#i think this came out nice :) i need to finish watching delicious in dungeon now

[hottubsandwiches]

guys is this something

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet Ch07

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

**stream of consciousness

**partial nudity

~POV shift~

The sun rose. It was the an important day for Balbadd. As exhausted and injured as everyone was from fighting, they couldn't put off making the new government.

With the crisis over, they had all been able to sleep comfortably, and eat better. Waking up to breakfast at the grand hotel was more than a welcome change after having to eat scraps with the fog troop. Of course there's nothing wrong with eating within one's means, but King Sinbad had developed his palette to be used to more refined things and he wanted to share.

The King had a variable feast of a breakfast be made. It would be thanks for everyone's hard work, and would help prepare them for all of the work they still had left to do. The hotel staff were instructed to tell everyone.

Calm waves announced the arrival of his comrades as they joined him for breakfast. Relief was on all of them. It was nice to see everyone relaxed.

Best of all was seeing Aladdin up and about again. He enjoyed the food as he shared in boisterous conversation with his friends.

They talked of the day's plans. Most of them were going to the palace to help with making the new government. Morgiana understood her limitations in that respect so would be helping give supplies to people in need.

Everyone ate their full, and headed out.

All of this should have been encouraging, but King Sinbad couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. His Beautiful Prophet was missing.

"Ja'far, have you heard anything from Mori this morning?"

His General turned to him, "I guess I forgot to tell you. Lady Mori sent word that she wouldn't be able to join us. So I had some food sent to her room."

The King hummed at that. It was worrying, but she had said that they'd have plenty of time to talk soon.

If what Mori had said was true then she had been removed from her home by Fate. She must have been very confused. Mori had shown that she was able to push her own problems to the side in order to help with the Balbadd crisis. She would become a strong ally.

Now that she could actually take a break, she was most likely mourning the loss of her home. She said herself that she'd never be able to go back. If Mori didn't have a home or family then King Sinbad would fill that void for her just like he had for many others. He wanted to comfort her, but if the Prophet needed space then it was time for the head of the Seven Seas Alliance to do what he could for Balbadd.

---

The magi, and prophet had came to Sinbad as if gifts from Fate, but it was up to him to convince them to stay with him.

Aladdin was currently focused on Alibaba so as long as Sinbad kept them both happy, he could prove his worth to the Magi. Helping Balbadd reestablish itself was 3 birds with one stone since he could also secure another dungeon capturer to his side, and honor his mentor as well.

And yet, even though he had already won her over, he found that he couldn't shake Mori from his thoughts on the walk to the palace.

Sinbad had felt the waves around her the first time they met, and they were only getting stronger. Mori had an amazing influence over the course of Fate. With her knowledge she could figure out exactly how to shift things in her favor and she could even feel the waves to get the perfect timing. He could feel the shift in the greater flow of the waves with every change. It was amazing. She was amazing.

Mori had agreed to become his prophet, but it clearly wasn't enough. Why else would he still be so focused on her? Sinbad would need to gain her true loyalty. She could help him reach his dream or sabotage him, and he might not even realize she had done it. There was no way Mori would do the later -he could feel it- but it wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

It was sad that she was ripped from her home, but it was obvious in the waves why Fate had moved her. She was here for him. Why else would he find her as soon as she arrived? Why else would there be no way for her to return home? She may not have given details yet, but Sinbad was certain that in order to prevent the 2 catastrophes she had mentioned, Mori would need his help. Fate was directing her right to him, and him right back at her.

Even without her prophecies, being able to read the waves of Fate was an amazing ability. One that only Sinbad had until now, so he knew better than anyone the potential that ability gave it's owner. Mori could also use magoi manipulation, and was clearly hiding other amazing secrets.

---

Being a King, Sinbad was given a room in the palace all to himself to work. It was a privilege he was grateful for; his thoughts kept wandering. It wouldn't look good to the other's if they caught him spacing out. He had plenty of practice disguising it from Ja'far's watchful eye.

He was stuck on something he had thought earlier. He'd referred to those two as gifts. It wasn't right for him to view them that way, but how else was he supposed to view Mori other than a gift from Fate? He could feel in the waves that she was going to live out the rest of her days in Sindria with him.

The prophet was clearly the type of woman that responded to him, so it shouldn't take much more to bring her fully to his side. It might be underhanded to flirt with Mori to gain her loyalty, but the King of Sindria would do whatever he needed for the future of his country and his dream. Even if he didn't want her -and he did- her knowledge was something he couldn't afford to let slip between his fingers.

Besides, Mori's reactions were very cute. She got embarrassed easily even when putting on a strong front, so he couldn't help but tease her -it was almost an obligation. He'd be doing the world a disservice if he didn't do everything in his power to make her as endearing as possible.

The way she had responded when their waves aligned was also endearing. She might not have said anything directly, but every time their waves flowed together she acted confidently and flirted back.

Never had he imagined he'd meet someone else who could read the waves of Fate. Mori was someone who could understand his experience -someone who he could talk to about the waves and Fate. It made him want her.

After her wonderful display in the lobby, he had wanted to try out that 'zipper' with his own hands. And when she finally agreed to be his Prophet in such a flirty way, Sinbad had gone for it even though the waves weren't on his side in that aspect. Mori may have turned him down, but she'd be in his bed some day. They had an obvious chemistry; it was only a matter of time.

He'd have plenty of opportunities in the future. Mori, herself, said they'd have more time to talk starting that afternoon.

For now he would focus on helping build this new Republic of Balbadd. He was already working on making the proper arrangements for the new Republic to officially become a part of the Seven Seas Alliance. That would help when he'd visit the Kou Empire as promised.

He couldn't help but wonder how that trip would go. Would he really be able to convince the Kou Emperor to back down? He could always ask his Beautiful Prophet later.

But Mori had avoided the first good breakfast he had been able to provide for her. He had wanted to see her expression when she finally got to eat delicious food. Why had she chosen to eat alone? Would she really be available to talk later like she promised?

She couldn't be avoiding him. He'd only made one pass at her to join him in his room. She didn't seem offended by it either. Surely, she was just resting.

She had gotten worried on his behalf so this current problem was only a hiccup. There was no way she was avoiding him. It wasn't like him to worry about such things -especially not when the waves were on his side- and he had other things he should be focused on.

The King adjusted his posture before pulling out the next document. Thinking about her all morning was distracting him from the work he could actually get done. He'd have time to solve that problem after he finished.

"Excuse me, sir." One of the palace guards was in the doorway talking to Ja'far. "There's a girl asking for an audience with King Sinbad. She said her name was 'Mori?'"

Looks like his thoughts weren't without reason after all. He was being guided by Fate.

The guard was told to bring her.

Then the General turned to his King, "Sin, I know you've been flirting with Mori to win her over, but don't push it. She only just agreed to become your vassal. She's read Fate. She might be able to see right throu-"

Sinbad laughed it off. "It'll be fine. You know you can trust me."

It took a few minutes for the guard to retrieve Mori. Sinbad heard her thank her guide before he actually saw her.

When Mori walked in she was wearing an outfit that Sinbad had never seen before; she was even wearing her hair differently. She wasn't showing off her legs which was a real shame. On the other hand, that neckline was very alluring. Seeing her in clothes he was more familiar with was a good feeling. He wondered what she would look like dressed in the fashion of his own country. King Sinbad made a mental note to buy his Prophet a new wardrobe as a welcome gift -she was going to be living the rest of her life in Sindria after all.

Sinbad stood to greet her but before he could make a move she asked, "So when are we leaving?" Mori had an air of excitement but was still a little nervous. The waves were swirling around her.

She looked cute so full of energy, but Sinbad had no idea what she was talking about. He started to cross the room from the desk while giving her the smile that won him hearts across the seven seas. "Good morning, MY Beautiful Prophet." Her blush was the best reward for his efforts. When he got close enough he reached for her hand. "It's a shame you weren't able to eat with-"

Ja'far raised his arm to separate them.

"Huh?"

"Sin, what did we just talk about?"

Ja'far was scolding him, but all Sinbad noticed was the look Mori was giving his General -like he was her hero. That wasn't right.

Mori touched Ja'far's arm tenderly. "I'm okay, Ja'far. I know exactly what type of man King Sinbad is since I've read Fate. I'd never take his flirting seriously." She said it with a smile, but her words stabbed at Sinbad's heart for some reason.

Ja'far lowered his arm and reconnected his hands in front of himself in his normal pose. "Then does that mean...?" Ja'far's obviously relief was growing.

Mori nodded, "I'm not some naïve teenager who would fall for a known womanizer."

How could she say that when she responded to his flirting in such adorable ways?

She placed one hand over her heart. "And I promise, if he does ever cross the line and upset me, I won't hold it against his citizens. The sins of a King are his own."

Ja'far looked on the verge of tears, "My lady, you are too generous."

Wasn't Ja'far against Mori yesterday morning? What was causing the sudden change? It was nice to see them finally getting along, but..

Sinbad tried to pulled her attention and change the subject. "Mori, you said something about leaving. For where exactly?"

"Sindria." She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It was great that she was so enthusiastic to go, but there was so much yet to do in Balbadd. How could she think they'd be leaving already? Was this something in the fate she read?

She looked between them confused. "I know I told you the other day. Don't tell me you forgot??”

Ja'far asked for both of them, "What are you talking about?"

Mori's tone turned serious. "Two days ago I told you that a Kou fleet would be coming today."

She had said that. The hair on Sinbad's arms raised. With everything that had happened the day prior he had forgotten.

"With Balbadd in it's current state, you know this will be dangerous for any members of the old regime."

She was right.

There was shouting down the hall.

Mori sighed, "Looks like I took too long getting ready." She suddenly looked very tired.

---

They all stood at the port watching the fleet on the horizon.

"Why would they do this?" Alibaba was still too naïve.

King Sinbad explained, "They must have had their fleet dispatched here from the beginning. They wanted to take advantage of the uprising by forcing us into submission." Even without Mori's prophecy he should have been able to predict this after seeing how involved the Kou Empire was in Balbadd's down fall.

He could feel Mori watching. Her focus shifted to each person before they started talking. Was she reading the waves, or was this a part of the fate she read directly?

Alibaba turned to him, "Yeah but, the uprising was suppressed."

"Even so, it's not as if there's a new government yet." Ja'far stepped closer as he joined the conversation. "And if they insisted that Balbadd is currently without one, you couldn't disagree."

Mori was watching from behind the General. Her expression was blank. She glanced at Alibaba and then focused on Sinbad.

The young ex prince clenched his teeth in frustration.

"Alibaba." King Sinbad took it upon himself to help him. "You must make preparations to leave this country as soon as possible. The first thing the Kou are likely to do is take the entire Royal Family into custody." He continued to explain how the Kou Empire was most likely going to kill Alibaba and others as symbols or just take over completely.

It was a hard truth.

"No way... You're saying I should run away?? Abandoning this country and all it's citizens??"

One that Alibaba was clearly not ready to accept.

"That's right."

Alibaba starting ranting about his goals and dreams -everything he wanted for his home country. King Sinbad could understand him. He had wanted the same for Parthevia when he was young.

"I'm not running away." Alibaba reached for his broken metal vessel. "If they try to force me, then I'll just fight!" He drew that now useless knife and pointed it at the fleet.

Talking with him was going nowhere, and it was clear that it would take too long to get Alibaba to see reason. The best thing King Sinbad could do to keep him safe was to knock him out. He stepped forward and raised

his hand behind the teen.

But Alibaba was missing from his strike.

Mori had yanked Alibaba out of the way. The quick glance of eye contact made it clear that she knew exactly what King Sinbad was going to do. This was the moment she was watching for. She had to have read this as a part of Fate.

And then all of Mori's attention was on Alibaba. "Do you know who's leading that fleet? Because I do. It's Ren Kouen, master of three Djinn.” Her voice was strong and clear.

Sinbad couldn't see Alibaba's expression, but he could see him tense up. If it really was Ren Kouen that would mean trouble. Why had she stopped him? If he had knocked the boy out they'd be able to guarantee his safety. She wasn't acting against him, was she?

"I said I'll fight!” Alibaba restated his position.

"You haven't achieved full body Djinn Equip once and your metal vessel is broken!! How do you expect to fight him??"

Sinbad could see what she was trying to do, but how could she think she would succeed where he failed?

Alibaba went quiet and then started to turn towards Sinbad.

Mori continued before he could say anything. "Don't you dare ask King Sinbad for help in this. Do you want to start a war between Sindria and the Kou Empire? I thought you wanted to avoid meaningless blood shed."

Alibaba froze. She was forcing him to accept his actual abilities. If a person can't accept where they are then they will struggle to grow.

"You can't protect anyone if you're dead. I've read a future where you are able to help protect Balbadd and the world, but you have to leave now if you want a chance of realizing that future."

Alibaba was quiet, and after a few moments sheathed his sword. "Damnit!"

Mori stepped back and let Alibaba leave.

Aladdin followed after his friend. "Let's go tell Morg!”

"Yeah. Then I'll need to go pack everything." Alibaba sounded frustrated but he had accepted the situation.

Mori had gotten Alibaba to accept it. She hadn't gone against Sinbad; she filled the gap in his ability to solve this without violence.

The Prophet sighed, and turned to her King. "I knew you were going to try to knock him out, but I really hoped that you would try talking to him more instead." Mori bemoaned while massaging her temples. "Please learn that you don't have a right to bypass other people's consent."

Sinbad was definitely not ready to suddenly have his behavior critiqued.

Mori continued, "Whenever something doesn't work out the way you want, you always turn to violence or seduction. If you weren't so charismatic, powerful and lucky, you wouldn't have made it this far."

Ja'far piped up in agreement. "His rash behavior has caused countless headaches!”

"When is he going to start acting more like a king?" Mori responded back. It was almost word for word something Ja'far had said the day all of his metal vessels were stolen. Had she read that and mimicked Ja'far on purpose?

"That's it exactly!" Ja'far agreed with the Prophet.

It really was nice that they were getting along. But the way Mori smiled at Ja'far just didn't sit right with King Sinbad.

"Well, Mori," Sinbad tried to cut in nonchalantly, "with your help I'm sure I'll be able to avoid such situations in the future."

Both looked at him as if he had three heads. It was like they were saying with their eyes than nothing could 'cure' his behavior.

At least Mori was looking at him again.

There had to be something he could say to bring the mood back up. "Oh!" Sinbad realized what she had meant the previous day. "When you said we'd have plenty of time to talk, you meant while on the ship to Sindria."

She blinked and then realized what he was referencing. "Yes, that's exactly what I was saying!" Her smile was more than encouraging.

"So," she put one hand the strap of her bag, "when are we leaving?" and quoted herself from her entrance.

A normal person might have found it unsettling how Mori responded to things that hadn't happened yet. Sinbad wasn't normal; he was special. These moments where it was undeniable the that she could read the waves and fate were his favorites. They were encouraging that he had someone he could rely on to fill the gaps in his judgments, so he could make his dream a reality.

((I wish I had this done in time for Sinbad's bday (April 2) but I'll have to settle for having it out for mine (April 7).

I headcannon Sinbad as demi-aro or aro-flux So I doubt he'd be able to understand romantic feelings if he had them. This is basically an entire chapter of Sinbad attempting to use logic and Fate to excuse his feelings.))

[pigtownchronicles]

Chapter 1.11 - Shadow’s Den

Whether it was morning or night now, Marlon didn’t know. One moment, he’d been on the sidewalk with Jimmy, talking about the streetlights or the shadows or something, and the next, he’d stepped into the dark and everything had disappeared around him--and now he was here. It wasn’t that he was falling, or at least, it didn’t feel like falling. There was nothing to fall relative to, so he could have just as easily been floating. He called out to Jimmy, but his voice wouldn’t cut through the vacuum. After some amount of time, it was difficult to say whether it was minutes or seconds, a figure had appeared in the dark with him. It was the man who had stepped from the shadows, before he’d fallen in. He called out to him, asking him for help. The man came close, and perspectives shifted. He became larger, and swaddled Marlon somehow, there in the dark. Cupped him in the darkness itself, and he felt it crush against him, even though there was nothing there. It was like drowning, like he was seven in his cousin’s pool again when hadn’t quite mastered swimming enough for the deep end. He was certain he should have died, at some point. Perhaps, he told himself, he had. But the darkness ebbed away, or pulled back from him, replaced with a deep red light.

There was space again. The colored light was disorienting, but he could make out that he was in what looked like a basement, or at least, a room with no windows--or doors, he realized after that. The floor was concrete, and the walls were adorned with what he could only really describe as a dungeon, though he’d never been one for fetish porn on the internet. He himself, he realized, was in a cage--thick metal bars, not tall enough for him to stand up inside. There was a sound behind him, and he managed to twist around. There on the wall were two figures hanging from a pair of wooden crosses, their limbs in steel manacles and pulled tight. Their faces were hooded, they were naked, and Marlon realized that he was naked as well. There were no clothes anywhere that he could see in the room. 

He was aware of the darkness in the room somehow solidifying, and the man from the street stepped out of what should have been a wall, just appeared with no way to explain how. Marlon scrambled back, banged his head on the metal of the cage, his vision bursting with stars. The man chuckled, strode over to the cage in the middle of the room, and squatted down. “A shame, the two of you would have been fun together, but this will be just as nice, and more filling.”

“Who...who are you? Let me out of here, please, I’m not into this shit!”

“You’re not?” the man said, pushing his face closer to the bars. The light in the room was strong enough that Marlon knew he should have been able to see the stranger’s face through the shadow of his cap, but it was made of the same inky darkness that had surrounded him before. “How do you know, little one? Have you ever tried any of it? Did you ever ask your shadow what he might like to try?” his mouth gave a little smile, “I asked him for you, by the way. He was more than a little curious.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Later, little one. I’m famished.”

“Wait! Don’t leave me here.”

“I’m not going anywhere little one, I have my meal right here,” he said, and walked over to where the two figures were strung up against the wall. The man made a little motion with his hands, and the hoods that were covering the faces of the prisoners melted away--Marlon realized that what he’d thought had been leather had been more shadow. A moment later, one of them gasped, his eyes opening wide, followed by the other, looking around, before staring at the leatherman in front of them. “You--you’re not a puppet, you’re Shadow! But you’re in the fucking jail, how did you get out?”

“Oh, it was harder than I thought it would be, I’ll admit that. Almost gave up a time or two, but why give up when I had such good reason to get out again, and see all you officers of the law again, after where you put me?” he said, gripping their faces with his hands. “One thing is for sure though, I am absolutely starving.”

Their eyes went wide. “No! Wait, we...we’ll get you the commander, that’s who you really want, right?” one said, “Please, Shadow, don’t!”

Marlon watched what happened next, from just a few feet away, and when it was done, he still couldn’t convince himself that he hadn’t dreamt it. Shadow, or at least, that’s what he assumed was the leatherman’s name, pulled one hand away from a face, and his fingers started to wriggle, and then extend. The way they slid across the man’s face, they were somehow flat, and yet retained all of their texture, then divided into even more tendrils, and began to dig their way into his nose, his mouth, his eyes, his ears. The man choked and shuddered as Shadow did his work, thrusting in deeper into the man’s mind, and then there was light--or a kind of light. It pumped it’s way backwards, drawn from the man down the tendrils of shadow and into Shadow’s arm, and when it reached his body, he gave a contented sigh. “Oh yes, quite delectable.”

After a few minutes of pulling whatever that light was from the man, he retracted the tendrils and the man’s face sagged forward. The last thing Marlon saw was the man’s eyes, which were now hollow sockets, as it dropped. He wondered if he was dead, but when Shadow unhooked the man’s manacles and the body slumped to the floor, he could see that he was still breathing, though it was shallow. His face had landed facing him, and Marlon stared into the hollowness, but the eyes were still there. They were just pitch black. Then the man’s own shadow rose up from the floor, spreading up around him, drawing his body in and holding it in something that looked like a cocoon. As soon as it was sealed, it shuddered and there was a scream from within--muffled, but obvious. The other man was shaking and pleading, but Shadow did the same to him, and when he was finished with his meal, there were two blobs of shadow there on the floor of the dungeon, quivering occasionally, mumbling and shouting and yelling. He drew down some darkness from the ceiling, strung the two cocoons up and left them to hang, while he turned his attention to Marlon again.

He was pressed up against the bars of the cage, trying to reach something that he could use to fight back, but there was nothing near him. Shadow squatted down in front of the cage again. “Much better, little one--now where were we?”

“What did you do to them?”

“I ate some of them, and left the rest of them for their own shadows. They’ll be ready in a while. You don’t need to worry about that just yet.”

“Are...you gonna eat me?”

“I don’t know, are you delicious?” Shadow said, and Marlon gulped. After letting the silence hang for a moment, Shadow laughed, “No, I don’t think I’ll be eating you. I already promised your shadow that we’d play for a while.”

“What do you mean?”

Marlon felt something come unstuck from him, something he didn’t even know could come away, and there, standing outside the cage, was a silhouette. His silhouette. He looked down, and underneath him where no light should have been, his shadow had simply disappeared--or rather, left him somehow. Shadow stood up, and embraced Marlon’s shadow, pulled it close, and he felt the embrace there in the cage, and shuddered, felt Shadow’s tongue press into his silhouette’s mouth. 

“Oh yes, I do like you, very much. I think I will keep you,” Shadow said, “You don’t mind, do you?”

Marlon objected, but realized that Shadow had not been talking to him--he had been addressing his silhouette, who nodded vigorously, and then looked to Marlon there in the cage.

“Don’t worry about that--come now, I want to play, little darkness. Here, taste this,” Shadow said, put a finger to the silhouette’s lips and a bit of the light that had come from the two men before slid into it--and Marlon watched as his shadow shuddered, and popped. For a moment, it had definition, depth, presence. And when it had, Marlon gasped, and felt a moment of weakness wash through him. 

“See? Doesn’t that taste good? He’ll never be able to give you that, but I can. I can give you so much. All you have to do is let me guide you. There’s so much I can show you--pleasure, pain, power. Isn’t that what you want?”

Marlon’s silhouette nodded, and Shadow embraced it again, then bent it over a bench, and fucked it--and Marlon, there in the cage, felt every thrust--but he felt something else too. Delight. Ecstasy. They weren’t his feelings though. It was his silhouette thinking and feeling all on its own, and realizing it was thinking and feeling on its own, and delighting in the sensation of the world around it. Marlon begged, when they finished. Begged Shadow to let him go, but Shadow never addressed him again, directly. He was no longer important. In the darkness, shades ruled, and Shadow ruled the shades of Pigtown--and Shadow was back at last.

***

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[sj-thefan]

A Hunt (Ramsay’s Lady)

Warning: Language and violence

Y/n had been at the Dreadfort for over two weeks, and she was thoroughly enjoying it. She wouldn't say she loved Ramsay, but she certainly enjoyed his company and was happy she would marry him instead of some random southern Lord who had no care for her.

Ramsay had grown to like her as well. He often found his thoughts drifting to his wife to be. He wondered how she would act when he revealed his favourite pastime and desperately wanted to take her with him on a hunt. After finding her in the kennels the other day, his desperation only grew.

But he needed a reason.

Y/n had found her way into town after taking an unknown turn. She didn't mind being out of the castle. It was quiet in the village, and she liked not having someone constantly watching her. Besides, if something did happen, she always carried her mother's dagger with her.

She was thankful she had worn her grey cloak today. It wasn't the nicest of her cloaks, but it was big enough to hide her fancy dress and didn't have her family's sigil on it, allowing her to roam the streets without immediate recognition.

The delicious odour coming from the bakery drew her in as she walked past. Back home, they only had one apple tree, and it produced the most delicious apples she'd ever tasted. The cooks back home were very good at baking those apples into pies, and Y/n quickly found she couldn't resist a freshly baked apple pie. There was a particularly fragrant pie sitting in the window.

She had meant to ask how much the pie was, but the conversation at the counter made her hesitate.

"The Lady Katermal? Yeah, I saw her."

There were two girls at the counter. The one behind the counter was skinny with red hair that had been kept nicely. Her friend was slightly shorter but had stringy, brown hair and a mousey face. Y/n narrowed her eyes at them as she continued to listen.

"Ugly as a horse, if you ask me," the redhead continued. "I heard one of the soldiers call her the 'slut of Shadowrise.'" She began laughing. "Poor Ramsay doesn't know what he's gotten himself into."

Y/n didn't realize she had grabbed her dagger until it was plunged into the wooden counter.

"I'd like to know the name of the soldier who called her a slut."

The red-haired girl's eyes widened, but it was clear she didn't recognize the Lady in front of her and was instead worried about the counter.

"What was that for? My father won't be very happy about this."

"Tell me the name of the soldier." Y/n's eyes were wild with anger, but the girl didn't seem to care.

"Why would I tell you, ya cunt?"

"I thought you met the Lady Katermal?" Y/n tilted her head at the confusion in the girl's eyes. "Or at least saw her."

Finally, after a few moments of thought and a glance at the gold hilt of the dagger, the redhead understood her mistake. "I'm so sorry, m'lady," she said as she bowed. The other girl bowed as well.

"The name of the soldier," Y/n spoke loudly, emphasizing each word.

The girl glanced back up with fear in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted as Ramsay, along with a few of the Dreadfort's guards, entered the shop.

"There you are, my Lady. What are you doing here?"

Y/n glanced at him. As she straightened her posture, she said, "teaching girls not to gossip about their Lady."

Ramsay glanced at the girls, understanding the scene in front of him. "I think they'd be more impressionable after a night in the dungeon," he walked to Y/n and put his arm around her waist, "don't you think dear?"

Y/n glanced at his face to find a sinister grin. "I do," she said, returning the grin and wrapping her arm around his back.

At her words, the guards that had accompanied Ramsay, moved forward to grab the girls. "Leave the brunette, boys. She didn't speak a word." Y/n turned to the mousey girl. "I trust you'll speak of the kindness you were shown today."

The girl nodded her head quickly without saying a word as the guards dragged her friend away.

Y/n turned back to Ramsay and took his arm as they walked back to the castle.

"Do you want revenge?"

The couple had taken their time walking back to the Dreadfort, with Ramsay stopping to show Y/n some of the best parts of the village. They were currently entering the gates of the castle. She turned to Ramsay. "Revenge? How do you mean?"

Ramsay paused. "Well, it's a game of sorts. A hunt."

Y/n's eyes lit up in excitement. "I've always wanted to go on a hunt. My father thought I was too fragile to be put in danger." Ramsay smiled at her enthusiasm. "I have a feeling this hunt won't be very dangerous. Am I correct in assuming animals are not the prey in this game?"

He nodded his head, and his wicked grin reappeared as she smiled back at him.

"What's your name?"

Ramsay and Y/n were in the dungeons of the Dreadfort, standing in front of the red-haired girl who has just woken from her night in the cell.

"Your Lady asked you a question." Ramsay's voice was firm as he glared at the girl.

"W-Willow," the girl quietly stuttered. She knelt on the floor in front of them, shaking uncontrollably. Her face was red and blotchy from her late-night crying, and it seemed as though her hair had lost its shine. Her head was hung as she looked to the floor.

Y/n stepped forward, so she was right in front of the girl. Her hand stretched out and lifted the girl's chin. "That's better. I want to see your eyes as you speak."

The girl's eyes flicked towards Ramsay to see him grinning mischievously, before meeting the Lady's right in front of her. "Yes, m'Lady. I-I'm sorry."

"Don't frown, girl," Y/n said, standing back up and moving back to Ramsay's side. "It doesn't become you. What's the name of the soldier?"

"What?"

"The man who called me a slut. What was his name?"

Willow's eyes widened in fear. "I-I don't know."

"Don't lie to us, Willow." Ramsay's voice was much more menacing than Y/n's. It sent shivers up her spine. "You can tell us."

"I made it up."

Willow's confession greatly offended Y/n; she was speechless.

"There we go," Ramsay soothed, unlocking the chains on Willow's hands. "All better now. Besides, we aren't going to kill you." Willow's eyes widened in relief. "We're going to play a game."

Y/n smiled at Ramsay as the girl quickly became even more afraid than before. "You get half a day's head start," he explained. "Then we come to find you."

The girl glanced in confusion at the two people in front of her, before running away as fast as she could.

"Do we have to wait? I'd much rather go after her now." Ramsay and Y/n stood at the cell's window, watching the girl run to the forest.

"It's your hunt, my Lady," he smiled at her. "We can do anything you want."

"Let's get the dogs." Y/n grabbed Ramsay's hand and ran to the kennels, both of them laughing.

"We must bring Helicent," she said once they arrived. "-and Maude." She let the two dogs out of their cages.

The dogs followed their master as he walked with Y/n to the armoury. He grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows and gave Y/n one of the spare sets with the promise to get her one of her own.

The group continued back to the dungeons where the dogs were ordered to pick up Willow's scent. When they caught it, they took off.

Ramsay looked at Y/n with a wild grin. She smiled excitedly and grabbed his hand again as she began to chase the dogs.

The forest was filled with the sounds of their laughter and the barking of dogs as they ran through. It was a while before they saw any sign of their prey, but once they did, they moved even faster.

"Run, Willow! Run!" Ramsay taunted. "If you make it out of the forest you win!"

There was a moment of silence when the dogs lost the scent, but it didn't take long for them to find it again, resuming their barking.

Willow screamed.

Y/n spotted a flash of red hair and aimed, Ramsay, watching her with lust-filled eyes.

"Willow," Y/n whispered as she released the arrow.

A satisfying scream came from the girl as the arrow pierced through her thin dress and lodged itself in her shoulder. Ramsay and Y/n watched as the mess of red hair fell to the forest floor.

"I got her," Y/n said, slightly shocked.

"It was a good shot." Ramsay grabbed her hand, and the two ran until they were standing in front of the fallen girl. Helicent and Maude were already there, watching the blood and waiting for their master's command. "That was a fun game, wasn't it?" he grinned at the girl.

"I thought so." Y/n turned to Willow. "What did you think?"

"Please," Willow whimpered. Tears fell from her face as she desperately pleaded with them. "I'm sorry, please just let me go. I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Desperation isn't a good look for you, dear." Y/n's smile was as unnerving as Ramsay's. "Besides, the dogs are hungry, and there's fresh meat right in front of them."

"No, please," Willow pleaded, but it was too late.

With a quick whistle, the hounds were on her, ripping the flesh from her bones. Her screams echoed through the forest.

Once the dogs had finished their meal and the screams had long since died out, Ramsay turned to Y/n and offered his arm.

"Shall we, my Lady?"

"I think we shall, my Lord."

The two turned and began walking back to the castle.

Previous | Next

[sublimestarker]

Starker smut - Locked and loaded

This is a fill for the Starker bingo 2019. Square filled - cock cage

Taglist: @hpspazz @x-we-won-mr-stark-x

Peter wasn’t sure how or when he found his new kink. He’d been browsing the gay section of pornhub and stumbled onto a bdsm video. He’d rarely watch those types, but the thumbnail looked promising. It was a rather long video, and it featured all the goods – tying up, degradation, spanking, choking. But then the dom got out a strange looking thing and put it the sub’s cock. Peter almost got soft, because it looked painful, but his roommate would be back soon, so he had to finish. As he watched the sub get pounded mercilessly, unable to cum, aroused him more than he thought it would. He imagined himself in that situation and after a few more strokes and Peter had the most powerful orgasm yet.

He’d go back to the video again and again, but sometimes it wasn’t enough. He wanted to experience it, but he had to find a dom, who’d be willing to do it. Craigslist was a no go, he couldn’t find the right guy on Grindr. So Peter resorted to using Reddit and after creating a throwaway account he made a post on r/bdsm. It read ‘’20-year-old gay male looking for a professional dom in the New York area. Mostly into chastity’’. Peter ignored the post for a few hours, in order for it to get enough answers. It gained popularity pretty quickly and he had to read a lot of suggestions. After he scrolled through countless websites, he chose dom T. T had been doing this for 20 years now, he was bisexual and his prices were good. And the cherry on top was that his specialties were orgasm denial, chastity and role play. So Peter didn’t hesitate to book a consultation with his new dom. They exchanged messages and then the male dominatrix sent his client a hotel address and a time for their meeting. He had instructed Peter to text him when he arrived.

Peter’s hands shook as he typed ‘’here’’ on his phone. His thumb hovered momentarily over the send button, then he pressed it. Was he making a mistake? What if he didn’t like the experience? He could always safe word out, but then what? His thoughts were interrupted by the door chime. He looked over and saw T, God that man was more attractive in person. The pictures on the site didn’t do him justice. Peter just waved, to signal that he was the client. That was so cringy, he thought.

‘’I’m Tony.’’. The dom introduced himself.

’’Don’t I have to call you master, or something. Sorry, it slipped out. I’m Peter.’’

‘’You can call me Mr. Stark if you’d like.’’

‘’So, where are we going from here? A bdsm club? Please tell me that you don’t have a red room or a basement dungeon nearby.’’ Pete said, still standing outside.

‘’No, we’re going up to my hotel room. Jesus kid, is this your first time doing something like this?’’ Mr. Stark replied, leading his client inside.

‘’Yeah.’’ Peter said, turning red.

‘’Well I’d be glad to pop your cherry.’’ Tony said, licking his lips.

As they took the elevator up to the penthouse suite, Tony started asking his client some questions.

‘’So kid, how’d you get into cock cages. Most people start off with something less intense, like role play.’’

‘’Well orgasm denial has always been pretty hot, but I couldn’t control myself, I’d always cum. And cock rings were nice, but I wanted something more restrictive.’’

‘’And why did you choose me? I’m sure there were younger and better looking professional doms out there.’’

‘’Well I’ve always been attracted to older men and you Mr. Stark are a silver fox. Another perk was your experience – you definitely know what you’re doing. And you’re fucking hot.’’

‘’Okay Peter, calm down before you cum in your pants. We’re here’’. Tony led him in the hotel room. Then he walked over to the suitcase laid on the bed and started pulling out things like lube, condoms and three velvet cases.

‘’Before we start, let’s go over our rules again. What do we use for communication?’’

‘’The color system – green means I’m okay, yellow means stop the scene for a moment and continue when I’m green again and red means stop the scene completely. We also have a safe word, which is spider.’’

‘’Very good Peter. And which kinks are we here to explore.’’

‘’Chastity, cock cages, orgasm delay and denial, degradation and dd/lb role play.’’

‘’Good. Should we get started?’’

The sub just nodded.

‘’Can you strip for me? I need to figure out the size for the cage.’’ The dom asked.  Peter did as he was told. Mr. Stark examined the sub’s cock for a moment. ‘’Okay, now I need you to get hard.’’. Pete thrust his dick into his fist a couple of times, not that looking at the handsome man beside him wasn’t enough to get him hard.

Mr. Stark took out a pretty pink cock cage, that Peter had definitely seen before. It was called the vice and it retailed for about 150 dollars. The dom had chosen the plus size and it seemed like it would fit snugly on Pete’s cock. Peter closed his eyes as the dom put on the cock cage, he was always squeamish when it came to that part.

‘’I’m done. Look at your pretty little cock.’’. So he did, and it was pretty – the cage had some extra parts and the black padlock was contrasting with the pink. He reached down to feel it, when Tony lightly smacked his wrist.

‘’Who said you could touch it. Don’t misbehave, kitten or daddy will have to punish you.’’

Tony sank down to his knees and licked the bottom of the cock cage, almost as if he was giving him a blowjob. Peter buckled his hips forward and the other man pulled away.

‘’Strike two, kitten. One more and you’re out. Behave.’’

‘’Make me.’’

‘’That’s it. I’m gonna give you 10 spanks for that. And after that I’ll fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. Get in my lap like a good boy count them for me.’’

Tony lovingly caressed Peter’s ass, before bringing his palm harshly down on it.

‘’One’’

‘’Two’’ That was harder than the first one

‘’Three’’ Peter’s ass was already red and aching. He couldn’t touch himself and he was so hard against the cage that it almost hurt. But the pain was delicious, much like the pain that he was currently receiving from his dom.

Each spank felt different. He barely got to ten, his voice breaking when he said the last number.

Hearing this, Tony asked concerned

‘’Color?’’

‘’Green.’’

‘’Okay. Kitten, I’m gonna fuck you now. Make your whore mouth scream for daddy.’’ Mr. Stark laid Peter on his stomach, placing a pillow underneath his cock. The sub could hear the lube cap pop off, and moments later he felt Tony’s finger at his entrance.

‘’You’re so tight for me, Peter. I wanna fuck you so bad, wanna ruin your pretty little hole.’’ Pete just moaned, not thrusting his voice. He could accidentally make a bratty remark and get punished again. As Mr. Stark added a second finger, he could hear him unwrapping the condom. Before thrusting in, the dom asked once again.

‘’Color?’’

‘’Green.’’

Tony was bigger than any guy Peter had been with. He was long and thick, filling him almost to the brim. The sub thought how much he’d love to suck that cock, gagging on the length.

‘’Kitten, you take me so well. I don’t think I’ll last long with the way you’re squeezing around me. ‘’ Tony grabbed Pete’s hips and began thrusting fast and shallow, making his cheeks bounce. The dom angled his thrust so he could hit his sub’s g-spot.  A few more thrusts and Tony came, finishing inside the condom. While he was riding out his orgasm, Peter’s cock was painfully hard in the cock cage. He needed to cum.

Tony disposed of the condom and walked over to him. He laid Pete on his back and unlocked the cock cage, taking off all the parts. Peter’s dick sprang free, hard with beads of precum on the head.

Mr. Stark grabbed both his cock and Pete’s and jerked them together. It took the sub 2 strokes to cum all over Tony’s chest. The dom was about to pull his hand away, in order to not overstimulate his partner

‘’Don’t stop. Please, I can go again.’’

‘’You sure?’’

’’Yes. Please make me cum again.’’

Tony took both cocks again as Peter thrust forward, moans spilling from his mouth. He cums with Mr. Stark and almost falls to the ground too spent move. He’s a mess – all red and sweaty, his stomach covered in cum. Tony grabs a washcloth and cleans them both up.

‘’I should go.’’

‘’It’s late, Pete. Just crash on the couch.’’

‘’Okay. As long as you don’t charge me 300 dollars an hour for that.’’

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @pseudoapollonian!

Happy Holidays to @pseudoapollonian! Hope you enjoy your Stereky Secret Santa for the year <3

Read on AO3

*****

Because Family Is More Than Just Blood

Stiles squinted suspiciously through the glass, crouched almost uncomfortably in such a way that his thighs were starting to burn. He really needed to work out more if crouching was making his muscles complain.

Or maybe he was technically squatting. Were crouching and squatting the same thing? They seemed like the same thing when put into action but maybe the circumstances determined whether it was a crouch or a squat.

He supposed crouching could mean any number of things associated with lowering oneself, like bending at the waist or flat out bending the knees and ducking.

Shit, were ducking and crouching kind of the same thing?

Didn’t matter! The point was, Stiles was positive that he was being sabotaged.

“It’s not working,” he proclaimed. “It’s definitely not working.”

“It’s working fine,” Derek insisted from his spot at the table. He’d wandered into the kitchen a while ago to grab a bite to eat and had kind of never left.

Instead, the Werewolf had poured himself a bowl of Corn Pops—seriously, all sugar, fuck Werewolves—and then leaned back against their small kitchen table to watch Stiles crouching in front of the oven.

Squatting. Crouching? Whatever!

“It’s not working,” Stiles insisted again. “I swear, if this oven ruins my very important first ever pie on the first ever holiday we have in this house, the oven and I, we’re gonna share some words. Mine will be in the form of a sledgehammer.”

“Worked fine for my cheese muffins this morning.” Derek took another bite of his Corn Pops, the crunching sound of the hard cereal audible even from where Stiles was squatting.

Crouching? Whatever!

“Well maybe the oven likes you better,” Stiles insisted, rounding on Derek to level him with a glare. “Don’t rub it in, Derek. Fucking rude.” He faced the oven again.

“Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘a watched pot never boils’?”

“This pie,” Stiles proclaimed loudly, pointing at the oven while half-turning towards Derek behind him, “is a Stilinski tradition! It will not be ruined by an oven who shows favouritism!”

Derek shrugged, spooning another bite of cereal into his mouth. “My muffins were a little burned, so not that much favouritism.”

Stiles sputtered and flailed one hand angrily at Derek, which had him land on his ass on the linoleum floor right in front of the oven.

At least he didn’t have to argue with himself over whether he was crouching or squatting anymore.

“Why would you tell me that?!” Stiles demanded, then whipped back around to face the oven, pointing a threatening finger at it. “You over-bake my pie, I’m seriously buying a sledgehammer!”

That earned him a laugh from the Werewolf behind him and Stiles resisted the urge to turn around and glare again. This was serious business, there was no room for laughter! This pie was sacred!

And it was especially sacred now, because this was going to be the first ever holiday event in their new place and that was important! It was like breaking in their home to future holiday events!

Stiles knew it wasn’t as important to the others as it was to him, but this had been a long, hard, somewhat frustrating road. But he’d made it, dammit! He had beaten the odds, conquered over the non-believers, earned the title of Werewolf whisperer—even if it was self-appointed.

It hadn’t been easy knocking down the walls of one Derek Hale and forcing him to let someone in for his own good. Stiles was stubborn, and Derek was tired, so it eventually worked out in Stiles’ favour. While their friendship had been rocky at times, Stiles acknowledged all friendships were, even his and Scott’s.

But it was the shift in their friendship that had been slow and frustrating. Sure, Derek had let him in, they’d become friends, things had worked out, but it was hard becoming more. Derek had made it very clear he cared about Stiles, and Stiles was about as subtle as a punch in the face, so Derek evidently knew that Stiles cared about him.

Derek didn’t want to proceed, though. Too many things had happened to him in his life. Too many deaths, too many losses, too many painful memories. So every time Stiles took a step forward, Derek took ten steps back. Eventually it turned into a race of who could move faster and, luckily for Stiles, he was pretty quick for a human.

They’d started slow, because Stiles wasn’t an idiot and he knew Derek needed slow, and eventually things had moved in a smooth progression forward. Stiles started hanging out at the loft more, Derek cleared out a drawer for him, Stiles’ favourite brands of coffee and cereal appeared in the pantry. The little things made it clear this was moving forward for both of them.

The problem was, Derek had bought the loft kind of as a placeholder. He hadn’t planned on sticking around in Beacon Hills forever, and he had a lot of bad memories associated with the loft. So when he started talking about selling and moving, Stiles had offered to help him buy a new place for them to move in together. Very subtly, of course, because Stiles was the king of subtlety.

Not like he’d said, “That sounds awesome, but we need a huge kitchen because with how often the pack comes over, I’m going to murder you in your sleep if we don’t have a huge kitchen. Also, something reasonably affordable because I’m not made of money like you.”

Of course that wasn’t what he’d said. At all. Not even close.

Fast forward four months and they owned a house. It wasn’t huge by any means, but it was comfortable. Derek had kept the price to a minimum so that Stiles wouldn’t choke at the mortgage amount that came out of his bank account monthly, and Stiles got his huge kitchen.

They were happy. It was nice. Stiles loved living with Derek. Officially. In their own house. It was the best, really.

But this was their first holiday event in their house with the pack, and he needed it to be amazing. He wanted it to be amazing, because he wanted Derek to have only good memories of this new home they shared.

They were doing what they’d done for all the other holidays this year—albeit, at someone else’s house until today. The pack was coming over with empty stomachs and food, and they were going to have a huge Christmas potluck. Stiles was excited because his dad was going to make his grandmother’s Pączki, which Stiles only allowed once a year. They were basically Polish donuts, but the most amazing Polish donuts in the world. Literally. So fucking good.

It was a Stilinski tradition. His dad made his grandmother’s Pączki, and Stiles made his grandfather on his mother’s side’s famous strawberry-rhubarb pie. They always had two desserts at Christmas, but that was what Christmas was about in the Stilinski household.

Food and laughter in the kitchen.

And apparently also for Werewolves, because Derek had spent the previous night prepping for the potluck and all morning cooking and baking. Because they both needed the oven, Boyd had offered to make the turkey, which Stiles had only agreed to because Erica made the best stuffing in the world. He could eat a whole plate of just stuffing, it was so delicious.

Kira had opted to make a ham, just so there was some variety, and the rest of the pack had picked out various dishes and vegetables that they would be bringing. Originally, Stiles had wondered if it might be too much, but then he remembered pretty much the entire pack barring him, his dad and Melissa were Supernaturals and man could they eat.

Now he was thinking maybe he should’ve made two pies.

Derek wandered past Stiles to the sink while eating the last bite of his cereal, drinking down the overly sugary milk and then rinsing the bowl. He left it in the sink since the dishwasher was already running, then moved back to Stiles’ side, where he’d taken up his crouching position in front of the oven once more.

“Stiles,” Derek said, one hand at the back of his neck and bending down to kiss the crown of his head, “the pie will be fine. You don’t need to babysit it.”

“I won’t have time to make another one if the oven rebels.”

“The oven is not rebelling, it’ll behave,” Derek promised, squeezing once at the back of Stiles’ neck. “Come on, help me finish up with the decorations.”

Stiles knew this was a trap. Derek was horrible at decorating, especially when it came to Christmas trees. Stiles had seen what he did with Christmas trees and he would implode if he walked out there and saw a red bauble right beside another red bauble. These were things Derek did! Not even on purpose, he was just bad at decorating.

It was why Stiles and Erica had been in charge of the paint when the house had been bought. Derek had wanted to paint the kitchen black. Black! Who painted their kitchen black?! No one, especially not Derek Hale, because thankfully he had Stiles who managed to talk him down to a very nice pearl colour with a navy blue accent wall which looked much nicer.

And not like a fucking dungeon.

Stiles inhaled deeply, warring with himself. It was leave the pie to the rebellious oven, or suffer the consequences of a horrible decorating job in the living room.

“Fine,” Stiles muttered after a brief internal debate. He could not handle a ruined tree on top of a ruined pie. Only one disaster allowed.

Checking his phone had the timer set properly, Stiles followed Derek out into their living/dining room area and got to work helping him finish up with all the decorations.

Honestly, he was still pretty bummed about the lack of ability to deck the place out in mistletoe, but he didn’t feel like killing almost all of his friends, so it was best they forego that holiday tradition. Besides, the wolves were all very open with each other, they didn’t need random mistletoe to kiss each other when they felt like it.

Erica was lucky Derek wasn’t a jealous boyfriend, because she took every opportunity that presented itself to smack a big wet one on Stiles. Actually, maybe Stiles was lucky Boyd wasn’t a jealous boyfriend, because he was very scary when he was angry. Boyd didn’t get angry often, but when he did, it was scary. So scary. Stiles still had nightmares.

They were still arguing over where to hang the last set of fairy lights—“Stiles, why did you buy eight boxes of lights?!”—when the doorbell rang. It was still too early for the pack to arrive, but predictably when Stiles went to grab the door, yelling threats over his shoulder at Derek about the lights, it was the sheriff.

“Yes! Pączki!” Stiles proclaimed, reaching for the tupperware his father was holding.

The older man held it out of reach and gave Stiles a look. “This is for later. You don’t get to hog them all just because you were first getting to them.”

“What kind did you make? Did you do the Nutella ones? Please tell me you did the Nutella ones!”

“Nutella is not Polish,” the sheriff insisted while heading for the kitchen. Stiles noticed him glance at the oven, like he wanted to be sure Stiles had made the pie, as usual.

Of course he’d made the pie! Who did his father think he has, a heathen?

To be fair, this was their first Christmas not living in the same household, so his dad probably wanted to make sure all Stilinski traditions would continue despite no longer living together.

“Dad!” Stiles whined.

The sheriff put the Pączki in the microwave for safekeeping, then patted his son’s cheek lightly on his way back out of the kitchen. “I made one, just for you. It pained my soul, but you know I always make you one.”

Grinning, Stiles fist-pumped and followed after his father, only to let out a loud exclamation at the atrocity of what Derek was trying to do with the last set of fairy lights. He was wrapping them around a lamp.

A lamp!

The poor guy was hopeless, he was lucky Stiles was so patient. A saint, really. Nobody else could survive the walking disaster that was Derek Hale and his attempts at decorating anything.

“I bought some beer, if you’d like to help yourself to one, John,” Derek informed the sheriff.

“Thanks son.” When he disappeared back into the kitchen, Stiles grabbed at the fairy lights and then proceeded to order Derek to run them up along the top of the curtain rod and down the two sides. It wasn’t the best place, but it was the only space they had left, and was better than wrapping them around a lamp.

Seriously, a lamp? A lamp, Derek?! Good Lord!

After averting that disaster, Stiles was heading back for the kitchen to check on the pie while his dad and Derek chatted in the living room when the doorbell rang again. It was still much too early for the pack to arrive, but when he opened the door, Kira was there with Liam and Mason, the three of them insisting they’d been ready for hours and hadn’t felt like waiting around at home anymore.

Stiles knew that some people in the pack would only be around for a little while, considering they had families at home—Liam’s parents, Kira’s parents, Boyd’s grandmother and so on—but that kind of made their early arrivals more meaningful because it was obvious they wanted to share the holiday spirit with their pack as much as their family.

Scott was the next to arrive, followed shortly thereafter by Erica and Boyd, who’d then argued with Scott over whose job it was to pick up Isaac. Melissa saved the day by arriving moments later with Isaac. Stiles had known the others would forget the poor guy, so he’d given that very important job to one of the only people he knew would remember to actually pick him up.

Not to say Boyd, Erica and Scott didn’t care about Isaac, they were just very into their own worlds right now and Isaac often got forgotten on the sidelines as the still-single friend. The perpetual third wheel, which was what Stiles used to be until Derek. He had to look out for his own kind, and Isaac seemed to appreciate that if the beaming grin he got was anything to go by.

Stiles had expected Lydia and Allison to be next, but surprisingly it was Jackson. Normally he liked being fashionably late, but apparently the prospect of good food and better company made him a little softer around the edges. It made sense, considering Jackson had mellowed out the past few years, not to mention his parents were never home.

He was one person Stiles was sure would take an eternity to kick out at the end of the night, if he left at all. He might just sleep on the couch...

When Lydia and Allison did finally show up, the last of the group and still half an hour early, Stiles figured there was no point in pretending this wasn’t going to be a wild and crazy night. If any big bads showed up during his holiday dinner though, he was going to go postal on whatever it was and it was going to wish it’d never heard of Beacon Hills.

Nobody messed with Stiles’ first holiday party at his home that he owned with his boyfriend. Nobody!

“Is that the famous pie?” Erica asked when Stiles brought it out to the small table. They’d opted not to have a formal sit-down dinner, considering there weren’t enough chairs, and there was too much food to accommodate both the dishes and plates.

“It is,” Stiles agreed, setting it down on the side table that was reserved for the desserts. The dining table had all the actual food, and it barely contained it all. Derek and Boyd had been forced to bring out the kitchen table for the desserts.

“Looks yummy.” Erica started to lean over to stick her finger in it and Stiles slapped rather violently at her hand.

He was pretty sure he hurt his hand more than he hurt hers.

“What are you, a savage? If you’re gonna ruin the sanctity of my pie with your grubby hands, have the decency to use a fork.”

Erica grinned at him, all teeth, and flashed her amber eyes. It seemed she was only interested in riling him up, because she plastered a wet kiss on his cheek, Stiles letting out a sound of disgust at the amount of drool, and then she pranced away to go hang off Boyd. He was currently having a heated debate with Mason and Liam about Lacrosse being a bastard sport and how it was ruining other good sports that existed.

The girls were all sitting on the couch chatting about something or another, Melissa was fussing over Scott because he’d worn a tie that he hadn’t managed to tie properly—why he had a tie, Stiles didn’t know, but he suspected it had something to do with Allison—and Isaac, Derek and the sheriff were discussing the difference between Pączki and American donuts.

Stiles smiled a little while watching the pack interact. It had been a long, difficult road to reach this point, and some days he still couldn’t believe they’d survived it. Things had been pretty crazy for a while, what with the whole Kanima thing, and the Alpha pack and the Darach and just general insanity and everything coming to kill them. The Nemeton had been an asshole for a few years but it seemed to have mellowed out lately, which was nice.

Not having someone or something trying to kill them on the regular was pretty great.

“What are you smirking about, weirdo?” Jackson demanded, appearing beside him silently.

“I’m not allowed to be happy? I mean, look at these awesome decorations. I did an amazing job getting this place festive.”

“You suck at colour coordination.”

“You’re just colour-blind and a Grinch,” Stiles countered. Jackson snorted, but Stiles knew he was pleased to be there despite not particularly loving Christmas.

When it became clear the wolves were going to start eating each other if they didn’t get any food into their stomachs, Derek said the food was ready to eat and everyone grabbed a plate and headed to the table so they could serve themselves buffet-style.

The humans got to go first, because if the wolves went first, there’d be nothing left. Melissa was very adamant that the dessert table was off-limits until after the real food had been eaten and Stiles was grateful because he didn’t want to have to fight off the wolves for that, too.

He grabbed a little bit of everything, still smiling to himself while eying all the food he had to choose from. He loved that the pack knew each other so well that they didn’t have to talk about anything and everyone already knew they wouldn’t double up on any of the food. And that they all wanted to ensure everyone had a good meal.

Kira had made ham because she knew Mason hated turkey with a passion, and she’d wanted him to enjoy his Christmas dinner.

Erica had made the stuffing she knew Stiles adored, but mama McCall had brought another variety that she’d mixed in some turkey broth because Jackson was allergic to some of the ingredients in Erica’s.

Scott had gone out of his way to ensure there was some grilled corn on the cob because he knew the sheriff loved corn on the cob, but he’d also brought some other vegetables since the rest of the pack were “animals” and didn’t like corn because they were crazy, according to his father.

Derek had gone out to buy some nice wine and a case of beer because, while the wolves couldn’t get drunk, he knew the humans might like to have something nice to sip at while eating dinner.

All in all, it was a pack that took care of each other. A pack that looked at everyone in their little found family, and ensured that nobody felt left out and that everyone understood they had a place here. It was truly the most inclusive and loving family Stiles ever could’ve asked for.

“What are you so happy about?” Derek demanded when he went to join Stiles. He’d opted to sit in the armchair so Derek had perched himself on one of the armrests and was leaning into him heavily, pressing his lips to Stiles’ temple and leaving them there for longer than necessary, like he was just savouring the moment.

“My pie didn’t get ruined,” Stiles informed him.

“Mm, liar,” Derek teased, but he didn’t press for the truth and just kissed him again before sitting up a little straighter so he could eat.

Boyd came to perch himself on the other armrest, he and Derek talking over Stiles about how the renovations at Boyd and Erica’s place were coming along. Erica plopped herself in Stiles’ lap when she realized there was no space left, and he only allowed it because she dumped the entirety of the stuffing she’d spooned onto her plate into his.

His father had capped him at three spoonfuls so having an extra two from Erica was a Godsend, even if his stomach would be angry with him later for overfeeding it.

“Stilinski, McCall is eating all the Pączki,” Jackson called from across the room.

“You stay away from my Nutella Pączki!” Stiles shot back, waving his fork threateningly towards where Scott was poking at all the Pączki, evidently trying to determine what was in them so he could choose one. “I hope you washed your hands!”

Scott turned, pretended to lick his palm, and then grabbed at a Pączki while maintaining eye contact with Stiles. The sheriff appeared behind him to whap him across the back of the head, and asked who wanted pie.

Stiles was pleased and a little honoured at the number of people who shot their hands up. Derek went to grab the ice cream from the freezer and Stiles started collecting all the various dinner plates so he could see about starting another load of dishes.

Kira helped him gather them up while Allison and Liam grabbed another set for the desserts. Everyone moved around each other easily in the kitchen, even though the pack hadn’t been around at the same time very often since he and Derek had moved in. They were all so attuned to one another it made it easy to move together. It was how they were when they were fighting enemies, as well. Perfectly in sync, able to determine what any one member was going to do, and balancing each other expertly.

Kira helped Stiles empty and reload the dishwasher and then they went back out to the main room. Derek had saved Stiles a piece of pie, bless him, but then proceed to help himself to more than half of it. Stiles didn’t mind, he and Derek shared food all the time, and he was petty full from all the stuffing anyway.

They’d insisted on no gift-giving this year since a lot of them were new homeowners and paying off student loans and whatnot, but Stiles knew nobody would abide by that rule. They’d all bought at least one small thing for each other and Erica excitedly started passing out gifts. Stiles was concerned at the predatory grin on her face when she handed over his from her and Boyd, and he felt like it would probably be best to open that one in private.

After another round of gathering dishes—Derek and Scott this time���the pack hung out together in the living/dining area and talked about plans for the next few days. Most of them had time off, barring Melissa and John, since they worked in industries that never stopped. Scott and Allison were heading up to a lakehouse for the rest of the week with Allison’s parents, which Lydia was extremely jealous about. Jackson was going to visit Ethan in London in a few days, and Liam and Mason were going to play video games to unwind and get ready for the new semester since they were still in university.

Erica and Boyd had grand plans to continue their renovations—something Erica looked more excited about than Boyd did. Stiles knew that Derek was planning on Skyping with Cora in the morning, and then they’d probably get to work on the back deck since it was rotting through at the base and Derek wanted it to be ready for barbecue season in the summer.

All in all, everyone sounded like they had some good plans and quality time coming up, and Stiles still couldn’t believe this was his life. A huge found family, an awesome boyfriend, a house he partly owned, a successful Christmas dinner and a Nutella Pączki.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

Even when it seemed to take forever to kick people out. Considering most of them had other places to be, it was surprising how long it took for them to slowly trickle out. Jackson, predictably, was the last to go, but he and Stiles made plans to meet up before he headed out to ensure he’d bought Ethan a decent Christmas present.

While Stiles was sure it was fine, Jackson wanted his opinion, and who was he to say no? So he promised he’d help him out, bid him good night, and shut the front door once Jackson had climbed into his new Maserati and peeled away.

Stiles sighed and leaned back against the door as soon as their last guest had vacated the premises. He looked around at the mess left behind and couldn’t help but laugh a little. Having that many Werewolves in one small space was already a challenge, so he had to be glad none of their furniture had gotten destroyed.

He figured they’d learned from Thanksgiving, when Isaac and Jackson had been roughhousing at Erica and Boyd’s, and had broken a side-table. Erica had almost murdered them and the two had to grovel for weeks before she forgave them.

Well, Isaac grovelled. Jackson just spoiled her and bought her a whole bunch of pretty things she’d been coveting and had basically bought her forgiveness. Isaac had whined about it, but to be fair, it still counted. Jackson could afford to buy her forgiveness, and it wasn’t against pack rules to do that.

After all, people bought Stiles’ forgiveness with food all the time, including Isaac. Wasn’t Jackson’s fault he could afford to meet Erica’s very high expectations for buying back forgiveness.

“That was fun,” Derek said, moving up to Stiles and placing his hands on either side of his head, bracketing him against the door.

Stiles grinned. “It was, wasn’t it?” He reached up to wrap his arms around Derek’s neck, pulling him down close enough to kiss him, but refraining. “We have a lot of cleanup to do tomorrow.”

“Mm,” Derek agreed, tilting his head so he could mouth open kisses along Stiles’ jaw towards his ear. “Isaac and Scott agreed to come help. Lydia said she’d drop in with some lunch and coffee and help supervise.”

“Goddess,” Stiles groaned, eyes sliding shut when Derek found that spot on his neck that made his knees weak. “I love coffee. But for that, we need to go to bed, so we can wake up to have the coffee. Sleep?”

“Not now,” Derek said, biting lightly at Stiles’ neck one last time before pulling back, keeping him bracketed against the door. “I’m still hungry.”

Stiles grinned at the predatory look in the wolf’s eyes, which flashed Alpha red when Derek smelled the evident spike of arousal that shot through Stiles. “I suppose I haven’t given you your Christmas present yet.”

“Is it you?” Derek leaned in to bite along his jaw again. “It better be you.”

“Not exactly, but I’m okay giving you multiple presents.” Stiles ducked out from under Derek’s arms and moved around him so he was backing away from him. Derek turned to look over his shoulder, still braced against the door, eyes bleeding red again. “Come and get me big, bad wolf.”

Derek grinned, a purely animalistic thing, and Stiles turned to race up the stairs, knowing full well Derek only let him win so they would end up in the bedroom instead of on the hallway carpet again.

Rugburn was a bitch, but Stiles tolerated it for Derek.

Derek was his home. Derek was his family. And even if the oven had over-baked his pie just a little bit, this was still the best ever first Christmas in their new home.

He was glad he had an amazing family to share it with. And an even more amazing boyfriend to end the night with.

Some days, Stiles was very happy Peter Hale had bitten Scott, because if he hadn’t, Stiles never would’ve met Derek.

And that would’ve been a damn shame.

END.

[ko-chan-the-blueberry-donut]

The Butterfly Effect Chapter 3 (Hermione centric story)

@mugofmocha

@ziggystarluster

@ravenmione

@malfoybellamy

@msruchita

@damnedmagicallisa

Hey guys! Thank you so much for the support with this story! I’m so happy it seems like a good number of people like this!

So I’ve been listening to the song “Rise” by Katy Perry and listening to the State of Mine version and I really think that that song is basically Hermione’s theme in this story.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter

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Chapter Three:

A Confrontation

Hermione steeled herself when Professor Snape led her to the Infirmary where most likely her head of house would be. Snape didn’t say anything on the way there, and she didn’t expect him to, but his presence did make her feel a little more like she wasn’t alone.

Several students saw them walking together and they did a double take, shocked Snape was walking with a student outside of his house. Snape gave them a look however, and it chased off any nosy students who were willing to follow them.

‘Ironic—the professor that makes me feel safer is the one who terrorizes everyone.’ Hermione thought to herself.

They arrived at the Infirmary too soon for Hermione’s taste. Snape wasted no time in opening the doors and walking inside. Hermione followed dutifully, not wanting to annoy Snape with cold feet when she said she would do this.

Professor McGonagall was there with Madam Pomfrey who was healing Ron’s nose. Harry, Seamus, and Dean were there as well, looking nervous as she felt. Hermione wanted to groan.

‘Great… four against one. This is going to be lovely.’ Hermione thought bitterly.

“Miss Granger!” Professor McGonagall announced her presence, and Hermione winced when all eyes were on her and Snape. Harry and her other housemates’ eyes widened at the sight of Snape with her, but she wouldn’t give them an explanation. “Where have you been?” McGonagall asked her.

She didn’t owe it.

“Around.” Hermione answered, shrugging, hiding her fear and shame at hiding. Show weakness in front of those who hurt you will only bring her more misery. Professor McGonagall was not amused.

“I expect your attitude to come from someone else, but not you, Miss Granger.” Her head of house said sternly. Hermione felt her hackles rise, breathing deep. Nonetheless, Snape beat her to the punch.

“I believe it’s better to move on, Minerva.” Snape cut in smoothly. McGonagall eyed him but listened to his words.

“Mister Weasley says you assaulted him Miss Granger.” McGonagall says. “As you know, violence is not tolerated in Hogwarts, magical or physical.” The woman lectured. Madam Pomfrey finished healing Ron’s nose and went to go tend to other students.

“Did he say why I hit him?” Hermione narrowed her eyes. McGonagall paused.

“Pardon, Miss Granger?”

“The reason why I hit him. Did any of them tell you what happened?” Hermione’s tone grew more dangerous. Seamus and Dean grimaced while Harry looked uncomfortable. McGonagall turned towards the boys.

“Actually, I have not. Mister Weasley, when you said Miss Granger assaulted you, you did not explain the circumstances.” McGonagall eyed them. Harry squirmed while Dean and Seamus tried to not appear guilty.

“What does it matter why—you hit me and broke my nose!” Ron exclaimed. It seemed his fear of her was gone. A dark part of Hermione whispered in her mind she would have to rectify that.

“Ron was making fun of Hermione, Professor.” Harry said quietly, not able to look anyone in the eyes. Everyone stared at him in shock, especially Ron. “We were laughing along, and Hermione felt humiliated and got upset.” He confessed. He then directed his gaze straight at Hermione’s shocked ones. “We were in the wrong. I was in the wrong. I should’ve stopped it.”

Hermione blinked, surprised Harry was the one to admit the wrong. Professor McGonagall also blinked, not expecting Harry’s explanation. McGonagall cleared her throat.

“That may be, Mister Potter, and thank you for admitting your mistake, but Miss Granger is still also wrong for lashing out.” McGonagall said gently. Hermione was about to hiss—she was right here. No need to talk about her like she wasn’t.

“We’ve actually been rude to Hermione for a while.” Harry continued, ashamed. “If she’s wrong so are we. We pushed her.”

“Harry!” Ron protested. Harry gave him a sharp look.

“It’s true! She’s been nice to us and we’ve been treating her bad!” Harry said fiercely. Seamus and Dean had enough sense to look guilty at Harry’s statements. Professor McGonagall looked ready to skin Ron alive.

“Mister Weasley, you’ve neglected to mention this to me. Is this true?” She demanded. Ron looked guilty, avoiding his professor’s firm gaze.

“We may have been a bit mean…” Ron admitted unwillingly. Professor McGonagall looked livid.

“And you intended for me to punish her without any repercussions to you?” McGonagall continued icily. Hermione could hardly believe how this turned out. She was expecting Ron to get away with it completely, but Harry came forward to admit the truth. She glanced at the black-haired boy, who tried to give her a smile, but it came out weak. Hermione narrowed her eyes. There had to be a catch somewhere. He must want something.

“It seems every party is guilty of something. As noble as it was for Mister Potter to come forward,” here Hermione felt Snape had a bite in his tone at mentioning Harry, “It doesn’t seem fair to not punish everyone.”

“Indeed, Severus.” McGonagall agreed. “You boys will serve detention with me tomorrow night. Miss Granger will tonight with me.” Hermione bristled.

“Why should I have to miss the feast and they don’t?” Hermione growled.

“Be as it may, they have admitted their wrong doings Miss Granger, while you have yet to apologize for yours. Bullying is not tolerated, but violence is worse.” McGonagall lectured. Hermione felt her body heat up. She turned to glare at Harry—this was his plan! He admitted to his wrongdoings so he would get off easier!

“So you admit you’re wrong for brownie points?! I should’ve known your confession was too good to be true!” Hermione snarled.

“Miss Granger!” McGonagall scolded.

“N-No Hermione. That’s not it at all!” Harry protested, looking alarmed.

“Hey! Harry’s being nice to you! You’re the crazy one!” Ron accused. Hermione took a step forward towards him, growling. Here, Ron lost his bravado and shrunk back. His fear of her tasted delicious on her tongue.

“Enough! Twenty points from Gryffindor for incessant fighting.” Snape snapped. He turned to Professor McGonagall swiftly. “I will watch Miss Granger tonight. You will have Potter, Weasley, Thomas and Finnigan tomorrow.” He told her. “Return to your common rooms and prepare for the feast. Miss Granger, I will see you in the dungeons in my classroom tonight.” Snape commanded. He turned and walked away, exiting the Infirmary.

Hermione’s clenched fists were shaking at her sides. She badly wanted to hit something. She let out a scream in rage, pulling at her hair, before kicking a medbed as everyone watched her stunned at her behavior.

“Miss Granger, enough!” Professor McGonagall ordered, appalled by her prized student’s behavior. “Your attitude is unacceptable, and I will be writing to your family about this.”

This seemed to strike a chord with Hermione, and her expression turned sad. Professor McGonagall and the others thought it was because she was getting in trouble, something Hermione hated, but it was sorrow for having disappointed her parents yet again with her anger. Tears of frustration came to her eyes. It was only a month into the school year, and she was already messing up the lessons her parents taught her!

‘They’ll be so ashamed of me…’ Hermione thought bitterly towards herself, the self-loathing coming back at full force. She bit her lip hard, to the point it bled, to keep it from trembling. She would not cry in front of those who hurt her. She reached for her stress ball, squeezing it tightly.

Fingers hesitantly brushed against her clenched fist and Hermione snapped her head up to see Harry gazing at her with remorse. His fingers brushed patterns on her fist lightly, afraid if he took her hand, she’d run. The feeling of comfort was foreign to her, as well as him, and he found himself relishing in the human contact.

“Hermione…” he murmured looking at her in sorrow. Hermione had enough of his act. She glared, snatching her hand away and made her way out of the Infirmary.

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There you go! I wanted to add more but I thought it was best I end it here for now. Hope you all enjoyed!

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Monarchy 5

Preciously on Monarchy

The morning mist rose quietly over the rolling expanse of the garden. Stately rows of trimmed hedges outlined a path, ordered and neat, not a twig out of place. The mist didn’t care about any of it, disrupting the perfection by obscuring it, making it hazy and unclear. In the cold, even the snow was symmetrical and even, perfectly coiffed and parallel, with level surfaces everywhere. It was a peaceful sight to behold as the sun snuck between the low clouds and the tips of the trees, allowing a bit of red, golden light to welcome the new day.

From her spot by the window, Clarke sighed and watched it all happen from the window in the large dining room that made her feel like an ant in comparison. Ceilings had no right to be so high; walls had no right to be so ornate. But there she stood, in Lexa’s old prep school button up and day-old jeans, looking out onto the property of the most famous house in the nation, a sight so few ever got to cherish.

With a small smile, Clarke clung tighter to her coffee cup and stood so close to the glass that she could feel the chill emanating from it. She wiggled her toes in old wool socks and felt the stately carpet beneath them and very gradually became aware of how absolutely insane her situation had become.

But that was quickly struck down with the knowledge that Lexa was about to go through something even worse, perhaps.

When they were just anonymous idiots in a place that they almost didn’t expect to survive, tucked behind a shelf that once held packaging supplies, Clarke knew how important Lexa’s duty was to her name, to her family. In the dark, the princess told her about it, about her compulsion to hide away, to run from it.

A little guilt snuck in, because Clarke knew that she was the reason Lexa bypassed all of that duty and honor. The only comfort was in the idea that Lexa was secretly eager to finally breathe again, to unburden herself of a secret-- to be herself.

The sun hummed into the day, while the clouds wiggled and moved, rushing along to another world. Twenty-four hours ago, she didn’t exist. She was just a doctor who was trying to find how to come back after feeling like she’d failed to complete her mission. For the first time, she thought about her job and her life and how it was never going ot be the same. Even if she denied everything, even if Lexa claimed fakes and got rid of all evidence, it was out there. Her name would follow. There was no more Clarke Griffin as she knew it.

But feet thudded against the carpet, making their way across the space behind her, and Clarke saw again that the day was settling in, all blue and grey and void of the burst of the sun. Anyone else might not believe her, but she saw it.

Clarke sipped her coffee and looked over her shoulder to catch a brooding Lexa, hair wet from the shower. She hadn’t slept, and Clarke knew that meant she was working out until she couldn’t stand. Clarke woke up alone and wasn’t sure what kind of Lexa she would run into. Now she was seeing it, the entire pacing, distracted mess. The nerves were evident.

Lexa made her way down the hall and disappeared for a moment before returning, unaware that anything had changed in the time she’d huffed and clenched her firsts. Only when she met Clarke’s eyes did she stop and freeze, as if struck by the idea that someone else was awake and had witnessed her frantic pacing and nerves. She relaxed when she realized she was allowed; that it was just Clarke, and therefore safe.

“Did you know that you have a fountain in your backyard that pre-dates America?”

“You should see what we have for dungeons.”

“Did you get much sleep?” Clarke worried as Lexa shoved her hands in her pockets and stood near her, leaning against the corner of the large table. “When I woke up you were gone.”

There was a look to her that betrayed the tired in her bones. The doctor saw it and thought of how to combat it, but she didn’t have a good answer for the potential shunning of an entire country someone loved to their very core.

“A little.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

Clarke shook her head and put down her coffee cup. She hugged Lexa tightly, surprising them both as to the extent of her strength. She closed her eyes so hard that stars appeared, but she did her best to transfer her energy and feeling to Lexa in that moment-- if she could give her the strength, the boost, the safety, the anything at all, then she would, and she was going to do it in a hug.

Reluctantly, Lexa pulled her hands out of her pockets and let out a heavy sigh, one she’d been holding for longer than she could remember, and she adjusted her chin on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“This might be one of our last moments alone for a while.”

Arms constricted around her neck a little tighter and Lexa smiled to herself as she felt Clarke take a deep breath, her nose finding her neck, warm and soft there.

“Nothing else matters. You’re about to do something very important. I’m not going anywhere, tiger.”

“I have to come out to the world today, and my stomach is in knots. I’ve never been in the spotlight before, just off to the side.”

“Hold on one second,” Clarke pulled away slightly. She surveyed Lexa’s face, she smooshed her face around in her hands and furrowed. “You’re the one that can turn into a wolf. Who comes from an unending line of greatness. Who has the blood of kings running through her. You were never made for anything but the spotlight, and you do it nobly.”

All she could do was nod slowly before Clarke decided that was good enough, and she hugged Lexa once again, the length of her frame hunched over to allow for it.

“I’m really happy, I think, deep, deep down.”

“I know.”

“Are you happy?”

“Very.”

It wasn’t until a voice cleared itself that Lexa felt Clarke’s arms slacken their hold. The daylight was already warming the chill on the glass and the clouds were barely hiding the day as grey rose up and illuminated everywhere.

There should have been more words, probably. Clarke wondered why she couldn’t say anything, or why the time spent together felt so short and like Lexa’s words were an omen, that it would be their last time alone for a while. Quickly, the feeling of calm disappeared

“Good morning, girls,” the queen greeted them, reading the paper with her head tilted to see out of her glasses. All business, she held the paper at a distance and read the headlines with interest, afraid to raise her eyes.

Her daughter blushed and sighed again.

“Good morning, Mom,” Lexa smiled softly before kissing her cheek as she took the seat at the head of the table. “How are the headlines?”

“Not bad at all,” she lied before folding it and slapping it on the table. “How did you sleep, Clarke?”

“Oh, fine, yes, fantastic. I slept in a palace.”

“It does have its perks, doesn’t it. Sit, sit. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and you both are going to need your strength today.”

Clarke looked to Lexa, in hopes of escape, but instead just followed her, mimicking her movement on the opposite side of the table. Almost instantly, maids skittered into the dining hall with trays of silver containing delicious smelling food and coffee. The fairy tales had it right, the doctor realized. These things just happened.

Breakfast just started, and before Clarke found refill her coffee cup, Aden made his way to join them, the king shortly after. It turned suddenly busy and loud and fun with the newest additions, that by the time the eldest made her way to meet them, her husband following with their hands linked, the table was laughing at something the king said to his wife about his lunch date with some ambassadors.

The queen sat at the end of the table and opened the news paper, hiding behind it.

Lexa glanced at the large black print and stalled, toast stuck in mid-air between the plate and her mouth. The table was quiet before her sister started laughing uncontrollably which spread to the rest.

GAY

The word covered the top half of the paper. Clarke looked at Lexa’s picture beneath it and watched her eyes grow wide.

“At least they used a nice picture,” Alex offered as he took another bite of his grapefruit.

The apartment was far from the hum of the big part of the city. It was far away from her actual apartment, but Clarke looked out of the floor-to-ceiling windows and couldn’t really figure out a way to complain about missing her place. Tucked high in a new building that she thought wasn’t even finished yet, Clarke was greeted by a modest staff of four when she arrived, a bag of her own things packed and waiting in the large bedroom down the hall.

With a sigh, Clarke sat on the couch and watched the late afternoon sunlight wane and doze behind the layer of clouds that never seemed to want to leave. Without Lexa near her, the entirety of the situation felt remarkably real. Suddenly, it wasn’t an abstract, and she wasn’t holding someone’s hand as they came out. Instead, she was alone, in a strange condo, with a security guard at the door.

It was only after being left with her thoughts for a few seconds that she decided she needed more distraction and noise in the quiet, and so Clarke put on the television to see her girlfriend’s face plastered on it.

Four talking heads debated something about Lexa’s coming out, or at least the pictures, and why it was a big deal. It made Clarke slightly sick to her stomach.

If she could have looked away, she would have, but her eyes were permanently glued to the screen for the first few hours of her isolation.

The nerves didn’t start until the time grew closer for Lexa’s address and interview. Everyone speculated as to when it would be, but Clarke actually knew. She spent hours with a trainer as to how to answer questions and what was about to happen. The royal family’s team was thorough, if anything, and it all made sense how secrets never made their way out of the gated palace.

But the nerves did start, and Clarke sat on the edge of her seat and waited as she held her breath.

“Are you ready for this?” Alex asked as he adjusted his collar, smoothing his sleeves in a graceful movement he’d perfected over the years.

“I’m about to come out to the entire planet and disrupt an entire monarchy,” Lexa nodded and tried to swallow away the dryness of her mouth, though that was about impossible.

“You’re not disrupting anything.”

“I’m disrupting your Tuesday.”

“That’s true,” he nodded.

The two stood backstage, amidst the flurry of excitement and eagerness to get the scoop. Everyone on the studio stage was fretting with everything, and the royals remained very still, something they’d learned and perfected across time.

“You are still my daughter. You are still the princess. You are still all of it,” he finally whispered as they found an ease after a few moments. “Show them that.”

“I don’t want to… I couldn’t ever-- I won’t disappoint you.”

“You could never.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this,” Lexa sighed and adjusted her collar before pressing her hand over her chest and rubbing there for a moment.

“I’d switch places with you if I could, to protect you from all of this. I’m not the one that has to deal with anything.”

“I don’t think Mom would take it very well if you came out to the entire world.”

Alex chuckled and nodded, the smile on his lips fading almost as soon as it came around. The call for the studio began, and it started to filter around.

“At the end of the day, I want you to know that I am your biggest fan, Al,” her father muttered. “Nothing will change that.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

The king watched his daughter out of the corner of his eye, proud of her so utterly and completely, for just a moment, he was not so sure he didn’t have a favorite. With a slight movement, he reached down and held her hand. Lexa didn’t look at him, but she squeezed her father’s hand to find some strength before dropping it as the green light blinked and it was her turn to make her way onto the camera.

She never looked back, and her father remembered all of her firsts-- steps, bike ride, graduation, enlistment, departure for duty-- and each time, she was the kid that never looked back for support or encouragement. Lexa was his daughter who didn’t need it, and he took pride in her assuredness.

But Lexa never looked back, and she didn’t see his teary smile, and so the king radiated all of the love he could for her and hoped it would be enough.

For hours after the broadcast, the news stations talked about Lexa and the monarchy and Clarke and the entire situation that now became a situation. The talking heads chatted, bringing on experts in both things that Lexa now proclaimed to be-- gay and a princess. Legal experts spoke about succession and the implications of a potential gay royal wedding while gay rights activists applauded the visibility and what this meant while lamenting the fact that Lexa existed in the closet for so long.

All of it, Clarke knew, was exhausting to her girlfriend. She was probably hating every minute of the attention and talking about herself.

Clarke spent the evening scrolling through social media and listening to everyone chatting about her and her girlfriend.

So enthralled, she didn’t notice the knocking at her door. She hadn’t expected it, locked up across town amidst the blitz.

As soon as she opened the door, a handful of flowers met her, and Clarke smiled before Lexa appeared behind them, bashful and exhausted and showing every ounce of it.

“Hey,” Clarke smiled.

“I had the roughest day at work,” Lexa sighed. “Can I come in?”

“To the safe house that you have guarded like a vault?”

“Yeah,” she grinned, slightly back to the helo pilot who was so tan her freckles were splattered across her shoulders and approached a girl in a makeshift bar.

Clarke hung on the door and looked past Lexa toward the guards and their burly chests and big guns and roving eyes. She looked back at Lexa’s deep brown ones, warm and gooey and lathering her up. She saw the shadow of the freckles on the bridge of her nose, hidden beneath the bags that were evident when her make up was removed. She nudged her head and welcomed the princess.

“I missed you,” Lexa sighed as she grabbed Clarke into a hug the moment the door was closed.

The flowers crinkled against Clarke’s back, but neither cared. She dug her nose into the princess’ neck and she inhaled and smiled against the skin there.

“I am so proud of you,” Clarke whispered, holding Lexa’s cheeks and wobbling her head slightly to punctuate her point.

“Can you believe I did my best to overturn an entire monarchy, because I like eating you out and it didn’t even budge?”

“I’m so glad you didn’t phrase it like that.”

“The vagina that toppled one of the last breathing monarchies.”

“Put it on my tombstone,” Clarke smiled and played with the hairs at the base of Lexa’s neck. “You had a long day.”

“I had the longest day.”

“It’s going to be a long week.”

“A very long week,” Lexa nodded, settling her hands on her girlfriend’s hips. She leaned her head forward so her forehead rested on Clarke’s shoulder.

“It’s going to be a long month.”

“I came over here to feel better.”

“Do you?”

With a small movement, despite herself, despite her worries and her thoughts, Lexa felt Clarke’s hands around her shoulders and she nodded softly.

“Good. We’ll try again in the morning,” Clarke decided. “Want to go to sleep.”

“For at least three weeks.”

“Three weeks sounds perfect.”

next

[jaeminlore]

Golden Snitch // Kim Doyoung

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the prompt: hello~ can I request a hogwarts!au scenario for Doyoung, where reader is in slytherin and he is in any of the other 3 houses. Doyoung develops a major crush on reader but reader plays hard to get but eventually comes around and starts liking him back

words: 3205

category: fluff + hogwarts!au

author note: ah my first request in awhile. it feels good to get new prompts and stuff. I was also excited to see doyoung as my first request since he is the loml. please enjoy! (I hope this is what you wanted.)

- destinee

(bringing black-haired doyoung back bc wow)

-

You finished strapping on your equipment, specifically the leather gauntlets on your arms. It was the first quidditch game of the season, Slytherin against Hufflepuff. You were the Slytherin captain and one of the best beaters in the school, along with Donghyuck, a third year.

“I can’t believe the Puff’s team this year,” Donghyuck muttered, strapping on his shin guards.

“I know,” you muttered back. “It gets better every year.”

“Doyoung knows how to pick them,” Donghyuck replied.

You rolled your eyes. Kim Doyoung just had to be Hufflepuff’s best quidditch captain since Cedric Diggory.

He also happened to have a major crush on you. The boy liked to make excuses to talk to you and ask you out, only to have you shoot him down each time. He was a nice boy, you supposed. It wasn’t like he was unattractive, either. You just didn’t like him, and he didn’t seem to understand that.

“Let’s win this for Slytherin,” you told your team, each hand placed in the middle of a circle.

After your pep talk, each of you grabbed your brooms and headed out of the practice room, onto the playing field. The Hufflepuff team was already out, flying around. Their canary yellow robes flew behind them as the autumn wind began to pick up.

While your team went to take their positions, you walked to the middle of the field where Doyoung stood against his broom, watching his teammates.

When he noticed you, he smiled, “Hello, Y/n.”

“Hey,” you replied curtly.

The referee made the two of you shake hands and promise a friendly, rule-conducting game.

Doyoung grinned, “Y/n, if I catch the snitch, will you go out with me?”

“Of course not,” you said, your hand landing in his for a friendly shake. He asked the same question every game you two had against each other and the answer was always the same.

Doyoung frowned slightly, but quickly replaced it with a smile. Then the referee blew the whistle, and both you and Doyoung mounted your brooms and flew to your positions.

Then the quaffle was thrown up, and in a mix of canary yellow and emerald green, the game was off.

-

Doyoung did catch the snitch, like always. Hufflepuff was already in the lead, so they won the first game of the year.

While they went to celebrate in their common room, you led your team back to the dungeons to wash up and go to sleep.

-

Hunger woke you up at around two in the morning. The energy you had worked off during the game had caught up to you. You pushed the heavy comforter off of your sleepy body and slipped out of bed quietly.

You decided to make your way down to the kitchen and ask the house elves to make you some warm cookies.

The kitchen was close to the Hufflepuff common room, and you were surprised to still hear them partying in the dead of night.

They probably snuck in fire whiskey, and you already felt sympathetic towards all the Hufflepuff hangovers during classes tomorrow.

Ignoring the loud cheers, you tickled the pear on the fruit portrait and waited for the picture to swing open, letting you into the Hogwarts kitchen.

The fireplace was roaring, keeping the autumn chill at bay. The stone walls tended to keep cold air in, especially when heaters seemed to be nonexistent in Hogwarts. The house elves continued their work in between the many prep tables and cooking appliances, though a few ran up to you to inquire what you needed.

“Can I have some cookies?” You asked them nicely.

“You’re in luck,” one with particularly wide eyes told you happily. “We already have a batch in the oven.”

You thanked them and went over to sit beside the fireplace. Only, someone was already seated there.

Doyoung was still, wrapped in a wool blanket with a mug of hot cocoa between his palms. He looked surprised when you sat beside him, his brown eyes widening a few centimeters. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, “I got hungry. I suppose you got tired of partying.”

Doyoung took a sip of his hot chocolate. “I tried to get some sleep, but everyone wanted me to stay up. I finally snuck out. If I can’t sleep, I wouldn’t mind resting at least.”

“I guess you’re the one who already asked for cookies, right?”

“Yeah,” he said.

As if on cue, a house elve came and greeted you with your own wool blanket and a mug of hot cocoa, while another elf set a tray of warm chocolate chip cookies between the two of you.

“Thank you!” You and Doyoung said in unison, practically drooling at the delicious dessert.

The both of you grabbed a cookie and ate silently.

This was the side of Doyoung you could tolerate. When he wasn’t making jokes left and right about how perfect the two of you were for each other.

He had done it since your third year. He had been a fourth year, intent on asking you to Hogsmeade. No matter how much he begged and even bribed you, you declined.

You’d much rather go with your friends than worry about a date with a boy. When he walked away, dejectedly, you thought that was the end. You figured he would pick another girl to ask, but he never did.

His crush on you lasted till now, his last year and your sixth. Everyone knew about it, including the teachers. People made bets on the two of you: if you would hex him or accept him first, if he would use a love potion, if the two of you would have a huge fight, and other things to that extent.

You didn’t have a love life. You’ve kissed boys before and had even been on a few dates with some boys you thought you liked, but there was no commitment. Even those relationships were two years ago. For now, you had things like quidditch and upcoming NEWT’s to focus on.

Thinking of the horrible exams, you turned to Doyoung, “How is your studying going?”

“For NEWT’s?” Doyoung asked.

You nodded, biting into a cookie.

Doyoung rolled his eyes dramatically, “I suppose they’re going okay. My friends and I are helping each other so I think it will turn out okay. We have the whole year, though, so I’m not too worried.”

You grabbed your second cookie while Doyoung still nibbled on his first, already full from the hot cocoa. “I barely passed my OWL’s last year. To be honest, I have no idea what grade I need to get. I want to be a professional quidditch player, so I suppose I’ll just have to wait to get scouted.”

“Oh, you have it easy,” Doyoung said sadly.

“Well, what do you want to do?”

Doyoung averted his eyes as a blush appeared on his cheeks. “It’s not very manly.”

“What is it?” You pushed him, even more curious.

“I want to be a healer.” Doyoung looked at your expression, perhaps waiting for you to laugh or something.

You only nodded, seemingly impressed. “You have to know your Herbology and Potions to be a healer. I suck at both subjects.”

“You have to know charms as well, like reversals and stuff.”

“Well, kudos to you.”

Doyoung cracked a smile, “You don’t think it’s weird? My parents want me to be a auror like my older brother.”

“Well,” you paused to wrap the blanket tighter around yourself, “Donghyun is a lot different than you. He was a Gryffindor and liked all that DADA stuff.”

Doyoung had a thankful glint in his eyes, “I tried to tell my parents that, but they don’t care. They think being a healer is useless.”

“That’s stupid,” you retorted, not apologizing for your brash response. “Healers save just as many lives, if not more, than aurors.”

“Thanks, Y/n.” Doyoung looked at you so sincerely all you could do was nod.

-

The next morning, you appeared in the Slytherin common room, refreshed and ready to start the day. However, that mood dropped as Donghyuck pulled you aside, snickering.

“What?” You asked.

“Doyoung told all of us that you guys went on a date last night,” he said, referring to Doyoung’s large group of friends from each house.

Of course he would tell them that it was a date. The boy liked to be over-dramatic. Now it was your job to go put him in his place.

You walked the whole way to the Great Hall with Donghyuck, where students were eating their breakfast before classes.

You confidently followed Donghyuck over to the end of the Ravenclaw table, where about sixteen or more boys were sitting together, making a huge ruckus for seven in the morning.

Knowing all the quidditch practice schedules, you knew Doyoung would just be dismissing his team. So you waited patiently at the end of the table, eating your toast in an eerily calm way.

When Doyoung came in, freshly showered and starving, you stood up and grabbed his sleeve. As you pulled him out of the Great Hall, he whined. “Y/n, I’m really hungry. Where are we going?”

You pulled him into an empty corridor and pushed him against the wall, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest. “You told all of your friends we went on a date last night.”

Doyoung smiled boyishly, “And you just pulled me into an empty corridor in front of the entire school, so how do you erase that mistake?”

Your face heated up, flustered, before you shook your head and returned to the task at hand. “Don’t change the subject. That was not a date last night and you need to tell them that.”

Doyoung shrugged, “I technically didn’t tell them it was a date. I told them we stayed in the kitchen for about an hour, eating and talking. I told them it was really nice and they told me I went on a date with you. I am completely innocent.”

You glared at him. His soft bunny-like eyes stared right back, albeit softer than your striking gaze.

“You better tell them that it wasn’t a date. It was just a coincidence and I was too lazy to leave.”

“Fine.” Doyoung held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll tell them. Now can you let me go so I can eat breakfast?”

You stepped back, allowing him to straighten his uniform and walked past you.

-

There was not one person at that breakfast table that didn’t notice Doyoung’s disappointed form.

He was busy eating his toast and eggs, trying to replace all the carbs he had already worked off. Because of this, he didn’t notice everyone staring at him with concern drawn on their faces.

The first to speak was Ten, a Gryffindor in Doyoung’s year. “What did she say that made you so sad?”

Doyoung sighed, “She just wanted me to clear up that it actually wasn’t a date and it was just a coincidence.”

“Oh,” Sicheng frowned. “I wanted you guys to go out.”

“Me too,” Doyoung smiled. “But she’s right, and there’s no need for me to let rumors spread.”

Jaehyun angrily bit into his bacon. “Honestly, why don’t you just find someone else to like? How many times is she going to reject you before you say enough is enough and move on?”

Doyoung shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe I will give her space for awhile.”

-

By December, and the first Hogsmeade weekend, you had nearly forgotten about your little complication with Doyoung.

He had given you space for the past few months, and you surprisingly found yourself missing him and his stupid efforts to win you over.

You hadn’t seen him much, save quidditch games and some shared classes. He hadn’t once tried to win you over. No secret flowers in Herbology, no bad pickup lines in Charms, and definitely no efforts to make you smile during History of Magic.

Even now, when he would usually follow you around Hogsmeade and try to convince you to walk into Honeydukes with him, he was nowhere to be seen.

To avoid the snowy weather, you entered The Three Broomsticks, craving a warm butterbeer to heat up your insides.

As you sat alone, you realized Doyoung was in one of the corner booths with a few of his friends.

You spared a glance every now and again, especially when you heard Doyoung’s loud laughter. It was amazing how much you now noticed about him, like the way he covered his mouth when he laughed.

When your butterbeer arrived, you sipped it quietly. Your gaze kept flitting over to Doyoung, even though you consistently told yourself that you didn’t care what he was doing.

Eventually, the unavoidable happened and Doyoung caught your gaze. You had never averted your eyes so quickly.

When your mug was empty, you left to go to the sweet shop and find some lollipops to distract you from your annoying thoughts.

Honeydukes was filled with students, as usual, when you entered. You quietly made your way over to the normal-flavored lollipops and began to pick out your favorite flavors.

“What? No acid pops?” Doyoung’s voice appeared as you tried to pick between lemon and grape.

You looked to your side, where he stood bundled in his canary scarf and beanie, along with a thick jacket. Your own hair was hidden by your house colors.

“I’m not a fan of having a hole burning through my tongue,” you replied flatly.

Doyoung chuckled, “I missed that sarcastic humor.”

You scowled before looking at him with an eyebrow raised, “Where have you been, anyway?”

“Why?” Doyoung pivoted his body towards yours, a playful look on his face. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” you lied. “In fact, it was a great few months without you obnoxiously flirting with me every day.”

“Right…” Doyoung said, cracking a smile. “Should I pretend I didn’t see you checking me out in The Three Broomsticks?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and scoffed in disbelief. “I was not checking you out. I was just surprised to see you after so long, that’s all.”

Doyoung bit his lip to hold in a laugh, “Right. We’ll go with that.”

He began to walk away, and you instinctively reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

Doyoung turned on his heel, a smirk on his face. “Yes?”

You ducked your head, using your hair to hide your embarrassed expression. “Nothing. Bye.”

“Goodbye, Y/n,” Doyoung said sweetly.

-

The day before the final quidditch game came quicker than you felt it would.

The final match would be Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Your team had lost to Ravenclaw last month, resulting in their getting to the finals.

Everyone was buzzing with excitement, placing bets on who would win the quidditch cup.

You personally hoped Hufflepuff would win. To be honest, Doyoung deserved it. It would also be really nice for him since this was his final year at Hogwarts.

Just before the game, you filed into the stands with Donghyuck. None of the boys would cheer for just one team, since members of their little club were in both houses.

You planned to cheer for Hufflepuff only, however.

With ten minutes till the game, Doyoing climbed the bleachers to see all of his friends and tell them which plays to watch for. Then he told them goodbye and walked over towards you.

“Hello again.” He smiled at you.

“Hello,” you said. “Good luck out there. Ravenclaw has a strong team.”

“You would know since you got your butt kicked by them last month,” Doyoung said smartly.

You snorted. “Shut up.”

Doyoung cocked his head to the side, “So are you here to cheer me on?”

You played with the tail of your braid distractedly. “I suppose.”

Doyoung’s smile filled his whole face. “So would you like to up the stakes?”

“What stakes?” you rose your eyebrows suspiciously.

“If I catch the snitch, you let me kiss you.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “What happened to just going out with you.”

“I’ve already been out with you,” Doyoung answered. “That night in the kitchens.”

“That wasn’t a date,” you hissed, then you rolled your eyes.

Honestly, you weren’t even opposed the idea of kissing Doyoung. You supposed you had grown soft towards the boy during the latter months of school. The only thing keeping you from asking him out yourself was pride.

“Fine,” you said, causing Doyoung’s eyes to widen. “I’ll kiss you if you catch the snitch.”

Doyoung was still stunned when Ten made him go back to the practice room to walk out with his team.

You were worried he would be so distracted by the bet that he would play a bad game. However, once the quaffle went up he was flying around, searching for the small golden snitch.

Thirty minutes into the game, it was spotted behind the Ravenclaw seeker’s ear. Although Doyoung noticed it first, the favor was in Ravenclaw’s hands.

After a ten minute chase, Ravenclaw’s seeker caught the snitch, ending the game. However, Hufflepuff had gotten more points beforehand, so they won the actual game.

Doyoung flew down to the ground, where Hufflepuff’s keeper was already holding up the quidditch cup in victory. Hufflepuffs flocked the field in excitement, a mess of yellow and black.

In the hustle and bustle of it all, you were unable to find Doyoung and congratulate him. You decided to just try and find him later.

-

Because of the wild Hufflepuffs, you knew exactly where Doyoung would be.

After entering the kitchen, you declined any offer for food and went directly to the fireplace, where Doyoung sat there as content as last time.

“Hey,” you said softly.

Doyoung looked surprised, but said nothing. He merely scooted over so you would have somewhere to sit.

“You guys played a good game,” you continued, looking at him.

Doyoung pursed his lips in frustration. “I suppose. But the snitch was right there and I just let him take it.”

“That’s not true,” you said. “You fought for that snitch till the end. I watched you.”

Doyoung ran a hand through his already messy hair. “To be honest, I don’t even care about the game. I just really wanted to kiss you.”

“Oh.” Your heart sped up at his words. Then, you looked at the boy sitting beside you, “I-If you still want to, you can kiss me now.”

Doyoung’s head snapped towards you, his gaze falling on you lips. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice getting quieter as he leaned closer. “I think… I think I like you, Doyoung.”

At this, he turned his head and pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and tasted like hot cocoa, warming your cheeks almost as much as the fireplace in front of you.

The two of you parted slowly, and Doyoung blinked a few times before he was able to look at you properly again. “Please tell me that wasn’t a dream.”

You laughed. “It wasn’t a dream, Doyoung. I really like you.”

“For real?”

“Yes,” you said, smiling at the surprised boy. “For real.”

~the end~

[fandomsfeelsandfanfics]

The Best We’ve Ever Had///Professor!Remus Lupin x Reader

Request: Could you do something where their a student at Hogwarts and have somehow gotten two detentions at the same time? Instead of going to either they just hide in a classroom panicking until Remus or Dumbledore comes along and cheers them up. Pssst.. I love your blog. Great writing!

A/N: Hello! Pssst...thank you. I have been having the best time writing these types of fanfics lately so thanks for the request. Requests are always open guys. Enjoy!

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

    You’re luck was incredibly unfortunate. Of all the crappy situations you could have been in this was absolutely the worst. 

     Before class that day Fred and George cornered you in the hall. 

    “Hello,”the one you thought was Fred said. 

    “Hey,” the other one said.

    “Hi,”you replied. 

    “We heard you’ve been having some problems at school.”

    “A little birdie told us. Some problems with anxiety.”

    “Especially in Potions.”

    “We get it, Snape’s kind of an arse.”

     “Anywho, we’ve got a little something for you.” George pulled out a piece of pink and orange candy and waved it in front of your face. Your eyes fixed on it. 

    “That is a puking pastille, eat it and you’ll be vomiting almost immediately,” Fred explained.

     “Now, we usually wouldn't usually just be giving away things-”

     “However, we like you, you seem nice enough-”

     “And there’s also the fact that we need to start trying out our merchandise.”

    “But we also like you.”

    “Yeah, sure.” 

    “So?” He held the candy out to you. You stared at it for a moment. 

    What they were saying was true? How they had found out was a complete mystery. One of your friends must have blabbed to them. Lately, going to class seemed to only make you more anxious. You would’ve given anything to take a break but you didn’t know if you were exactly up for breaking rules. 

    You looked up at the boys. They had that same mischievous smile they always had that told you they were up to no good. Despite that you grabbed the candy. You gave them a quick thanks and walked away. At this rate you would barely make it to Potions on time. 

    You walked quickly. You stared at the candy in your hand distractedly not looking at where you were going. Something caught your foot and you fell to the ground. Your hand clenched around the candy so that it wouldn’t fall. 

    When you looked up you realized you had tripped over Mrs. Norris. You were just about to curse at the cat but someone cleared their throat behind you. You spun around and saw Filch staring at you. 

    “Fil-” you stopped. “I mean, Mr. Filch.”

   “You need to watch where your going. What’s got you so distracted?” Instinctively your eyes darted to your hand. Filch followed you gaze. “What’s in your hand?”

    “It’s nothing.” You stood up and tried to leave but he blocked your path. 

    “Come on let’s see it.” When he saw you hesitate he became angry. 

    “Now,”he barked. You opened your hand and he grabbed the candy. He held it up to his eye and inspected it. 

   “Ahh, I’ve seen these before. One of those candies the Weasley boys make.” He scowled at the mention of the twins. “You’re in a lot of trouble, young lady. Detention. This Friday starting at 6.” You groaned. He looked proud of himself. 

    “Now off to class with you, you’re late.” 

    Your eyes widened, you hadn’t even thought about being late to Potions. Once you were out of his view you sprinted. When you arrived, you threw the door open. You were panting from exhaustion and everyone turned towards you. Snape looked like he was in the middle of a lecture.

    “Mrs. (Y/L/N), nice of you to join us.” 

    “Professor, I-”

    “Silence! You waste my time not being here, I won't have you further waste it with your excuses. In fact, I think I’ll take some of your time. You will serve detention with me. Friday at 6.” Of all of the times he could’ve picked he had to pick the exact same time as Filch. 

    “But, sir-”

    “Take your seat now or else.” You wanted to protest but you knew it would only make your punishment worse.

    When the class finally ended you approached Snape. 

    “Professor, I’d like to talk to you about my detention.” Snape turned towards you with a grimace. 

    “There is nothing to talk about, leave my classroom.” You thought it best to leave but you were rooted at the spot. 

    “Actually, sir, I have another detention. It’s that night, at the exact same time with Filch. I can’t be expected to be in two places at once.” He looked at you like you were a complete idiot. 

    “Well, I guess you’ll figure something out.”

    “Sir-”

    “Get out of my classroom now,”he hissed. 

     As the week wound on you became increasingly nervous about your detentions. Only one of your teachers took notice to this. Professor Lupin had noticed a decline in your mood. He asked you what was wrong multiple times but you didn’t feel like sharing. You saw no point in it. Neither of the men were willing to change the time or work anything out with you and both had promised that if you didn’t show up there would be serious consequences. There was no way out of this predicament.

    When Friday finally arrived you made your way out of your dorm. You were shaking from nerves but you still continued. You hadn’t really thought of what you were going but you continued. You didn’t know which detention you would serve but either way you were completely screwed. 

    A couple steps out of your dorm and you felt the wight of everything crashing down on you. You couldn’t do this. You ran into the nearest empty classroom and closed the door behind you. Your knees gave out just in time and you crashed to the floor. That’s when you started to cry. 

    You heard the door open and your eyes followed the source of the sound. Standing in the doorway was Professor Lupin. He was frowning. 

    “(Y/N)...”

    “Sorry professor, I was just about to go I just...” You couldn’t continue as you began to cry harder. Lupin came closer to you. He kneel beside you. 

    “Calm down, take a deep breath. In and out, in and out.” He repeated his instruction over and over again. He rubbed up and down your back switching directions with each breath you took. 

     When you finally had your breathing under control he said,” Now tell me what’s happened.” 

     You explained to him your situation. He listened very closely and nodded along. When you were finished he was completely quiet. He took the hand that wasn't on your back and put it in his pocket, rummaging around a bit. Finally, he pulled out a full-sized chocolate bar. He handed it to you. You looked p at him in surprise and he gave you a reassuring smile. 

    “Eat, it’ll help.” You opened the candy bar and took a bite. It was absolutely delicious. Lupin got to his feet and helped you up. 

    “Let’s go.” You didn’t ask where he was taking you, you just ate your chocolate and followed him. Soon the location he was going became apparent. You thought this was a horrible idea but you followed anyways. 

    Without knocking Lupin entered Snape’s office. Snape was sat behind his desk, grading papers. When the two of you entered he looked surprised but when his eyes fixed on you he became angry. 

    “Look who’s finally arrived. Did you really need someone to escort you here?” You moved behind Lupin and hoped you were completely out of view.  

    “She didn't need an escort, I brought her here to tell you that she would not be serving your detention or Filch’s for that matter.” Snape's eyebrow drew up. 

    “Oh, is that so? I know you don't know much about how things run around here Lupin but teacher’s do not interfere with the way other teachers discipline their students. We also don't particularly put up with favourites.”

    “Maybe I don't know how things work around here but I do know how people should be treated. I know you are aware of Mrs. (Y/L/N)’s circumstances yet you still refuse to be rational and fair. She is clearly under a great amount of stress, most of which is brought on unnecessarily by you. If you have a problem then you should find other outlets to let them out instead of bullying children. At least that’s how things work here, in the adult world.” 

   Snape looked at a loss for words. His mouth hung open. He closed his mouth and he looked about ready to punch Lupin. 

    “How dare you?”

   “From this point on I would be very careful about how you treat your students because if I here word of you mistreating any other teachers it will be taken straight to Dumbledore.” Snape looked like he was gonna hex him but he didn’t do anything. “Now, if that’s all we’ll be on our way.” 

    Lupin turned to exit the classroom and you followed suit. When you were far enough away from the dungeons he stopped. 

   “So that was that. I’ll talk to Filch as soon as I find him. You can go back to your dorm.” You hesitated for a moment before going in for a hug. He seemed surprised but soon enough he had his arms wrapped around you. He was warm and you were certain you were safe. 

   “Thank you, professor.” Your voice was slightly muffled but he heard you. You backed away and saw that he was smiling. A wonderful smile that reminded you that there was someone at this school who was in your corner. You returned his smile and turned to leave. 

   “Enjoy the chocolate,” he called after you.