great. 

Word Count; 3.3k

Warnings; It is the Hunger games, so mentions of violence and death. It gets a little spicy at the very end, Kissing and hickeys mostly.

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The last several days had seemed like a blur, and now here I was. Back in the capital dressed in an elegant costume waiting to be paraded for all of Panem to see, literally. Cinna had walked me to the elevator, but he had more things to attend to before it started so he had left me to travel down alone.

The elevator all too quickly arrived at the ground floor of the Remake Center, which houses the huge gathering place for the tributes and their chariots before the opening ceremonies. I'm hoping to find Peeta or Haymitch, or both, but they haven't arrived yet. So I once again find myself alone.

Unlike last year, when all the tributes were practically glued to their chariots, the scene is very social. The victors, both this year's tributes and their mentors, are standing around in small groups, talking. 

Of course, they all know one another and I don't know anyone, and I'm not really the sort of person to go around introducing myself. Back in twelve, I was often teased in school for not being more social, but eventually, I grew to not mind so much. 

 Instead of mingling and trying to find allies, I just stroke the neck of one of my horses and try not to be noticed. 

It doesn't work.

 The crunching hits my ear before I even know he's beside me, and when I turn my head, Finnick Odair's famous sea-green eyes are only inches from mine. He pops a sugar cube in his mouth and leans against my horse.

 “Hello, Y/n,” he says, as if we've known each other for years, when in fact we've never met. 

“Hello, Finnick,” I say, just as casually, although I'm feeling uncomfortable at his closeness, especially since he's got so much bare skin exposed.

 “Want a sugar cube?” he says, offering his hand, which is piled high. 

“They're supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They've got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I ... well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick.” he says with a flirty wink.

Finnick Odair is something of a living legend in Panem. He won the Sixty-fifth Hunger Games when he was only fourteen. So besides Peeta and I, he is one of the youngest victors. He was from district four and was a Career, so the odds of him winning again, were in his favor. I had to admit that he certainly was extraordinarily beautiful. He was very tall, probably six foot two. He has a very athletic build, with golden skin and bronze-colored hair, and those incredible eyes.

I find it hard to form an argument against how beautiful he is. But I can honestly say he's never been someone I would want to be with. Maybe he's too pretty, or maybe he's too easy to get, or maybe it's really that he'd just be too easy to lose.

 “No, thanks,” I finally say, refusing his offer of the sugar. 

“I'd love to borrow your outfit sometime, though,” I say attempting to tease him as my eyes scan his elaborate outfit. 

He's draped in a golden net that's strategically knotted at his groin so that he can't technically be called naked, but he's about as close as you can get. I'm sure his stylist thinks the more of Finnick the audience sees, the better. 

“And you're absolutely terrifying me in that getup. What happened to the pretty little-girl dresses?” he asks. He wets his lips just ever so slightly with his tongue. Probably this drives most people crazy, and I can’t deny that it didn’t raise a blush to my cheeks.

 “I outgrew them,” I say simply looking back at the horses. 

Finnick leans closer to me and takes the collar of my outfit and runs it between his fingers. I look up at his face my eyes watching him closely, trying to calculate his next move.

“It's too bad about this Quell thing. You could have made out like a bandit in the Capitol. Jewels, money, anything you wanted.”

 “I-I don't like jewels, and I have more money than I need.” I stutter out flustered at his close proximity.

I clear my throat and take a step back “What do you spend all yours on, anyway, Finnick?” I say. 

“Oh, I haven't dealt in anything as common as money for years,” says Finnick.

 “Then how do they pay you for the pleasure of your company?” I ask, genuine curiosity seeping into my voice. 

 “With secrets,” he says softly with a charming smirk. He tips his head in so his lips are almost in contact with mine and my face grows hot. 

“What about you, girl on fire? Do you have any secrets worth my time?”.

 “No, I, uh I’m an open book,” I whisper back. “Everybody seems to know my secrets before I know them myself.” I lie hoping he will back off. He smiles. 

“Unfortunately, I think that's true.” His eyes flicker off to the side and I find myself letting out a breath.

 “Peeta is coming. Sorry, you have to cancel your wedding. I know how devastating that must be for you.” He tosses another sugar cube in his mouth and saunters off as anger fills my chest.

 ‘How dare he’. I think bitterly to myself. Did everyone truly think that I was simply faking my love and adoration for Peeta? Did I really come across like I was some horrible bitch using Peeta to make myself look good? A wave of sadness washed over me and I started to question if maybe everyone is right. 

 Peeta's walking up beside me snapped me out of my thoughts. He’s dressed in an outfit identical to mine and my blush returns full force as my eyes scan his body.

 “What did Finnick Odair want?” he asks, a strange tone to his voice. I turn to face him, a frown evident on my face.

 “He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets,” I say.

 Peeta laughs. “Ugh. Not really.” 

“Really,” I say with an anxious laugh.

Peeta hums in response, watching as Finnick walks up to some other victor he seemed to know. He clenched his jaw tightly and looked back over to me. I thought it was strange but chose to not comment on it as the parade music began signaling for everyone to mount their chariots. 

“Shall we?” He says turning to me and stretching out a hand to help me into the chariot. 

I smile and gratefully accept it, climbing up and pulling him up after me. “Hold still,” I say, as I reach up to straighten his crown. He smiles down at me, and I return it glad that I don’t have to be here alone.

“Have you seen your suit turned on?” I ask him as I step back to make sure the crown is perfectly straight. “We're going to be fabulous again.”, I said teasingly, mocking the strange capital accent.

 “Absolutely we are”, he said with the same one. “But Portia says we're to be very above it all. No waving or anything,” he says more seriously. I nod, Cinna having said something similar.

“Where are they, anyway?” I asked eyeing the other chariots, they had set our costumes ablaze at last year's chariot ride but they were nowhere to be found.

“Maybe we better go ahead and switch ourselves on,” Peeta suggests noticing the panic growing on my face. 

So we do, and as we begin to glow, I can see people pointing at us and chattering, and I know that like last year we are going to be the talk of the opening ceremonies.

 When we’re almost out the door I crane my head around once again looking for them, but neither Portia nor Cinna, are anywhere in sight. 

With a frown, I look up into Peeta’s blue eyes that no amount of dramatic makeup can make truly deadly, and remember how, just a year ago, I thought he was prepared to kill me. I spent most of my entire time running away from him during the game, when in the end he was pretending to hate me all along so that he could protect me, which then created our start-crossed lover's story. I smile at him warmly and grab his hand without a second thought.

 We will go into this as one this time.

The voice of the crowd rises into one universal scream as we roll into the fading evening light, but neither one of us reacts. 

I simply fix my eyes on a point far in the distance and pretend there is no audience, no hysteria. But I can't stop myself from catching glimpses of us on the huge screens along the route, and we are not just beautiful, we are dark and powerful.

 We are the star-crossed lovers from District 12, who suffered so much and enjoyed so little of the rewards of our victory. We do not seek the fans' favor, grace them with our smiles, or catch their kisses. 

We are unforgiving. And I love it. Last year I craved the attention of the audience, knowing deep down that they loved Peeta more than me. I was desperate to gain the fan's attention in order to save myself. But not this time. This time I don’t care because I know I won’t win, nor do I care if they want me to. Peeta is the one who should have more fans. This time he will be the only one going home in the end. 

As we curve around the loop I hold Peeta’s hand tighter. I try to keep my gaze forward, not wanting to meet the faces of the other tributes, but I find it hard to not glance at all the others in front of us. Thankfully the ride goes by quickly and soon I find myself back in the training center but I dare not move until the doors close behind us. It seems Peeta thought the same thing because as the doors do finally close we both let out a long breath. 

Not letting go of my hand Peeta helps me off the chariot then jumps down beside me and together we walk towards our newly appeared stylists. Cinna and Porta are waiting on the far end of the room seeming very pleased with our display during our ride.

Haymitch has made an appearance as well, only he's not standing with them, he's over with the tributes of District 11. I see him nod in our direction and then they follow him over to greet us. 

I know Chaff by sight because I've spent years watching him pass a bottle back and forth with Haymitch on television. He's dark skinned, about six feet tall, and one of his arms ends in a stump because he lost his hand in the Games he won thirty years ago. I'm sure they offered him some artificial replacement like they did Peeta when they had to amputate his lower leg, but I guess he didn't take it. 

The woman, Seeder, looks almost like she could be from the Seam, with her olive skin and straight black hair streaked with silver. Only her golden brown eyes mark her as from another district. She must be around sixty, but she still looks strong, and there's no sign she's turned to liquor or morphling or any other chemical form of escape over the years.

 Before either of us says a word, she embraces me. I know somehow it must be because of Rue and Thresh. Before I can stop myself, I whisper, “The families?” 

“They're alive,” she says back softly, understanding what I meant before letting me go with a soft smile. 

Chaff throws his good arm around me and gives me a big kiss right on the mouth. My eyes grow wide and I jerk back, startled, while he and Haymitch laugh. Peeta watched Chaff with a clenched jaw, giving him the same strange look he gave Finnik earlier. 

I open my mouth to say something about it to him but the Capitol attendants are firmly directing us toward the elevators. I get the distinct feeling they're not comfortable with the camaraderie among the victors, who couldn't seem to care less. 

As I walk toward the elevators, my hand still latched tightly with Peeta's, someone else rustles up to my side. A girl pulls off a headdress of leafy branches and tosses it behind her without bothering to look where it falls. 

Johanna Mason. From District 7 Lumber and paper, thus the tree. She won by very convincingly portraying herself as weak and helpless so that she would be ignored. Then she demonstrated a wicked ability to murder. I admired her greatly and in the games last year many people assumed that I was following in her footsteps with my meek attitude. But unlike Johanna I was not as skilled at killing, just the hiding and playing dumb bit. 

She ruffles up her spiky hair and rolls her wide-set brown eyes. “Isn't my costume awful? My stylist's the biggest idiot in the Capitol. Our tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I’d gotten Cinna. You look fantastic.” She says with a wink. 

My face flushes and I feel Peeta’s grip on my hand tighten further and I find myself growing increasingly curious as to why. 

While we wait for the elevators, Johanna unzips the rest of her tree, letting it drop to the floor, and then kicks it away in disgust. Except for her forest green slippers, she doesn't have on a stitch of clothing and my face grows hot at the realization.

 “That's better,” she says plainly, very unbothered at the fact that she was naked and surrounded by people. 

We end up on the same elevator with her, and she spends the whole ride to the seventh floor chatting to Peeta about his paintings while the light of his still-glowing costume reflects off her bare breasts. When she leaves, I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding and. I watched as the doors close behind Chaff and Seeder, leaving us alone.

We both remain silent for a moment before he looks over at me with a smirk. 

“What?” I ask nervously turning to face him as we step out on our floor.

 “It's you, Y/n. Can't you see?” he says.

 “What's me?” I say confused. 

“Why they're all acting like this. Finnick with his sugar cubes and Chaff kissing you and that whole thing with Johanna stripping down.” He tries to take on a more serious tone, trying to mask the one he's had since Finnick had spoken to her, but he was unsuccessful 

“They're playing with you because you're so ... you know.” 

“No, I don't know,” I say. And I really have no idea what he's talking about.

 “It's like when you wouldn't look at me naked in the arena even though I was half dead. You're so ... pure,” he says finally. I blush, my face turning red again at the implication. “No, I am not!” I exclaim. 

“Yeah, but ... I mean, for the Capitol, you're pure,” he says, firmly. ”And honestly, it's very attractive." He said 

I paused at that, glad that he was behind me, and could not see the blush that seemed to darken my face. I felt his warm hands wrap around my waist as I tried to think of something to say to defend myself.

“I know we are engaged, but no one seems to understand that you are mine, Y/n” Peeta says softly, resting his head on my shoulder as he holds me against him. 

“They don’t respect that you are mine, and I don’t know how to show them that you are”. He said. “But I can show you,” he whispers seductively into my ear. "Yeah?" I ask softly, not trusting myself to be able to say anything else at this moment. 

“Oh yeah, will you let me do that sugar cube?” He asks gently, teasing me with that nickname. I know he was alluding to Finnicks offerings and I couldn’t help the amused smile that fell on my face. I remained still as his hands moved across my waist only to stop and rest on my hips. 

I nervously chew on my bottom lip and nod softly, growing both excited and nervous to see what he had planned. Suddenly his behavior since my encounter with Finnick all made sense. He. was. Jealous. Soft, affectionate, and kind Peeta, my Peeta, was jealous, and it was oddly very attractive. I felt a soft, wet kiss on my neck that snapped me out of my thoughts.

 “I need an answer sweetheart,” he said placing another kiss on the opposite side of my neck.  suck in a deep breath and lean further into him, “Yes”, I say breathlessly and I feel him smirk against my skin. 

 He kisses my neck once again, and I melt into his embrace. He pulls away and looks into my eyes, his pupils were dilated and his breathing was heavy.  “Hold tight then,” He says seductively before spinning me around. I gasp at his sudden movements and cling to him as he backs me up against the wall in his room and pins me to the door with his hips. I gasp and he takes that as an opportunity to kiss me deeply, letting his tongue explore my mouth. I soon find myself pressing back against him and matching his hungry kisses that seem to devour me. 

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and he holds my waist tightly, pushing himself closer to me and I can’t stop the moan that leaves my lips. “Peeta”, I say breathlessly as his mouth leaves mine and he opts to kiss my neck. 

He hums in response and moves his hand up to my neck to where the buttons of my top sit. He starts to undo them, and I let him. Once unbuttoned he pulls it down my arms and rids me of it, leaving me in just my bra and pants. He stares at me for a moment, his eyes taking me in before he moves in closer. His lips press against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. I let myself get lost in the moment, in the sensations he's making me feel. I feel my body melting into him and I reach my hands up into his blonde hair, tangling my fingers in it to ground myself.

He slowly kissed down my neck, nipping and sucking as he went. Dark red and purple marks decorated my skin as he went, successfully marking me ask his. Usually, he was gentle and sweet and though this wasn’t the first time they had kissed, it certainly seemed like the most intimate and hungry. 

He spent what seemed to be hours littering my chest and neck with his marks, successfully marking me as his, and he probably would have continued if Effie, Hamitch, and the others hadn’t gotten back and called for them. 

Pouting I looked up at Peeta, my eyes glassy and my pupils just as dilated as his. He chuckled softly and gave one last kiss to my swollen lips before resting his forehead against mine. 

“Hopefully now you’ll remember and understand that you’re mine Y/n,” Peeta said.  I smiled at him my heart racing in my chest as I looked up into his blue eyes. I nodded as I whispered, "I do." He leaned in and kissed me one last time before disappearing into his bathroom to quickly change. I stood against the door for another moment trying to process what had happened. 

After several seconds I laughed to myself, “Wow”, I whispered to myself as I looked around his room for something I could change into myself so as to not seem suspicious to everyone else. “Just wow”. I whispered shaking my head. My nickname in the Capital was the Girl on Fire, but it seemed like I wasn’t the only one who burning. 

[farseeryirith]

There are no weak Custodes

Felt the need to add a little continuation to my anxious Custodes reader and angel boy. I had a bunch of little ideas that I couldn't expand, so this is the result.

Once again, English - not my first language so pls forgive any grammatical or spelling or wording mistakes I might've missed. I am also yet to figure out how to properly format text posts in a more aesthetically pleasing manner. BUT my New Year's resolution was to ignore everything that tells me to keep hiding my little writings and get better at writing in English, so here I am trying to fulfill that.

Happy New Year!

Sanguinius x fem!Custodes reader

Warning: Canon-typical violence, death, blood, vague descriptions of anxiety, Canon character death

It's the Siege of Terra and no one is having fun!

“You are quite strong, My Lady.” The Angel lands beside you as the last of the orks are being picked off and you are pulling your guardian spear out of the heap of metal the greenskins had decided to call a vehicle. 

“Of course,” you look up at the primarch to reply. “There are no weak Custodes.” 

He smiles at you, and the way your face flushes makes you doubt your statement. 

“There are no weak Custodes, there are no weak Custodes..” you repeat in your head like prayer as you push past pain and exhaustion. “There are no weak Custodes” as your lungs are burning and your nerves are screaming. “There are no weak Custodes” as your once gleaming golden armour turns a bloody red and the bodies pile on and on. “There are no weak Custodes” as one of your still-beating hearts few out of your chest and now defends Eternity Gate alone. 

You want to run, to go to him, help him hold the gate, but you cannot. Your place is beside The Emperor, you are a loyal companion, you have no other allegiances. Guilt eats away at you for even thinking of being elsewhere, and the guardian spear sings its horrible song as you cleave through meat and bone and armour. “There are no weak Custodes” but a sickening image of charred and bloodied feathers takes root in your mind and blistering rage comes to defend you from the fear that seeks to devour. 

Sanguinius had found you on the bridge of The Red Tear, looking through the window at the stars, and came to sit with you for company. You had been so enamored with them, billions of worlds each different from the other, full of life and wonders you had only read about before.

You told him once you had never seen a tree and he took you to see a planet full of forests of them. You wish you could forget the way he had looked at you as you broke off a branch to keep in your quarters. He had flown away and returned with four more, each with leaves of different shapes and colours. 

He looks at you the same way now, with a gentle smile and his eyes flick between yours and your lips. You can hear the quickened pace of his hearts and you know what it means. You know yours are singing the same melody, but you do not want to admit it. 

“Please, My Lord.” you say, turning away from him. “Please do not look at me like this.”

“I can tell you feel the same way, My Lady.” he says softly, and it makes it that much harder to ignore the aberrant song. 

“I know.” an admission of defeat. “But neither of us should.”

You take off, back to your quarters before he can stop you, and you hear him call your name but you proceed ahead. 

Valdor is barking orders somewhere behind you, but you cannot tell what he is saying. There is only the sound of rushing blood in your ears and the muffled screams of the traitor in your hand as you repeatedly smash his head into the ground until it finally cracks and covers your helmet with red and grey. You wipe at your eyes and grab your spear, but before you can charge at your next target a hand grasps your shoulder tightly.

“Sister!” you are shaken from your battle haze. “Are you injured?”

“Lightly.” you barely recognize your voice as you answer. You sound like your throat is full of gravel, and you try to lunge forward to keep going, but you are pulled harshly back by your fellow Custodes. 

“Come then, with the Captain-General,” he says. “The Emperor has taken the fight to Horus. We follow.”

You turn and as your vision clears you can see the boarding party assembling - Valdor with your cadre, The Praetorian, and his sons have formed a phalanx as the Blood Angels file in. Sanguinius is last to arrive as you take your place beside your comrades. He looks at you for a moment, as if he can tell you apart from the other Custodes, and there is something in his eyes that makes your throat feel like closing up. His lips move silently and you recognize your name - he is apologizing to you and your breath stills. 

Over the months of your stay on The Red Tear, your quarters had begun to resemble a real home, as your collection of souvenirs from the planets you had visited grew. The tree branches rested in a vase, that had been procured for you, filled with a gell that kept the leaves green. A bottle full of salt water, and shells from an ocean where Sanguinius had urged you to come planetside without your armour and go for a swim - an experience you would never forget, there had been so much water. A jar full of red sand from a desert world - “It is a shame we are so far, else I would have taken you to see Baal.” He smiled as you watched the sun dip under the dunes. 

You knew you would most likely have to leave these treasures behind on the flagship - Valdor would question you and you would have to admit your delayed return was due to galavanting around the sector with The Angel, watching sunsets and swimming in oceans. And if you admit that, you would cave and admit everything else. 

You would have to admit how The Angel cradled your face in his hand and looked at you with so much tenderness that it made your skin feel too tight.

“I am not made for this,” you tell him, but you know your eyes betray how much his touch is welcome. “I am made for war.”

“So am I,” he says and his voice is just above a whisper as he comes closer and you can feel his sweet breath on your skin. “But we can pretend we were made for more.”

“My Lord..”

“Just Sanguinius. Please.” he cuts you off, insistent. “I am not your lord right now. Right now there is no Crusade, there is no Imperium. There is just us in this room and there is no one guarding the door.”

“Sanguinius, I..” you begin but you are silenced by a gentle thumb caressing your lips. You had bloodied them again and for a moment you think he’ll be put off by your compulsions, but the look he gives you makes your head feel light.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” he says and all the will to continue denying your feelings crumbles. 

“I do not want you to.” he does not wait for you to say anything else as he closes the distance. His wings come around you as if to shield you from the world that does not exist at this moment. He licks the blood off your lips and his arms grasp you tight and pull you flush against him, a deep growl escaping from within his chest.

He loves you achingly tenderly as if you were something precious, as if your body was not made only for slaughter. Like a silken noose, he wraps around you, and you die repeatedly in his arms. Months later, when you return to Terra, you still feel a blazing trail across your skin, everywhere where The Angel had touched you. 

This is what ancient humans feared when they thought of Hell, you think. The ship is a black abyss and there is nothing but daemons around you. You quickly realize that the host of Custodes has been separated from the rest of the boarding party and your hearts stop for a beat, but you swallow the blood in your mouth and ignore the sinking dread. You must push on, you must find them. The Emperor needs you. Sanguinius needs you. 

You follow the Captain-General as you cleave a path through the abominations, and you try to ignore every dying scream you hear behind you. There are fewer and fewer of you as you keep going and the darkness keeps growing closer, threatening to suffocate you. You close ranks so as to not lose any more bodies to the void, but it’s no use - you are outnumbered and beyond exhaustion. “There are no weak Custodes.” and you keep going even after something slices deep at your leg and you fall to your knees for a moment. They.. he needs you. 

You can hear a sister periodically call out numbers near you and, with horror, you realize she is keeping track of time. Seventy-one, by last count. You have been fighting abroad for seventy-one hours now and your armour feels like it is eating you alive. Seventy-one hours and you cannot hear anything save for your laboured breath and your furious hearts. Seventy-one hours and your hands shake as you fear the worst. You are late. 

The darkness lets up soon enough, only to give way to a line of Astartes. There is only a second of stillness before recognition comes through - traitors. Valdor screams to charge and you do with no hesitation. Bolter rounds fly around you, catch you in the shoulder but you keep going. The stink of the traitors tells you all you need to know to ignore the pain - they still see a threat in you, they have not won yet. 

The host of Custodes descends upon the traitors and your eyes meet the ones of an unhelmeted Word Bearer. They are wide and wild as even your few exhausted numbers carve through his battle brothers and cousins with terrifying efficiency. 

“Did He train you for this? To kill Astartes?” the traitor screams at you, horror in his voice, a dreadful realization. “Did He Know? Did He set us up for the slaughter?”

You do not answer his questions. Instead, you grab his face, lightning-fast, and bring him closer. 

“You reek of fear, Word Bearer.” your sandpaper throat bleeds as you speak. “And you are in my way.” you crush his jaw with your hand and move on. You are close to the bridge, you can feel it. A door opens in the distance of the corridor and you are proven correct. And your hearts still again. 

You can see white wings in the air - Sanguinius is there, he is engaged in a desperate duel with the monstrosity that still calls itself Horus. For a fraction of a microsecond The Angel’s gaze darts towards you, and you know he sees you. Those furious darkened eyes go soft and you know he is apologizing to you again. You do not have the time to question why. 

Burned and bloodied feathers fly across the bridge and the Brightest One falls. A cry of despair, a horrid and awful sound, echoes through the halls of the Vengeful Spirit, and deep within you something breaks. You want to scream as well, to curse the traitor, to run and tear him apart. You want to rage, you want to rage and sink your spear into his corrupted flesh and rend him into nothing. 

But you cannot scream, your throat feels like closing up and you find yourself unable to make a sound. Your eyes go dark, but your blade finds new meat to carve, hands moving by themselves. There are no weak Custodes, and your body knows that so it continues to do what it was made for on its own. 

You do not know what happened next. You come through to the voice of The Praetorian barking orders to take what is left of The Emperor to the Golden Throne. You hear you have won - that Horus is no more and the traitors are retreating. But all you can do is fall to your knees and sob, as you look upon the body of the man you loved, and his once brilliant white wings now stained red with his blood.

Later you don the black cape, along with your brothers and sisters. The Adeptus Custodes were tested and found wanting, and have been forever shamed. You tell no one that you do not wear the black out of guilt only. You wear it as mourning garb. 

[foryoufics]

Authors Note: There isn't much plot to this, I'm reading a classic book that I am loving and I can't talk about it with anyone so I thought of a cute little one shot idea. Hope you all enjoy :)

Word Count: 1975(?)

Warnings: maybe a little cursing here and there, neeeerrrrdddds~, reading, mention of previous divorce, extremely healthy happy relationship dynamics, teasing both innocently and the dirty kind (not smut, I apologize), innuendo, not proofread!

Summary: You and your best friend decide to tease Jungkook one day as he comes home and he has a trick up his sleeve for you that surprises you both; it's a good thing she can read a room and the little one was out camping with his uncles

Characters: "wife!" Long term established gf & fiance!, mentions of Jungkook's and best friend OC's son!, best friend + Jk's ex! Oc

“Have you ever looked back on everything….I mean all that has happened to us and I don't know…..wonder or possibly wish how things could have gone…differently?” You ask your best friend as you lay your feet in her lap. You two had been sitting on the couch and talking for you had no clue how long now. Twenty minutes could be an hour with you two since she had come back into your life; after all, it had only been about a year since her unforseen return into your life after having no idea if she still wandered the earth or not for over twenty years. You had known each other your entire lives, yet somehow, having been estranged for so long, were still practically strangers now. 

You had met Shyann as a young child, both of you being the same age of about four, she was your neighbor for a few years. You never lost the memories of your sleepovers, the palettes made with blankets on the floor, you had a everlasting memory of the two of you lying on them while someone took a photo and you both smiled for the camera, probably one of your mother's seeing as her stepdad was between you in the photo, the photo you lost long ago yet still held the mental image of. You had a blurred memory, not quite as visible and vivid, of the day that Shyann had said a bad word and her mother blamed you, was about to punish you for it until your aunt stepped in; the two of you weren't allowed to see that, your aunt was sure of that. After that, there were no memories shared with the two of you, seeing as you were apart for all those years. Now, here you sat, co-parenting your stepson, whom you love as none other than your own, and you sometimes do the same with him; there are similar photos of him and Jungkook, and him with you and Shyann just behind you on a table that you glance at for a moment as you ask her this question. 

Her eyes follow the path of yours, “Hey bitch, it's our night~,” she whines and gives a little giggle. You smile, “Shut up, I miss him…I can't help it,” you admit pouting. “Girl, it is your first night away from him, I get it, but he's with the guys camping he's fine. I'm sure he's having a good time. Besides, he's my kid, now, back to the question, before I answer, I want to start with a followup question. Are you and Gguk alright?” She asks, leaning forward to grab her drink from the coffee table. 

“Yes, everything with Gguk and I are wonderful, dare I say perfect,” you giggle. “Okay, okay, you don't have to rub it in,” she smiles with a half smirk, you both knew she was happy to hear that. She loves you and Jungkook, even after everything. “Alright, which part specifically?” She asks

“I mean…..all of it I guess, how we lost touch back then, I mean I'm sure you forgot all about my existence but I never forgot you and I never thought I'd see you again, I definitely was not expecting what happened last year-” 

“You mean finding out your boyfriend was married with a pending divorce and a child arriving soon, you had no idea of any of it, him coming clean and telling you everything, you meeting the wife and seeing that it was your best childhood friend, that the three of us came to an agreement and forgave each other and it is working so well?” She recounts as she places a kiss to the back of your hand that she had taken into her own, “that now it was a very unique and loving little family?” 

You smile and chuckle a little, “well yes, all of that…but…..you know, word had gotten back to me years ago that you had di--”

“I know, but I didn't….and as twisted as it all happened, I don't know it seems kinda romantic….don't you think?” 

“Well, yeah, obviously, but would you have done anything differently?” 

She thinks for a moment, or two, or three, “no….I don't think so….what happened to us is so rare” 

“Yeah…me either…..how were you able to forgive me?” 

“We were getting divorced and you didn't know,” she shrugs

“I'm glad the divorce went over easily, I'm glad to have you, I'm glad we have Munchkin, and that the three of us still love each other…..I just can't believe I ever forgave him,” you admit laughing, but you all knew that, you always had a hard time with forgiveness. In this situation though, you couldn't think of any other option, not only did you understand Jungkook and were able to empathize with him but it was like a fairytale that it happened to be Shyann and their little boy had you wrapped around his finger the moment he entered the world and wrapped his fist around yours for the first time; besides, like she said, given the circumstances, Jungkook wasn't cheating on her and he was trying to be honest with you both, he had just realized that his feelings were with you. 

“What time is he supposed to be home?” She breaks your train of thought, “I don't know, he wasn't sure” 

“You're sure everything is good with you two?” 

“I'm positive. He's so sweet and loving and he's so full of surprises, he really can do anything he tries and he's actually quite romantic” 

“Are we thinking about the same man?” 

“The very same,” you chuckle 

“Surprising how? I mean romantically?” 

“Well he, when he wants to, actually can plan really sweet little trips and things like that” 

“Well yeah, I knew that,” she rolls her eyes, she did

The door clicked and you both look towards it as the man in question walks in. 

“Hi ladies,” he smiles and flashes his pearly whites at you both as he takes off his watch and the contents of his pockets, the pockets of his unnecessarily tight jeans that you were both admiring.

“Hi Kook,” you reply in unison and giggle, clinking your glasses as he's removing his rings into the bowl on the little table by the door.

“What are you laughing at?” He asks smiling, still with his eyes on the bowl, as he reaches into his back pocket to remove the wallet and has to shake to wriggle it out 

“Pants too tight?” You ask smirking 

“Yeah,” he laughs, tossing the wallet in the bowl, followed by his phone which he sat next to the bowl 

“Careful, you'll make your lips bleed,” Shyann smirks at you and laughs 

“What?” You and Jungkook retort simultaneously with big innocent doe eyes 

“You two, I swear,” she laughs, “How was work?” She asks him and he finally looks up as he walks towards you both 

“It was good but first things first, where the fuck is my son?” 

“Chill, he's out on his first camping trip with Jimin and Yoongi for his birthday” 

Jungkook nods and accepts that answer, “you girls hungry? I'm starving,” he asks, walking over to the fridge, “I know you're both looking at my ass, want any other meat? Wait-that came out wrong-” 

“I know what you meant,” she laughs, “does the offer still stand for her?”

“Always,” he laughs as he grabs everything he needs and you watch him start cooking, with a little wink at you 

“So, Y/N here was just telling me how cute and romantic you can be?” 

“Was she? Nah~, she's just being nice,” he grinned down at the veggies on the cutting board 

“No you really are~,” you insist, “remember a few weeks ago you planned the little surprise trip and took me to Disneyland because you knew I always wanted to go?” You get up and go over to hug his back from behind 

“I remember that one!!” She proclaims and smiles at you, as much as you loved her and this arrangement worked unbelievably well, sometimes you still feel as though she came out on top. She actually got to call Jungkook her husband, you were still waiting, and as much as you tried to convince yourself of the contrary deep down you knew your Munchkin was hers. 

“She was also saying how you're so good at everything, there has to be something you can't do though it's just no one has been able to find it” 

“Oh yeah, bet,” he chuckles, “they don't call me golden boy for nothing” 

You smile up towards the back of his head at the confidence and rejoin her

“Y'know Gguk, she's right honey, there has to be something,” you join her on teasing him 

“Alright, let's test the theory right now” 

“Hmmm, you can't catch this cork and cut those veggies at the same time,” Shyann proposed as she tossed the cork from her white wine bottle at his head, which he caught with one hand without looking up and proceeded chopping

“What the fuck?” She pouts 

“Uhmm, my turn,” you glance around the room as you think, “you can't……you can't” 

“T-Today junior,” he laughs 

“Fuck you,” you laugh

“Is that an official offer?” He smirks, “what's the challenge Princess?” 

“I'm thinking, I'm thinking~~,” it must have taken a while because they waited patiently 

“Got anything?” She finally grows impatient 

“No….,” you pout 

“You can't make her squirt” 

“You're so childish,” he gives her a semi-annoyed look then looks at you, then back to the dinner. 

Her eyes followed suit in looking at you, “well-no,” her face becomes deadpan in disbelief, “I could nev-,” she starts, seeing your blush say it all 

“Don't even need my dick,” he smirks and winks at her, you couldn't help the tiny bit of pride, even at something so trivial, it was something you had that apparently she hadn't 

“Your turn, you still haven't given him anything,” she grumbles 

“Uhm…..he can't…..oh! Clean the toilet” 

“I can clean the toilet, I just don't like to and you said we had a deal, I do the dishes and drains,x he half glares and points at you, “don't test me, I'll tease you back” 

“He can't read, I still think he needs to be tested, there's no way he's sat down and read a actual book” 

He shoots her a playful glare, gently places the knife down while he didn't need to watch what was cooking for a moment and slowly walks in and over to you, keeping eye contact and rolling his sleeves up 

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you-especially when you are near me, as now,” he was in front of you now, leaned over with his hands on your knees, still keeping that unwavering eye contact, “it is as inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you-you'd forget me” 

You were awestruck to say the least and speechless, “that's Jane Eyre, chapter 23…,” you mumble, your mind feeling like mush as you're lost in his alluring eyes, sensual yet at the same time soft and as pure as puppy dog eyes, damn those eyes 

“EWWW GET A ROOM YOU TWO ARE NASTY, FUCKING NERDS!!” She retreats from the couch to the kitchen when you mindlessly and playfully push her face 

“Don't mind if I do,” he smirks and lifts you up, “we will try to be quiet” 

“Please do, so the dinner? Hey guys!! Guys! The dinn-oh no, no, I'll cook, don't worry about it” 

[mimisempai]

It's just a risk to take 1/2

Summary

For the fifth year in a row, Crowley's mother insists on inviting him to her charity gala. Although he has refused each time, this time he has no choice. And if he doesn't want his mother to force a date on him, he'll have to bring someone. So he takes the risk of inviting his old friend Aziraphale, for whom he feels much more than friendship. 

Notes

A little Human AU of them getting together

On Ao3

Rating G - 1783 words

Chap 2

"Anthony!"

Though startled by his mother's voice, Anthony did not react and continued to read the newspaper, sitting on his sofa with his feet up on the coffee table.

He heard the door close, then the click of heels coming closer, and only looked up when his mother tossed a sheet of paper into his lap.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that it was the negative response he'd sent to her invitation to the fall charity ball she hosted every year.

Continuing to leaf through the paper as if nothing had happened, he asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, my dear mother?"

With her hands on her hips, his mother replied in a voice whose irritation she couldn't quite shake, “This is the fifth year you've refused my invitation and said you'd come next year. Five times!"

Anthony slowly lifted his eyes to his mother and looked at her with an assurance he was far from feeling.

"After four rejections, didn't you think there was no point in sending me a fifth invitation?"

"You know very well that I don't take no for an answer."

"And yet you'll have to do it again this time. I haven't changed my mind."

Crowley closed the newspaper and stood up before throwing it on the sofa and going to the kitchen to have some coffee. Of course, his mother followed him, and he felt that this time he'd really have a hard time staying firm. After all, he took after her as much for her flaming hair as for her stubborn nature.

He filled two cups of coffee and handed her one, which she eagerly grabbed.

He sat down on one of the high stools behind the counter as his mother leaned across from him.

She sighed.

"Anthony, I don't understand, you're smart, you're good at what you do, you're a handsome man..."

"Thanks, Mom." 

"Don't interrupt me! I was saying that you're a fine person, that you're good company when you're not hiding behind your sarcasm, that you have a job that you thrive at, and yet you're hiding in your apartment like an old bachelor."

Anthony replied with all the calm he could muster, "I am hiding, as you say, because in case you didn't know, with my job as a teacher, I see enough people during the day, my social circle is kept to a minimum because I prefer quality over quantity, and most importantly, I'm a big boy and I live my life as I see fit."

His mother took a sip of coffee, set the cup down on the counter with a clatter, and replied, "I never thought my son, so full of quality, would become a homebody. So boring. What a disappointment." 

Anthony knew his mother was being dramatic and didn't mean a word she said, she was just trying to provoke him until he gave in, so he took absolutely no offense.

He raised his eyebrows.

"If you find me boring, that's your problem, not mine."

"And when I'm gone, who's going to take care of your social life, right? You'll be all alone."

Oh, here we were. The feelings card.

He couldn't help but smile slightly and replied, "Mom, this may be hard for you to believe, but I like my solitude. And like I said, I have a few friends. You can count them on the fingers of one hand. But I have a few."

"At least give me one good reason, one real reason why you shouldn't come to this ball." His mother said as she went to refill her cup.

Anthony sighed, "If you must know, it's because I'm sure you want to set me up with some great party you found on Single.com or one of your dating apps."

His mother rolled her eyes.

"If that's all it is, just come with a date. It's as simple as that."

Anthony chuckled.

"Very funny, really."

His mother said in a softer tone, "I'm serious, you know. There must be someone whose company you can stand to spend an evening with."

Anthony immediately thought of someone, but did his best not to react.

Aziraphale.

No, don't think about it. He's just a friend. There's a big gap between being a friend and being someone's plus one for an event like this.

Forget about it.

"Ooooh, I see, so there is someone."

Damn, she really was too sharp.

His mother put down her cup, then came over and planted a kiss on his cheek before turning away.

"It's perfect. I'll wait for you and Aziraphale at the party."

"I never said it was Azi"

"Don't forget to remind your bookseller that formal wear is required."

"He's not my bookseller."

"You didn't deny it was about him, did you?"

"Mom..."

"I know, I know, honey."

Clack.

As quickly as she'd arrived, the hurricane that was his mother was gone.

She was probably already calling her friends to brag about having had the last word with her stubborn son. 

Anthony buried his head in his hands. He would have to contact Aziraphale and risk jeopardizing one of the longest and best friendships of his life.

The longest and most beautiful, in fact.

To do so, he would have to try to ignore the feelings he had for his friend. Feelings that went far beyond simple friendship.

Easier said than done.

Anthony sighed once more before he picked up his phone and started typing.

*********

Aziraphale was sitting at a table at the Dirty Donkey with Nina, Maggie and Muriel when his cell phone began to vibrate. 

He pulled it out of his pocket and, seeing who the message was from, quickly slid his thumb across the screen. He was so excited that he almost dropped the phone.

Nina noticed his fussiness and tried to look over his shoulder.

"I've never seen you in such a hurry to read a message. Who is it?"

"Oh, someone important, no doubt," Maggie replied before pulling Nina away to let Aziraphale read his message in peace. 

Muriel, for their part, made no comment, just looked at him with a knowing smile, they knew him too well. They knew who could make Aziraphale react like that. 

Aziraphale was astonished because, unlike Crowley's usual short, concise text messages, this one was so long that he had to scroll to get to the end.

His amazement grew as he read on.

His heart was beating faster as well.

But he chose to ignore it.

Aziraphale, you'll probably be surprised at what 

I'm about to ask you, but I don't have the courage to ask you in person. 

I don't know how else to say it, but I need your help. 

Would you be willing to accompany me to my mother's fall charity gala? 

It seems I can't avoid it this year, and while I'm at it, I'd rather go with a friend. 

You, in this case. 

Let me know your answer, and if it's positive, I'll send you the details.

Aziraphale swallowed. Several times.

He kept looking at the phone in his hand as he took a big gulp of sherry. 

Then he read the message again. His heart was racing now.

He had forgotten that he wasn't alone and was startled when Nina said, "You're all red, Aziraphale."

Maggie giggled and nodded.

A hand came to rest on his arm and a soft voice said, "You look... happy."

He looked up to meet the eyes of his best friend, Muriel.

"Yes. I think... maybe..."

Unable to find the words, he handed them the phone.

Muriel read it, looking very focused, before exclaiming, "That's great, Aziraphale! It's a great opportunity."

Of course his friend and business partner would say that.

They were, after all, the one who had pushed him to approach Crowley the day he had first walked into the bookstore.

Six years ago. He'd just started working as an astrophysics teacher and was looking for old books. Then he'd come back several times just to see Aziraphale, and a deep friendship had developed. Crowley had become part of his little circle of friends, and not a week went by without them seeing each other. Sometimes just the two of them, sometimes with their friends.

It was only during exam periods like now that their meetings were far apart.

And no, Aziraphale didn't count the days. Or hours, for that matter.

"Come on, Aziraphale, don't keep it a secret." 

Nina insisted, and he could see in Maggie's sparkling eyes that she was just as curious as her wife.

When Muriel handed the phone back, he hesitated for a moment, then finally passed it to Nina, who read the message as Maggie moved closer to read it at the same time.

"Aha... and are you going to say yes?"

Aziraphale didn't hide his astonishment at Nina and Maggie's lack of surprise.

"What? You think it's a secret that you have a crush on him?"

"Huh?"

Maggie continued, "There are even bets on which one of you will make the first move?"

"What?"

Dumbfounded, he glanced at Muriel, who shrugged.

"Neither of you are subtle."

"What do you mean?"

Maggie nodded, "Well, sometimes he looks at you like he hasn't eaten in days and you're the first meal he's seen."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"I swear it's true!"

Nina nudged his shoulders and repeated, "So you'll answer yes?"

She added, insisting, "Do you realize this could be your chance?"

Maggie continued, "This could be a date!"

Aziraphale downed the rest of his sherry in one gulp and replied a little dizzily, "I certainly hope so."

He was far less certain as he prepared to answer a few moments later in the privacy of his apartment.

No matter how much he told himself not to get his hopes up, it was too late, and the only thing he could do was at least try to remain fairly neutral in his message.

Crowley, we're friends, you know you can ask me anything.

And knowing your mother, I'm guessing you fought bravely. 😛

I'm delighted to accept your invitation.

It will be an opportunity to spend an evening together, 

we haven't seen each other for a month, 

we'll have a lot to talk about.

Send me the details of the evening.

Good night!

Aziraphale hit 'send' immediately, before he had time to change his mind, placed his phone on the nightstand without waiting for a reply, and turned off the light. 

Probably due to Sherry's overindulgence, he quickly fell asleep in a peaceful slumber whose dreams had the face of a teacher with red flaming hair and honey-colored eyes.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

[anxious-witch]

Sooo, since like, literally three people asked(like I need more enabling lmao) here is a drabble/snippet from poly!JO soulmate au from August. It isn't finished and kinda a kess so read at your own risk, definitely not up to my usual quality.

Tw for alcohol, vomiting, character's drink being spiked (if I forgot anything, please let me know)

Bojan was born with four stripes on his stomach. Yellow, red, purple and blue. It reminded him of a mini rainbow. When he was little he used to trace them. Wondering how it related to his soulmate.

His parents seemed reluctant to tell him. And Bojan didn't understand. Not until his sister pulled him aside one day before he started school and explained. Soulmate marks indicated something about his soulmate, but his was special. Bojan remembered that she specifically used the word special.

Not weird, not odd. Special.

She said that since his has more than one color, it probably means more than one soulmate. That there was nothing wrong eith that, but that he had to be careful since not everyone would understand. 

She told him it was easy enough to cover with clothes, but in case he needed to, she showed him how to hide it with makeup.

Bojan hadn't been seven for awhile now. He was twenty four and he understood much, much better why his sister was so careful about all of it. At best, people with multiple marks were looked down upon. And Bojan didn't always have the best of luck, either.

He wished he could say that the reason he wanted to convince Kris to join the band was purely because of talent. Not that Kris wasn't extremly talented because he was. Bojan was already laying groundwork to ask him to join. And then Kris tied his hair back in a ponytail, revealing his soulmark.

Four stripes. Red, pink, purple and blue. Perfectly lined up. 

Bojan had to swallow past the lump in his throat. Found one of you. 

He didn't want Kris to join the band because of that thiugh. So instead he did his best to charm him. Teasing and laughing and promising. Kris agreed, under the condition that Jan may join too.

"He is my best friend and my soulmate. I am not going anywhere without him."

How could have Bojan refused?

Kris and Jan were polar opposites that somehow managed to work in perfect harmony. Kris charmed you with his cute laugh and politeness, while Jan disarmed you with flirting and downright filthy things he could say with a straight face.

Bojan planned on telling them about his mark. He really did. It was just that everytime he tried, fear of rejection wrapped itself over his chest.

What if they didn't want him? What if it would make things weird? 

He was a coward. He knew as much. He just couldn't bring himself to tell them. 

His mark ached sometimes. Especially when he saw how gently Jan would kiss the mark on Kris's neck, or Kris wrapping his fingers around the one on Jan's wrist. 

Jan made it worse with the way he wore his so openly. Like a badge of honor. Bojan suggested him to put a bracelet or some makeup on it once, to hide it.

He remembered Jan's fury to this day.

"What, do you have something against it? Do you think I should be fucking ashamed of my soulmates?"

Bojan took a step back, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

"No, of course not...I just think it might be wise not to show it off. People get beaten up for less. I don't want to see you hurt."

Jan looked at him for one very long moment. Bojan felt like he was being carved from inside out and examined.

"Let me worry about that. What business of yours is that, anyway?"

Bojan's mark pulsed under his shirt. He resisted the urge to rub the pain away. He shrugged.

"None."

They never spoke of it again. Years passed and Bojan got used to the yearing that came with being so close and yet so far. 

And then Jure came along. Bojan was still sad because of Matic leaving. That's the only excuse he had for not noticing Jure's mark sooner.

It came to a head during summer vacation. Jure joined them at the pool. And on his leg, just under his knee, was a mark. Four strips. Yellow, pink, red and purple.

Bojan heard Kris gasp from somewhere far away. His own mark throbbed underneath the band aid he put on. The lie he said was that he had a scar from surgery that he didn't want to show. Jan teased him for being vain, but no one ever questioned it. 

He and Martin exchanged a glance. Silently agreeing to leave and give them a moment. If Bojan's heart felt heavy or his mark burned, knowing he belonged there too, well. That was only for him to know.

Bojan was running out of excuses. Jure made a perfect new addition to Kris and Jan. While they certainly took some time to find a way to navigate a new configuration, they did work it out. Sometimes Bojan was so jealous he could taste it. 

Which usually meant he got hammered and left with the first person who wanted to take him home and fuck him. 

Other times, he just got hammered and called Luka through Skype. Luka who'd cursed him out and scolded him for being an idiot, but would still try and get him to take care of himself. Made sure he drank water and had a bucket nearby.

That was probably more than he deserved.

"So let me get this straight. Three of your soulmates recently got together. Which disproved your theory about them not wanting you because they are monogamous. Shocker, really. And instead of telling them now, you got hammer."

Bojan raised a finger in the air.

"And made out with a girl at the party in front of them."

Luka pinched his nose. He took a deep breath.

"And made out with a girl in front of them. Great! Lovely! What's the next step in your brilliant, self-destructive plan?"

Bojan shrugged. Luka sighed again.

"You are a menace. But you are also my friend. Which means I want you to be a happy menace. Please tell them."

"I'll think about it."

Luka shook his head and looked at him sadly.

"Sure you will."

---

He didn't end up telling them. In his defense, he really was preoccupied. Few days later, Martin told him he was leaving the band to concentrate on finishing college.

Bojan grieved the loss of another friend, as ridiculous as it sounded. While Kris and Jan loved Martin as well, it was different. They had each other and Jure now.

So Bojan arranged everything for Martin's last concert with them. And looked for the replacement. Which was how he found Nace. 

Bringing Jan along was his first mistake. Perhaps if he hadn't it could have been avoided. 

Nace fit into the criteria to perfectly replace Martin on stage. Jure even joked they looked similar enough that fans won't even notice the difference. Bojan would, though. He wasn't only losing a friend who he worked with since the beginning, but also his last line of defense. 

His mark ached harder than before ever since Jure joined in. 

He and Jan interviewed Nace and it was all going well. Bojan was finally starting to relax, realizing Nace would be a good fit. He was responsible, but knew how to joke still. They did need someone to keep them in check on occasion. And Nace didn't drink. His guitar skills were amazing too. All in all, perfect.

Up until he took off his leather jacket and stayed only in short sleeves. Showing off a soulmark on his right biceps.

Four stripes. Yellow, pink, red and blue. Bojan froze. 

"Nace," Jan said, sounding almost breathless, "is that your soulmark?"

Nace looked at him in confusion. Jan raised his hand to show off his wrist and Nace's eyes widened. 

"You are-"

"Yes. And I have found the other two. You are the forth."

Bojan felt like he was watching a private moment. Nace seems to be at a loss on what to say, simply looking at Jan like he was a miracle.

"So...only one remains."

A lump formed in Bojan's throat. His mark burned viciously. As if it was screaming: I am here!  Bojan got up.

"I'll leave you to settle...um. This. I think we can conclude Nace is a good fit by what was said already anyway. Have fun."

Jan's heavy gaze followed him until he took a turn in the alley, away from the view of the café. 

The next few weeks were torture. Watching them was torture. The way they all balanced each other perfectly. Jure's jokes and pranks contrasted Nace's mature, thought out responses. Kris' anxious energy was match by Jan's always relaxed state. They mixed and matched and still-

God, his mark burned. Bojan had too many moments where he had to excuse hinself and just breathe. Will the pain away. 

They were all there. Missing only one puzzle piece. All he had to do was go there and tell them. Just-

"Bojan?" Nace gently called out, startling him.

He turned from where he was leaning on the sink in the kitch to face him. Nace was always so measured in his movements, in his words. He told that that was because he used to be wild in his teenage years. He appriciated measured, gebtle approach a lot more now. 

"Sorry, I got lost in thought. Did you need something?"

"I just wanted to talk to you, if you have a minute?"

Bojan shrugged, even as his defense mechanisms rose up. Did he know? How would he have even realized? No. Impossible. 

"Sure. Shoot."

Nace's gaze traveled over his face and Bojan had the urge to squirm. All of them were attractive of course, but Nace and Jan had this odd ability to make him feel like they knew all his secrets. Bojan didn't have time to unpack why he was bith terrified and attracted to the feeling.

"I know this whole thing can't be easy for you. With all of us being bonded, you must feel left out. And I am sorry if I contributed to that by joining the band."

Bojan bit his lip. Oh. That was so thoughtful. He felt even more guilty about lying now. 

"It's not your fault. And I'm-I'm glad you guys found each other. It just gets a bit...much, sometimes."

Nace nodded.

"I can imagine. Kris told me you haven't found your own match yet, so it must be doubly hard for you."

God. He could just tell him. Bojan opened his mouth.

"Nace I-"

"Nace!" 

Jure came running, to show Nace a very specific cat video. It broke their moment and Bojan's sudden bravery disappeared.

He didn't tell him.

Which was why he ended up at the bar again. This time, without any of them around. He chatted up a guy who vaguely reminded him of Nace. Accidentally of course. 

It tricked his brain into feeling safe. So Bojan wasn't watching his drink as attentively as he should have.

He only realized his mistake when the room started to spin. Panic gripped him. If he went to the bathroom, he was going to show he was suspicious. But what could he do?

Now, Bojan will admit he wasn't someone who ever studied the soulmate bond. But even he knew about it. In theory. He tried to block in out of his mind most of the timez terrified of exposing himself.

But in his panic and confusion, he found it. He could feel faint flashes of what the other four felt. And he, idiotically, pushed all his fear and panic through the bond. 

The closest way to describe the feeling was smashing the fire alarm. 

Suddenly he could feel all of them. As if they they were reaching out to him. Jan's fierce protectiveness, Kris gentle reassurance. Jure's playfulness was there, even with his worry. And Nace was a warm, stable presence of comfort.

Bojan's phone rang. The guy he was drinking with seemed annoyed, but it gave him an excuse to step away and answer the phone. 

He managed to make it out of the club, to the fresh, cold air. 

"Hello?"

"Bojan, where are you?"

Jan's voice was sharp and urgent. It immediately brought tears to Bojan's eyes.

"At the bar near my apartment. I'm sorry I-I think the guy put something in my drink. Everything is kind of spinning and I swear I only had one drink! Jan, I'm scared."

He heard Jan swearing at the other end, and there was such an intense wave of protectivness that came through the bond that Bojan felt like it wrapped around him. 

"It's okay. We are coming to get you. I will give Kris the phone now, okay? Stay on the line."

"Okay."

He sat on the ground, to get the spinning under control. He was so tired.

"Bojan? Can you hear me?"

"Kris," he sighed contentedly. 

Kris had such a nice, soothing voice. Bojan wanted to fall asleep to him talking.

"Yes, it's me. Can you tell me how are you feeling?"

Bojan hummed, thoughtful. Woth everything they were feeling, it was hard to pinpoint how he felt.

"Tired. Kinda sick? Not like I'll throw up but like I didn't eat something right. And everything is still spinning."

Kris kept talking to him and asking him irrelevant questions just to keep him on the line. Bojan fought against drifting off, but it became harder.

"Kris," he whined, "I am so tired."

He gently shushed him.

"I know sweetheart. Just a bit longer. We'll be there in a minute."

The rest was a blur. He remembered them picking him up and driving him home, but drugs made everything hazy. Last thing he remembered was being put to bed and then everything going dark.