#i think of those -1 disapprovals from him as like light huffs or scoffs that start to get really annoying

[thecityofdoors]

was getting so fed up & irritated w astarion this playthrough that when i failed the persuasion check to get him to save the spawn & he decided to leave, i was just like fine!! see if i care!!!!! i’ll just get a hireling!! whatever!!!! it’ll be great not to have to put up with you anymore. good fucking riddance. good. bye.

so why do i miss him so much?? his exaggerated gestures. his petty little comments. i was convinced i didn’t like him, but against my will the fail elf has grown on me. ugh.

[unusualindigo]

A Knight and his Squire, Chapter 1

AD 2206, 5/5, 6th Hierarchical City of Yabiko – Unknown Area

The vigilante known as Carl Clover sighs as he takes another sip of his brandy. He's sitting at a table in a humble, homely pub done up in Austrian style. It is that very furnishing had caught his eye. Its familiar style is a welcome distraction from his sister’s absence. He’d had to leave her hidden outside, to avoid drawing the attention of his fellow patrons. It's his twenty-first birthday, not that he feels like celebrating.

He’s no closer to his goals than when he’d set out all those years ago. The drinking is for experimentation. He wants to see if his inebriation will bring about favor from some merciful muse. If only he was alone.

Kagura Mutsuki slings an arm around Carl’s cloaked shoulders. “Come on, Clover, live a little!”

The man is the leader of the NOL's Praetorian Guard, not that you'd know it from his demeanor. Still, his spiky black hair falls over his handsome face quite strikingly in the pub’s low light.

Carl huffs, his left ‘eye’ throbbing behind his silver half-mask. His white-gloved hand grips the iron handle of his mug tighter as his irritation grows. “Colonel, I must kindly ask that you remove your arm from my person.”

Kagura raises a brow, but cordially removes his wrapped hand from Carl’s shoulder, then taking a sullen swig of his sake.

Carl himself takes another deft sip of his brandy. He relishes the warmth gliding down his throat.

Kagura groans, “Stop taking baby sips! You need to throw it back and have another, or you’ll never get the hang of this.”

Kagura demonstrates his point by throwing back his head and downing his bottle in a single go. He jostles his ornately gold-lined black cape in the process.

How typically uncouth of the playboy, Carl muses. He hums his disapproval and continues to sip leisurely. “Hopefully Mutsuki will get bored if I don’t react to him. I’d rather not risk a fight.”

Alas, Kagura persists. With a twinkle in his iolite eyes, he smiles smolderingly. He slurs his words a bit, “You know what you need?”

Carl raises a disinterested brow, not even glancing at Kagura. “Some peace and quiet?”

His cerulean eye stares forward, burning a hole in a painting depicting a cavalry charge.

“Nope.” Kagura sets down the empty mug and motions for another. He then raises a scholarly finger skywards, his expression solemn. “You need a, hic, woman’s touch.”

Carl stiffens, his gaze shifting to the man beside him with suspicion and irritation.

Kagura leans in, never breaking eye contact. He huskily murmurs, “You’re so tense. I could use you to beat Shishigami to Torifune and back.”

Carl scoffs, leaning away to glare at Kagura with a vicious frown.

Kagura smirks at him rakishly. “See what I mean? You’re getting all worked up just thinking about it.”

Kagura moves to poke Carl on the nose with his pointer finger, but the younger man slaps his hand away.

Carl hisses like a terrorized Kaka kitten, his hackles rising as his voice lowers. “And just how do you know I favor the company of women? Or any company at all for that matter?”

Kagura shakes his swatted hand with a hum, shrugging. He’s not lost his rakish leer. “Call it lover’s intuition.”

Carl groans desperately and takes a properly uncouth swig of his brandy. He turns away from the ridiculous man, silently damning the heat creeping into his cheeks.

Kagura smacks the table in protestation, causing Carl to jolt and refocus on him.

Kagura’s expression is sloppier now, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Say, Clover. How’s about a bet?”

Carl raises a critical bow, huffing, “What?”

Kagura continues to smirk, leaning in close once again. “If you can— hic, drink me under the table, I’ll let you go. If I win, you gotta stay with me for a while so I can— hic find you a pretty lady.” He leans back, crossing his arms challengingly. “So, whaddya say?”

Carl eyes Kagura dubiously. The man is a bit of a braggart by reputation, and is clearly drunker than Carl. He thinks for a moment, then dons a confident smirk of his own. Given his constitution and the progress Kagura has already made toward oblivion...

Carl finishes his drink with a flourish, “Alright, Colonel. I’ll play your little game.”

---------

Kagura hums thoughtfully as he watches Carl grip the edge of their table. The kid’s blonde braid brushes across the fine polish as he tries to maintain his precarious balance. He whines as Kagura hands him another mug.

Carl pouts, meekly muttering, “Mutsuki, why are we, hic, doing this, again?” He tilts his head like a lost puppy, his bangs falling into his eye.

Kagura can’t help the hearty chuckle that escapes his lips at such a cute sight. “Because you need to prove yourself as a man, remember?”

With a huff, Carl raises his freshly full mug of brandy to his lips and closes his eye.

Kagura’s expression takes on a more calculating edge. Carl’s fallen for his reliable routine hook, line, and sinker. Kagura reckons that it will be just another drink or two before the kid’s finally down for the count.

Kagura could tell at a glance that Carl wasn’t in a good place. His back was as stiff as a steel rod, his suspicious eye darting around the pub constantly. It hadn’t taken him long to notice Kagura, and then he’d been strung tighter than one of Taro’s strings. It’s pretty clear to Kagura that the last six years of self-isolation haven’t done Carl much good. Still, who knew that he’d be such a regressive drunk?

Carl finishes his drink with a satisfied gasp, the alcohol shining prettily off his petal pink lips. His long lashes flutter against a flushed cheek as he opens his eye to peer at Kagura.

Kagura hasn’t seen the other man this vulnerable before. Not that he’s ever seen or paid much attention to Carl, mind. Though he supposes that he can now see why that performance troupe was chasing after him. Carl’s soft features are an excellent complement to the low, warm lighting of the pub.

Kagura grabs one of his new bottles of sake, and downs it swiftly, relishing in the singeing burn. He’ll give Carl his due; he’s gotten Kagura very nearly drunk himself. He’s about half a dozen rounds away from his limit.

If Carl somehow proves his intuition wrong and manages to hang on, this will have all been for nothing. If that happens, then Hibiki's bound to get pissed at him.

Kagura thinks about that notion again, then shrugs. “Hibiki’s probably pissed at me anyway.”

Carl puts down his mug, hiccupping airily, swaying more erratically in his seat.

A shark’s killer grin splits Kagura’s cheeks. He’s got Carl dead to rights, now.

Kagura quickly hands Carl another mug.

The younger man shakily shoots him with a glare full of distress and angry determination.

Kagura then grabs another bottle of sake for himself and counts down from five. They raise their drinks in unison, and…

Carl topples onto the table with a thud, out cold.

Kagura puts down his bottle with a cocky grin and a flourish. “…You’re out. I win.”

“Now Sir, it’s impolite to leave a contest unfinished.”

Kagura jolts as a familiar, but unwelcome voice huskily whispers in his ear. He nervously turns his head to see a particularly intense-looking Hibiki. He swallows thickly.

Hibiki offers a small smile that actually reaches his dark eyes.

Kagura feels his soul trying to escape the unsafe confinement of his very mortal flesh. Kagura smiles shakily at the man, then grabs and downs his mug as quick as a flash.

Hibiki’s expression returns to careful neutrality. He hums, “Also, since when did you have time in your schedule to run a dating service?”

Kagura bats his eyes innocently, hoping to duck from what he knows in his heart is inevitable. “I’m sure that Their Highness can find it in their heart to—”

Hibiki slices a hand through the air, producing a clipboard holding a thick paper stack.

Kagura groans, his once happy heart falling into the merciless clutches of despair. Why did he have to do paperwork now? With a reluctant sigh, he gets to work filling out an extensive leave waiver.

Kagura finishes after several minutes, and moodily passes the clipboard back to Hibiki.

Hibiki hums, gesturing to the unconscious form of Carl. “Best you both get going before Shishigami comes looking, sir. I took the liberty of letting him know that dear ‘Master Carl’ was in here.”

Kagura sputters and darts his eyes around the pub nervously. “You sneaky little—?!!"

Hibiki saunters off while Kagura’s distracted. He disappears into the shadows within a moment.

Kagura is about to shout for him to come back, when he hears the growing echoes of that signature loud shouting. He kicks his ass into high gear. He throws a lot of money on the table, grabs Carl, and books it out the back door.

---------

Bang Shishigami bursts through the door of the small pub with a manly cry. “��MASTER CARL! It’s been too long since— Huh?"

Bang looks around in confoundment and sadness, frowning deeply. Hibiki said he’d be right here, at table three. Yet here he stands atop the fine furniture with nothing but empty chairs before him.

He hums thoughtfully and taps his chin. His expression becomes pensive as his keen mind races. “How curious…”

“You jackass, I just got that table clean!”

A swift and devastating broom swing to the head cuts Bang’s customary inner monologue short.

----------

Kagura bobs to the left with a grunt. A moment later, he weaves to the right with a groan. A silver claw comes too close to snagging his cape, and he curses under his breath. He continues to cycle through evasive maneuvers, trying to outrun Nirvana.

However, the giant purple marionette is pretty damn relentless in her pursuit.

Carl’s plated hat is heavy from where it sits after Kagura had hastily jammed it onto his head. Carl’s loosening braid also keeps tangling and snagging on Kagura’s fingers as he adjusts his grip. This is getting to be too much of a hassle in his current state.

Kagura decides to jostle Carl’s sleeping form and manages to rouse him for a moment.

Carl hums, barely cracking his eye open. “Hmm? Just five more minutes, Sis…”

Carl dozes off again, snuggling closer and beginning to drool on Kagura’s white shirt.

Kagura shakes him again, this time with feeling. “Clover! Get your Nox to knock it off!”

Carl moans, but cracks open his wary eye. He slurs a bit unintelligently before calling out, “Sis. It’s okay, Mutsuki’s just… Um, what are we doing…?”

Kagura watches Nirvana hesitate. He decides it’s best to play along with his assigned role of the designated runner. “I’m taking you home so you can sleep this off.”

Carl nods slowly, a soft, drunken smile forming. “That sounds nice. See Sis? It’s okay…”

Carl trails off again, and Kagura watches Nirvana stop with a relieved sigh.

For a moment, the marionette just stands there. Then, she tilts her head and hold out her claws.

Not wanting to piss her off again, Kagura pivots and hands Carl to her.

Nirvana stares, tilting her blonde head again, almost as if she’s expecting something from him.

Kagura huffs, “You’re not serious…”

The moon gleams off her silver claws and she opens her other arm to gesture impatiently.

Kagura groans, then unenthusiastically shuffles into her grasp.

She clenches them both to her chest, then rockets off towards the NOL Branch at blinding speeds.

Kagura barely holds back his dinner.

Carl doesn’t, and a scream of terrified anguish from below splits the night. He’s going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning.

Kagura decides then and there that he’ll sleep in. He doesn’t want to deal with a hung-over Carl. Still, there’s no denying the night’s success. Kagura closes his eyes with a sigh. “Guess I’ll have to wait after all.”

[damn-stark]

Different Light

Different light ch.1

A/N- First chapter!! I hope you all like it!! I loved writing this and can’t wait to write more :) let me know what you thought?!

Warning- slight angst, nice Draco (slight...you’ll see), slow burn

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader, Fred Weasley x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Dear Ms. Malfoy

We are pleased to inform you that you have been re-accepted at the Durmstrang institute of Magic—

You scoff, “Yeah right.” As you crumble the letter in your hand and toss it into the fire, proceeding to stand up straight and look over your shoulders to check if anyone is around. Misfortunately catching no one other than Draco coming out of the shadows with a smug smile on his lips.

“What have you done?” He questions as he buttons his new black blazer.

You turn to face him and sigh, “nothing you’re going to tell father that’s for sure.” You walk off to take your seat around the dinner table and hear the heels of Draco’s shoes follow behind you and then walk around to sit across from you with the same stupid grin glued to his face. “You’re not going to tell father, Draco. I’ve told you I don’t wish to attend Durmstrang anymore.” You say sternly.

Just before Draco could give his answer another letter popped out of thin air and began to fall towards you, causing Draco to be quicker than you were and snatch the letter from the air. Beginning to tease you with it as he waved it around and added a comment. “Then tell him you want to go to Hogwarts today during dinner or I’ll show him even if he already knows.”

You narrow your gaze on him and huff out, “fine.” And as if your thought had summoned him, in walked your father with Narcissa in tow. Both their presences increase to the anxiety already building up in the pit of your stomach; more his than hers, or rather what you needed to tell him. The feeling made you rather quieter than usual, no usual greeting or simple smile before sitting around the table to await for your meal. No, this time you sat and watched your fidgeting hands under the table, feeling as if your heartbeat was some sort of jackhammer on how fast it was currently beating.

Draco noticed your silence and discreetly kicked you under the table, while Narcissa noticed your strange behavior and questioned you. “Is everything alright, y/n?”

Your eyes flicker up to her and you nod, replying with a shaky, “yes,” pausing to take a deep breath and turning to your father who’s attention was already on you.

“Have you already packed to leave for Durmstrang?”

“About that,” you mumble, pausing again as they set your food down, wishing now that you didn’t have to say a word. But you knew you did if you wanted to get what you wanted, “I don’t want to go back to Durmstrang.” Immediately your father shoots you a narrowed look, but let’s you continue, “it’s too far from home and I just simply hate it there. Not only that but I did get expelled or did you forget?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” your father answered as he picked up the utensils he needed to eat dinner, “Durmstrang is the best school, I’ve talked with the Headmaster and he’ll allow you to return. You’ll come back for the holidays as you always do.”

A sigh leaves your lips and your gaze lowers to the food on your plate for a brief moment before Draco kicks you again, bringing your attention to his hand reaching for the letter inside his pocket. Threatening you and causing you to roll your eyes and try again. “Please father don’t make me go back, the school is horrible and the students more so. It’s too cold and dark. I hate it there.” He stays quiet and you continue adding to your explanation, hoping something would get to him. “At Hogwarts I’ll be closer to home and closer to Draco. I’ll do better there I promise.” He sighs and sets his utensils down, looking between you, Draco and then his wife; who showed him a gentle smile and look that spoke hundreds of words. That gesture luckily for you winning him over.

“Fine,” he finally agrees, making your smile finally grow. “But if I hear that you’re misbehaving or you’re doing bad in classes I’ll send you back to Durmstrang.”

Looking to Narcissa before turning back to your father, you offer her a warm smile that she’s quick to mirror—“thank you father. I promise I’ll do good.”

He hums and then adds one last thing before the dinner is enjoyed in silence, “since you’re staying home longer now then, you’ll come with Draco and I to the Quidditch World Cup. No excuses.”

You grin brightly. “Alright.”

——

For a moment when they said to come with them to the Quidditch World Cup, you thought you were going to get the full experience like staying in a tent like the rest of witches and wizards attending the game, be like the crowd and enjoy the moment, enjoy every aspect. But, no you were mistaken. Heavily. Apparently being with the rest of the crowd wasn't right, not only because your father said they looked like wild animals in a field, but because there was a mixture, half bloods and muggle born families. It wasn’t right, he said. We should be with “our” people, he said.

What you wouldn’t give to have your parents and Draco not hate being like the rest or like the Weasleys, or as most of the people your family associated with (including your family) called them “blood-traitors”; they didn’t care what others thought of them, they lived freely and without being so uptight, they didn’t care of the status of others or themselves. They simply were genuine. People you wish your family was like.

Not that you would trade your family for them because you loved your family, but you did on occasion wish they were more like the Weasleys—like now. It would be much more fun to be like them now, here. But no. You were stuck with the rest of the uptight people who didn’t have the slightest idea how to have fun in a game! The shame.

“Look, y/n.” Draco said as he hit your arm to point further up the platforms, pulling your attention away from your thoughts to notice the familiar redhead family a couple floors higher up then you were. Noting that if Draco pointed them out with that mischievous little sly grin of his then it wouldn’t lead to anything good.

“Blimey dad, how high are we?!”

“Well put it this way!” Your father butt in, walking you closer to the railing as you had your arm locked around his, your own attention on the family above. Noticing right away all the kids they had, the twins who seemed to be better cuter in person than in the newspaper, much older too. Then there was a boy who was beside Mr. Weasley and basing on the glare he was shooting Draco, the boy was Ron Weasley. Yeah him you did know by name, only because your brother never shut up about him—“If it rains you’ll be the first to know.” Your father continued, making Draco laugh and for your frown to deepen, looking away from Mr. Weasley and his disapproving look as your attention was captivated by someone else. A dark haired boy that seemed about the age of Draco, with very blue eyes, a frown of his own and a curious stare as he caught your gaze. He was cute, cuter than most boys you knew. He also seemed familiar….but you just couldn’t place a name to his face...

Before you could think too much of it, your eyes traveled further down to see a pretty girl with her hair picked up, her skin pale and her face expressing nothing but annoyance; and noticing that she didn’t have red hair like the girl next to her then you knew she wasn’t the youngest Weasley, but rather the “Mud-blood” your brother also ranted about. And...the boy in the glasses was Harry Potter. The famous “chosen one” and another one of your brother’s rivals. How cluessless and dumb could you be...

“Father, y/n and I are in the Minister's box by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself.” Draco gloated as the three of you continued moving along, with you still rather much glued to your father's side and just staying quiet as you discreetly rolled your eyes at Dracos comment.

Only completely looking over to Draco with a shocked expression as your father countered his comment whilst also hitting him with his cane. “Don’t boast, Draco. There's no need with these people.” Before the family could leave, your father stepped forward and stopped Harry Potter with the handle of his cane and added feignedly and with not such a good intention. “Do enjoy yourself won’t you? While you can.” With nothing else they turned to leave and your father tapped your hand as Harry Potter and you shared one last glance before he left along with the rest. “Come on y/n, let’s go.”

The three of you continued moving until you reached the box Draco had just so smugly boasted about, finding it hard to concentrate on the people around as your mind was still on the family from before, mainly on the boy with them. It was a thought you needed to speak out loud. “That was Harry Potter, right? The boy that is supposed to be the chosen one? The one in your year, Draco?”

Draco nods and leans in closer to you to sharply whisper his comment, “filthy half-blood doesn’t know who real people are. He would rather be alongside traitors…” he pauses and some sort of amusement and distaste is heard in his voice, “but then again those are his kind of people, right?”

You hum as a response, but not to really agree with his comment, just to not ignore him, getting lucky and using the cheering that got louder as the players zoomed in the stadium as a distraction not to answer. Getting up seconds later alongside Draco to join in the cheering and clapping as the Irish players flew in, followed by the Bulgarian in their red suits. Grinning and whooping as some did tricks on their brooms, clapping harder as the one player you knew flew in, the best seeker in the world, Krum. Now you might’ve hated Durmstrang and most of the students there, but there was something about knowing that you went to school with Krum and seeing him here now at such an important sporting event that made you happy. It might be only short lived, at the moment type of thing, or simply just a form boasting yourself, but it did get you excited for the moment.

The feeling made you forget your previous thoughts and the past events that happened moments before and fully engage in the game and the announcement being said before it all began. “Good evening! As Minister for Magic it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and everyone of you to the final four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup, let the match begin!”

——

“Did you see that dive, Krum did!” Draco said excitedly as he mimicked the move with his hand, showing the fun and at ease side of himself that he only seemed to show with you and his mother. Never really with father. He always wanted to act composed like him. Just as uptight as the rest, but with you he let out the kid still inside, it was something that made you grin brightly and be even more excited. “At the very last second! Before he just spiraled off and Lynch hit the ground! That’s a move I’m doing when I play.”

“You better!” You respond happily, as the both of you walk under the dark of night, going ignorant to the commotion in the distance, distracting yourself as you wait for your father to finish what he went off to do in the crowd of people he had only made fun of before. “I can’t wait to finally go to one of your games.”

“I’m the best on my team, I guarantee you that.” He said smugly.

You shake your head but still contain your smile, parting your lips to reply but instantly stopping as a strange light suddenly caught your eye. It was something vast and green, seen past the trees and from where Draco and you were in the forest, it shone brighter than the stars in the sky and looked like a cloud of green smoke. A cloud of smoke that began to form into a big skull with a serpent coming out of its mouth like a tongue would. A mark. His mark.

“Quickly, we have to find father.” You stressed, not having to do much more before Draco and you hurried to the crowd of tents and pushed past the crowd of people that ran away in a panic, almost running over you in the panicked state they were, making it harder to identify anyone in the crowd, causing trouble to keep Draco in front of you as they shoved past you. It was beginning to raise your fear and panic, making your breathing much quicker just like the heart inside your chest. It made you stressed to the point you couldn’t find the man you were looking for in the field—that or you were just too overwhelmed to look good.

“Y/N! There he is! Come on!” Draco ushered you, pointing to the tall familiar man that finally brought some sort of comfort to your panic.

“Quickly!” He bellowed, rushing Draco and you towards him, looking paler than usual and as afraid as Draco and you. And before either Draco or you could question the mark in the dark sky, he grabbed your hands and the three of you disapparated from the scene. Forgetting the mark in the sky. Not by your choice, but by your fathers. The questions you had, left back in the place you were last standing to never be answered. Simply avoided and being left with nothing but wonder.

——

“I’ll try and send letters as soon as I can, okay?” Narcissa said as she waved at both Draco and you.

You nod and wave goodbye, thinking to yourself how someone who wasn’t your biological parent cared more to be here than your actual father. She always did, she never cared that your mother had been someone else, she treated you exactly as she treated Draco, no exceptions.

“Okay.” You nod with a small smile decorating your lips, ignoring the way Draco only offered her a short stiff wave before he disappeared inside the famous scarlet train. “Bye, I’ll write as soon as we’re settled in school!” With one last goodbye you disappear inside too, following Draco down the hall until he reaches his compartment, stopping by the door and letting you go in first before he and his other friends follow suit. Two friends you knew, Crabbe and Goyle; and also didn’t like as they were both annoying and rude. The only good thing about them was that they left you alone, and continued doing so as the train left the station and began to travel further north towards the school that at the simple thought began to make you feel nervous, made you feel like your heart was slowly dropping to your stomach the closer you knew you were getting.

The only thing that eased your mind was seeing as rain drops ran down the window of your compartment, as more rain fell on harder and the clouds grew darker; straining your eyes to see the passing scenery out the window that was covered by the steam caused by the rain. But like usual your peace was disturbed as per usual Draco and his annoying friends were causing a scene.

At first you were going to let it just pass and stay seated but you heard what Draco was saying and you quickly dragged yourself off your seat and walked up behind him. “...but then, fathers always associated with the top people at the Ministry...maybe your fathers too junior to know about it, Weasley...yes...they probably don’t talk important stuff in front of him—”

“Draco.” You cut him off with a tight lipped smile, “that’s enough, leave them alone.”

Goyle was about to snap back, but before he could you caught his intentions and shot him a glare that made him shut up immediately.

“Let’s head back to the compartment,” You sigh and force the words you speak to convince Draco to leave. “They...aren’t worth it let’s go.”

“You’re right.” Draco responded smugly, “of course.” Before he could leave completely he looks at you with the same smug look before looking at the group he was just being mean too. “My sister personally knows the player you can only admire as a toy, Weasley. She went to school with him you see.” He boasted and continued doing so with no fault in his pride, “and I’m sure she’s going to sign up too and take that glory you crave so much, Potter.” With that being said, he turned back and walked back to the compartment laughing with his friends as they kept poking fun at the students they had just left, leaving you back alone to offer them a small smile and a genuine apology.

“I’m sorry for him and his annoying friends.”

They answered with silence and annoyed pointed glares, making you offer them one last apologetic smile before you turned away and walked back into the compartment. Enjoying the rest of the ride to your new school with just the sound of the raindrops to keep you company and at ease.

As time passed, everything you were nervous to see finally came to view. You arrived at the train station and expected to travel to the castle in the boats, but that form of travel you knew was for first years; but if you thought of it you practically were like the first years, you were a couple years above them and it was your first time coming to this school like them. But as you saw them all leave with the giant man you came to the conclusion that you weren’t like them.

The only thing you could do was go up to the school alongside the rest of the students, climbing onto horseless carriages. The fact that you wouldn’t get the full first day experience kind of brought your mood down at first, but as you passed the gates and the carriages miraculously landed on the ground without getting destroyed in the sky by the lightning, your mood was once again nervous and excited.

The anxiety was short-lived for the moment however as you saw the huge old dark castle and climbed up the flight of big stone stairs to get inside the castle, being in awe as your eyes slowly took everything in. Noticing the torch lit hall that brought a warm welcome, the marble staircases that made everything much fancier, and before you could notice more, a tall older thin woman with a big pointed hat walked towards you and the rest of the students. Draco standing by you, revealed her name you had only been wanting to know, Professor McGonagall.

She gave no speech or attention your way specifically, just ushered all you into the great hall where you knew the inevitable was coming, the sorting you had been all too nervous to get to was going to finally happen.

——

“A thousand years or more ago, when I was newly sewn, there lived four wizards of renown, whose names are still well known: Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor, Fair Ravenclaw, from glen, Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad, Shrewd Slytherin, from fen. They shared a wish, a hope, a dream, they hatched a daring plan to educate young sorcerers thus Hogwarts School began. Now each of these four founders formed their own house, for each did value different virtues In the ones they had to teach. By Gryffindor, the bravest were prized far beyond the rest; For Ravenclaw, the cleverest would always be the best; For Hufflepuff, hard workers were most worthy of admission; And power-hungry Slytherin loved those of great ambition. While still alive they did divide their favorites from the throng, yet how to pick the worthy ones when they were dead and gone? 'Twas Gryffindor who found the way, he whipped me off his head the founders put some brains in me so I could choose instead! Now slip me snug about your ears, I've never yet been wrong, I'll have a look inside your mind and tell where you belong!” The hat sings, making everyone clap and cheer.

You clap lazily before letting out a nervous sigh and keep bouncing your leg under the table, rubbing your wrists as you rest your arms on the table top. Not being able to keep your eyes from drifting to the Gryffindor table, spotting Harry Potter talking amongst his friends, wondering to yourself what would happen if you got put into Gryffindor and ended up becoming friends with the trio Draco always ranted about. Would such a drastic choice, drift you from your family? What would everyone think? Having a Malfoy be part of a different house that wasn’t Slytherin?

For one you wouldn’t mind….that much...it would be a change. A weird one, but one that would stop people from viewing you like the enemy. But two it would definitely cause a drift now that you really thought of it, maybe not between you and Narcissa but between your loving father and Draco.

“I know you’ll get Slytherin.” Draco suddenly said to you, ignoring Dumbledore's speech and breaking you from your thoughts.

You blink and turn your head to look at him, raising your eyebrow to question, “you think so?”

“You’re a Malfoy it’s obvious isn’t?”

You hum and nod still all kinds of unsure, “you’re right.” Your eyes then dart to Dumbledore as you hear the words you’d been dreading to hear.

“Before we sort the first years I'd like to bring up a new transfer from Durmatrang to get sorted first, Y/N Malfoy!” The crowd goes completely silent, the only sound was the sound of people shifting as they turn their bodies and heads to look at you as you stand from your seat to slowly head towards the stool where the sorting hat was waiting to sort you in a house, and tell you a choice that would or wouldn’t change many things. It was all nerve wracking especially with all the eyes watching you intently, you could feel your heart beat wildly in your chest and swore others could hear it too, especially dumbledore who you now stood before, glancing only once at him before he motioned you to sit, lifting the brown hat over your head and carefully placing it on top.

At first you’d thought it would be a quick choice without having to do much thinking like Draco said it did with him, but it wasn’t, for you he hummed to ponder; “hmm….another Malfoy...as easy it was to place the one before, with you it’s difficult.” It stayed silent and since you couldn’t see it’s facial expression as it spoke, you had to go off the wide eyed expressions and the whisperings from the other students.

“I sense that there’s a thirst to prove yourself as well as great ambition…” he continues to say loudly, “...hmm, ruthless as well as passionate. Should I put you in Gryffindor where dwell the brave of heart, or perhaps Slytherin where there are cunning folk that use any means to achieve their ends.” It goes silent again and this time you look to Draco who’s listening with much intent, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were the one having trouble.

You dig your nails into the wood of the stool and notice the murmuring crowd all going silent as the hat speaks to finish. “Oh, I see now, better be...”

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @peter-laufeyson , @swiftlymoniquesblog

[noelliza]

The Pursuit of Two Left Feet Ch 1 - Anderperry

Hello! I started a cute anderperry fic that includes dancing and sneaking out to an underground swing dance club. Thank you @poetrusicperry for the idea! This is the first part out of two. You can also read this on ao3 here. Enjoy! :)

Part 2

~

“Charlie, no.”

“Charlie, yes!”

Neil rolls his eyes in exasperation, convinced that his best friend has finally lost his mind. “How the hell do you think we could get away with this? It’s one thing to sneak out to the cave, but another to sneak out into town!”

“Neil, you doubt my abilities, it’ll be fine! Meeks is a genius, and he can help me work the whole thing out,” Charlie says, trying to appease him.

“So you don’t even have a plan?” Neil asks incredulously.

Charlie leans over conspiratorially. “Yet,” he says with a wink.

“Well let me know what you come up with, it’ll be a good laugh.”

“You bet. Later, party pooper.”

Neil huffs and shuts the door, walking over to his closet to grab his night clothes.

“So uh… what was Charlie on about this time?” Todd asks from his bed, closing the book he was reading.

“Something totally ridiculous,” Neil says.

Neil realizes from Todd’s silence that his paranoia is creeping in, assuming that Neil’s vague answer is him not wanting to fill Todd in on their conversation. Hastily, he turns to look at Todd and gives him a reassuring smile.

“He wants us all to sneak out and go dancing at a club in town. But there’s no way we could pull that off,” he explains.

He watches as Todd’s body relaxes at his words, the tension leaving his features to form a shy smile. “I don't know… Charlie somehow always finds a way,” he says, holding Neil’s gaze for a moment before returning to his book.

Neil laughs, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “So far he has, but one day he’s bound to get caught. I’m all for mischief, but I think this is pushing it.”

“Since when does Charlie not push anything?”

“You always make a great point,” Neil says fondly, rushing over to ruffle Todd’s hair before he can stop him.

Neil finishes changing and leaps onto his bed, landing on his back with a relieved sigh, the weight of the day leaving his body. Today Neil was moving nonstop with soccer practice, math club, and chemistry club that he hasn’t had a moment to breathe in the last 13 hours.

Neil turns his head towards Todd to glance at the cover of his book. He instantly recognizes it as Fahrenheit 451, which is a book he’s been wanting to read but never dared to buy in fear of his father finding it. He’s afraid of Neil ever discovering new ideas, diverting from the cut path he’s had him set on since birth. His father would be disappointed to know that Neil has been forming his own beliefs and sentiments for a long time now. He refuses to live a meaningless life, void of passion and love. But, he doesn’t want to create suspicion, so he doesn’t discuss anything that his father could potentially disapprove of.

“So, are you gonna go?” Todd asks.

“As if I have a choice. If I thought for even a second Charlie would let me get out of it, I’d be the dumbest person on the planet.”

Todd lets out a beautiful, warm laugh, his eyes wrinkling into a bright smile. It’s rare Neil gets to see it, and he’s grateful every single time he does.

“Are you?”

Todd falters, his smile falling slightly. Neil’s heart hurts at the sight. “Well... am I… invited?”

“Todd, of course you are,” Neil says gently, knowing that sometimes Todd needs reassurance.

“Then, uh, yeah I’m coming,” Todd says, his voice shaking slightly.

He knows what a big deal it is that Todd is willing to break the rules to be included, and he’s glad that he’s starting to feel like he truly belongs.

Neil has always loved dancing—almost as much as acting. Letting your body move to the beat of the music, allowing the sound to fill you and set your mind free, all the thoughts and obligations draining out of you. He feels light, like no worries or obligations ever existed in the first place. So of course at the sound of Charlie’s idea, his heart sings at the opportunity to go, but he knows if he got caught that would be his father’s last straw. He can’t risk his father pulling him out to send him to military school, away from the few things, or people, who are vital parts of his life.

He loves his poets more than anything, talking to them is his favorite part of any day. Charlie is his best friend, without his crude jokes and lawless energy, school would be utterly dull. Mr. Keating is the reason Neil feels inspired, like he has a chance at living a fulfilling life. The hope that had once been squashed down into nothing by his father was taking root once again, the weed never having been truly destroyed. However, Neil doesn’t know how he’s going to do it—betray his father and live the life he desires—but the thought that he will one day is what keeps him going.

And Todd. Todd is everything. He’s the air he breathes, the light shining through the murky tunnel, and the monologue to his play in an empty crowd. If he never got to see Todd’s furrowed brows while deep in thought, or his bright, infectious smile again, Neil’s world would crumble on top of him, leaving him to suffocate, entrapped in everlasting misery.

Neil envisions stepping onto a crowded dance floor with Todd’s hand in his, his heart swelling with joy. He hears Etta James’ “At Last” filling the room, the sound of the violin strumming the chords of his heart as they sway together. This picture makes Neil yearn for the opportunity to go dancing with the poets, but he knows it's only a mere fantasy, and nothing more.

At the mention of this, however, Charlie wasn’t willing to accept that; he doesn’t understand that it’s just not doable, it’s out of reach. The town is too far, they would never make it back to the school before a teacher discovered their absences. Once he said it, Charlie wouldn’t let it go, and Neil had to grudgingly accept that it had officially been put in motion.

“Good. Let’s just hope Charlie doesn’t fuck it up,” Neil says, settling into bed.

Todd laughs and moves to set his book aside but Neil stops him. “No it’s okay, I’m so tired I could fall asleep through Charlie’s snores right now. Keep reading.” Neil finishes with a mumble, turning toward the wall.

“…Y-you sure?” He asks hesitantly.

“Of course, don’t be silly. Good night Todd,” Neil murmurs, already beginning to doze off.

“Good night, Neil,” Todd says softly, his voice. A few seconds go by and Neil can sense the light of the room behind his eyelids, and he smiles to himself. It’s good to see Todd doing more things for himself, not sacrificing every bit of himself for the sake of others. It makes Neil’s heart full, knowing Todd is finally coming into himself, growing to be the person Neil always saw inside him that was crying to be let out into the world.

Neil quickly falls asleep, the image of swinging Todd around the dance floor, his untamable laughter echoing through the room filling his thoughts.

***

Neil’s studying Chemistry in his room when Charlie barges in, a dangerous grin spread across his face. Neil shudders, knowing that expression all too well.

Charlie settles himself on Neil’s bed, leaning his head back on his hands with one leg crossed over the other. “We’ve got ourselves a full-proof plan.”

Neil scoffs, disbelieving. “Yeah right. It hasn’t even been a full day.”

“Well, it just shows you we’re that good,” Charlie says smugly.

“Or, you’re too sloppy, missing some of the potential obstacles,” Neil says shortly, looking back down at his book.

“Not in this case! All of those have been strategically avoided. We’re all set to go this weekend!” He affirms.

“So, aren’t you going to tell me all about your ingenious plan?”

Charlie laughs. “No, because you’ll obsess over it trying to find a mistake. And there’s no need to, because it’ll work out.”

“Like the time you broke into Nolan’s office and left rotten eggs only for him to have seen you walk right out of the door?” Neil says, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

“That was one time!” Charlie objects. “And I was a complete amateur back then. Right now, you’re speaking to an expert of mischief.”

“Dear Lord, help us all,” Neil groans.

“Hey, Jesus didn’t assist with this plan, so he doesn’t need to be involved.”

Neil just sighs, not deigning to respond.

“So, have you planned your dance with Todd? How are you going to ask him? ‘Todd Anderson, the love of my life, will you do me the honor of dancing the night away with me?’” Charlie teases with a crooked smile.

Neil throws a pencil at him, his cheeks flushing. “Shut up, I wouldn’t ask him like that.”

“Well, you have four more days to think about it.”

“I doubt he’ll even want to,” Neil sighs.

Charlie scoffs, arching his brow. “Yeah, that's as likely as Nolan and Keating becoming lovers.”

“Thank you for that horrible image,” Neil says with a grimace, earning a laugh from Charlie.

“You’re welcome.”

Neil shakes his head, wanting to get straight to the important details. “So who’s coming along?”

“Meeks and Pitts, Todd obviously. As soon as I told Knox he could bring Chris, he was in.”

“And Cameron?” Neil asks resignedly, already knowing what his answer will be.

“As in Richard Cameron? Dick up my ass? And not the good kind,” Charlie snorts.

“Uh, yes, him. The only Cameron we know, did you ask him?” He pushes, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

Charlie huffs a laugh. “Ask him if he was dropped at birth? No, but I’ve been pretty close.”

“You know what I meant,” Neil says, looking at him firmly.

Charlie avoids his gaze, guilt flashing across his face for a moment. “No, I haven’t…”

“Charlie—”

“Nuwanda!”

Neil takes a deep breath to calm himself. “Nuwanda,” he says pointedly, to which Charlie gives an approving nod. “Come on, you gotta invite him or I will. You know I don’t like excluding anyone. It’s not right.”

“I know, I know, you’re a better person than the rest of us. I’ll mention it, letting him know that the chances we’ll get caught are very, very high—” Charlie cuts off at Neil’s reproving look. “Fine,” Charlie says with a tired, dramatic sigh. “But if he finks, it’s on you!”

“Alright that’s fine, but I really doubt he will. He has no reason to,” Neil says.

“You always give people the benefit of the doubt,” Charlie says, and Neil shrugs helplessly, unable to deny it. “But, I happen to like that about you,” Charlie finishes, grinning.

Neil rolls his eyes playfully. “Good to know, but if you want me to tell you I like how rash and rebellious you are, I’m not planning to.”

Charlie laughs as the door swings open, revealing Todd who briefly glances at the pair before walking over his desk to drop off his bag. Charlie walks over to him, placing his hands on his shoulders and shaking him lightly.

“Toddie! Ready for Friday?” Charlie asks, his excitement spilling out of him.

Todd chuckles, craning his neck to look back at Charlie. “I— yeah I am.”

Charlie whoops, giving Todd’s shoulders a final pat before bouncing back towards Neil, getting way too far into his personal space. “It’ll be fun!”

“When is anything you’re involved in not fun?” Neil asks dryly.

“That’s the spirit!” He shouts triumphantly before bounding out of the room.

“Make sure you talk to Cameron!” Neil shouts after him despite knowing Charlie most likely won’t hear him. With the amount of energy radiating off him, he’s probably halfway down the hall by now. Todd laughs softly and heads over to his bed, opening up a book as he leans his back against the wall.

Neil looks back down at his book, trying with every cell in his brain to comprehend the material. It’s been much more difficult lately to study as the pressure of finals looms over him and the voice of his father invading his mind, telling him he’s not working hard enough. He’s been trying to overcompensate by spending more of his time focusing on his studies, but so far Neil has felt more exhausted than ever, almost falling asleep on his textbook a few times this past week. Charlie caught him after the third time, insisting that it was enough and Neil needed a break. But Charlie didn’t understand what it was like having a father with outrageous expectations. Neil has to put every bit of his time and energy into his studies in order to meet the bare minimum, or else his father will accuse him of slacking off.

Neil turns the page, barely remembering any of the words he just read. He can feel Todd’s stare from the bed, and he knows Todd is most likely considering saying something. He pretends not to notice, not wanting to open this can of worms with him. With just a few words, Todd can convince him of anything, and if he urges him to take a break, Neil knows he won’t be able to refuse--he’ll fold like a deck of cards. But he can’t afford that right now, so he doesn’t budge.

After a few moments, Todd turns away and grabs his book from the nightstand to continue reading. Neil is conflicted, part of him glad Todd didn’t press the issue while the other aches for him to say something, anything to pull him out of this state of mind.

They stay like that for a while—Neil loses track of the time—and then, Todd breaks the silence.

“So, uh, I think Meeks is having a study group for Latin tonight. Are you coming?” He asks, closing the book he was reading.

“I don’t know… I think I’m gonna skip out on it,” Neil says, ruefully.

Todd pauses. “Why?”

“I gotta do some history,” he lies, keeping his head down to avoid Todd’s eyes.

“B-but we just had a test yesterday, we haven’t learned anything new. And you always go to the study groups.”

“Well, I’m just trying to get ahead.”

Todd makes a noise of disappointment that pains him. “But—”

“Todd,” Neil cuts in, harsher than he intended, “just, drop it. Please.”

Todd doesn't respond, returning to his book silently. Neil feels awful talking to him like that, so dismissive. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it to himself, but he feels out of control. It’s like the words are coming out for him, the flood bypassing the barriers he’s placed in his mind.

After a while, Todd gets up to go meet up with the other Poets, grabbing his books and putting them in his bag. He hears Todd hesitate at the door before leaving, presumably deciding not to bother Neil again.

The second the door shuts, a wave of guild floods over Neil, settling in his chest. He rests his head in his hands, trying to take deep breaths.

It’s fine. He’s too busy for study groups right now, it’s not a big deal. There will always be more. He’s not avoiding his friends because he thinks he doesn’t deserve them. Neil just needs to focus on his own studies right now, to make his father proud. After a few seconds, he lifts his head and gets back to work, ignoring the pounding headache and the heaviness of his eyelids…

“Neil?”

Neil jolts awake, lifting his head to look around and realizing he’s still at his desk, his drool soaking into the corner of his notebook page. He sees Todd standing above him, his expression filled with concern. His brows are furrowed in that way he does when he’s trying to solve something, and he has the impulse to smooth it out with his thumb, just the gentlest touch. But the familiar, demanding voice in his head prevents him from doing that.

“Hey! How’d it go?” Neil asks, false brightness in his tone.

Todd’s face doesn’t change, still searching his features as if the answer is hidden in them. “Uh, good,” he says, breaking his gaze away and walking towards his closet. “I’m still struggling, but Meeks helped me understand it a bit better at least.”

“Oh good, I’m glad!” Neil says, forcing a cheery smile.

Neil doesn’t move from his desk as Todd shuffles around the room, getting changed for bed. As Todd is pulling his shirt off, Neil blinks back to reality, looking away to hastily pack up his things. He feels Todd’s eyes again, and Neil has to fight against the pull to meet his gaze. He puts his books on the shelf, the silence in the room stretching longer with every taken breath.

“Charlie accused me of drugging you and locking you in our room,” Todd says after a few minutes, breaking the tension filling the room.

“It’s probably because he’s more likely to do that to someone,” Neil replies, laughing faintly at the thought.

“I’m sure he’s already done it to Cameron.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Neil says with a sigh.

The silence creeps back in, louder than he’s ever heard it.

“There’s gonna be another one tomorrow night,” Todd says, his voice level with the smallest hint of hope peeking through.

“I don’t think I can go to any this week. Maybe next week,” Neil says weakly, quickly making for the bathroom to escape the awkwardness.

He hates doing this. He knows it hurts Todd and the other poets, as well as himself. But if he lets himself get distracted then he won’t make it through finals. For once, Neil just wants to make his father proud.

When he returns, the lights are out, Todd’s breathing slow and even.

***

That next night when Todd is about to leave for study group, Neil busies himself in his Latin textbook, hoping he won’t hassle him about coming along. If he does, it’ll be even harder to refuse him. He hears Todd walk toward the door when suddenly, Neil’s book is stripped away from him, slammed shut and thrown onto his bed. He looks up and Todd is standing above him, looking nervous but resolute, a fierceness in his eyes. Neil meets his gaze, bewildered.

“Todd, what—”

“We’re going for a walk.”

“But I have—”

“It’s a nice night.”

“Todd.”

“Neil,” Todd says firmly, his tone grabbing Neil’s attention. Neil stares, unable to break away from the set look on Todd’s face. One look into those warm, soft eyes is enough to make Neil forget why he insisted on studying in the first place.

“I kind of like when you tell me what to do. Tell me something else,” he says, his mouth curling upward.

Todd flushes, turning away. “N-not right now. Just put your jacket on.”

“You got it,” Neil winks, grabbing his coat and following Todd out the door.

Together, they walk down the hallway and Todd leads him outside, the rush of crisp, winter air refreshing on his skin. Neil didn’t realize how suffocating his room was until now, his lungs filled by the outdoors. He feels like his mind is being pulled out of the mud, regaining his senses, his rational thoughts. Why was he cooping himself in his room?

“Thank you, I needed this,” Neil beams, feeling grateful Todd managed to drag him out here. Sometimes, Neil wonders how he managed to survive this long without Todd in his life—before this school year, just a few short months ago.

Todd nods, keeping his head towards the ground, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets. He’s so adorable, Neil can’t handle it. He wishes he had the words, or the drawing skills to capture this sight forever, something he could hold onto and never let go.

“So… are we going anywhere in particular?” Neil asks, unable to help himself. His silences with Todd are always comfortable, but his curiosity is buzzing, eager to know their designation.

“Maybe,” Todd says coyly.

“Come on, Todd, you’re a poet! I know you can be more descriptive than that,” he teases.

“Y-yeah I know I can. I’m… I’m choosing not to.”

Neil’s smile gradually grows wide. “Alright, I can accept that answer. As long as you’re sure.”

“I am,” he says.

Neil laughs softly in response, his heart aching. He looks around, taking in the dark figures of the trees, listening to the whispers of night as it awakens, the faint hum of life, and feeling the gentle movement of wind caressing his skin. It feels like a dance of itself, moving to the beat of its own sound, the music of the forest.

“You know, everytime we sneak out to the cave, none of us ever actually take time to really absorb our surroundings.”

“Yeah, I think because of the chances we’ll get caught if we’re out here,” Todd says, briefly glancing upward to the sky.

Neil chuckles, “True, but we’ve been really missing out.”

“Yeah.”

They continue their trek, the sounds of their footsteps on the ground echoing around them.

“You know, I never used to like the dark, but something about the woods at this hour is so peaceful,” Neil muses, looking up at the moon shining through the trees. Todd hums in response.

“I… I’ve always liked the dark,” Todd adds after a few beats.

Neil turns to him, but can’t catch his eye as Todd is looking resolutely ahead. “Have you?” He says, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

Todd nods, “I—it was comforting…” he says reluctantly, as if more words are bubbling inside him, but he’s scared to let them out.

“I was always afraid of it as a kid. When I was in trouble, my father would put me in the coat closet to have me think about what I had done. I felt like it was eventually going to swallow me whole,“ Neil shares softly, hoping it’ll encourage Todd to speak about it.

Todd lets out a harsh breath, as he already knows how horrible Neil’s father is. Neil glances at Todd again, unable to help it, and nudges him lightly. “Why do you find it comforting?” He asks gently.

Todd keeps his eyes glued to his feet, presumably focusing on his footsteps as he considers what to say. Over the last few months, Neil has begun to catch onto Todd’s small mannerisms. When he’s anxious over an upcoming event, he’ll pick at the hems of his clothes. When he doesn’t want to say yes to something, his eyes widen in the slightest bit and he’ll look sideways, as if he’ll find a proper excuse. The one Neil finds most endearing is when he’s given a compliment, Todd bites the inside of his lip and glances downward.

“I was afraid of it too, actually,” he starts, his breath a bit shaky, “I thought there were monsters in the dark. At least, that's what some of the others at school used to say. But then one night, there was a power outage at my house. It—it happened right after my parents lectured me for not making the baseball team,” Todd pauses, taking a deep breath. Neil waits patiently, holding onto his every word dearly.

“I… I was in my room, alone, in the dark… and I realized it… it made me feel less lonely. I couldn't see the emptiness of the room. I could only hear my breath and my heartbeat. It was… calming,” he finishes in a whisper, only heard by Neil and the hush of the delicate wind.

Neil feels the breath in his lungs being snatched away, and he swallows back a sob threatening to escape him, not wanting to make Todd feel guilty for sharing about his past. Everytime Neil hears something new about Todd’s horrible childhood, his heart tears further apart. He wishes he could strip him of that pain and take it for himself, easing him of that burden.

“I can understand that,” Neil says, making an effort to keep his voice even. “Just… I hope you know you’re not alone anymore, right?”

“Y-yeah I know,” Todd says.

“Good,” Neil breathes, hoping Todd meant it.

They approach a clearing, and it’s one Neil has never seen before. It’s wide, the surrounding trees acting as a safe cocoon. The closer they get, the more he sees the flickering lights blinking through the air, dotting the open space. Fireflies.

“Here we are,” Todd says, a shy smile gracing his face.

Neil walks towards the center, spinning as he gazes around. “How did you find this place?” Neil says, feeling dizzy yet unbound, like he could fly straight to the moon without wings.

“I-I go on walks sometimes… when I need to think. One night, I saw the fireflies… and they led me here.”

“Amazing,” he says, his voice soft as a whisper, watching a firefly buzzing past him in awe. He’s never seen one so up close before, but they’re mesmerizing. Neil doesn’t want to look away.

“Y-yeah, it is.”

Neil wanders around the space, letting his body move on its own accord as his eyes follow the various glowing bodies traveling in every direction. He hums absently, the chorus of a song stuck in his head. He feels Todd’s eyes on him as he walks, and his face burns.

“‘The Twelfth of Never’?” Todd asks.

Neil stops and looks at him, the sight of Todd lit up by the scattering bugs making him weak at the knees. “Yeah, you know it?”

Todd nods. “Mhm, it… it was my favorite song a few summers back. I snuck the vinyl from Jeffey’s room and played it w-when no one was around.”

Neil takes a step towards him. “You ask how much I need you, must I explain?” he sings.

Todd’s eyes widen, his face vulnerable and open. Neil smiles warmly. “I know you’re more of a poet, Whitman, but... join me?” He asks, hopeful.

Todd blinks, looking unsure. After Neil quirks an amused smile, he gives in with a harmless eye roll. “I need you, oh my darling,” he mumbles, looking away as Neil approaches him.

“…like roses need rain.”

Once Neil is standing in front of him, he holds out his hand. “May I?”

Todd looks back at him and pauses as he notices his outstretched hand. Slowly, he reaches out his hand and places it gently in Neil’s palm, allowing him to grasp it. He leads them to the center, placing his other hand on Todd’s waist. They stare at each other for a moment before Neil starts to move his feet. He keeps the pace slow in order to give Todd time used to it, and gradually, they make circles around the clearing.

“W-where did you learn to dance?” Todd asks breathlessly, his eyes shining.

“My father made me do cotillion when I was nine. I hated everything about it except for this,” he says, his eyes focused on Todd’s expression.

“You’re really good,” Todd says with a faint laugh, fumbling to keep up. Neil tightens his grip on Todd’s waist the slightest bit, keeping him in place as they glide.

“You ask how long I’ll love you, I’ll tell you true…” Neil spins him around, eliciting a startled laugh out of Todd that makes his heart swoon.

“Until the twelfth of never, I'll still be loving you,” Todd sings back through his giggles.

“Hold me close.” Neil dips Todd suddenly, leaning over to catch a close look at his eyes.

“Never let me go,” Todd adds, looking at Neil as if to say he means it literally.

“Oh, I’d never,” Neil smiles, holding the position for a beat longer before pulling him back up.

They go on, waltzing around the space as if the leaves are harps and the forest is a string orchestra, playing the melodic tune of the music in the expanse and beyond. Neil is so enraptured with the pure joy on Todd’s face that he hardly registers when Todd steps on his feet a few times. He’ll take all the foot pain to have Todd look at him like that.

“I'll love you till the poets run out of rhyme.”

“Until the twelfth of never and that's a long, long time,” Todd sings softly, finishing in a whisper as they slowly come to a stop. Suddenly, all the movement of the woods cease, the air stilling. Neil can feel Todd’s soft breath, feeling his head spin as Todd blinks slowly, the light making his eyes glisten. He’s absolutely, and utterly breathtaking.

Neil’s heart and every muscle of his body know what he aches to do, encouraging him to give in to the desire. The craving in his heart for months, buried under bouts of doubt and self loathing. Do it, he thinks, imploring himself to be brave, seize the day.

Then, the snap of a branch makes them jolt apart, the world returning to its place with a crack. Neil clears his throat. “Thank you for showing me this place, Todd. I really appreciate it.”

“Course,” Todd nods stiffly, averting his gaze as a blush creeps up his neck.

The pair walk back the same way they came, the atmosphere now charged with an energy between them. Neither dare to speak a word, feeling silenced by the gust of the wind.

Neil lays awake that night for hours, the vision of his lips on Todd’s coursing through his mind until he’s eventually pulled into sleep.

Part 2

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 7

Neil x Reader

Chapter 7: Wicked game

(see chapter 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1)

summary: it’s time to come back to life, and sometimes it involves Neil dragging you to a social event

warnings: 18+, language, alcohol mention (beer is considered alcohol, right?)

author’s note: 3k words. It’s not exactly what I had in mind for that chapter, but they have a mind of their own, as always. 

Almost there.

The song for this part is Stone Sour - Wicked Game (acoustic, live)

Enjoy and let me know what you think, please? All feedback is greatly appreciated.

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas​ @neutron-stars-collision​ @ergunbilge​ @invertedneil​ @wanderedaway​ @i-wanna-b-yours​ @wonderwoman292​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver​ (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

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It didn’t matter how many times you saw him do that, the effect the sight had on you was pretty much always the same. Filling your mind with thoughts that were quite counterproductive, one could say.

The veiny patterns covering hands and forearms. The long fingers running through the buttons. The tilted chin, extending the neck, drawing attention to that impossible jawline. The slight pout. The brows drawn together in concentration--

You smacked your tongue and shook your head

“Y’know what, those shirts of yours are so rude, but the way you wear them, the rolled-up sleeves?”

Neil looked at you through the reflection in the mirror, puzzled. “What about them?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely disrespectful,” you sighed heavily and leaned against the door frame.

Playful lights danced in the blue eyes. “Oh yeah?” he teased, giving himself a final glance-over before turning to you. “And what you’re gonna do about it?”

“Nothing,” - you shrugged, crossing your arms - “because you insist on dragging me to a social event.”

The faint resentment ringing in your last words didn’t get lost on Neil.

“So boring of me,” he said as he closed the gap between you, trying to keep a straight face. He put his hands on your waist and smirked. “But maybe after that we can come back here and continue the conversation.”

As you fixed his collar, a shade of smile hid in the corner of your mouth.

“Really wanna listen to me listing all the things that drive me mad about you, huh?” you asked smugly, gliding your fingertips along the delicate stripes of the greyish beige shirt.

Neil’s thumbs brushed over your hip bones as he hummed, “I have a feeling it might lead to a rather pleasant conclusion.”

When you let out an amused scoff, his lips captured the snarky comment that was bound to follow. He pulled you closer and lifted you up, and the next second you were sitting on the edge of a vanity cabinet, breathless from the kiss, tugging at the striped shirt.

A buzz right next to you.

You jumped, startled, and glared at the phone. “Is it too late to tell Matthias the Uber driver that we’re not going anywhere?” you asked without too much hope as you nuzzled your face to Neil’s neck, breathing in his scent, unwilling to let this moment end too quickly.

Neil chuckled and stroked your arms. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun.”

You still didn’t know where he was taking you - he’d assured you that it would be casual, and that was basically all you cared about. He knew you enough, and you trusted his judgement, after all.

“It better be,” you pouted, pulling back, but as soon as you met the bright blue eyes your heart sang in your chest. After spending all that time in the darkness, not sure if you’d ever see his face again, you caught yourself taking an extra second every now and then, just looking at him. How the light played on his features, now soft in the elaborately illuminated hotel bathroom. How his lips curled whenever he found your gaze. How utterly stunning he was.

Smiling gently, you ran your fingers through Neil’s disheveled mane, taming the blonde mess if ever so slightly.

“Let’s not keep Matthias waiting, then,” you sighed and slid off the cabinet.

-------

The afternoon was quite warm for late autumn. As you were arriving at your destination, you watched the sun shining through the scarce leaves left on the trees, adding vibrance to their colours. Too mesmerized to pay attention to the route, you recognized the place only when the car stopped. The training site. You turned to Neil in confusion, but he just wiggled his brows and proceeded to thank the driver and got out of the car. You followed him out and right through the gate of the now-empty paintball outdoor facility which served as a front for the agency’s base, hidden a bit further inside the forest.

“Picking up something on the way?” you asked, matching his pace as you strolled towards the training grounds.

Neil shook his head and smiled mysteriously. “Not really.”

“Alrighty then, keep your secrets,” you snorted, rolling your eyes. “Aren’t we a tad overdressed for a little playground fun, though?”

“A rematch?” he pondered and smirked. “Didn’t plan on that, but it’s tempting.”

Indeed. “I’m kinda out of shape, but keep those baggy trousers on and I’m game - wanna beat you fair and square again.”

Neil let out an exasperated huff. “Baggy?! They might be a bit loose but --”

You giggled at his offended expression as he got busy looking down at the target of your remark, ready to defend his fashion choice. Your laughter was enough to stop Neil in his tracks, and when he met your playful gaze, he reached out and drew you into his arms for a tight hug. After a brief moment of perplexity, you eased into his embrace, moved by the force of sudden affection.

When he pulled back, you touched his cheek. “What was that for?” you asked, searching the blue eyes, but finding nothing but joy there.

“Being cheeky.” He scrunched his nose while tapping the tip of yours. “And brilliant,” he added, and for a second you were sure there was something else he wanted to say; instead, he laid a gentle kiss on your lips. “And maybe stalling a minute longer before I’d have to share you with all these people.”

You gaped at him, about to ask what people, but Neil already grabbed your hand and led you around the corner of the building - and you heard them even before you spotted them.

“Oi, there they are!”

“Finally!”

“We’ve just considered sending a rescue party in case you got lost in the woods!”

The unexpected eruption of cheers and greetings made your fight-or-flight reflexes kick in, but as you instinctively took a step back, Neil squeezed your fingers reassuringly.  

A split-second exchange of looks.

All right?

When he saw your tiny nod, he let go of your hand, focusing on the team gathered at the makeshift chillout zone. “Not everyone has your poor sense of directions, Seb,” retorted Neil, flashing his teeth in a grin.

The young man’s protests got drowned in laughter as you approached the group together.

"Luckily not the case with our rogue here,” said Ives, elbowing his way in between other people. He shot you both a disapproving look, toned down by a smile dangling in the corner of his mouth. "Really, roofs? Didn't know you had it in you, mate."

"Me neither,” admitted Neil, going in for a clasp of hands and a brief hug. “When I saw that gap, I was sure that was it. Someone convinced me otherwise."

“The secret is to avoid looking down,” you shrugged, meeting the commander's amused gaze.

"Thanks for bringing our favourite nerd back in one piece." As Ives extended his hand, there was something serious about his expression, mixed with a sense of relief, and you realised he must have been in the response team Neil had called for help.

“My pleasure.” Beaming, you shook his hand. “Thanks for providing backup.” And scraping me off the pavement.

Neil’s gasp was almost theatrical. He smirked and nudged Ives lightly. “Aw, I’m your favourite?”

“Careful, that privilege may be revoked any minute,” grunted Ives in a weak attempt at keeping up appearances, but he couldn’t fool anyone. Now that you had a chance to observe them in the after-hours situation, the bond between the two men was clear as day, and your heart warmed up at the thought.

Waving back at Mahir, you scanned the group for other familiar faces. Wheeler, a couple of people you recognized from the HQ halls, and a bit isolated from the others - the big man himself, manning the barbecue station.

Overwhelmed by the attention you got from the team, you excused yourself and walked up to The Protagonist. You couldn’t help but smile at the confident vibe he radiated with as if he spent every weekend doing nothing but this.

“So dad of you, boss.”

He flopped a sizzling piece of meat to the other side, glancing at you humorlessly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked with polite concern.

“Grand, healed up nicely, thank you.” You circled your shoulder and grinned. “Not in a marathon condition, mind you, but that’s not exactly new.”

“That’s good, Neil was worried about you.”

Not sure if it was the lack of eye contact or something else in his presence, but you decided to stop ignoring the gut feeling.

“You don’t like me,” you said, tilting your head. A mere statement of the fact; you weren’t hurt, only curious. “It’s okay, you don’t have to, just been wondering why.”

TP sighed heavily. And when he finally met your gaze, the dark eyes were sad, only deepening your confusion.

“I’m sorry.” Then something cracked and a shiver ran down your spine, because suddenly, in front of you there was a man who’d seen a lot, suffered too much, and cared even more. The weight of it all slumped his shoulders, and for a short while, he seemed almost helpless. Taking a quick look at the hollering group, he sighed again. “It’s not your fault, it’s--“ he hesitated, searching for the right words. As he found them, there was no sign of the vulnerability from a moment earlier. “It’s a stressful business.” He sent you a crooked smile. “And I’m still mad about that watch.”

The lie was obvious. But the things you saw in his eyes made your chest clench painfully, and…did you really want to know?

Besides, that might have been a truce offering, and you weren’t bent on holding a grudge. Not with him, anyway.

“Hey, wasn’t it technically your idea?” you grinned, shrugging off the weird sense of dread.

A smile finally reached the dark irises. “I guess it was,” he admitted and patted you on the arm. “There’s some beer in the mini-fridge, could you --”

“On it.”

When the clank of bottles sealed your peace treaty, you caught Neil’s happy stare. You pointed at the beer in your hand in a question and he nodded, so you grabbed one more and joined him and the others.

That unfortunate mission must have been some sort of rite of passage in these guys’ eyes because out of the blue, you were no longer an outsider. The Cavalry accepted you with open arms as one of their own, and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. It was a nice feeling, though. Like you belonged. You saw some curious glances, but they came from a good place, and even the suspicious voice in your mind gave in under the cordial, jovial energy of the group.

Soon enough, you were joking with a young medic, having a balancing stand-off with Wheeler, or listening to crazy stories from some old operations, until everyone had enough booze in their systems that allowed them to direct some of the questions to you, as well.

“So is Neil a decent locksmith now?”

You puffed out your cheeks in a musing grimace, but when you spotted Neil’s raised brow, you started laughing. “I’d say even more than decent. Honestly? I don’t think there’s much more that I can teach him, he needs to polish his skills in real life now.” Mocking a teary sniff, you added, “They grow up so fast!”

Nobody would know that you did so while actively ignoring a faint sting in your heart.

You refrained from meeting the attentive blue eyes, though. Just in case.

“Oh cool, then what about a little contest?” Seb clapped his hands cheerfully. “You versus Neil, we could time you, and to make it fairer we could put a blindfold on you --” as he stopped for a breath, he realized - with some help from Wheeler’s elbow to his side - the slight faux pas.

But you barely acknowledge a curse and a mumbled apology cutting through the awkward silence, too busy exchanging amused looks and stifled giggles with your student.

“Neil, would you like to explain?” you asked, schooling your features.

He bowed his head as if he was accepting a great honor. “Gladly.” Neil took a deep breath and his eyes lit up. “See, my dear friend, had you known anything about lockpicking, you’d learnt that sometimes it’s easier to do that with, for example, your eyes closed. You need to listen to what the lock has to say because it’s all about feedback--”

You watched as Neil gave a full lecture, citing your own words from what seemed to be a lifetime ago. He did it with passion and understanding of the craft you’d never dreamed to see in someone else, and yet was so familiar when it came to him. Absentmindedly, you placed a hand over your chest, as if it was enough to stop it from bursting.

You couldn’t be more proud.

Neil finished his rant and looked at you, only to be met with all the appreciation and validation in your gaze, and he beamed even wider.

“All right, damn, we can cover Neil’s eyes then,” sighed Seb, a total resignation in his voice sparking a roar of laughter from the group.

----

As much as you enjoyed the energy of the team, your social batteries were getting drained, and you needed a moment for yourself before you could carry on.

Walking right outside of the periphery of light from the garlands, you let your gaze slide across the training equipment, now barely visible in the moonless night. The leaves crumbled under your feet as you smiled at the memories. Maybe one day you would actually complete the full run? You pulled on the sleeves of your sweater, hiding your hands from the cold evening air.

“Mind if I join you?”

You glanced over your shoulder at Neil, keeping his distance, ready to give you space. With him, it was always in the details he’d picked along the way, effortlessly weaving them into everyday life. “Not at all.”

Neil perked up and joined you in the shadows, inhaling deeply.

“Funny how the scent of the forest changes with the seasons,” he mused and you grinned, turning his way.

“That’s what I call a pick-up line,” you snickered and drew a long breath. “But you’re right, it’s too easy to forget that once you become a permanent city creature.”

He chuckled and lightly rubbed his hands up and down your arms.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked softly, fixing your oversized scarf.

“Yeah.” You brushed your cheek against his fingers, longing for his touch, now that you were somewhat hidden from the prying gazes. “You?”

Neil moved closer and wound one arm around your waist, then cupped your face gently, pressed his forehead to yours, and murmured, “Now I am.”

You hummed happily and slid your hands under his open jacket, resting them at his chest, and closed your eyes. Only then realizing how tense you were, you relaxed in his embrace, savoring his closeness. A steady heartbeat under your palms. The warmth carrying undertones of Neil’s cologne. A featherlike graze of his thumb over your cheek. His nose nudging yours.

But soon enough, you had to break a stolen moment. Trying to stifle a yawn, you hid your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

“Oh, my poor baby,” he cooed, biting back a giggle. “That tired?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled against him on the verge of another yawn.

“Sure you are.” He kissed your temple. “The party’s almost over anyway, judging by decreasing amount of idiotic ideas per hour. Gonna call us a cab soon, all right?”

As you nodded, Neil tightened a hug and reluctantly let you go.

“Be right back, I’ll check if there’s any coffee left,” you said, gesturing towards the tables with beverages.

As your luck would have it, there was just enough for one sip.

A sudden sneer was enough to wake you up, though.

“Hell froze over.”

Mahir walked up to the mini-fridge to grab a beer and you met his mocking stare with furrowed brows.

“Vincent must be chattering his teeth now,” you joked, unsure where the conversation was heading. “Why?”

Mahir scoffed at the remark about your old associate, but he was still studying you closely, confusing you further. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Dude, you’re killing me today,” you sighed, wiping a hand through your face. “Thanks, but what for?”

“You and Neil?”

And when you shot him a puzzled look, he waved his bottle at the place where you stood together a moment before.

Breaking out in a cold sweat, you deadpanned, “Oh.”

Bloody hell.

“I thought you weren’t doing the whole love thing anymore.”

The pulse pounded in your ears, although not loud enough to tune out the sirens blazing in your head.

No.

It came out harder than you felt it. “I’m not.”

No, no, no, no, no.  

Mahir grimaced doubtfully. “Uh-huh.” He looked over your shoulder at the team gathered together in the distance and raised a brow. “Does he know that?”

You couldn’t force yourself to follow his gaze. The panic drained your face of all colour, and that was enough of an answer for your friend.

“I see.” Mahir shook his head, losing the enquiring manner. His features softened as he patted your arm. “Neil’s a good guy.”

Please, no.

“They always are,” you choked out bitterly.

Not again.

“You know what I mean,” insisted Mahir, searching for your eyes.

That the history was not gonna repeat itself?

...or that he didn’t deserve any of it?

“Yeah. Maybe.” You faked a smile. “Excuse me.”

Pushing past him, you went inside the building. You needed to be alone.

Oh, the irony.

Weeks of deliberately avoiding the topic. Tricking yourself into thinking that you can keep it casual. That it didn’t matter that much. That it was nothing but a self-indulgent fling.

You couldn’t breathe.

Lesson learnt, huh?

Barging into one of the restrooms, you got to a sink. Clenching your hands on the cold ceramic, you fought nausea tearing through your body.

Pathetic.

The gasp for air turned into a sob.

...and then everything went quiet.

You raised your eyes to the mirror.

Your reflection was staring back at you with determination.

It was time.

(next chapter ->)