#it would also not hurt if you knew the rules of retrieving packages for other people but i guess i can't know if you've done that here befor

[anaalnathrakhs]

what is it with parents and raising you to be an upstanding citizen but jumping ship on it once you hit like, age 14

[rosaliepostsstuff]

Chapter 1 - Of quidditch, detentions and birthdays

series masterlist

tag list for this series:  @weasleysbees​ all George fics: @hufflepuff5972​

if you’d like to be added, send a DM or an ask

warnings: swearing, mentions of wounds, slight mention of food, alcohol drinking

word count: 1823

a/n: hope it’s a nice opening that will keep you interested and give you the feel of the whole series;  we couldn’t have a fic taking place during ootp without a classic detention with umbridge sorry

I’d love to know what you think about it!

—————①—————

Quidditch. You were decent on a broomstick, but the catching and throwing part has never been your strong suit. The summer sun was blazing hot, not helping you focus on the game. Suddenly Ron took a shot at one of the makeshift posts, the quaffle was speeding in your direction and you panicked slightly – lost your balance on the broomstick and dangled upside down. As you grasped the stick for dear life, the ball hit you square in the forehead, knocking you out.

“Ha-ha-ha,” you mocked George who was wheezing with laughter beside you. “That was years ago. Besides, it’s called the sloth-grip roll, you’re just not on that level yet” “No-no it was brilliant – you saved the game, you just weren’t there to see it anymore,” he tried to regain his composure.

You sighed and shook your head with a small smile. He gave you a wide grin and draped his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to his side.

You were watching the try-outs together, not really paying attention until it was Ron’s turn. In the distance, you could see Fred juggling beaters’ bats behind Angelina’s back. “D’you think he’ll get in?” you asked curiously. He shrugged and made one of his faces, so you jabbed him on the side with a finger.

“Ron’s good, isn’t he? He should get in…” you worried. “Yeah, yeah, he’s alright. You’ve seen all those other slacks, he’s got a good chance,” he reassured you.

You crossed your arms on your chest and rested your head on his side. “I hope so. It means a lot to him.”

 —————①—————

 “Oh but that is absolutely ridiculous!” you exasperated, “It’s fucking torture..!” you pointed at Harry’s hand.

You had been chatting with Hermione, Ron and Harry in the courtyard, late afternoon, and noticed the wound on his hand, then made them explain everything in detail. It made you furious.

“First they try to make us dumb, then re-shape us - using violence?!” you whisper-yelled, then noticed three’s terrified expressions.

“Eh hem” you heard behind your back. “Oh for fucks sake…” you mouthed silently and slouched your shoulders, sighing in defeat. “Miss Y/L/N, is it?” She knew your name well, although up until this point you tried not to step out of line, from the very first lesson with Umbridge you showed your dissatisfaction with the new regime rules. Much to Fred and George’s amusement as you usually tried to avoid conflict whenever possible.

With a stoic expression, you turned on your heel to face her. “Yes, professor?” “You have to agree this kind of language does not suit a young witch like yourself. It is in your best interest that we work on your attitude a bit as well. I’ll see you in my office after dinner, dear,” she finished with that sickening smile and walked off.

 Defeated, you approached George and Fred at the table and sat down in silence. They glanced at you curiously. “Why the long face, sweet cheeks?” Fred asked, making you snicker and a small smile broke out on your face. “I-“ you elongated, “had an encounter with Umbridge.” “Oof..” grimaced George. “Yikes, you looked like you were about to maul her last class. Too bad I wasn’t there to see it this time around, what’d you do?” Fred propped his chin on his palm, abandoning the food. “She appeared behind my back in the middle of my tirade about her,” another set of oofs and acknowledging nods, “a strong-worded one…” “Oh this is brilliant, why weren’t we there…” Fred expressed with amusement.

George found the situation quite funny as well but was less expressive about it because he felt bad for you just a bit more than his twin. “I-I... I’m sure you can imagine,” you tried to drop the topic, getting busy with the plate in front of you. They didn’t know about her method of discipline and you weren’t keen on letting them know. “Tsk- whatever, don’t tell your best friends,” he pouted, then brought the conversation to their newest developments with the Skiving Snackboxes.

 ‘I will respect my superiors’ was written out underneath a bandage on your left hand. You’ve been successfully hiding it for almost a week, telling George you cut yourself during potions.

You felt a sharp pain and winced as he grabbed your hand to speed you up on your way to hang out by the lake. “Oh, sorry, Cherry!” he apologized immediately and stroked your hand delicately with concern, “I forgot…” You smiled at him reassuringly, “It’s alright.” “Does it still hurt so much..?” he frowned slightly, confused, “It should’ve started healing by now…”

It would’ve if you hadn’t spent every evening in the toad’s office.

You shrugged dismissively and started walking again, George following. “I don’t think that’s good, Y/N. Maybe you should go to Pomfrey..?” “Noo, it’s fine, I’m sure it’ll heal in no time,” – just a couple more days of detention, you thought. “Well, let me see it, at least,” he said softly and you felt faint. Not only would he find out about the black quill and freak out, but you also hid it from him, deliberately, lied even.

“Y/N” he repeated in a more serious tone. “George, it’s fine, really” you still tried to shrug it off, knowing well it was a lost cause. He sensed something was off. He stopped walking, expecting you to do the same. When you looked at him, he reached out his hand for you to show him the bandage and you obliged.

You held your breath as he unwrapped the dressing. You only dared to look up at him after a few long seconds of silence.

His eyes were still trained on the words, jaw clenched and he started caressing the skin around the wound with his thumb.

He then looked at you and you spoke without words.

You were sorry for not telling him.

He was disappointed but concerned about you.

You wanted to reassure him you were holding up okay.

And he was furious with Umbridge.

“Ferula,” he cast and put his wand away as your hand got wrapped up in clean bandages.

“Please, don’t do anything stupid now…” you worried, “I don’t need revenge.” He smirked a bit, but remained rather serious, “You’ve known me for too long…”

He let go of your hand and resumed walking, putting his hands in his pockets. “I mean it, Georgie. It will have changed nothing and it’s no good if she just makes you write those stupid lines too.” You sighed, “Promise me you’ll be more careful around her. And Fred too.” “Brave of you to assume I can control him,” he snickered, making you smile. “but I can try if that’ll make you happy.” “Thank you,” you said with a big grin, wrapping your arm around his. “Speeaaking of making you happy,” he paused for emphasis, looking up into the sky, “your birthday’s coming up. You didn’t make any plans, did you?” “Mmm, depends what you’re offering.”

 —————①—————

 Your birthday was in the middle of the week this year, so you planned to have a proper party over the weekend. And the evening of the actual birthday, George booked for himself.

It was late, you took a shower and as per instructions – changed into comfy PJs. Excited, you walked down the steps and into the common room.

There were only a few last stragglers left in there, buried in rolls of parchment, probably writing last-minute essays.

No George in sight.

Next to the couch in front of the fire, you saw blankets and pillows spread out, and some snacks on the coffee table. Walking up closer you noticed a little note in George’s hand-writing:

Do not touch or you’ll regret it

You chuckled under your breath and the round door opened, revealing George with two mugs in hands. He was also wearing some pyjama pants and a comfy jumper.

“Heeey!” he greeted with a wide grin. “Good evening” you replied with a smile and a little nod. “That all you?” you gestured at the table as he set down the mugs. “Unless you want to count Fred’s snickering as help,” he complained sitting down and you did the same.

“Oooh, hot chocolate..!” you exclaimed leaning over the mug in front of you.

George reached behind him and revealed a bottle of firewhisky and you chuckled. “For a bit of kick.” He opened the bottle, then hovered it over your mug and glanced at you, asking for permission and you nodded.

He poured a little bit into both mugs.

“Happy seventeen!” he toasted and you clinked delicately, not to spill the hot liquid, then gave it a taste, letting its warmth pour through your bodies.

“How was your day, Cherry?” he asked, getting comfy on the pillows and wrapping both his hands around the warm mug.

You didn’t see him much that day, with the exception of meals, as you took many more N.E.W.T. classes than him.

“Alright. Went by quickly. Snape wished me a happy birthday.” “Oooh” “Yeah, I don’t know if he was being sarcastic or not. Knowing him, he could be, even with birthday wishes… how about you?” you took another sip of the hot chocolate. “Mmm... We might be getting closer to figuring out how to stop the nosebleeds,” he opened a box of biscuits, “but we need to read up on it a bit more before testing it.”

 “That’s not the end of my surprises,” he said after you finished the conversation about nosebleed nougats, standing up for a moment to retrieve a small packaging he then presented to you with a giddy smile. You placed it in your lap and let your hands ghost over the ribbon, “I was about to say you didn’t have to, but then I remembered you’re a rich business owner now.” you teased him, earning a small laugh. He bit his lip and waited for you to continue.

It was a book, the newest tome of a series you and George would geek out about together. It had just come out.

Screeching out of joy you tackled him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You managed to get it already?!” you questioned. “Yup. Blood, sweat and tears it cost me, but I’ve got it,” he said proudly. “Thank you, Georgie” you gave him one last squeeze and pulled away to admire the book once more. “You’re welcome, love. D’you wanna start reading it tonight?” he asked with clear excitement in his voice. You nodded and opened the book on the first page right away.

You stayed up late that night, taking turns in reading out loud for as long as you were able to fight off the tiredness. Eventually, it was just the two of you, immersed in your favourite fantasy adventure, the soft crackling of the fire serving as a background.

You couldn’t have asked for a better seventeenth birthday.

[wreckofawriter]

Jelly Slugs

Pairing: Harry Potter x reader

Word Count: 2,278

Warnings: Swearing, a little angsty, still plenty of fluff

Song to Set the Vibe: broken ~ lovelytheband

Request: @mcluuvin666 hi could i request a harry potterxreader in which the reader & harry always seem to find each other in the hospital wing at the end of each year because of harry’s adventures & somehow she always ends up hurt in a funny/ironic way even though it wasn’t her intention to get caught in their messes if that makes sense? either way harry & the reader get really close throughout years of ending up in the hospital wing w the reader being frustrated w the trio bc they’re the “reason” why she’s hurt and she’s just kinda like “you lot are going to be the death of me” but harry and reader end up going out anyway. lots of fluff and maybe angst if you can? thank you so much!!

A/n: Once agian so sorry this took so long! It may not be completely edited, excuse typos, I wrote litteratly all of it tonight. I'm trying to burn through my requets, if u sent one I got it I'm just waiting to get to it

    At eleven years old you had already had far too many near-death experiences, for you that meant one. You hadn’t meant to do anything at all, well except grab some snacks from the kitchen after hours, but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before. On your way back your ears had picked up a sweet symphony and you had grown curious. 

Turning a few unfamiliar corners you found the room, its heavy door ajar. You pushed it all the way open, a pastry still stuffed in your mouth preventing you from screaming. A large three-headed beast lay in front of you snoring loudly. Before you could turn and run your eyes found a small wooden trap door at its feet. The phrase your mother often scolded you with echoed in your head, Curiosity killed the cat. You about turned on your heel but then the ending of the saying learned from an equally mischievous classmate came to you, But satisfaction brought it back. 

You dropped the food in your hands and walked hesitantly towards the large dog. You then quietly opened the door, cringing as its hinges squeaked and peered inside being met with complete darkness. You were going to close the door retrieve your treats then head back to your dorm but as you turned you met a pair of brilliantly green eyes and you let out a yelp before stumbling backward and plunging into the hole with a scream. You were soon followed by three of your classmates almost as confused as you were. 

You ended up getting your arm broken by a giant chess piece on your way to retrieve something you didn’t fully understand and what you believed to be a curse began. 

You sat up in a cold sweat the image of a white stone queen drawing her sword waking you with a start. You rubbed your eyes only to find your left arm in a sling and aching a bit.

“Oh, good you’re awake.”

You turned to your right to see a little boy in round glasses smiling at you. “What happened last night?” you asked eyes wide.

“It’s a long story, but I suppose we have time.” He shrugged, “Jelly slug?” he offered holding out a colorfully wrapped package. 

“Yes please.”

Second year began as normal as it should have but it was soon strange and dangerous, pearlized classmates and strict rules making the school feel less and less like a home. Of course, your luck being about as bad as it got, you where the last victim of the basilisk. 

You had been polishing trophies to serve detention which you got for supposedly bad-mouthing Snape although it wasn’t your fault Draco was a filthy snitch. You then saw a large pair of yellow eyes in the shining metal and everything went dark.

You woke up four days later body aching eyes feeling extremely dry as you blinked vigorously. You had a strange sense of deja vu as the hospital wing soon came into view. Head once again thumping as you tried to recall your memories. 

“Oh right, you're here.”

You turned your head to the right to see a wide smile, green eyes hidden behind round glasses as cuts riddled the boy’s face. 

“Merlin Harry, what happened to you?” You gasped taking in his battered form. 

He shrugged, “I fought Voldemort.”

You cringed at the name but said nothing of it to him, “Again?” 

He laughed, “Yeah, this time it hurt more though.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” You grinned at him.

His cheeks reddened a bit, “Yeah, I’m glad you’re okay too.” 

You fell into an uncomfortable silence before Harry reached to his bedside table and offered you a tissue-wrapped box, “Jelly Slug?” 

You nodded taking it from him

Third-year had been downright dreadful for you. You were finally a teenager which basically meant everything that had been easy and quick now seemed to take hours and far too much thought. Every little thing you did you were sure would be scrutinized, it didn’t help when a close friend of yours spread a nasty rumor about you and you found yourself skipping classes and opting to stay in bed. A serial killer being on the loose certainly didn’t help. 

The only sort of decent thing that happened was your friendship with Harry, after two times of healing in the hospital wing together you decided to be at least acquaintances. You held study sessions with the boy and occasionally his two best friends although all they did was bicker.  

You also happened to be outside reading when a rat lept on you and dove down your shirt leading to you being dragged into a tree by a dog who turned out to be a serial killer who turned out to be Harry’s godfather. But to be honest you didn’t really care.

You were absolutely livid, your leg was torn apart and for the third time in a row you had somehow been shoved into an adventure you most certainly didn’t want to take part in and you were bleeding heavily because of it. 

Oh yes, how could you forget? You were also almost killed by your professor, who had turned into a werewolf just in time to almost kill you again. 

When you woke up in the hospital wing with the golden trio surrounding you, you weren’t so pleasant.

A string of foul curse words, pointing fingers and yelling was shot at the three teens who apologized profusely insisting they did not mean to get you caught up in their business. 

You eventually calmed down and found out it wasn’t all that bad considering you got to see the suddenly very attractive dark-haired boy who made a point to spend all of his free time in the hospital wing with you as your leg healed. You shared a large amount of jelly slugs as you read muggle books and did your best to stay on top of studies.

Fourth year was much better than the last. You and Harry spent more and more time together and you felt a large crush on the boy who lived growing. Hermione knew about it instantly and Ron seemed adamant to tease both of you just for the joy of watching your faces flush. But good things never lasted.

You had a heart attack when Harry’s name came out of the goblet and found yourself taking his side in a sudden war between him and Ron. The bitch of a journalist Rita Skita also plastered you and Harry’s face all over the daily prophet when she caught you hugging him before his first task. You went with Harry to the ball although to both of your disappointment only as friends. And you ended up comforting Hermione in the hallway anyway. 

You also were almost drowned by your sorry excuse for teachers in the second task. Never one to back down from a fight you yelled directly at Dumbledor and Karkaroff saying how if your name wasn’t pulled out of that idiotic goblet than you shouldn’t have to almost die for the even more idiotic tournament. Of course, you did this with a very colorful vocabulary that landed you three weeks of detention. 

When Harry pulled Cedric from the maze you had cheered clapping along with the band until suddenly you heard the boy wail like a wounded animal. You raced down to meet him and helped pull him off of the elder boy’s body.

He was shaking the entire time and when you finally managed to drag him away he buried his head into your neck and sobbed. 

Harry was then dragged away by Mad-Eye and you were quick to follow, bursting in on the two just as Moody no longer became Moody. 

“Harry!” You yelled diving at the quickly transforming man who was holding him at wand point. 

Your body suddenly erupted in such harsh pain you thought you might throw up. 

“Y/n!” Harry’s yells fell on deaf ears as the unforgivable curse took all of your attention. 

By the time Harry was able to disarm the man, you had passed out from the pain. 

You woke up in the hospital wing three days later a disheveled Harry seated in a chair next to you his arms folded on your bed his head resting on them. 

When you tapped his shoulder lightly he jolted awake immediately engulfing you in his embrace sobbing out apologies as you pushed yourself closer into his chest. 

“I’m so so sorry y/n, I never meant for you to be caught up in any of this.” He choked out pulling away from you and cupping your face in his hands. 

“It’s okay Harry, I’m okay.” You spoke smiling weakly feeling extremely exhausted. 

“But he used an unforgivable cu-” 

“I don’t care, I’m just happy you’re okay.” You interrupted leaning into the soft circles his thumb was drawing on your cheek.

Harry’s eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion and suddenly his lips were on your own. 

The second they connected he backed away blushing so heavily you were sure he was hot to the touch.

“I’m so sorry y/n, I don’t know what I was thinking and I-”

You only shook your head and wrapped your hands around his neck bringing his lips back to yours. His hands ended up on either side of you as you leaned back down on the bed bringing him with you. He hovered over you, your tongue slipping into his mouth as you played with the ends of his hair. He tasted overly sugary with a hint of fruit, just like a jelly slug.

You were interrupted by a cough followed by a low chuckle and Harry immediately pulled away from you and you turned to see not only your headmaster but Professor McGonagal and Madame Pomfrey all staring at you. 

Your eyes went wide and you felt so hot you thought you might catch the sheets on fire. You stole a glance at Harry who had paled dramatically, looking sick. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better y/n.” Dumbledore chortled. 

You hissed in at the pain that shot through your ankle. Your head had also begun to pound causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and attempt to relieve the pressure by pressing onto your temples. Fuck Umbridge. You hopped that bitch was dead, as your eyes began to adjust to the sudden brightness of your surroundings you saw an all to a familiar sight. The hospital wing had become your home away from home and now in fifth year you, it made sense you ended up there once again. 

When your psychotic headmaster dragged you, your boyfriend and your two best friends out to the forbidden forest as she was attacked by a giant she managed to hit you with some sort of spell which effectively left you in your current state. Harry who was seated beside you wrapped his arms around your waist and placed a kiss on your neck.

“You okay?” He asked he seemed stressed, then again when wasn’t he?

“I’m fine.” You lied with a smile pushing his glasses back up his nose. 

“I think you should stay here y/n/n, I can’t have you getting hurt.”  He frowned. You then took notice of the group of teenagers was behind him. They were clearly about to leave. 

“I think history has proven that kind of unavoidable at this point.” You sighed standing up and drinking whatever was on your nightstand, it turned out to be a pain medicine that tasted the equivalent of dragon piss. 

“Y/n...” Harry spoke hesitantly.

You turned to look at your boyfriend, your face set in stone. “If you don’t take me with you I will find another way to that building.” 

Harry sighed biting down on his lip, “Fine. Alright, guys, let’s go.”

Your lips twitched into a smile just as you were about to leave the room you noticed a small half-empty bag on the table next to your bed, you stuffed it into your pocket and ran after the group you had fallen behind. 

You sat silently eyelids feeling so heavy you thought they might close at any moment. Your entire body ached, your headache coming back stronger than ever, but you didn't let onto your pain. 

Harry had his head buried into your stomach as you combed through his messy hair, his sobs were the only sound in the massive black room. Sand was scattered around you as you clung to your boyfriend your back up against a black glass wall as you stared blankly ahead of you. Dumbledore stood a few feet away, seeming almost as lost as you were. Part of you hated him for putting Harry through everything he had just been through, but you knew it wasn’t his fault. 

Harry adjusted himself so his head was buried into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist. The movement caused something in your pocket to crinkle, catching your attention. 

You reached into your robe and removed a half-empty bag of candy. You smiled in spite of yourself. 

You tapped Harry on the shoulder whispering his name. He looked up at you his eyes rimmed in red, his face blotchy, the sight made your heart throb.

“Jelly Slug?” You asked your voice cracking.

The boy let out a mix between a laugh and a sob before lightly placing his lips onto your own. He tastes salty and bitter, like tears and blood. You found yourself wishing you were elven again when everything was simple, wishing that Harry still tasted like jelly slugs. 

Taglist:

(Realizing I forgot this last fic I posted, my bad)

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

Masterlist

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Complexities Unknowable- Chapter Five

Ao3, Chapters   1     2     3     4     6,    MasterPost

Relationships: Deintruality, background Analogince

Yeah he’s still called Deceit. I think it’s weird too, but I will die before I become inconsistent. Also I rewatched DWIT today and I think maybe I don’t know how to write Remus?? w/e. I really like writing dialogue so this one was fun.

Warnings: Cursing, brief caps, eating things that are inedible, all sympathetic sides, light arguing, brief mentions of vomit.

Word Count: 1,357

They were having a Conversation™. Remus hated Conversations™- he always tuned out at the wrong times- but what he hated even more was a dangerous lack of communication. 

“This is all according to my plan- Patton is exactly as shallow and incompetent as I thought he was,” Deceit spat dishonestly, throwing himself onto the bed. Remus continued spinning around wildly in his rolling chair. He considered vomiting from the dizziness, just for fun, but figured that it wouldn’t aid the Conversation™ much. Instead, he settled on expelling words and not his lunch.

“Isn't it a good thing that he’s not a bitch? If he likes us, and we’re all sweet wittle friends who sing songs and hold hands or whatever is up with his whole cottagecore aesthetic, then we don’t need any plan!” Remus stopped spinning for a moment to nod to himself, “I’m fuckable AND a genius. I really am the whole package, aren’t I?” 

Deceit tossed a pillow at him. 

“That’s very realistic of you, Remus. Patton is going to completely forget years of animosity, and so will we, and so will all of the other ‘Light Sides’!”

Remus retrieved his pillow from the ground and took a large bite out of it without breaking eye contact. 

“I think,” he said around a mouthful of memory foam, “that you’re just really good at holding grudges.” 

The Duke was subjected to a withering glare from Deceit, the effect of which somewhat diminished due to the reptilian being completely sprawled out on the bed in a tee shirt and shorts. 

“Ssso you forgive them?”

Remus shifted uncomfortably, resuming his spinning.

“It’s not like that, Dee. It’s like- excuse me for the vomit-worthy sentiment- we all move past it together. I’m not one for the boring non-violent option, but we’ve already tried doing everything else, and being an outcast is also starting to get boring.”

Deceit, a man who would die before admitting he was wrong about anything at any time, was not through arguing. However, rather than his usual drawl with heated undertones, his voice was hushed.

“We can move on, and so can Pa- Morality, apparently- hell, I’d bet that Logan would be all for it! But we need to consider… Them.” 

The only noise after that was the squeaking of Remus’ spinny chair. Occasionally, one would open and then close his mouth, uncomfortably eyeing the other, but never speaking. 

Eventually, mercifully, there was a knock at the door. 

Remus hopped to his feet with a relieved grin. Deceit sat up quickly and snapped himself into his usual attire.

“Wait, who-” 

But before the snake could finish, his boyfriend had already flung open the door to reveal Patton on the other side. He wore a hesitant smile, holding something rectangular. 

“Hey, Kiddo. I don’t wanna intrude, but I think you left this in the kitchen this morning?” He held out the rectangle- a sketchbook! Remus’ sketchbook! Creativity snatched it back from him excitedly.

“Aw, thanks Patty! I’ve been looking for this!” He bumps Patton’s shoulder as he talks, half on accident and half a sign of appreciation. The emotional trait laughed, bumping back.

It’s crazy just how out of place Morality looked standing in his doorway, all pastel and neat and soft. The smile he returned was awkward, but happy and genuine, and it was kinda the best thing to look at. 

Remus zoned back in to see Deceit hovering by his shoulder, waving lazily at their visitor. Patton waved back, and the interaction grew prolonged. 

“Um- well- I’ll just be going, then,” he made to leave, which just wouldn’t do at all! The Duke grabbed his wrist. 

“Stay a while! if you’re scared, I promise I only bite a little!” 

Patton giggled at the joke (it was only partly a joke).

“I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel-”

“You’d rather go be a fourth wheel?” Deceit spoke up unexpectedly, earning a proud look from Remus. Looked like he could interact with people after all!

Morality laughed again, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Okay, point taken. I really do need to go make lunch for the others- they’d probably starve without me- but I could come back later?”

Before Deceit could say whatever snippy and non-committal thing he was going to say, Remus accepted the offer and told Patton to come by whenever (‘but you might walk in on a sultry scene, Snakeskin can’t keep his hands off me’) and swung the door closed. He spun around and grinned at his partner. 

“See?”

“What am I seeing.”

“It is that easy to make friends! Aren’t you gonna thank me for saving you from yourself?”

Deceit scoffed.

“You’d know if he didn’t wanna hang out with us! You have a literal super power that tells you when people are faking!”

Deceit rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to be a hermit forever?”

Deceit shrugged.

That was the last straw. Remus solemnly took a few steps until he and Deceit were nose to nose. He then threw an arm around Dee’s shoulders and sent them both careening onto the bed, at which point the snake finally made a sound.

“Urgh! Get off!”

“Not until you talk to me!” 

“You’re crushing me!”

“Tough Snitties!”

Deceit groaned loudly and went limp. Despite having six arms, he was all lank and not much strength. 

“Fine, you win, I’ll talk!”

Remus rolled off of him and sat up. Deceit stayed on his back and glared threateningly at the chandelier. 

“I- I’m not- no, I am- Jesus- I’m worried. This isn’t exactly familiar territory, people liking us. He’s probably still trying to prove a point to himself about how ‘nice’ he is.”

“Is he? You would know.”

“I can’t tell! I don’t think so, but it really isn’t that simple!”

That wasn’t good. DeeDee couldn’t just not know, he knew everything! About everyone! He was mysterious and hot and clever and if he didn’t know what was happening, then that meant that Remus would have to be the competent one. Fuck. 

“Well- You’re the one who told him about our plan! And you were the one that told him we weren’t doing it anymore!”

“I know! It seemed like a good idea at the time!”

“I think that a good idea would be telling him ‘we kinda fucked up, but so did you, let’s be friends,’ and moving on with our lives, Dee.”

“Horrible idea. And besides, what’s there to gain anymore, now that we’ve reached a stalemate? I won’t go on hurting the little guy, but I never said I’d do anything for him. The plan’s through, he knows that and so do we. Let’s just quit visiting him and leave it at that, seeing as there’s no point anymore-”

Remus screamed. He took all of his frustration with the conversation and just howled. That shut Deceit right up.

“What the hell?!”

“You’re being stupid! You always do this, when there’s a problem that needs effort to solve you’re like ‘oh, let’s bail, we’ve got each other and it’s fine’! Face it, you’ve gone soft and you don’t wanna stop hanging out with Patton, but you’re scared! Ooh, Ooh, also! We did bad stuff on purpose- and they totally deserved it-  but I know for a fact that Patty’s fuck-ups were on accident.”

“...We do have each other.”

Of course that was what Deceit chose to focus on. Remus pulled his partner up to face him.

“Duh! But that doesn’t mean we give up on everything else, dipshit! Maybe now we can actually talk to Roman and Virgil!” 

They never said those names. It was an unspoken household rule. Remus never was any good at following rules.

Deceit’s eyes widened almost comically as he stared at The Duke, mouth slightly ajar. His shoulders were tensed up to his ears, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t snap. He was listening, finally. 

“Can we at least try letting things get better, Snakey?” Remus let his voice drop, running his hand up and down Deceit’s arm.

The trait let out a sigh, averting his eyes before answering.

“No, I guess we can’t.”

Tags:

@deceits-left-glove​ 

@princemesscharming

@shrimp-crockpot

[novadust86]

The Best Laid plans - ch3

Chapter 3: Summer from Hell

Harry lay on his bed atop the threadbear blanket, his head resting on a pillow that had lost all of its bounce as he stared up at the ceiling. He was not having a good day. Hell, he wasn’t having a good summer at all. After his uncle had collected him off the train the ‘summer of hell’ had started almost straight away, with Vernon informing Harry that his sister, the woman Harry had been forced to call aunt Marge, was at the house. Apparently, after something had gone wrong with her plumbing it had revealed that some emergency work was needed on her house, so while the work was being done aunt Marge had invited herself to stay.

This had not left aunt Petunia happy. His aunt had entered Harry's rose bushes in some local garden competition (he refused to call them aunt Petunia's rose's in his head as he was the one who did all the work before he started Hogwarts). Marge had brought her prized bulldog 'Ripper’ with her and Ripper seemed to be deeply offended by the flowers and was doing his best to defile them. Uncle Vernon had then taken great delight in telling Harry of the rules for the summer, as well as how he had told Marge that his “no good, pathetic excuse for a nephew” was so bad he had been sent to 'St Brutus’ school for incurably criminal boys’, and, specifically, that if Harry so much as hinted at anything else his uncle would make him regret it.

---ϟϟϟ---

Uncle Vernon pulled the car onto the driveway. The two got out of the car without talking only to find Harry’s ‘Aunt’ Marge standing on the doorstep. She was very like Uncle Vernon; large, beefy and purple-faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his.’*

She started in on Harry before he even got to the front door, “so your back are you?” Not even waiting for a reply, she continued on, this time to her brother, “why even let the boy out Vernon? Surely that 'school’ is the best place for him?” Her less than subtle emphasis on the word school left no doubt that she was referring to the ridiculous fabrication of his uncle. “Teacher's need time off”, Vernon replied gruffly as he opened the boot for Harry to retrieve his trunk.

“What's in the trunk boy?” Aunt Marge demand, obviously looking for something to criticize, “Oh...Um...just my school things. School uniform, homework, paper, pens...that sort of thing.” Harry replied, automatically concentrating more on getting the heavy trunk out of the car then having a less than pleasant conversation with his aunt. Marge mulled that over for a few moments, looking for something else to scold, but evidently coming home from a boarding school with luggage and homework was expected. So, Aunt Marge fell back on her favorite insult, which was also a favourite of the two Dursley adults. Namely, calling him lazy and questioning his work ethic. “Well, you best take your trunk up to your room! No excuses for not getting your homework done! At least while you are doing that you aren’t off trying to break into cars or whatever it is you do!”

Harry froze and looked at his uncle. He knew Vernon didn't want him to have his school things, he didn't want Harry to do his homework. But, most of all, he didn't want Harry to have access to his wand. Not that Harry's wand was in his trunk. After everything that had happened the last two years, he had owl ordered a wand holster, and as such his wand was stuck to his arm and hidden with a perception filter charm. “Don't go looking to your uncle for help, boy! Get that trunk upstairs now!” His uncle, now standing behind Marge, nodded and mouthed 'for now’. Harry guessed that he couldn't think of an excuse on the spot to lock Harry's trunk away and had decided to pretend it was perfectly normal until he could think up something that wouldn't leave his sister suspicious.

---ϟϟϟ---

After that, there had been the start of the whole thing with Hedwig. While Marge had accepted Vernon's excuse that at Brutus’ they required pets to teach the boys responsibility, she still complained that her bulldog Ripper didn't like birds and that he was ‘sensitive’. Sensitive was apparently code for 'evil little shit', at least that was Harry’s opinion. He’d taken Hedwig straight to his room and set up a perch for her by removing the bars from her cage. It was crude but serviceable.  He had just gone downstairs to ask Vernon if there were any old newspapers he could line her cage with ,(there were always some as his uncle was an avid reader of the Daily Express. Harry however, always remembered what he heard a comedian say about it once "well at least they are true to their advertising, the paper is daily and clearly written in a hurry), when there was a huge racket from his bedroom.

Ripper had snuck into Harry's room when Harry left the door open and was trying to jump up on top of the wardrobe where Hedwig had retreated to avoid the snapping jaws of her attacker. Harry grabbed the dog to pull it out of the room and away from his owl. He had been able to pull the dog out but had received a bite on his right arm for his trouble. The door now closed and Hedwig safe, Harry now turned his attention solely to keeping Ripper's teeth from ripping into him again. This was not as quiet he’d hoped, as evidenced by the three sets of feet thundering up the stairs.

Harry felt sick just thinking about their reactions. First up the stars had been his uncle, who just stood there watching. Marge came next and the bitch fucking laughed and encouraged the dog. It wasn't until aunt Petunia had seen the blood that she said anything. But, not surprisingly, it wasn't to protect Harry, no, she was more concerned about Harry getting blood on the carpet.

God, He hated it here.

Aunt Petunia threw a toilet roll and a Crepe Bandage at him and told him to make sure not to get blood everywhere. Harry retreated to his room and sat on the bed. He made two pads out of the toilet paper, one for each side of his arm, and held them in place with the bandage. His arm seen to, it was time to strengthen out the room. He reset Hedwig's cage, then set about the task of coaxing her down off the wardrobe. Seeing his friend so shaken, Harry held her close, "It’s Ok Hedwig, it's Ok. I promise I won't let him hurt you. Only a few more weeks before we can get out of this shithole."

---ϟϟϟ---

The next few weeks had been filled with cooking, cleaning, dodging his cousin (who’d arrived back from smeltings the next day), and trying to do something to help the roses survive Ripper. This was easier than it might have been, as the dog had stopped caring about the roses. Instead, the bulldog was constantly camped outside Harry door trying to get in at Hedwig. Harry had been bitten three times more by the dog so far and he seriously doubted it would be his last this summer.

If that wasn't enough, he was seriously missing Hermione. To be fair, he was missing any friendly contact. His friendship with Ron was strained and almost everyone else cared little for Harry, only for the-boy-who-lived, some mythical hero they’d built up to some impossible standard that no one could ever live up to, let alone a small, underwhelming and bespectacled boy. All this and the fact that Hermione filled both the role of best friend and girlfriend meant that Harry was feeling rather alone.

It hadn't helped that since becoming a couple the two of them had been practically inseparable, never spending more than ten hours away from each other, even if most of that time they were asleep. It wasn't entirely their fault; they eat their food in the same hall, went to the same classes, studied in the same library and relaxed and slept in the same tower. Even when they weren't working together or chatting they tended to be in the same space. The only real time they spent truly apart was when Harry was practicing quidditch (Hermione only went to games, not practices) or when Harry was forced to go to classes while Hermione had been stuck in the hospital wing, once from the polyjuice and once from that bloody great big snake.

Even when Hermione had been petrified he had made his way to the hospital wing each day, telling Hermione about the classes he had had that day, then reading more of her books to her on the off chance she could hear him. Staying till Madame Pomfrey kicked him out for the day. He still wasn’t sure if Madam Pomfrey let him stay for Hermione's benefit or his own. He definitely felt, well...not better, but less helpless as he sat there reading the ‘The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy’ series to her. Just thinking of Hermione in that state lead his mind to another dark place. He couldn’t believe that Hermione had had the answer in her hand and that he had spent days sitting next to it the whole time. That damned snake, he wanted to bring it back to life just so he could kill it again for what it had done. The thought of that it sent phantom pains through the crux of his right elbow, a remembered pain of the venom burning its way into his flesh.

God, he hated summer.

---ϟϟϟ---

July 31st 

Harry awoke on his birthday like it was any other day at Privet Drive, with his aunt banging on the door and telling him to go cook breakfast. Harry wasn't surprised if he was lucky no one would say anything about him now being officially a teenager. Then he could pretend they had just forgotten, instead of deliberately doing it to hurt him.

He finished getting dressed; pulling on a lumpy old pair of Dudley's socks that he had grown out of about two years ago, a ratty old pair of trainers that he had grown out of at about the same time. Then he was off to cook enough bacon and fried eggs to feed a small platoon, or just three Dursleys. Aunt Petunia would have just tea and toast with whatever spread she chose that morning, if she stuck to her pattern.

Harry grabbed a package of 24 slices of British back bacon from the fridge, laying out the whole pack on the grilling rack and starting them to cook. He set the largest cast iron skillet on the hob, adding what he considered an obsessive amount of lard to the pan and set it on low heat. He put four slices of bread in the toaster, two cans of beans in a tub in the microwave and filled the kettle to boil the water for tea and coffee. Aunt Petunia as always was the first to come down, and her tea was already in the teapot and her toast cooking when she sat at the table.

“Marmite.” No please, no thanks, just the one word. Not that Harry expected anything else as he grabbed the tar-like paste from the fridge, setting it next to the plate that was waiting for his aunt's toast. Soon everyone was down and the Dursleys were eating. Breakfast done, Harry made his way upstairs, finally able to take care of needing the bathroom and brushing his teeth. As he cleaned his teeth he smiled to himself, thinking of the lecture Hermione had given him on dental hygiene.

It was rather an interesting topic that showed the difference between Muggle and Magical cultures. Muggles couldn't really fix teeth, they could only add a hard substance to fake a tooth being there, such as fillings and false teeth. So muggles focused on prevention, pastes and brushes to stop there being a problem in the future. Magical folk, however, they just used charms to keep their mouths smelling and tasting fine. This did nothing to remove the problem though, but if a witch or wizard had a bad tooth that was easy enough to fix; just vanish the tooth and down a shot of Skele-Gro. 6 hours later and they have a new, perfectly healthy tooth.

Harry made his way back to the kitchen to clean up after breakfast and to see if there were any leftovers so that he could eat this morning. To his surprise, there were two pieces of bacon and a slice of toast. Hardly a feast but plenty for him. He cleaned up the plates and mugs and grabbed the plate with the toast and bacon on it to put it on top of the pile of dishes he was taking back to the kitchen.

“One second, Harry” He froze at Aunt Marge's words, hesitated for a second then turned back to her. She smiled at Harry, then took the bacon and folded the toast around it and fed it to the dog in her lap. She had done this on purpose, she had left the food there till he had seen it, just so she could take it away in front of him. Harry wanted to scream, he wanted to shout, he wanted to take the pile of dishes he was carrying and smash them over her fucking head. But, he knew that was exactly what she wanted. Instead, he did the only thing he could to strike out at her. He denied her the confrontation she wanted by smiling at her, somewhat viciously, “anything else Aunt Marge?”

---ϟϟϟ---

Later the same day

Aunt Marge definitely wasn’t happy with how things went at breakfast. She had been pushing all day to get a rise out of Harry, ramping up the pressure each time. Now the Dursleys were sitting down to dinner, again cooked by Harry. Dudley had had the brilliant idea to get at Harry; he’d asked for shepherd’s pie and treacle tart for dinner. This was probably Harry's favorite meal, and despite the fact that both dishes were of the classic British variety; namely heavy, rich, hot and very filling and an absolute godsend when it was cold and wet, they were being consumed in the totally unsuited summer heat. So they sat there eating Harry's favorite meal, while Harry hasn't had a bite of food all-day on this thirteenth birthday.

Then there was the dinner conversation he had to listen to, “You mustn’t blame yourself for the way the boy’s turned out, Vernon”, Marge said between shoveling meat and potatoes into her mouth, “If there’s something rotten on the inside, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” Harry's hands shook even as his face remained impassive though he longed to burn them with his anger, and magic. She wanted him to fight. He had to keep his cool. Don’t rise to it, “It’s one of the basic rules of breeding,” she continued on, definitely oblivious to Harry’s rising temper, “You see it all the time with dogs. If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup.”

How fucking dare she! She had never even met his mother, the woman who had literally given up everything, including her life, for Harry. Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine, only to have the glass explode in her hand, the shards of glass cutting into her flesh. Harry watched as blood began to ooze from numerous small cut on the inside of her hand. Luckily, Marge just laughed it off, “Sorry about your glass Petunia. I have a strong grip. Let me just go sort my hand out. BOY! Clean up the glass, if even one shard ends up in my poor Rippy’s paw there will be hell to pay.

Her threat finished, she left for the upstairs bathroom, her hellhound in step behind her. As soon as she was out of sight, Vernon turned on Harry. “You dare use your abnormality to attack my sister!?” He was out of his chair and was pulling off his belt. “I di-didn't”, Harry stuttered, “T-that wasn't me.” The belt was in Vernon’s hands now, “BULLSHIT! I know your freakishness when I see it”, Harry had backed into a corner of the room trying to put as much distance between him and his raging uncle as the room allowed. Searing pain flashed over Harry's back and shoulder as the strip of black leather found its mark. Again and again, the blows fell onto Harry's left side, feeling like it was on fire as uncounted blood vessels where broken under the improvised whip.

Harry cowered in the corner, trying to react as little as possible to the beating, though some tears and pained moans still escaped from him. He had learned over the years that they were longer if he screamed. Then everything changed.

There was a loud screech of pain and everyone stopped. It wasn't Harry's scream. It wasn't even on this floor of the house and, it wasn't human. “HEDWIG!” The blood drained from Harry's face. Now he could see what had happened; Marge had broken the glass on purpose. She had done it so that Harry would be busy cleaning while she went upstairs and let Ripper into his room where Hedwig was sleeping.

Harry got up and tried to rush to the stairs, only to be grabbed by his uncle. His uncle opened his mouth to start yet another of his verbal tirades, though unfortunately for Vernon Harry was now too focused on his owl that he was no longer concerned with holding his power in check. As a result of delaying the desperate boy, Vernon was relocated to the far side of the room, where he suddenly found himself being reintroduced to his wall with a sickening pop and crack from his shoulder and arm.

Harry was up the stairs in a flash. He tried to push open his door, Hedwig's continued screechs calling him to help, but the door wouldn't open. He tried again but the door wouldn't budge. Then he saw it; Aunt Marge had locked one of the seven locks that were on the door, a relic of the last summer Harry had spent in this hellhole. She had also added a padlock. Harry's mind raged and his power responded, rushing out to unblock his path, exploding the door and some of the surrounding masonry that was keeping him from Hedwig.

If Harry had been paying attention, he would have seen Marge standing in the bathroom, the door wide open, watching. The sadistic women wearing the biggest shit-eating grin she had ever worn. As Harry pulled on the door to try and get in finding it locked she mouthed the words “got you”. Her triumph, however, was soon replaced by terror as at a gesture from Harry, the door exploded into shrapnel. Shrapnel that resembled matchsticks more than anything else and was suddenly filling the landing.

The sight that greeted Harry as the door disintegrated chilled him to the bone. Hedwig's pale white feathers were scattered around the room, her blood staining them, the ruby crimson standing out all the more due to the contrast. And there, in the middle of the room, a screeching Hedwig, her wing trapped in the jaws of her attacker.

Harry couldn't have held back if he tried, Hedwig wasn't just his pet and post owl. She was a magical creature and his familiar. And part of that bond was that his magic couldn't stand by and let her be hurt. While a more experienced wizard may have been able to direct the response more, Harry, with only two years of education under his belt, was just along for the ride. Harry felt the power in him flow, reaching out towards the dog, prying its jaws off the injured wing and freeing his friend. The offending mut was then thrown across the room through the door and into the opposite wall with a meaty thunk, where it slumped to the floor, never again to rise.

Seeing her prized bulldog stud die so suddenly cut through Marge's shock, fear and the rational parts of her brain. Marge charged at Harry, intending to hurt him for what he had done to her dog. But Harry still hadn't regained control of his magic yet. In fact, he was so worried about Hedwig he hadn't even tried. Hell, he was so worried about her, he didn't even know that he was being attacked. He would later find out that he had stuck his aunt to the ceiling with some accidental magic variation of a permanent sticking charm.

Harry now cradled his friend in his arms, tears freely flowing at the state of her wing. He stood, keeping Hedwig in his arms and just started walking, down the stairs, out the door, down the street. He had only a vague plan. Find a vet, get Hedwig to Diagon alley, there had to be someone there who could help. The problem was, without Hedwig he couldn't call for help from anyone. He had little Muggle money and he was down to his last 5 gallons till he got to Gringotts. He would use the Muggle money to get as close to London as possible. Then he would try and get the rest of the way as fast as he could, even if he had to walk.

He really needed Hermione right now. Hermione would know what to do. There would be a public floo access she had read about or a post owl office that he could use to call for help. Hermione would also probably know a better place to take Hedwig than a magical pet shop. Right now he just needed help.

It was then that Harry's magic decided to pull one more trick out of its hat tonight. He felt the flow of his power as it surrounded him, then started crushing him into a ball. Not painfully, but definitely not comfortable. Later, when Harry heard about Apparition training and the three D's, he would always add his own fourth; destination, determination, deliberation and lastly, desperation. He would also realize that he was incredibly lucky that all he left behind was his shirt, and not some part of himself.

That was how Harry appeared in the Grangers’ dining Room, covered in belt marks, bruising and dog bites. Nothing to hide it from the three sitting down to dinner, but an owl with a mangled wing and her blood that was covering him. Seeing the one person who he thought could help Harry relaxed, “Hermione.”

“Harry?!” With that one word from Hermione's lips, all the will and adrenaline that was keeping Harry going, allowing him to push forward despite the lack of food and heavy use of magic gave way and Harry's last act of will was to turn as he fell, ensuring that Hedwig would land atop him, not the other way around, as he slipped into unconsciousness.

---ϟϟϟ---

Author’s Notes

From now on, all flashbacks will be in italics, so that you’ll be able to see that it’s not at the same time as the story.

ok, I admit I hated myself a little when I had Harry made that promise to Hedwig knowing what was going to happen. I originally intended for ripper and marge to put up a stronger fight at the end of the chapter but this felt more right as I wrote it.

a few small parts are lifted directly from the prisoner of Azkaban

P.S props to anyone who can name the comedian who made the Daily Express joke I used.

chapters 1-45 are avalable on https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13294547/1/The-Best-Laid-Plans and https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862810/chapters/44770174

[tomcuddlesfic]

God of Mischief & I

TITLE: God of Mischief & I

ONE SHOT / MULTICHAPTER: One Shot

AUTHOR : tomcuddlesfic WHICH TOM/CHARACTER:  Tom x Loki

GENRE: fluff / romance / FIC SUMMARY: What happens when you catch the God of Mischief causing mischief? Caroline is on a date with a nice guy. Just not the right guy according to Loki. When Loki takes a joke too far, they both might just learn that not everything is all fun and games after all.

RATING: R --There’s light smut

AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: It’s been a long time since I last wrote something but I FINALLY watched Thor: Raganork (I know I’m beyond behind) and I was intrigued by Loki. I normally don’t write Loki Fan fiction just because he does little to nothing to me but after reading an interesting article about how people blame their little accidents on the god of mischief instead of their own clumsiness, I thought that was fun to write something based on it. 

Also, I wrote this in third person and it shifts from past/present and also from focusing more on one character’s emotions at certain times and then it alternates. It might get confusing so I apologize in advance.

AS ALWAYS FEEDBACK IS MUCH APPRECIATED OKAY ENJOY.

It was all his fault.

Caroline was on the floor, knees scraped and stinging. She squeezed her shut in hopes of holding back her tears but it was no use. Her shoulders dropped as she let out a quiet sob. A figure blocked out the light casted from the street lamp beside her. Growling, she looked back at the man who made a mess of all things.

“You’re hurt.” The man stated plainly, hands in his trouser pockets. He seemed bored of her like she should get up now and continue to play along with his game.

“Thanks to you.” Caroline spat. Before she knew it, the man scooped her up in his strong arms. One minute she was on the street outside of the bar and the next, she was in an expensive looking apartment. She blinked several times, sure that all the alcohol she drank during her date with a bald accountant named Jerry that her friend Melissa set her up with had something to do with it. Caroline was sure she blacked out and only woke up now to the stranger’s apartment but if her suspicions were correct, blacking out had nothing to do with it.

Loki didn’t set her down until he made to his bathroom in the master suite. He had told himself he had gone a joke too far and didn’t want the human to suffer anymore and that’s why he didn’t set her down right away, allowing her to walk to the bathroom herself and not because of the fact that he enjoyed the feel of her womanly curves pressed against his body. The human sitting before him had caught him in his act. Usually, he was discreet. Nobody saw him cast small spells that resulted in what humans called little accidents or clumsiness. But she saw. Her brown eyes had looked past her pathetic date to him just as he flicked his hands in the air, casting a spell to knock over the beer on her date’s lap. She had narrowed her eyes, intrigued by the coincidence. Just as she looked away, he wanted her attention back on him. Loki waved his hands again, this time casting a spell to knock over her date’s chair just as he was sitting back down from cleaning up the mess on his lap. Her gaze immediately went back to him. Loki smirked at the memory of her sauntering towards him in her pretty summer dress and short heels. She was beautiful for a mortal.

“What are you doing?” Caroline had demanded. She knew she was acting crazy. There was no such thing as magic. But seeing the smirk on the handsome man’s face made her think she was right all along.

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  The man brought the crystal glass filled with amber liquid to his lips, smiling before taking a sip.

“I see what you did.” She had said with as much intimidation in her voice as possible. However, at only five foot three, it’s hard to be intimidating to a man who easily towered her judging by his long sleek legs stretched out before him. “I don’t know how you’re doing it or what exactly are you playing at but this date is important to me so find your entertainment somewhere else.”

Loki grinned at the memory of earlier tonight. He couldn’t resist especially when he was confused as to why someone so stunning would waste their time on a pudgy middle aged man who didn’t have the slightest idea in seducing the opposite sex. He had also found out her name through tuning into their conversation. Caroline. A name fit for a small thing like her.

Throughout the night, he had made more accidents happen. Until her date had rushed off when a bottle of ketchup exploding on his white shirt just as he was squeezing some out on his plate for his fries. The woman had looked over him, eyes narrowed with hatred. She was cute even when angry, he had thought.

“You are despicable!” She had stomped her foot, yelling across the bar to where he sat. People had looked at her like she had gone mad. Without another word, Caroline stormed off only to mysteriously trip on her own two feet.

“Let me take a look at you.” Loki retrieved the first aid kit from under the washroom sink. After being banished to Earth, he had found his healing powers to be weaker and in need of medical equipment created by humans.

“Don’t touch me.” Caroline sniffled, shifting her leg out of his way just as he was about to inspect it.

Guilt flooded his senses. This was new to him, he realized. He had caused his father to fall into slumber, betrayed his brother multiple times, tried to rule New York, and killed countless beings and humans but nothing compared to the guilt he felt when he saw the tears he had caused to fall down her face. Without thought, Loki reached out and gently brushed the few tears off with the pad of his thumb. They both froze in that moment, staring at each other.

“Just who exactly are you?” Caroline gulped, her eyes searched his face for answers. He was so close to her, she could see the multiple shades deep green of his irises. One hand still resting on her bare knee and the other gently on her neck, he sucked in a quick shallow breath.

“Loki.” The trickster replied quietly like he was confessing his sins in church. He almost barked out a laugh at the sound of his cracking voice. A God himself, feared by many for his supernatural powers, and fearless in great wars is found vulnerable and weak before a mortal woman. Loki studied her neutral expression, aching to move closer to her. The space between them was little but yet he mourned the distance. He was captivated by her.

“You have a strange name.” Caroline’s broke into a slow smile. She was slightly inebriated from the cocktails she gulped down after the disastrous date the man before her caused but the warmness spreading through her body had nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Not as strange as my attraction for you, princess.” Loki returned the shy smile before hesitantly lowering his mouth inches to hers. He could smell the sweetness of her scent, drawing him in. He cleared his throat, blinking furiously to clear his clouded vision.

“How do you do that?” Caroline tilted her head so she could see his face. The bathroom was spacious with a luxury tub, a shower, and a sink with enough counter space to dine on but somehow when he was in it, his presence and body made it feel so small.

‘Do what?” Loki said with nonchalance, ripping open a package of sterilized wipes. He gently wiped down her wound, feeling more and more awful every time she winced and jerked her leg.

“The tricks.” She leaned forward, taking her lower lip into her mouth. “You’ve been waving your hands all night and every time you do that, things happen.”

He nodded his head, unable to meet her eyes. Would there be judgement in them? Fear? He was too afraid to look because if he looked, the illusion of someone who didn’t fear him for what he was would end. “Short answer would be that I’m a God. God of Mischief to be exact.”

Caroline tilted his chin up with the crook of her finger so he looked directly at her. “You know that’s pretty cool. Except the part where you know you ruined my date and made me fall on the floor.”

Loki laughed, feeling relief for the light banter instead of delving deeper into the reasons for his guilt and shame for who he was. He continued bandaging her up, stopping when she rested a hand on his. When she tipped forward again due to her drunken state, he caught her in his arms, their faces dangerously close to each other.

The desire and need to kiss her was strong. His heart thundered, his head grew dizzy, and his body hummed as saw her eyes look at him with lust. This wasn’t mischief or mind controlling powers. This was a woman who desired all of him.

It wasn’t right.

Of all the morally wrong things Loki has done in his existence, he knew it was even too much for him to ruin someone so pure and so good like Caroline. He was beyond worth saving. A God who was unredeemable and didn’t deserve happiness for all the destruction he has caused.  Just as he was about to pull away, Caroline grabbed his shirt and kissed him.

Caroline felt his whole body freeze. Through her hazy gaze, she saw his eyes had widened, fixated on her. Maybe she had been reading the signs all wrong, the thought quickly passed in the back of her mind. Cold panic flashed her senses before she abruptly pulled away from him only to have his hand on the back of her neck draw her back into a deep intoxicating kiss. He devoured her, parting her swollen lips, tasting her sweetness. She groaned, hands grasping his shirt to pull him right against her chest. Loki easily maneuvered his body between her soft thighs, feeling the heat of her core against his hard cock. He wanted her. He needed her.

Large calloused hands ran up her silky thighs, drawing up the flimsy fabric of her summer dress, exposing the wet stain on her white panties. Loki growled against her neck when pushed closer off the edge of the bathroom counter to rub herself against him. He could feel her wetness seeping onto his trouser pants. This woman was going to be the death of him, he realized as he ripped down the thin straps of her dress to reveal full breasts topped with pink nipples that begged to be suckled. Tearing down the rest of the fabric, she was left with nothing but her panties in front of him.

“So fucking beautiful.” Loki moaned as he cupped her breast and brought a nipple in his mouth. Swirling his skillful tongue around the hard tip, he ran his hand down the soft curves of her body, squeezing her ass before slipping into the front of panties.

“Loki!” She gasped, finger nails digging deep into his biceps. “Please.”

Many mortals have begged and pleaded for his mercy but the sound of sweet Caroline begging for him and the only release he could give to her was nothing compared to it. His heart thumped wildly against his chest as he looked at this mortal that wasn’t running for the hills, afraid of him but instead trusted him enough to expose the most private parts of her body and soul to him.

“I got what you need, princess.” He whispered harshly into her ear before dropping a kiss on the crane of her neck. His long fingers slipped easily into her hot slick folds. Her tiny body thrashed against him when his thumb pressed down and circled on her clit.

The friction was exhilarating. Caroline voluntarily spread her thighs wider for his better access as she dropped her head back, feeling every sensation through her body. Her toes curled as he fit one digit up her pussy, filling her in a way she never experienced.

“Fuck.” Loki spat out as he continued to pump his finger in and out of her tight hot cunt. There was no way she could be as tight as she felt around his finger without being an innocent. An unfamiliar possessive need raged throughout his body.

Mine.

The word burned in his mind. Caroline was his. Nobody will ever come close to her ever again as long as he was still alive.

Curling his finger inside her, Caroline squealed when he found the spot that seemed to be where every single one her nerve endings began and met. A need within her that she didn’t know she had was fulfilled as he continued rubbing the spot. She was on the brink of exploding around him. Her breath caught her throat as the ache grew and grew until she couldn’t contain it anymore. Bright bursts of light filled her vision as pleasure overcame her entire body.

He continued his motions as her pussy quivered, tightening and releasing around his thick fingers. Her body was so responsive. So needy. So beautiful. He watched intently at her, storing every second of her orgasm in his memories, not wanting to forget any moment of this stunning sight. It was expected of him to be the playful trickster everyone had known him for. He would be unattached with little to no emotions. Sentiment was definitely not a part of his agenda. But deep down, he knew Caroline struck a nerve. He didn’t countless women when he could have one.

Caroline shivered when she felt her thighs slipping against each other caused by own juices. She slowly fell forward into his warm chest, arms circling around her and catching her before she fell to the floor. Caroline knew it would be silly to think anything could begin from this. The handsome devil standing before her probably didn’t feel the same strong connection she felt. Of course, leave it for a virgin to romanticize things that weren’t actually there.

Loki smoothed down her hair, dropping kisses on the crown of her head. Slowly, he inserted an arm under the back of her knees, swept her up, bridal style, and carried her to his bed. Her eyes were closed, face flushed, and looking as perfect as all the stars in the galaxies.

Tucking her in, he laid a soft kiss on her cheek, not missing the small smile that curved her lips when he pulled away. Loki knew he should go. These powerful emotions stirring inside his chest were overwhelming and he needed time to sort them out. Just as he was turning away, a hand clasped around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t go.” Caroline pleaded, fully awake. “Please stay.”

Loki studied her. Without another word, he gently removed her hand and stepped back, unbuttoning each button on his dark silk shirt, revealing lean muscles that rippled under his pale skin. He dropped the shirt on the floor, moving his attention to his belt. Her gaze fixated on every movement he made. And if he wasn’t already a God, he knew that with just her eyes looking at him like the way she did now, he would feel like one. Hell, he even felt like the honorable one people actually worshipped. His pants soon joined his other clothes on the floor, leaving him only in his black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide his thick erection caused by her and only her.

She gulped when he walked around the bed, slipped under the covers, and drew her right against him. Her bottom nestled perfectly against his thickness, allowing her to feel just how hard and hot he was.

“Loki.” Caroline whispered, adjusting her position before the arm draped around her waist tightened, stilling her motions.

“Sleep, princess.” Loki murmured into her ear, lifting off some of the pressure of expectations for the rest of the night. “I ask nothing from you tonight but don’t test my patience. I find it running very thin with you almost naked around me.”

Caroline remained quiet, chewing on the bottom of her lip. She knew this was a horrible idea. She barely knew the man lying beside her but the attraction between them was undeniable. Turning around so she faced his chest, she cocked her head up to see his eyes closed, pretending to sleep.

“Shouldn’t I do something?” She asked ignoring his earlier statement about sleeping. It seemed only fair that he sought for his release as she did hers. Her hand trembled as she trailed it down his muscled stomach, feeling him suck in a breath before seeking lower and lower until her fingertips grazed his hardness. She gasped when Loki grabbed her hand in his and stopped her in her place.

Loki squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

“Woman, the only thing you need to do is sleep.” Loki grounded out through clenched teeth. When he opened his eyes, he met wide brown eyes filled with uncertainty. For a brief second, he caught the look he was all too familiar with pass her face. She felt humiliated. Still holding her hand, he brought it up to his mouth before kissing it softly and allowing her to cup his face. He turned towards her touch, seeking warmth and love. “You’re the only person who has ever made me feel like this. It’s madness. Of all my years, I’ve never felt this way so please, Caroline. I’m trying for once in my life to do the right thing. And the right thing is to give you time and to not rush into things we’re both not ready for. We can take things slow, yes?”

He looked into her eyes, searching for answers. Once again, he found himself showing the most vulnerable sides of him to a woman that managed to break down all his walls.

For a moment, Caroline was sure Loki had only done what they did out of pity. So when she offered to reciprocate pleasure and he flat out refused, it hurt. She might not have been a sexual goddess but she knew she wasn’t all that unattractive. But maybe it was her inexperience that made him uninterested in taking things further. She felt embarrassment to suggest such a silly thing but his next words were like a balm to her stinging wounds.

“Yes.” Caroline nodded, chewing her lower lip before speaking again. “So this isn’t a one night stand?”

“I don’t think I can ever let you go after this let alone let it be a one-time thing.” Loki scoffed sarcastically before hushing her to go to sleep.

[forged-through-trials]

Before we left the city, for what was sure to be a long exodus, I decided to pay one more visit to Mercator at “A Fighting Chance”, to see if he’d made any progress with Mephala’s blade. To my surprise, he’d made quite a bit, actually, producing a number of replicas of amazing quality, in an assortment of dagger, one-handed, and great-sword variants. ...all of which were WAY too expensive for me to actually buy. By the Nine, the great swords were all over twelve-thousand Septims, each! I could buy a house for that kind of dosh! ...but they’re kataaaaanaaaas! I waaaaaaaant theeeeeeem! So I guess I have a new goal in life; to afford one of these magnificent swords. I’ll be sure to add it to the ever-growing list of things I need to do, including the Mobius Strip of; “Fight vampires, get legendary sword, use it to fight vampires.” And hey, since Mercator was done with the sword, he said I could take it back. So... I now once again own this thrice-cursed blade as a reminder of all the innocent blood spilled due to Mephala’s conspiracies. ...yay? That done, Ruin and I vamoosed as quickly as we could. I told Ruin that I had ‘convinced’ Soris to part with the staff with a lot of smooth talk and a little coin, and he seemed to buy it. The trip back was just as unremarkable as the trip there, and after a few hours, we were back in Bravil! First up, was delivering the package we’d picked up, and as fate would have it, I was to deliver it to Aryaire at the Bravil Mages Guild. Perfect, since once I was done, I could turn right around and talk to Kud-Ei about that Recommendation.

Kud-Ei: “You’re back. And you have the staff? Excellent!” Trials: “I hope Ardaline appreciates what I went through for this; having to deal with both a creepy stalker and a crazy hermit.” Kud-Ei: “Your efforts will not go unrewarded. You’ll be granted a glowing recommendation from me, and I’ll even teach you a new spell to sweeten the pot.” Trials: “Oh, sweet, free magic lessons. Lookit me, Ruin, I’m turning into a real mage and stuff.” Ruin: Gave a thoughtful smile and turned to Kud-Ei. “We thank you, madam. May we ask, what is the word around town?” Kud-EI: She paused to ponder that a moment. “Well, have you heard the story of the Loches? Particularly, Aleron Loche, who has gone missing. Poor Ursanne has been beside herself since he disappeared, but hasn’t been able to find anyone willing to help.” Trials: “So that makes at least two people in this town who’re missing that the guards aren’t doing anything about.” I rolled my eyes. “Well, looks like it falls to the Forged-Through-Trials Detective Agency to do the guards’ job for them, again!” Kud-Ei: “With you on the case, I’m sure Aleron is as good as found. “You’ll likely find Ursanne at the chapel. She’s spent most of every day there praying for her husband’s safe return.”

With that tip-off, we made for the chapel. We got a few dirty looks after delivering that package the other day, but I just ignored them and looked for Ursanne Loche, whom we found weeping and praying, as was predicted. Ursanne: “You... I’ve seen you popping in and out of the Fighters and Mages guilds. I’m sorry to impose--” Trials: “Oh, it’s no imposition at all. I’ve heard around town that your husband was in trouble, and helping people is what I do!” Ursanne: “R-really? I’m... not wealthy, you know. I’m not sure I could afford to pay for your help.” Trials: “Hmm... payment is nice, but listening to your story, at least, is something I can offer for free.” Ursanne: “...oh, thank you!” She leaned over, and draped her arms around me, squeezing me dearly in her gratitude. Trials: “Aww, don’t thank me until I actually agree to take the job. So, what’s the whole story?” Ursanne: She drew back and wiped her eyes. “My husband has, well, a gambling problem, you see.” Trials: “Hey, it’s only a problem when you’re losing.” Ursanne: “Oh, he lost, and lost big. Big enough that he started barrowing money from a usurer to cover his losses and place new bets. “Well, doubling down didn’t quite pan out for us, and he ended up owing up to five-hundred gold to a ‘Kurdan gro-Dragol’. Kurdan breathed down our necks about the money for a while, until recently, when he sent for Aleron to meet him at the Lonely Suitor Lodge. My husband hasn’t returned since, and I’m sure Kurdan has something to do with that.” I furrowed my brow pensively at that. Back in Morrowind, I’d know a few slaves who’d gotten themselves into the life due to debts they owed. It was a viscous catch-twenty-two situation; they were in bondage from debt, but as slaves, could never earn the money needed to buy their freedom. For that reason, I had a healthy distrust of loan-sharks. I don’t know if Kurdan had sold Aleron into slavery or not, but that story got my hackles raised. Enough so that I decided right there and then, that even if Ursanne couldn’t pay, I’d take the case. Ursanne: She was visibly shaking. “I fear for my husband’s life. Kurdan isn’t known for his patience. I’m not wealthy, but I’ll find some way to repay your help, just please save my husband.” Trials: I crossed my arms, and gave a nod. “I’ll take the case, Ma’am. I‘ll have your husband back to you in a day or two!”

Ursanne gave us our first lead; the Lonely Suitor Lodge. It was just at the south end of town, so we made there, and asked around within to find Kurdan.

We found the man in his room on the second floor. Trials: “Ho, orc!” Kurdan: “Piss off, lizard!” Trials: “...okay, rude! Jeez, we just wanted to ask you about an ‘Aleron Loche’.” Kurdan: “I don’t know nuffin’, and even I did, I wouldn’t tell you!” Kurdan was evasive, and not too interested in talking, but I readied the spells Kud-Ei had taught me, and with a cast of the two of them, he finally opened up... somewhat. Kurdan: “Alright, maybe I know where Aleron is, and maybe I don’t. Maybe, if you’re willing to do me a little favor, it might loosen my tongue.” Trials: I sighed and grumbled. “Where to, and how many?” Kurdan: “One of my stupid relatives lost a prized family heirloom, the ‘Axe of Dragol’. But I’ve tracked it to Fort Grief, which is on an island in Niben Bay. I want you to go get it back. Do that for me, and I ‘might remember’ what happened to Aleron.” Ruin: “This sounds very suspect. What would happen were we to refuse this request?” Kurdan: “Then Aleron may not be coming home from his... uh, journey, for a very long time. Like, permanently!” Trials: “Yeah, yeah, we get it. So, how’re we getting to Fort Grief?” Kurdan: “I just so happen to have a boat you can take. It’s docked in the water behind A Warlock’s Luck. Now get moving, meat!”

Ruin and I agreed, this request seemed sketchy as all heck. But we were out of options, so we agreed to do Kurdan’s favor. We found the boat just where the orc promised it would be, and after an hour’s ride, we’d arrived at Grief Island. Embarking from the doc, we followed the short trail to the gate that led into the Fort. A nearby leaver opened the gate, and we embarked inside... finding a smear of blood upon the wall that led deeper into the Fort. Oh boy is that a bad omen. I feel like a month ago, I probably would have just turned tail and left without a second thought... but I’d made a promise to Ursanne Loche that I would find her husband and bring him home. Danger or no, we were going in!

Well, that was fast. There’s the man himself, standing right here, as if waiting for us. Aleron: “It appears as though Kurdan has tricked another pair of poor souls with his ‘axe’ story.” Ruin: “...I knew that story was suspect.” Aleron: “That’s right. There is no ‘Axe of Dragol’. It was just a ruse to lure you out here. I fell for the same trick. In my case, he told me if I retrieved the axe, he’d erase my debts. I was such an idiot to believe him.” Trials: “So why has he lured us out here? I’m guessing he’s not going to jump out from behind that pillar with sweetrolls and wine.” Aleron: “You might say that we’re here to play ‘the most dangerous game’.” Trials: “Is that the one where you lay your hand on a table and poke a dagger between your fingers and see how fast you can go?” Aleron: “...” He shook his head. “Uh, no, this is the one where wealthy psychos pay Kurdan to kidnap people so they can be hunted for sport.” Ruin: “...ah, yes, I know this game. Back in Black Mash, we used to call it; ‘Tirdas’, and whoever one got a prize!” Trials: “...by the Nine, Ruin, your old home society sucked.” Ruin: “Why do you think I left?” Trials: “Anyway, Aleron, we have a boat. We can just skip out on this sick game and bounce back to Bravil.” Aleron: “Don’t bother. The door to this place is now locked. The only way to get out is by descending into the Hunter’s Run--the dungeons under Fort Grief--and killing the hunters. One of them will have the key to the door. That’s Kurdan’s rules, and the only way we can ‘win.’“ Trials: I sighed and shrugged. “Can’t we go anywhere without having to leave a trail of bodies??” Aleron: “I wish I could help, but I can’t fight. I’ve never held a weapon before in my life.” Trials: “I’d never held a weapon before until a little over a month ago. Mastery comes surprisingly fast once you understand that the pointy end of the sword goes into the other guy.” Aleron: “...” He turned to Ruin. “You’ll save me, won’t you, Male Argonian?” Ruin: He shrugged and grunted.

Such was our job; to descent into the dungeon, and kill the sickos who came here to kill us for the fun of it. A dark and bloody task, but it’s them or us... and given the choice, I’d rather it be them. Dying hurts, Gentle Reader, and I plan to do as little of it as I possibly can! This was also my first real opportunity to try out the Night-Eye spell I’d worked so hard to master. With a wave of my hand, my eyes tingled, and began to glow in the gloom of this dungeon. And as you can see from the pictographs, the image was nice, bright, sharp, and clear! Now I can actually show off what I get up to in these dives! And can watch me kick some tail in bright, crisp color!

To the left of the entrance was a locked gate. Just beyond, I could see a lever, much like the one that let me into Fort Grief in the first place. The lock was too complex to pick, even with my best tools, so it seemed indeed that my only option was to win the Hunter Run. Just me and Ruin, versus a group of highly practiced loonies. Wish us luck! We’re going to need it.