#luckily no one's been lit on fire. Yet.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Thinking about Demetri and Eli playing like this as kids, and it uh...foreshadows certain events

kids were roleplaying with minecraft figurines and one of them had their figure go up to the other and say “i’m in love with you” and the other one replied “sword slash to the chest. and you’re on fire”

[choerrypuffs]

AITA for setting my cheating ex's car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

pairing: firefighter!haechan x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 8.6k

synopsis: revenge is best served cold―or on fire. literally.

author’s note: luvpuffcore is finally back!! ilysm cat and moon and thank you for another amazing year of friendship <333 i truly am the #1 most successful fan of all time 🤩 also special shoutout to cat for letting me use some of her creepy dms and moon for sharing her league knowledge yall are god's strongest soldiers fr !! happy new year, my loves ✨🎆💞

warning(s): mentions/threats of violence, sexual jokes, y/n commits arson but in a girly pop way (pls don't try this at home), character assassination of mark

playlist: get him back! by olivia rodrigo ― is it new years yet? sabrina carpenter ― drinks or coffee by rosé ― risk by gracie abrams ― mastermind by taylor swift

additional: check out a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab!

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 3d

AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

I (24F) caught my boyfriend cheating on me with a discord kitten he met on League of Legends two days before our anniversary. I proceeded to have the biggest crash out ever known to man, bought a gallon of gasoline, went to his house in the middle of the night, and lit his car on fire. I had completely forgotten his cousin was a firefighter in the area, and he showed up at the scene, which hindered my masterful plan a little bit. Luckily, my ex didn’t press any charges though because no way in hell he’s going to admit he has a discord kitten in a court of law. Anyways, the next day, my ex groveled and begged me to go to his family’s Christmas party with him so that he could save face in front of his mommy. Long story short―let’s just say it didn’t go well. His cousin ended up driving me home, and I think maybe I’ve fallen for him? 

⥣ 9.8k ⥥ 1,439 Comments

mcballs-im-lovin-it0323 • 2d YTA for not crashing out even harder bc i woulda slept with his entire bloodline if he played in my face like that 🙂‍↕️

➥ Reply ⥣ 2.8k ⥥

picklepounder1010 • 1d would’ve had him calling me mama, papa, auntie, uncle, grandma, grandpa etc fr 😩 ➥ ⥣ 943 ⥥

god-of-donuts0423 • 1d YTA for dating a lol player

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

goonknight1027 • 5h no way this post is about that twink lol streamer ➥ ⥣ 629 ⥥

part one | oh, i wanna key his car…or light it ablaze?

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:03 PM heyyy u play lol too 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:05 PM im a yasuo main 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhat kinda asian are u

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhatchu look like

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMsorry was that too much 😂😂😂

Your best friend, Rosie, has to put your phone down and take a few deep breaths. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Keep going. You haven’t even seen the worst of it,” you respond through a mouthful of strawberry ice cream, completely deadpan. 

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:21 AM ahh 😂😂

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:22 PM *kisses you*

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PM can i tell U something weird :3 😂

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:40 PM[Audio Message]

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMi wrote this rap about my feelings for y baby girl

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMbecause uve been such a good gril for me

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:57 PM holy fck holy dcking fck that body of urs is absurd

Rosie covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes in a grimace. “No way he copied Adam Levine unironically.” 

“Keep going.”

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AMwhen can i see u

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM ill be free after christmas

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM after annyign fam stuff 😂😂😂

Every message Rosie reads feels like another sucker punch in your gut and your ego, but you just dig your spoon into the tub of ice cream with even more force and let her keep going. Every time you blink, you feel dried up mascara flaking off your eyelashes and getting stuck in the dried tears and snot on your cheeks. 

“‘Annoying fam stuff?’ Is he talking about your anniversary?” Rosie demands.

Yes, your anniversary with your now ex-boyfriend, Mark Lee, is on Christmas. You used to think it was romantic. What a goddamn idiot you were. 

“At least he called me family,” you reply wryly, a hysterical laugh rattling in your chest like a wet cough. 

Rosie shakes her head and hands your phone back to you. “I can’t read any more of this. I’m going to be sick. I thought Discord mods and Discord kittens were just memes. I can’t believe people like him actually exist.” 

You just shrug.

“Where the hell is he now?” She crosses her arms. 

“Probably at his parents’ house. They’re on a ski trip, and they won’t be back until tomorrow,” you sigh, getting a headache thinking about how you were going to explain this to Mark’s parents. 

“Good. Change the locks on your door before he tries to come crawling back. He’s done mooching off you,” Rosie huffs. 

“You were right,” you state matter-of-factly, “That he was just a jobless bum loser who’s a momma’s boy.” 

She looks guilty, leaning over and giving you a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You think about the time you first met Mark, when the two of you were just starry-eyed freshmen in college together. He was so awkward and shy that it took almost an entire semester for him to finally look you in the eye. He followed you around like a sad puppy and would get flustered at any prolonged amount of attention you gave him. After about three years of him being hopelessly in love with you and unable to work up the courage to ask you out, you finally decided to give him a chance in your final year of college. It was a white Christmas, and you remember his trembling hands holding your face, freezing cold fingertips brushing your cheeks, and how red his nose was when he leaned in to kiss you. He looked at you as if you were a goddess that was put on this Earth purely for him to worship. 

Maybe that’s why you moved in together with him when the two of you graduated, even when he was unemployed and you supported him financially. Maybe that’s why you smiled and nodded when he told you he wanted to try being a Twitch streamer. Maybe that’s why you gifted him his first microphone for his setup, or baked him a cake when he finally got his first viewer (even though it was actually a secret account that you made in order to boost his confidence). Maybe that’s why you never complained when he started skipping out on dates (sometimes even your birthday) in favor of growing his audience, or when he bought you extravagant gifts like jewelry or designer clothes without any clue of your preference or size. Maybe that’s why you chose to ignore the churning feeling in the pit of your stomach when you noticed his eyes starting to drift towards anything but you.

Maybe you were always the one who worshipped him. 

It’s almost comical how easily almost a decade of your life has gone down the drain―and all it took was a couple of laughing emojis. In the end, the one who loves more is always the one who loses the most. 

You gave up your best years to Mark Lee, and yet you seemed to have run out of tears to cry for this man. 

Instead, all you have left now is pure, unbridled rage boiling inside of you. It’s the kind of anger that needs to simmer first―the kind that manifests first as a calm indifference before it finally bubbles over into a complete meltdown. But you’ll be damned before you set fire to your mental health and personal belongings that you worked tooth and nail for over a man who ruined your life. 

So, you’ve decided to set fire to something else. 

“Rosie,” you say softly, your voice chillingly serene. “I’m going to set his car on fire.” 

Rosie laughs. “Want me to be your getaway driver?” 

“No, I wouldn’t want to implicate you,” you respond smoothly. “Besides, I want him to know that I’m the one who did it.” 

She looks at you for a moment, trying to decide if you’re joking or not. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes. I don’t have the energy to care about him anymore,” you answer―only a half lie. “You should go now. I know you have a late shift tonight.” 

Rosie gives you another tight squeeze. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m off this weekend, so we should go get drunk off our asses.” 

After she leaves, you slowly get up and make your way to the bathroom. You wash your face in the sink, scrubbing on the gunk off, and apply a fresh layer of makeup. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to make sure you look hot as hell (pun intended). Once you’re done, you make your way to the nearest gas station and purchase a gallon of gasoline before promptly driving to Mark’s parent’s house. 

By the time you get there, it’s already close to midnight, and not even the darkness can shroud Mark’s new Tesla Cybertruck. You remember when he bought it because you had to pay for half of his rent for the month because he was saving up for it―the smug grin on his face, as he announced it to his Twitch chat. You’re embarrassed at how happy you were for him, and you didn’t even have the heart to tell him how hideous you found it. The truck’s mirrored exterior reflects the moon in the starless night sky, and the full moon almost looks like a shiny, pretty bullseye calling out for you to destroy it. 

Without hesitation, you get out of your car and immediately start dumping gasoline all over and around the car. The scent of gasoline normally makes you nauseous, but the scent of revenge smells even sweeter. Before you take out your lighter, you pick up a large piece of broken concrete from his driveway. With all of the strength you can muster, you hurl the concrete into the driver side window of the truck and watch your reflection shatter along with the glass. 

The car alarm starts blaring, and you wait for the light in Mark’s room to blink on. You see his silhouette as he opens his blinds and peers out, just to lock eyes with you. He gawks at you like he’s just seen a ghost, and it doesn’t take long for him to make his way down to you. As he stumbles down the driveway, you take out your lighter and flick it on, letting it slowly slip from your fingertips. Your heart swells with a hysterical sense of glee as his eyes widen, the orange flames reflecting in his teary eyes. His Cybertruck is set ablaze with a Hollywood-esque level of perfection, and the fire gives your face a golden glow as if you were the starring actress. 

“Y/N! Are you fucking crazy?” Mark hollers over the crackle of the flames, voice breaking. 

“Oh, you bet I fucking am,” you laugh. 

“I’m gonna sue you―you bitch! Have you thrown in jail!” he screams, fishing his phone out of his pocket and punching in 911 on the keypad. “I’m calling the cops right now!” 

“Do it, you spineless piece of shit! I’m going to make sure everyone in this damn neighborhood and on the internet knows what a lying, cheating, soul-sucking little leech you are!” you yell back at him. “I’m going to ruin your fucking career first and then happily walk my ass down to the police station.”

That makes Mark stop in his tracks, his thumb hovering over the dial button. He can’t control the fear on his face. “No one is gonna believe you.” 

“Aw, you sure no one will believe me when I show everyone the screenshots of your DMs with uwukittenbb69?” you taunt. 

“I’ll say they’re fake!” he nearly screeches. 

“Let’s fucking go then! My word against yours. We’ll see who they believe,” you challenge. 

Mark falters and takes a small step forward. “W-Wait…” 

Unfortunately for him, he’s interrupted by the squealing sirens of a firetruck pulling up to the street. You and Mark exchange glances, and you silently dare him to report you, before both of you turn towards the firefighters exiting the truck. 

“Mark…and Y/N?” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of the approaching firefighter’s voice. You watch in horror as the firefighter removes his helmet, and you get a clearer look at his face. Tufts of wavy caramel-colored hair sticking out, a youthful and angelic face that doesn’t suit his occupation, and heart-shaped lips turned downwards in concern―it’s Mark’s cousin, Donghyuck. You’ve met him a decent amount of times at family gatherings, and he sometimes drops by you and Mark’s apartment to deliver homemade food from his mom. Donghyuck has always been kind to you, and you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Donghyuck’s confusion is short-lived before his attention falls back to the fire and how close you are to it. He quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the burning truck. 

“Be careful. Are you hurt?” he asks carefully, eyes scanning your face with precision. “And why aren’t you wearing a jacket? It’s freezing out here.” 

You open your mouth to try and fumble out an answer, but you flinch at the sound of Donghyuck’s colleagues blasting Mark’s car with water from the firetruck’s power hose. All that’s left of the Cybertruck is a deformed and blackened pile of scrap metal with a plume of smoke rising from it. You can’t help the sense of satisfaction you feel. 

“Don’t breathe in the smoke. It’s not good for you,” Donghyuck urges, gently sticking an arm in front of you and gesturing for you to step back even further. “Come with me. There’s blankets in the back of the truck.”

“I’m fine,” you finally manage to say, shaking your head. “I’m not cold.” 

It’s true; the fire you set has been more than enough to make your insides feel all warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t look like he believes you but doesn’t try to push any further. 

“Okay, so what the hell happened here? We got a call from the neighbors saying there was a blazing ball on fire in Mark’s driveway and that the two of you were in a screaming match.” 

“Ask Mark,” is all you say. 

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“It was an accident.”

As if on cue, Mark suddenly materializes next to you and Donghyuck―a restless expression on his face. He probably thought you were telling Donghyuck what he did to you and rushed over. 

“What?” Donghyuck’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “You’re saying that was an accident?”

“Yeah. I was just…messing around. Don’t worry about it. It was an accident,” Mark says through gritted teeth, sounding completely defeated. 

The corners of your mouth twitch when you chime in, “A senseless accident.” 

Donghyuck is completely speechless as he glances between the two of you. However, you look past him and watch the fireworks exploding in the dark sky. Pulling out your phone, you see that it’s midnight, meaning it’s officially the 25th of December. Glancing over at Mark, you see him trembling in the cold with a sniffly red nose and bloodshot eyes. He’s staring straight at the ground, fists clenched. 

You smile. 

part two | part two | wanna push him in the fireplace and watch him burn!

When you finally get home that night, you draw yourself a steaming hot bubble bath and even use the fancy bath bomb that Rosie bought you. After you get dressed, you make a charcuterie board and pour yourself a glass of wine as well before falling asleep to a Hallmark movie playing on your television. It’s probably the best sleep you’ve gotten over the past month. 

You wake up in the morning feeling refreshed, a certain five-foot-nine burden lifted from your shoulders, and text all of your friends and family your holiday greetings. Rosie invited you out to her family gathering because she didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas, but you declined. You decided to stay home and get some cleaning done. Of course, by cleaning, you mean boxing up all of Mark’s stuff and donating it to Goodwill. You initially wanted to burn everything, but you’ve committed enough arson already. 

Just as you’re getting ready to make a hearty breakfast in preparation for the mass Mark exodus, you hear the door to your apartment being opened, and your blood runs cold when you realize you haven’t changed the lock. Then your cold blood begins to boil at the audacity that Mark still must have in his pathetic little body to even dream of stepping foot in your home. 

Gripping your frying pan tightly, you march out of the kitchen to greet him. Mark at least has the sense to shrivel back when he sees you approach him. To your delight, he looks absolutely terrible. It’s obvious he didn’t get any sleep nor did he feel the need to change out of his pajamas. 

“I know you’re mad,” he says quickly, holding his hands out as if ready to block a punch.

“If you actually knew that, you wouldn’t have stepped foot in my apartment,” you say nonchalantly. “You have ten seconds to give my key back to me and get the hell out before you have to call the cops again.”

“Chill, chill,” he mutters, “I’m just here for my stuff―”

“Don’t tell me to chill. I’ve always hated it when you tell me that. It makes you sound like a patronizing douchebag, which you are, of course,” you snap. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you just waltz in here and casually get your stuff. Most of which I paid for, by the way.”

“Y/N, come on,” he sighs. “at least let me get my PC setup.”

That makes you burst out laughing. “Holy shit. You really have the gall to ask me for your PC setup? Are you on actual crack? Get the fuck out!”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry, okay? Just one more thing―”

“Don’t make me swear to Jesus on his birthday―” 

“My mom wants you to come to the Christmas party this afternoon,” he blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…haven’t told her yet. I wanted us to tell her, um, together, after the party.”

He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand what he’s implying. He wants to make it seem like the breakup was mutual to save his reputation and because he knows his mom will lose her mind. He’s pretended to be her perfect little boy his entire life, a momma’s boy to the very core, so he can’t ever let her know what a bottomfeeder he is. 

“Is this some sort of social experiment to see how far you can push my limits before I finally snap? Again?” you ask incredulously. 

“Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything. I won’t ask for my stuff anymore. I won’t tell anyone about the car thing. I promise you that you won’t ever see me again if you do me this favor,” Mark sputters.

You hate that you still hesitate, despite how much you’re disgusted by him. It makes you feel like you haven’t completely axed the part of you that was in love with him, and that sickens you. However, Mrs. Lee has always been like a second mother to you, and it doesn’t feel right to just cut her off without a proper goodbye just because her son is a cretin. You suppose this could be good closure for such an ill-fated relationship. 

“You swear on your life that you’ll leave me alone forever after this?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Mark nods profusely.

“Fine. I’m only staying for an hour, and I don’t care if the party isn’t over yet. We’re going to tell her within that period or else,” you state. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Y/N.” Mark opens his arms to hug you, and it takes every fiber in your being not to whack him across the head with your frying pan. 

“Do not touch me,” you warn, “Now get out.” 

To his credit, he promptly hightails it out of your apartment (perhaps he finally noticed the murderous glint in your eye). You almost immediately regret agreeing, but you tell yourself that today is the last day that you’ll ever have to deal with the likes of Mark Lee again. Putting a hold on cleaning, you get ready for the party instead, donning a cute holiday fit that you had prepared especially for today since it was supposed to be your anniversary. Now, it makes for a great revenge dress. 

Mark had texted you to let you know to bring a gift since there would be a white elephant gift exchange, and half of you wants to call him and scream at him for not letting you know sooner and the other half is screaming at yourself for forgetting to block him. Not having enough time to go out and buy a gift, you decide to wrap up the scarf that you knitted for Mark. You stayed up all night after you got off work to make it for him, and it looks a bit wonky, but you thought he would appreciate it. You feel bad for whoever receives it, but there has to be a few duds in the mix or it’s not a true white elephant experience. Maybe they can use the scarf to wipe up their dog’s piss or something.

When you drive back to Mark’s parents’ house, it’s an ironic clash of atmospheres. The place is decked out with Christmas decorations, an amalgamation of rainbow lights, inflatable snowmen, and wreaths on every door and window. Yet, you can also see remnants of the dark burn marks in their driveway. Mark must have managed to call a tow to take his Cybertruck away just in the nick of time. You do wonder how he managed to explain the burn marks, though. 

Taking in a deep breath, you hype yourself up in your car visor mirror before stepping out and walking to the front door. Before you can even knock, Mrs. Lee opens the door and envelops you in a bear hug. She smells like sugar cookies, and it occurs to you how much you’ll miss her. 

“Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she coos, cupping your face. She then ushers you into the living room, linking her arm through yours. “I was so worried because I thought the two of you got into a fight while we were on our trip.”

You just smile uncomfortably. “O-Oh.” 

“A mother’s intuition is always right, you know,” she says, winking, “Plus, I knew something was off when Mark told us he’d be staying at our place for a couple nights. Poor boy was a mess, you know. He somehow managed to total his car in the driveway! Can you believe it? He really needs you around to whip him into shape!” 

You hope she can’t see you holding in a laugh. As you’re walking, you scan the room for Mark, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It doesn’t surprise you one bit that you’re being treated as fodder so he can hide in his room. 

“Anyways, say hi to everyone!” She leads you directly into a circle of Mark’s aunt and uncles. You give them all an awkward hello and try to slink away while they all converse, but one of Mark’s aunts turns towards you. 

“So, how long have you and Mark been together, honey?” she asks. 

“Um, about four years―”

“Oh, but they’ve known each other for much longer than that. Seven years! Mark had the biggest crush on her, you know,” Mrs. Lee interjects. 

“My goodness, does that mean we’ll be hearing wedding bells soon?” Mark’s aunt teases. The rest of the circle oohs and ahhs, and you want to strangle yourself with a garland. 

“I mean, what is he waiting for anyway? He’s making loads of money on the Internet now, isn’t he?” she continues. 

“Exactly. I want grandchildren, you know,” Mrs. Lee huffs. 

Unable to bite back your words anymore, you clear your throat loudly. “I have something I need to―” 

“Oh, Y/N! I’ve been looking for you,” another voice chimes in. 

All of you turn around, and a gasp nearly escapes you when you see Donghyuck standing in front of you. He’s in a white cable knit sweater, and his wavy hair looks so fluffy that you almost want to reach out and touch it. His cheeks are a bit flushed, probably because he’s in such thick clothing (or Mrs. Lee’s famous spiked eggnog). Without his uniform on, he looks much softer, dreamier. 

“You…have?” you ask, bewildered. 

“Yup! Come on, I gotta ask you something,” he answers cheerfully, gesturing for you to follow him. 

You’re a bit wary of what he’s scheming, but you’d rather risk it than have to deal with any more marriage talk, so you gladly let him whisk you away from the crowd. Donghyuck leads you to a less crowded part of the room, swiping a piece of chocolate cake when he walks past the dessert table, and tucks himself into a corner that’s concealed by a giant Christmas tree. 

“Here we go. I introduce to you my super covert corner that I stand in when I want to avoid nosy relatives,” he says in a sing-song voice before offering you the cake in his hand. “Would you like some German chocolate cake made by yours truly? It’s pretty damn average, if I do say so myself.” 

You pause, only just now realizing that Donghyuck helped you out. You suppose you have nothing to lose, so you accept the cake. “Oh. Thank you. So, you didn’t have anything you wanted to ask me?” 

“Well, actually, I do,” he hums, giving you a sheepish grin. “You set Mark’s car on fire last night, didn’t you?”

Part of you already expected this question coming, so you manage to keep your expression neutral. “Are you accusing me?” 

“Why, I wouldn’t dare. Besides, I don’t need to. I know you did,” he says casually, shrugging.

Even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. In fact, Donghyuck almost seems to find it amusing. 

“Do you have proof?”

“Mark told me,” he states sweetly.

You sigh loudly, immediately giving up the ruse. “I knew that damn lowlife would yap.” 

“So, what did he do?” 

“Of course, he told you what I did but didn’t tell you what he did,” you snort. 

“What, he cheat or something?” 

“Worse.” 

You pull out your phone and show Donghyuck Mark’s Discord DMs and watch his expression morph into disgust as you indulge in the cake he gave you. The dessert is perfectly average as he said, but there’s something charming about it. In that way, the cake is quite similar to its maker. 

“As a government employee and resident fighter of fires, nothing justifies arson,” he states after a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “but this comes pretty damn close.” 

You give him a smug I-told-you-so look.

“But seriously, what you did was really dangerous, Y/N. You could have injured yourself badly. That jackass is not worth getting third-degree burns over. There are better ways to get revenge, you know,” he lectures.

“Like what?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, like TP or egg his car or something. Slash his tires?” 

“God, are you from a 90s movie or something? That’s lame as hell,” you snort, taking another bite of cake.

“Dig your key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive? Carve your name into his leather seats? Take a Louisville slugger to both headlights? Slash a hole in all four tires?” He wriggles his eyebrows. 

“Are you quoting Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood?” you ask incredulously.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats…” Donghyuck sings, purposefully off-key. 

You can’t fight that smile that spreads across your face, and it eventually turns into a full-on belly laugh when he continues to sing. It’s the first genuine laugh, the first moment of brief happiness and relief, that you’ve felt in a long time. You thought you had it when you set Mark’s car on fire, but something still coiled in the pit of your stomach like simmering, black smoke. In this tiny little corner that smells of pine needles and chocolate cake, you feel free like a clear sky after a long winter storm.

“For the record,” Donghyuck says, voice gently dipping, “you’ve always been too good for him, and everyone knows it―including him. He’ll regret what he did to you for the rest of his life. That’s your revenge.” 

Your breath staccatos in your chest at his words. You tell yourself that he has always been a smooth talker, but he looks at you with such honesty and warmth that you want to believe him. 

“Have you always been this sweet?” You meant for the words to come out in a teasing manner, but your voice is tinged with breathlessness. 

Donghyuck grins, and his lips remind you of the heart-shaped lollipops that you see in the store during Valentine’s Day. “The sweetest.” 

A part of you wonders what would happen if you craned your neck and kissed him right here and now. Not because you’re romantically interested in him, of course. Rather, it would be a spectacular way to get revenge on Mark. Most girls go for the brother or the best friend―maybe even the dad if one is particularly ambitious―but the cousin is an untapped (pun NOT intended) medium for revenge. 

You wonder if Donghyuck tastes like cookies or wine-filled chocolates or spiked eggnog or even fruitcake. You really hate fruitcake, but you suppose you wouldn’t mind for the sake of revenge. 

But you would never do that to him. He’s much too kind of a person to be involved in you and Mark’s mess. The fact that you’re able to confide in him and he actually takes your side is something that you truly appreciate. As much as you want to torment Mark, it’s best to just end it here. 

“You can use me too, you know,” Donghyuck adds.

“Huh?” You blink.

“For your revenge,” he clarifies. “Use me. To make him jealous, to bully him, whatever you want.” 

For a moment, you almost believe he somehow read your mind. 

“Just wanted to let you know,” he says, shrugging, “since you probably think it would be too mean. Plus, I think you would need my help anyways.”

That makes you feel greatly offended. “What is that supposed to mean? You say that like I didn’t set a car on fire.” 

“You’re too naive in your thinking. Revenge doesn’t always have to be loud and in your face like that. It’s a lot more fun when you break them down psychologically in more subtle ways,” he explains.

“So, you―as a government employee―can’t approve of me committing arson because I got cheated on, but you―as a government employee―can casually and openly discuss waging psychological warfare on another civilian. On said person who cheated on me, who also happens to be your cousin because you seemed to have forgotten that, ” you point out sardonically. 

Donghyuck just smiles before slightly leaning in, eyes flickering down to your lips. You open your mouth to retort but your words instantly die in your throat, softly gasping when his hand brushes your chin as he reaches over and swipes a bit of chocolate frosting from your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Sure I can,” he answers smoothly, “because, unlike a certain someone, I won’t get caught.” 

“I didn’t―”

“And by the way, Mark didn’t tell me you set his car on fire.” 

You gawk at him as he walks past you with a content grin on his face. “Now come on, I hear my aunt calling for us.” 

Maybe you need to take back your earlier statement of Donghyuck being too kind. He might actually have more screws loose than you.

.

.

.

You almost completely forget about Mark until he finally comes downstairs for the white elephant exchange. You’re in such a daze from your earlier interaction with Donghyuck that you barely recoil when Mark takes a seat beside you on the couch, especially since Donghyuck is sitting in the rocking chair directly across from you. 

The gift exchange begins once everyone has drawn a number, and you honestly just dissociate for the first half of it. Keeping your gaze trained on the piece of paper that has 26 scribbled on it, you don’t look up until you feel Mark get up beside you and pick a gift from the pile. You’re praying to both Jesus and Santa that he doesn’t pick yours, but you suppose you've been deemed a sinner and also put on the Naughty List (maybe for setting your cheating ex’s care on fire?) because Mark somehow manages to find yours in the pile of presents. 

When he opens it, you can tell by the way he quickly glances at you that he knows it’s yours. After all, he saw you practicing your knitting throughout the week. He happily wraps it around his neck and beams proudly. “I love it.”

The way he carefully looks back at you makes you want to smack him into the new year. You know he’s trying to get on your good side, and you make it clear with your scowl that it isn’t working. 

You’re actually grateful that it’s your turn next so that you’re able to get up and walk away from him. Wanting to get this entire situation over with, you haphazardly grab one from the top of the pile. Your heart sinks when you take out the stuffing paper from the bag and realize that it’s Mark’s gift. You contemplate putting the paper back in and not opening it at all, but you cave under the pressure of all the expectant pairs of eyes on you. 

In typical Mark fashion, his gift is a signed T-shirt of his own merch. It’s an obnoxious yellow color with his Twitch username and a giant screen printed image of his face plastered across it. He’s written his signature right over his forehead, so it makes him look like he has random chicken scratch on his face. 

“Oh, it must be destiny!” Mrs. Lee exclaims, clapping her hands together. 

You force a smile before returning to your seat, doing everything in your power to ignore Mark’s stupid giddy expression. Shoving the shirt back into the bag, you casually kick it away from you. 

A couple more people take their turns, and you’re counting down the seconds to when this is finally over so you can go home. Eventually, it’s Donghyuck’s turn, and he saunters towards you and holds his hand out. 

“Gimme.”

You blink at him.

“Your gift. I’m stealing it,” he explains, wiggling his fingers. 

“You want…this?” you ask, completely baffled. 

“Well, duh. It’s going to sell for a lot of money, you know.” He winks. 

You can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s helping you out again. “This has to be unethical. Aren’t you a government employee?” 

“Government employees need to make money too,” he replies, sighing. 

“Well, if you really want it, I guess I have no choice,” you huff, faking exasperation before handing him the bag. 

You’re smiling when he takes it and walks back to his chair, and you hear Mark grumble something under his breath. Turning to him, you raise an eyebrow, snippily asking, “What?”

“I said,” he repeats so loudly that it reverberates throughout the room, “when did the two of you get so friendly?” 

A silence falls over everyone, and the two of you are now center stage. 

“Are you really going to do this now?” you hiss. 

“I noticed that the two of you were getting awfully cozy behind the Christmas tree earlier,” Mark retorts, shrugging. 

Donghyuck gets up to intervene, but he doesn’t have time to even react before you grab a pillow from the couch and chuck it in Mark’s face. 

“You’ve got some nerve. Was this your plan all along? To make me look like the bad guy in front of your family?” you demand, feeling your face grow hotter and hotter from rage. “You and uwukittenbb69 were getting awfully cozy too, don’t you think? I’d say snug as a bug in a goddamn rug even.” 

Mark stands up in a flash, his eyes frantically glancing at his mom before pointing his finger at you. “Baby, I told you she was just a friend.” 

You nearly choke on air when you hear him call you that. Making a beeline towards the pile of presents, you begin to toss them at Mark with each question you add. “You absolute lunatic. Do friends beg each other for pictures of their tits? Do friends write raps confessing their love for one another? Do friends blow off their anniversary with their girlfriend so that they can meet up for a quick booty call? And yes, I’m saying quick because you and I both know it’ll be a speedy endeavor.”

“What on Earth is going on?” Mrs. Lee cries out as Mark tries his best to swat away the presents being hurled at him. 

“You’re a psycho bitch,” Mark yells. “It’s not like I actually slept with her. We were just messing around online. You got jealous over nothing. And you set my car on fire!” 

“You wanna see psycho?” you snap, throwing the present in your hands down onto the floor and marching towards him with your bare fists before you suddenly stop and take in your surroundings. You see the horror and shock on everyone’s faces, the way they’re looking at you, and then perhaps most clear of all―Mark’s expression. He’s angry just like you, but there’s a glimmer of victory in his eyes. As if he’s bested you in some manner. 

And he has. You’re the villain now.

Taking in a deep breath, you will yourself to walk over to Mark in a calm manner, looking him directly in the eye. 

“You’re nothing except a liar and a cheater, Mark Lee. That will never change that no matter how much you try to spin it in front of your family. You built your success off my back, and I hope that haunts you for the rest of your life. May you receive everything that you’ve done to me tenfold. That’s all I want to say—” You pause. “Oh, and I’ve always thought your Cybertruck was fucking ugly.” 

You reach over and snatch the scarf from his neck before turning and walking out of the door, feeling like you finally managed to cut off the ball and chain around your ankle. Just as you’re about to reach your car, you hear someone calling after you. 

“I’ll drive you home,” Donghyuck says once he catches up to you. 

“I’m not so distraught that I’ll become a hazard on the road,” you say wryly

“Well, when it comes to being around a car, you’ve certainly proved that you’re not exactly at your most dangerous when you’re behind the wheel,” he jokes. 

“You may have a point,” you acknowledge, giving him a small smile.

“Let me drive you home, Y/N. I’m worried about you,” he insists again, much quieter this time. 

“How are you going to get back then?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I’ll call an Uber or something.” 

“That would be such a waste of money,” you snort.

“Not if it’s for you,” he says almost instantly. His normally brown eyes almost look auburn when under the golden glow of the sunset. 

There’s such determination, such assurance, such warmth in his gaze that you let yourself be surrounded with, no longer having the energy to resist him, and it feels like falling onto a soft cloud after a long, winding journey. For once, you just want someone to take care of you, even if it’s just for a moment. 

“Fine. Do as you please,” you relent, tossing him your car keys before walking around to the passenger side and climbing in. 

Donghyuck looks relieved, beaming when he situates himself in the driver’s seat. You try not to be impressed with the way he easily backs out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the headrest behind you, maneuvering the wheel with a deftness you’ve never seen before. Then again, he does drive a massive fire truck on the daily, so your Toyota probably isn’t much of a challenge for him. 

He drives with his eyes staring straight down the road―almost too focused―because you know he’s trying not to look at you. Probably because you’re making it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to look at you, leaning your head against the window and away from him. It doesn’t mean that you don’t see his wandering eyes, almost as if it were second nature, drift back to you in the reflection of the window.

“Pathetic, right?” you finally say, feeling suffocated by the heavy silence.

“What’s pathetic?” 

“Me.” 

“Why would you be pathetic?” Donghyuck grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as the leather creaks under the force of his hold.

“Mark was right. I talked a big game in front of him, but in the end, I was just the psycho ex-girlfriend. I told myself that I would never let him hold my emotions hostage anymore. That I would erase any care I had for him left in me. Because indifference means that I’m truly free. But I couldn’t do it. I really hate him, to my very core, and that means he still has power over me. I hate that most of all. I want him to feel the same pain I did, and I want to exact revenge on him, but at the same time, I want to move on with my life. I’m like a dog chasing my own tail; it’s pathetic.” 

You wanted to sound more lighthearted about this, turn it into a joke, but Donghyuck seems to draw out a vulnerability within you that makes you want to tell him everything you’ve been trying to desperately ignore. 

“Y/N, you’re dealing with the end of a long-term relationship. It’s only natural that you have confusing and conflicting feelings about everything. You’re not pathetic; you’re human. Mark stole your girlhood and your youth, and it’s going to take time for you to heal from that. It’s impossible to immediately get back on your feet after what he did to you. None of this is your fault, so don’t ever berate yourself,” Donghyuck’s voice trembles as he speaks. “I promise you that one day, you’re going to wake up and you’ll realize that you don’t remember what Mark's favorite food is. His favorite movie. His favorite color. Then you’ll realize that you can barely even remember what his face looks like when he’s sad, happy, angry. Eventually, you’ll forget about him entirely, and all the pain he caused you will just be seconds of your life that evaporates from your mind completely.”

When he speaks to you like there’s nothing he’s more sure of in this world, it makes you want to believe him. You want to be his promise. 

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, placing your hand on top of his for just a moment before pulling away. Your touch is feather light, but you hope he didn’t notice the way your fingertips lingered a second longer. 

The two of you fall quiet again, but this time, the silence is much more comfortable now. You’re almost disappointed when he pulls into your apartment complex, unsure of how to say goodbye to him. 

“Would you like some hot cocoa or something?” you blurt out when he parks. “I think I have some in my apartment.”

You don’t realize how suggestive your offer sounds until it’s too late. Donghyuck hesitates for a moment, and you can tell he’s debating on if he should tease you about it or not. To your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s getting dark soon, so I should head back.” He pulls out his phone and starts ordering an Uber. 

“Want me to wait with you then?” You’re not sure why you keep insisting on staying with him, but this day has been so batshit insane that you almost feel like a passenger in your own body. 

“Probably not a good idea,” he chuckles.

Now, you feel both confused and slightly offended again.

“And why is that? I know I’ve been a bit of a menace today, but still…” you trail off awkwardly. 

Donghyuck pauses for a moment as he stares at you; his face is closer to yours than it’s ever been because you’re sitting right next to him. You can tell he’s thinking very carefully about his next words. It occurs to you that, for a guy as seemingly flippant as him, he is actually quite thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve been compared to Mark my entire life,” he begins, musing. 

“Sooo…you didn’t want me to wait with you because you’re gearing up for a trauma dump?” You raise an eyebrow. 

Donghyuck holds his hand up in front of you, shushing you. “Shh, let me have my big moment.” 

“Sorry. Please proceed.” 

“Ahem. As I was saying, I was but a poor, innocent wee boy living in the shadow of the golden child in our family. Mark was always the more athletic, the funnier, the more charming one. His grades were ass, but he always managed to get out of trouble because he was the favorite. When I got my job as a firefighter and he was unemployed, my family barely congratulated me or even acknowledged it at all because they were afraid they would upset Mark. You see, I’ve actually lived quite a tragic life,” Donghyuck sniffles, wiping away a fake tear. 

“What a shame that they can’t see how wonderful you are,” you chime in, a smile in your voice. 

Your honesty in response to his joke visibly catches him off guard, and he blinks a couple of times before your words finally register. 

“Right?” he huffs dramatically, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes completely as a light flush dustes his face and ears. “But fret not, I didn’t particularly mind. It was nice not having to live up to any expectations. Besides, I was happy for Mark when he finally got successful as a streamer. We were raised like brothers, and I always admired him. I was proud of him.” 

“Ha, little did you know—”

“All this to say that, growing up, I’ve never been once jealous of Mark,” Donghyuck states proudly. 

Then he slowly looks over at you with longing eyes, almost as if his body turning itself towards you is a natural reflex. His expression is so soft and affectionate that it nearly takes your breath away. 

“That is, until he met you.” 

So, this is what Donghyuck looks like when he’s in love. You wonder if it would ever be possible for you to wake up one day and not remember it. 

But you aren’t sure if you return his feelings in the same way. Just like you couldn’t bring yourself to use him for your revenge, you can’t bring yourself to ask him to wait for you while you figure out the mess of your current emotional state. The one who loves more always loses, and you don’t want to lose Donghyuck. 

“I just wanted to tell you that,” he continues, “I’m not expecting a response. It’s for the better you don’t respond right now anyways. If you want to pretend like this conversation was all a bad dream conjured up by sleep paralysis and never want to talk about it again, I’m okay with that too.” 

You smile. 

“But…if you’re able to, just look my way sometimes. I’ll do everything in my power to keep your attention, even if I have to get on a unicycle with a clown nose and juggle. And, if one day, you find yourself looking for me on your own, let me know. Then, I’ll ask for an answer,” Donghyuck promises.  

True to your word, you don’t give him an answer. Instead, you take the scarf that’s been laying across your lap—the scarf with a few holes thanks to missing yarn and sections where you accidentally knitted the pattern in the wrong direction. Now it’s a bit stretched out due to you snatching it off Mark. 

But this scarf, as average (maybe even less) as it may be, is charming in its own way. 

Leaning forward, you wrap the scarf around Donghyuck’s neck. He watches you in complete awe, in a trance, as if he were in a dream and any movement would wake him up. 

“I should head inside now,” you say quietly, trying not to giggle at his stupefied expression.

He only nods dazedly, and you’re certain that would have been his reaction regardless of what you said. It takes a few more beats for your words to actually click before he clears his throat loudly. “Right. Yes. You should.” 

He hands you your keys back before stepping out of the car and opening your door for you. “I’ll wait down here until you get inside, and then I’ll go meet my Uber.” 

“Thanks for driving me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him. 

“You’re welcome. Good night, Y/N.” Donghyuck puts his hands in his pockets and tucks his chin into the scarf as he watches you go.

As your hand hovers over the doorknob, you know you should just open the door and walk inside so you don’t keep him waiting in the cold. You really shouldn’t look back because it would mean that you wanted to. Not because he asked you to. 

But you do. You look back—

only to meet his eyes, the two of you exchanging knowing smiles.

extra | is it me? am i the drama? i don’t think i’m the drama…

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 9h

(UPDATE) AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

So, it turns out my cheating ex got catfished. His supposed Discord kitten was actually some random guy and his friend who were dicking around. They ended up leaking the DMs so they’re all public now for those who would like to read them (by now, I’m sure you all know who my cheating ex is). I would highly advise against listening to the rap confession though. Godspeed if you choose to. I am also selling his expensive PC setup on Facebook Marketplace if anyone’s interested. Happy New Year!

P.S. I ended up inviting the cousin over for hot cocoa. He’s very sweet. 

⥣ 11.3k ⥥ 2,293 Comments

pissrevolver1122 • 8h rip bozo got catfished by me n bro for some robux 

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.8k ⥥

pooprevolver0205 • 8h can’t believe bro actually jacked off to a pic of knees LMAO ➥ ⥣ 1.9k ⥥

piss-k1nk0219 • 2h yall are about to have the awkwardest family get togethers ever lmao

➥ Reply ⥣ 910 ⥥

bigsnowballs0813 • 4h $5 and an iced coffee for the pc take it or leave it

➥ Reply ⥣ 748 ⥥

femboyluvr0701 • 1h are u gonna set the cousin's car on fire too

➥ Reply ⥣ 639 ⥥

justgirlythings-arson119 • 1h probably not he’s very good at putting out fires :(  ➥ ⥣ 482 ⥥

[fairytalesandlegacies]

Trust Fall

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Title: Trust Fall

Author: fairytalesandlegacies

Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy

Relationship: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

AO3 Rating: Explicit 18+ (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Sebastian Sallow teaches you how to fight against the Imperius Curse late one night, and in the process, some long-kept secrets are revealed.

A heady rush of defiance and determination surges through your veins, lighting up all your nerve endings like a live wire, and in your eagerness to rebel against the enchantment, you end up doing the complete opposite of Sebastian's request, hands sliding under the fabric of his cloak and slipping it off of his shoulders in one swift, fluid sweep, silk-lined wool pooling at his feet as you dive straight for his necktie, making a fine mess of the striped emerald and silver satin in your eager attempts to loosen it, fingers curling around smooth silk and giving it a gentle tug to urge him closer, unraveling until it's completely come undone, spilling into the hood of his cloak. The words kiss me ring out inside your head, desperate and longing, and for a moment, you can't tell whether it's his voice or your own imagination, caught up in a fantasy you've been playing out inside your head for the past two and a half years.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

After a whirlwind first year filled with dragon attacks and crumbling ruins, keepers and keys and hidden passageways, bonds of friendship forged in secrets and fire, daring quests and trying trials to prove your worth to wield an ancient form of magic only few can see, you should have expected your final year at Hogwarts would be anything but uneventful — and that suits you just fine.

Though, eager as you are to move beyond the confines of the castle and take the wizarding world by storm, there's a part of you that isn't quite ready to leave this place you've come to call home just yet, a part of you that's still got a few more noteworthy memories to make. Luckily for you, you've got a best friend who certainly knows how to make things memorable.

Ever since that thrilling excursion to the Restricted Section back in your fifth year, the two of you have been sneaking out of your common rooms almost nightly to go on all sorts of daredevil adventures — midnight waltzes through the Forbidden Forest in search of the legendary unicorn den, swarms of lacewing flies fluttering all around you like traces of dark magic; summer nights spent sneaking out of the sweltering confines of the castle and stealing away to the lake for a refreshing swim, diving down to its depths to see if you can catch a glimpse of a pod of mermaids or the eye of the giant squid, exploring cavernous grottos hidden beneath the waterfall, turquoise and sapphires made of pure light dancing across the surface of the water by the glow of your wands.

And of course, just last autumn, the night the two of you flew to the top of the Astronomy Tower to make wishes on a shower of shooting stars, bright sparks of silver and gold lit up in his warm brown eyes as he'd gazed up at them with a wide smile on his face and slowly counted to eighteen — one wish for each year he'd been alive. You suppose it would've been a truly breathtaking sight to behold, only you were too busy gazing at something far more beautiful, charting constellations of your own design in the sun-kissed freckles that dapple his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Luckily, you didn't have to wait long to get your second chance, a flurry of snowflakes swirling down from the sky the night the two of you snuck back up for an encore in celebration of your birthday a few months later, green and silver scarf wrapped around both of your shoulders to keep you warm as you blew out candles lit by an overzealous Confringo cast and shared bites of a slightly lopsided cake he'd insisted on baking himself (though you suspect the only reason it was actually edible was because he'd had help from the house elves.) You never told him, but it was the best birthday you've ever had.

That's just how it was with him. Sebastian Sallow had a way of making every moment feel like an adventure. 

And tonight is no exception. An owl asking you to meet him at your usual spot wakes you from your bed at a quarter 'til midnight, and the next thing you know, you're following his Disillusioned form down a candlelit corridor, traversing well-worn paths you've come to memorize like the back of your hand. You assume you're off to the Undercroft as per usual, but the longer you follow, the more it seems Sebastian has other plans (either that, or he has no idea where he's going and is simply feigning confidence — wouldn't be the first time.)

"Sebastian," you hiss, but he doesn't seem to hear you, moving ahead at the same steady pace.

You try again.

"Seb—"

"Bash—"

"Oi, Sebastard!" you call out in a series of escalating whispers, running through your rolodex of well-loved nicknames until he finally hears you, a wrinkle in the hood of his cloak catching under the candlelight as he turns his head in your direction.

"Yes, darling?" he whispers back, and you don't need to see his face to know that he's smirking underneath his cloaking charm. You're suddenly very glad for your own Disillusionment Charm — even though you know he only does it as a joke, purely to rile you up, it still makes you blush up a storm every time he calls you that. Thankfully, you have a lot of practice brushing it off.

"Did my Quaffle hit you a little harder than I thought during last week's match?" you tease, relishing every opportunity to gloat that you were the one to score the final goal and lead your team to victory. "Undercroft's the other way entirely."

"Have a little more faith in me, darling. I know exactly where we're going," he reassures you, cocky as ever. "We're simply taking the scenic route."

"I wouldn't exactly call this scenic," you snicker, casting your eyes around the bare stone walls of the corridor you're currently sneaking down.

"Are you sure about that?" he counters, throwing open the unassuming double doors at the end of the passageway with a graceful flick of his wand.

What lies beyond steals your breath away, shivers akin to a haunting melody in an empty cathedral dancing across the back of your neck as you step into a corridor bathed in glittering golds, greens, and blues, kissed by silver in the light of the full moon spilling through wall-to-wall windows, a mosaic of painted glass depicting star-strewn skies over tempestuous ocean waves, fields of wildflowers dotted between snow-capped mountains, and twisting ivy redolent of the Scottish countryside curling in curtains around a sprawling scenery of a vibrant, lush green forest.

At the very end of the hallway, you spot a familiar fixture — the Serpentine Beast Window, leading right out into the middle of the Defence Against The Dark Arts Tower. How extraordinary — a whole corridor hidden inside of a window. Nearly three years here and you're still discovering new secrets about the castle, despite all your eager exploring back when you first arrived.

"Stumbled upon this little beauty earlier today and immediately thought of you," he says softly, and then quickly clears his throat. "I mean to say, I thought you would like it. And, judging by that little dip in the outline of your cheek that can only mean you're wearing your signature dimpled smile, I'd say I was right."

You turn to face him, exchanging one beautiful scenery for another, wondering just how many of your mannerisms he's got memorized, and could know to look for even when you're nearly invisible.

"And look," he adds with a smug smile, pointing toward the little alcove with the familiar clockwork fixture sat just beneath the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom as the two of you peer around the corner. "You see? Told you I knew exactly where I was g—"

Without warning, a bat-like figure emerges from out of the blindspot of the alcove, and the two of you immediately fall silent.

"Impertinent piece of— I know there's a secret room hidden behind here, if I could just—" Headmaster Black curses, flitting agitatedly back and forth in front of the clockwork cupboard, muttering all manner of incantations to try and figure out a way inside.

In your panic, the two of you bolt back behind the corner you've just rounded, hastily squeezing into a little recess in the wall of the corridor. You've never been the most graceful of people, tripping over your own feet and nearly falling flat on your face in your eagerness to escape, but Sebastian is well prepared for it, reaching out to steady you, grabbing ahold of your waist and pulling you into the little hideaway. Next thing you know, you're pressed right up against him, caged between the cold stained glass wall and the warm, heavy weight of his rapidly rising and falling chest, heart beating like the wings of a wild thunderbird beneath it.

You've never been this close to him before, but even though he's nearly invisible, you've all but memorized his every feature, so it's easy enough for you to map them all out — from the sharp curve of his jawline to the devil-may-care sweep of his hair, to the plush pink pout of his lower lip, and— uh oh, you're definitely staring. And maybe it's just a trick of the light, but you could almost swear he was too, that little telltale flicker as his eyes snap back up to meet yours.

Ocean blues filter through his Disillusioned form as the aquatic landscape bleeds through from behind him, making him look as though he's one with the water, moonlight dancing along the edges of his outline, igniting him in a soft silver glow. Sebastian was right, it is very beautiful in here…though you'd wager it's less to do with the colorful mosaic and entirely due to the man standing in front of you, lips a mere breath from yours, close enough to lean forward and—

Oh, you really need to sort out your priorities. If you're not careful, your less-than-pleasant headmaster will catch the two of you sneaking around past curfew, and that's worth two poltergeists on a good day. This is no time to be thinking about your best friend's lips, wondering whether they might taste like the strawberry sugar quills he'd snuck the two of you after dinner, or the spearmint toothpaste he uses every night before he goes to bed…

The sound of distant footfalls headed down the opposite corridor snaps you out of your reverie, accompanied by the dulcet tones of your irate headmaster, evidently giving up in his attempts to break past the barrier into the place that's been your refuge for the past two and a half years, until all you can hear is the sound of the Defence Tower's crackling Floo flames and the frenzied staccato of both of you trying to steady your breathing.

"I think we're safe now," you tell him, whispers disguising your breathlessness.

"Hmm?" Sebastian replies with a distracted hum, gaze snapping back up from the shape of your lips for the second time in as many minutes.

Sebastian shakes his head, and for a few nerve-wracking seconds you hold your breath in fear that he can feel the sudden jump in your pulse as he leans in even closer in an effort to peer around the corner, before giving you a quick nod of affirmation and slipping out of the passageway, taking what's left of the air in your lungs along with him. The glass wall against your back suddenly feels a lot colder without Sebastian's warm weight against your chest, and for a brief moment you wonder whether you've gone mad, wishing that Black had hovered around for just a little bit longer.

"Yes, it would appear so…for now, at least," Sebastian grouses, lips twisting into a frustrated scowl. "But if Black's been sniffing around the Undercroft, then it's only a matter of time before he works out how to get inside, and that means it's as good as lost to us as a safe haven. I'm…not sure where else we could go," he says, sounding genuinely heartbroken by the notion of having to cut this little nighttime rendezvous short.

You're about to join him in his lament, when a spectacular idea comes to you.

"Oh!" you exclaim, quickly clapping a hand over your mouth when the outline of his eyebrows shoots up in alarm.

"Sorry, got excited," you explain. Sebastian's lips quirk up in fond amusement.

"Follow me," you whisper, taking him by the hand and leading him up the staircase directly across from the hidden corridor.

"Where—" he starts, but you cut him off with a cryptic, "You'll see."

Without another word, Sebastian follows you up several flights of stairs, twists and turns leading you past Charms and up through the Astronomy Tower, sleeping portraits tutting at the two of you along the way.

"Can't believe I didn't think of it before, but, well…I've only just discovered it, and we've always had the Undercroft, so I didn't think…aha! Here we are," you whisper excitedly as the two of you round one final corner, coming to a stop between a blank stretch of stone and a tapestry of Barnabas The Barmy.

Sebastian looks at you like you've gone mad.

"Darling," he drawls, the affectionate moniker dripping with the urge to tease you senseless. "That's a bare stone wall."

"Are you sure about that?" you ask in a mimic of his playful prodding from earlier, lips quirking up in a smug smile at Sebastian's gasp of surprise as an ornate doorway bleeds into view, sprawling across the stone wall like fast-growing ivy.

With a confident smile, you breeze through the door and into a spacious moonlit room decorated in a blend of botanical greenery and gothic architecture, ceiling enchanted to reflect the world outside, sky full of stars glittering through an array of blossoming vines suspended from the illusion of a skylight.

You haven't quite finished setting everything up just yet, so it's still a little messy in some areas (a seemingly endless struggle to coax the paintings and fixtures to hang just right) but you're fairly happy with what you've done with it so far. A handsome writing desk strewn with stacks of dusty old textbooks, half-finished essays, inkwells, broken quills, and a bowl magically enchanted to fill with fresh fruit whenever you enter the room (courtesy of your friend Deek, who'd noticed you missing meals one too many times because you were too wrapped up in one of your projects, and decided to intervene) sits in one corner, while a potioneer's station with a trio of burners and a potting table with nearly-sprouted dittany and mallowsweet sits in another, a whole empty corridor just waiting to be filled with anything your heart desires (your own private library, perhaps) nestled in between.

"Is this…the Room Of Requirement?" Sebastian whispers from beside you, awestruck expression on full display now he's no longer cloaked by his Disillusionment Charm. "I thought that was just a myth."

"So did I," you chuckle, lifting your own with a casual flick of your wand. "…until a fortnight ago."

Sebastian turns to look at you, eyes narrowing.

"Hang on," he says, tone changing from fascinated to guarded in the span of a few words. "You've known about this room for two whole weeks and you haven't told me?"

You can't help but feel a little pang of guilt over how hurt he sounds.

"Come now, it's not like that," you assure him, reaching out to take his hand. Despite his sudden shift in mood, he immediately takes it, fingers slipping easily between your own, sighing as you rub soothing circles along his thumb.

"Like I said, I've only just found out about it," you explain. "Professor Weasley showed it to me after I spoke to her about wishing I had a quieter place to study for my N.E.W.T.s. — suppose she took pity on me, seeing as two out of three of my only years here have been plagued by nerve-wracking exams — let me turn it into my own private study, and decorate how I please. She made me swear not to tell anyone, but…well…you're my best friend, Seb, of course I was planning on telling you. I just wanted to wait until I'd finished setting everything up first," you finish, eyes narrowing at one of the paintings above your desk set several inches above the others at an odd angle.

"You are a wonder, you know that?" Sebastian laughs, warmth flooding back into his features as he gazes down at you with a fond smile, giving the palm of your hand an affectionate squeeze. "You've got all these professors fooled into thinking you're this saintly, rule-abiding student, yet here you are, sneaking out past curfew with the school's biggest mischief-maker to learn forbidden magic in a secret room you swore you'd tell no one about. We do so adore restricted areas, don't we?"

"Forbidden magic?" you repeat, arching a curious eyebrow.

"Why do you think I invited you to meet me tonight?" he says, lips curving up in an impish grin. "I've got another spell I'd like to show you."

Your eyes light up in excitement, eager as the day he taught you Confringo.

"But first, I think you owe a tour of your secret private study, starting with…whatever those are," he says, curious gaze flitting between three magnificent archways connected by an imperial staircase just across the way, slivers of gold waltzing between the branches of two majestic oak trees twisting around the entryway of the first, a lullaby of birdsong and gentle ocean waves echoing from the bright, hazy doorway of the second, climbing vines curling like serpents around water-logged trees cloaked in mushrooms and moss, casting shadows like Celtic filigree across the marble floor as the soft silver glow of magically-conjured moonlight spills down the steps leading up to the entrance of the third.

"Oh, you mean my vivariums?" you reply with an air of feigned nonchalance, smiling at the way he gazes at them with all the wonder of a small child discovering magic for the first time. "Forest, swamp, coastal, or grasslands — where would you like to start first?"

Sebastian turns to look at you, eyebrows arched in astonishment.

"You mean to tell me there's an entire ecosystem in each one of these?" he asks.

"Well, of course," you answer. "Each beast I've rescued deserves to feel right at home, wouldn't you agree?"

"You've got magical beasts in there?" Sebastian huffs out around a disbelieving laugh.

"Would you like to meet them?" you ask, lips curling up in a bright smile.

"Would I like to— is that even a question?" he asks, jubilant. 

"Please, lead the way." Sebastian sweeps into a low, theatrical bow and is nearly knocked off his feet as you eagerly tug him by the hand toward the first of four doorways, stepping from the serene moonlit study into a lush green forest teeming with birdsong and honeybees, lit by the soft golden glow of warm summer sunshine.

"—should really check on everyone anyway. I set up an automatic feeder and a toy chest in each one, but they still need to be brushed on occasion so I can collect all their feathers and fur," you ramble, but your idle chatter is lost on Sebastian as he stands there in the middle of the forest clearing, gazing awestruck at a pair of unicorns — a bright white female and her little golden foal, coats adorned with a series of swirling spirals that seem to shimmer in the sunlight — trotting toward you in the distance.

"I— I can't believe it," he breathes. "After all that time we spent searching, you finally found the unicorn den."

"Do you remember that mooncalf den we found in the middle of the Forbidden Forest that one time?" you prompt, smiling at the memory of one of your many midnight forays.

"How could I forget? The way you cooed over them. Adorable," Sebastian teases you with a fond smile.

"Fifty paces east and we would've found it," you tell him, delighting in the impressed look on his face.

"Huh," he muses softly. "All that time, we were so close. Funny how often that seems to happen."

You watch his gaze drift down to your entwined hands and settle there for a moment, heart thundering to the beat of swiftly approaching hooves. Before you can think of anything to say, you're pulled out of the intimate embrace by the arrival of your unicorns, the bright white female nearly knocking you off your feet in her enthusiasm to greet you. She nuzzles at your shoulder before shooting Sebastian a curious glance, her little foal hiding behind her. You've never brought anyone else into your vivariums before, and she has every right to be wary after everything she's been through.

"It's alright. Sebastian is safe, I promise," you assure her in a comforting whisper, reaching up to stroke along the bridge of her nose. She huffs out a breath and closes her eyes, shaking her head in an effort to get you to reach a little bit higher. After a moment's deliberation, she approaches Sebastian, bowing her head and allowing him to touch her. Sebastian shoots you a wary glance, asking your permission. You give him an encouraging nod, and slowly, carefully, he reaches up to gently stroke along the same path, letting out a delighted laugh when she huffs and nuzzles against his shoulder in turn.

"This is Hazel," you tell him with a soft smile. "A lovely woman by the name of Betty Bugbrooke bonded with her when she was just a foal, came to visit her in the forest every week. But one night, they were attacked by wolves, and Hazel ran off scared. Betty worried she might be injured, or worse— that poachers might have gotten to her. She asked if I could find her, give her a safe place to recover. It was only after I brought her here that I realized she was—"

On cue, the little golden foal takes this moment to make his grand entrance, squeezing in past his mother to head-butt Sebastian in the stomach, eager for attention.

"Oof," Sebastian laughs, raising his other hand to gently stroke the foal's mane.

"And this is Hazel's son," you chuckle, glancing back and forth between the two boys. "I haven't thought of a name for him yet — he was only just born last week. Perhaps you could help me name him?"

"You'd let me?" Sebastian asks, pleasantly surprised.

"I think it's only right. He seems to have taken quite a shine to you," you smile as the little foal head-butts Sebastian's outstretched hand.

"Either that or he thinks my fingers are carrots," Sebastian laughs.

"I don't think he's quite figured out how to work the automatic feeder just yet," you venture, glancing back at the row of little wooden crates by the entryway and making a mental note to double check you've conjured the spellcraft correctly. "Would you like to feed him while I brush Hazel?"

"Sure," he says, glancing warily at the automatic feeder, not quite sure how to use it himself. "Should I just—"

Before he can finish asking, you lift your wand and produce a fresh bag of beast feed similar to the ones you've used in class, handing it off to him before conjuring your brush and heading toward Hazel. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Sebastian reaches into the bag and lifts a handful of food into the air, where it floats between himself and the foal, who eagerly reaches forward to chomp at the pieces. Sebastian chuckles fondly at the hungry little unicorn and sets about trying to figure out a name for him, listing a few choices out loud and asking him what he thinks of each one in turn.

"What shall we call you?" Sebastian muses, tapping a finger against his chin. "Oh, I know! How about a wood-themed name to match your mother? Let's see…how do you feel about Hawthorn?"

The golden foal snorts and shakes his head.

"Alright, I'll take that as a no," Sebastian chuckles. "Hmm…how about Rowan, then?"

The little foal stamps his front hoof in even deeper disapproval.

"Well, we can't very well call you Dogwood," Sebastian laughs.

Hazel lets out an impatient snort as she waits to be brushed, bringing your focus rather sharply back to her. You breathe out a hasty apology, but she merely gives you a look like she knows exactly why you were so distracted.

"Hush, you," you admonish her with a small smile, reaching up to brush the tangles out of her long silver-white mane.

Hazel lets out another huff like she's sighing at you, glancing over to watch Sebastian playing with her son, red-faced and laughing as the two of them chase each other across the clearing, before turning back to level you with another pointed look, nodding her head and nuzzling her nose into your shoulder, and you think it might just be the closest anyone's ever come to getting a unicorn's stamp of approval.

A little while later, the two of you are sitting at the edge of the forest by the toy box, discarded cloaks laid out underneath you like a makeshift picnic blanket, watching Hazel and newly-named Willow chasing an unpoppable bubble around the clearing, when Sebastian lets out a long, slow, contented sigh and leans his shoulder into yours.

"I have to admit, it's a wonder I've seen you at all these past two weeks," he says with a soft chuckle, gazing out onto the golden horizon, mesmerized by the way the sunlight kisses the surface of the lake. "I could easily stay like this forever."

He turns to look at you, sunlight dancing in his warm brown eyes just like the stars had that night on the Astronomy Tower.

"Here…with you."

Breath catches in the back of your throat as you look at him, eyes trailing down the curves of his freckled cheeks to land on his lips again. Here in the soft afternoon light, his freckles are more pronounced than ever, each one a kiss from the sun. You imagine him spending his summers running around outside, tearing through the countryside on all sorts of rollicking adventures, tending to the gardens and livestock in the village on his quieter days. Perhaps that's how he developed such a sturdy build, broad shoulders straining against the sleeves of his button-up, rolled halfway to his elbows, baring toned, freckled forearms that flex with each flick of his wrist as he guides the moving path of the unpoppable bubble.

You feel your body start to lean forward of its own accord, eyes fluttering closed, but manage to stop yourself before you do something monumentally stupid like kiss your best friend in the middle of a magically-conjured forest clearing.

"Ah, but then you wouldn't get to see the rest of my vivariums," you quickly recover, jolting yourself out of the moment.

"Merlin, I forgot," Sebastian shakes his head, seemingly coming out of his own little reverie. "This is just one of three."

"Four," you correct him with a small smile. "The doorway to the grasslands sits just above the entrance to the Room Of Requirement."

"I didn't even notice," Sebastian marvels. "I was so preoccupied with the three right in front of me."

You slowly get to your feet, dusting grass off the edge of your skirt.

"Well then, are you ready to see the next one?" you ask, holding out your hand.

"Absolutely," he says, taking your offered hand, though he does most of the heavy lifting as you help him to his feet. You expect him to let go once he's standing, but he only holds on tighter, slipping his fingers back in between yours. You can't help the rush of warmth that surges through you at the contact.

"Shall we take the scenic route?" you ask, inclining your head toward the darkened forest just ahead.

"Is there any other way to travel?" Sebastian quips back, eagerly following at your side.

Jobberknolls and fwoopers fly overhead, weaving between the autumn-kissed treetops as the two of you make your way through the thicket, while kneazles chase rolling puffskeins through the leaf-strewn undergrowth. As the two of you trudge along, the forest itself grows darker and darker, fading from the warmth of a golden summer's day into a misty moonlit night, the ground beneath your boots becoming steadily more uneven and unforgiving, solid dirt and gnarled tree roots giving way to soft, muddy earth dotted with moss and mushrooms, puddles of water stretching between patches of grass and tall, swaying cattails, until you reach the very edge of the forest, opening out onto the swamplands.

Sebastian lets out a sharp gasp, faltering for a moment when he sees two skeletal, horse-like creatures with wingspans the size of a Hebridean Black swoop down from the night sky to land at the edge of the forest, one pitch black like the sky above, one as bright as the moon.

"You have thestrals?" he whispers, equal parts amazed and apprehensive.

"There's a den just north of here," you tell him, giving the palm of his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Absolutely riddled with poachers, last time I checked. It's not safe for them out there anymore, at least not at the moment. So, Deek asked me to rescue a mated pair."

"Deek," Sebastian repeats, the name somewhat familiar. "That's that house elf that's friendly with Professor Weasley, right?"

"The very same," you reply with a small smile. "He's the one who helped me set up my study, in fact; encouraged me to rescue as many creatures as I could, give them a safe place free from the threat of poachers."

"Which is how you ended up with a mated pair of thestrals," Sebastian concludes, sounding both amused and impressed.

"Gomez and Morticia," you answer with a cheerful nod.

Sebastian glances at you, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

"It's what I've taken to calling them," you say with a small shrug. "Suits them, don't you think?"

Sebastian watches the pair of bad omens curl up together under the shade of a weeping willow, Gomez stretching out his wings to wrap around Morticia's shoulders like a protective shield, before leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against hers.

"It certainly does," Sebastian replies with a soft smile. 

He turns back to look at you, teasing grin returning in full. "Came up with names for all of them, have you?"

"Of course," you reply with a jovial smile. "It would get awfully confusing if I didn't, especially with an entire herd of— aha! There they are, right on cue."

One by one, all seven of your mooncalves emerge into the clearing, moonlight dancing in their big, bright blue eyes, webbed feet splashing through muddy puddles as they all come hurtling toward you, jumping up and down, enveloping you in a cuddly circle. You greet them all by name — Millie, Mooncake, Marzipan, Vanilla Bean, Snickerdoodle, Pancake, and Jellybean — giggling and cooing over them as you ask each one how they've been, who's hungry, and who needs to be brushed.

Too wrapped up in your little herd to notice the way Sebastian's lips curl up in a soft, smitten smile as he watches you, heart fluttering inside his chest at how utterly adorable you are, how big and pure your heart is. Of course you'd have a whole herd of them. He shouldn't have expected anything less.

"Where on earth did you find them all?" he asks, huffing out a laugh as one of the braver ones comes sniffing around his ankles, peering up at him expectantly.

"Poacher camps," you explain, upper lip curling in a scowl. "Every so often, I'll come across an encampment near their den in the forest, catch them before they manage to steal away with their quarry. They mostly use cages with level one locks, so they're easy enough to pick while their backs are turned, but it's not exactly the quickest process. So far, I've only been caught twice. Managed to duel my way out of trouble without too much fuss — nothing a vial or two of Wiggenweld couldn't patch up — and more importantly, without any mooncalves getting hurt in the process. Poachers scare pretty easily when they find out a student knows Confringo — thanks for that, by the way."

You look up from your little herd of mooncalves to find Sebastian staring at you in astonishment, mouth hanging open like you've just revealed some grand secret double-life, so distracted he doesn't even notice the muddy paw prints saturating the knees of his trousers as Jellybean jumps up to nose at his pocket, searching for treats.

"You—" he falters, breath coming out in a disbelieving laugh. "You're amazing, you know that? I wondered where you'd been disappearing off to whenever you weren't with me. Speaking of which…I'd like to come with you next time, if you'll have me. Help you fight the baddies, keep these little ones safe," he says, leaning down to stroke the top of Jellybean's head and letting out a contented hum when she closes her eyes and makes a high-pitched squeaking sound.

"I take back every time I've ever teased you for going soft over these little gremlins. I can see now why you like them so much," he relents, chuckling as Jellybean purrs and nuzzles her head against the palm of his hand, eager for more scritches.

"Aren't they wonderful? They're so sweet and soft and silly," you laugh as you watch a trio of little ones chasing after a tiny floating moon conjured from the toy box with all the fondness in the world. "Oh, I just love them so much."

"Is that what it takes to earn your love? I'm at least one out of three of those things," Sebastian chuckles under his breath, eyes growing wide the moment he realizes he's just said that out loud.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," you say, struggling to hear anything over the sound of Snickerdoodle happily crunching away as you feed him a handful of treats.

"Nothing," Sebastian lies, summoning a handful of beast feed from out of your bag with a flick of his wand. "I was just asking Jellybean here if she was hungry."

At the mention of food, all seven of your mooncalves come gallivanting up to surround you both, floating toy moon immediately forgotten.

"Alright, easy there, I promise I won't let anyone go hungry," Sebastian reassures them, laughing as their little pink tongues poke out to tickle the palm of his hand. There's no Hazel to tease you this time as you stand there, rooted to the spot as though you've just been Stunned, one breath away from sighing like a lovesick damsel as you watch Sebastian dote on your mooncalves, heart threatening to burst with the overwhelming love it carries.

You wait until the very last mooncalf has huddled in with the rest of their herd and laid their head down in the tall, swaying grasses to drift off to sleep, fur brushed and bellies full, before making your way to the next vivarium. Together, the two of you wade through knee-deep swamp water littered with lily pads and lotus flowers, cloaks soaked and caked in mud and moss, until you reach the mouth of a darkened cave, shards of moonstone jutting from floor to ceiling like rows of shark's teeth.

Led by the glow of your wands, the two of you carefully make your way through the cavernous passageway, a kaleidoscope of colors bursting across the walls each time your light shines through a cluster of crystals, until eventually, the light at the end grows bright enough to outshine even the strongest of light spells, a symphony of crickets and tree frogs and echoes of dripping stalactites giving way to the soft cries of seagulls and gentle ocean waves, moss giving way to seaweed, until the muddied puddles of the swamp meet little whirlpools of sea water.

Together, the two of you step out into a bright, hazy world lit by golden sunlight streaming through fluffy white clouds stretched across a brilliant blue sky, ocean waves crashing against massive weather-worn rocks surrounding you on all sides.

After thestrals and unicorns, Sebastian really shouldn't be surprised to learn that you have hippogriffs too, but he gasps in disbelief all the same when two of them come swooping down from the sky to land right in front of you, eager to be brushed and fed. 

They're wary at first, only used to you, Natty, and Poppy from your daring rescue weekend last, watching Sebastian with a kind of cautious curiosity as he dips into a low bow, warm brown eyes fixed first to Highwing's golden gaze, and then Caligo's piercing bright blue. After a moment, the two of them bow their heads, allowing Sebastian to come stand beside you and brush them, Caligo affectionately nipping at the hood of Sebastian's cloak when he sneaks him a few extra treats from your bag of beast feed.

"Keep that up, and I bet he'll let you ride him in no time," you chuckle, plucking another loose feather from Highwing's bright white plumage and stowing it in the pocket of your cloak.

Sebastian turns to look at you, eyes wide with excitement.

Your lips quirk up in a smug smile.

"There's nothing quite like the view of the castle grounds from the back of a hippogriff," you sigh, mischief dancing in your eyes as you cast him a playful grin. "Want to see for yourself sometime?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Sebastian quips back, lips pulling up into a brilliant smile.

"Is it just the two of them in here, or are there any other surprises I should know ab—" Sebastian barks out a startled laugh as a bright white diricawl bursts into existence right beside him.

"Oh, hullo Gwyneira, nice of you to join us," you chuckle as the squat little bird marches up to the automatic feeder, bobbing and weaving without a trace of fear between the hippogriffs' taloned feet, and steals three helpings' worth of food before disappearing again with an audible pop.

You didn't think Sebastian's face had room for any more freckles, but after a long stretch of sitting at the edge of the beach, dark gray trousers rolled up to his knees, wool socks and worn leather boots discarded in favor of dipping his toes into the sand, tempting the water to come up and kiss the soles of his feet, you're proven quite wrong, a ruddy hue settling into the hollows of his cheeks as he squints against the blinding sunlight and watches in fascination as Caligo and Highwing take to the skies.

Eager to see where they're off to, the two of you make your way a little further east, where a large formation of rocks leads up a steep cliffside covered in a thick coat of lush greenery, cracked and crumbling steps ascending to the ruins of an old castle. It's a bit of a climb that's hell on both your knees, but the view at the top is well worth it, sunlight spilling over a landscape that seems to exist forever in the golden hour, rolling grasslands teeming with billywigs and honeybees buzzing about a colorful sweep of wildflowers, surrounded on all sides by majestic, snowcapped mountains.

Sebastian gazes out onto the horizon, elbows resting against the edge of the wooden guardrail fencing in the highest outlook of the clearing, mesmerized by the way the sunlight hits the glittering golds of Highwing's feathers and the cool blues of Caligo's as the two of them soar across the mountain range, when a flash of bright red wings swoops by overheard, wind curling its fingers through his hair.

"Is that— oh, there's no way," Sebastian gasps in unbridled excitement.

"Oh, did I forget to mention I have a phoenix?" you reply cooly, though your proud, beaming smile gives you away.

"Incredible," he says, a little breathless as he watches the legendary bird soar across the mountainous landscape. "Absolutely incredible."

He turns to look at you, sunlight catching against the back of his frame and igniting him in a soft golden glow, fixing you with a smile that's somehow even softer as he adds, "Every time I think I've seen everything, you always find a way to surprise me."

Sunlight spills across his features as he holds your gaze, kissing brand new freckles into the curves of his cheeks and the bow of his lips, and in that moment you've never been more jealous of the sun, longing to follow in its lead.

You're shaken out of the moment by a series of curious squeaks and whines, turning in time to see a family of nifflers eagerly waddling up the path toward you, keen to sniff you out and see if you've got anything valuable to nick. You introduce Sebastian to the felonious foursome — the infamous Irondale Pilferer, Calamity, his partner in crime, and their newborn twins, Mischief and Rascal. Sebastian greets them with a friendly smile, crouching down to tickle Mischief's belly and laughing when a handful of coins comes spilling out of her pouch. You tell him he's more than welcome to pocket them…if he can manage to keep them out of her brother's clutches.

Sebastian lets out a deep, contented sigh as he gazes out into the distance, watching as the sun slowly starts to slip beneath the mountains, bathing the clearing in hazy shades of citrus and rose.

"Blimey, how long have we been in here?" he laughs, glancing down at the edges of his nearly-dried cloak. "It feels so real in here, I'd honestly forgotten we're still in a room inside the castle, and haven't just traversed the whole of the highlands in the span of— what, a couple of hours? This place feels never-ending, it'll be a wonder if we ever manage to find our way back."

He glances over at you suddenly, a worried crease settling into his brow.

"Do you know the way back, or do we just live here now?" he asks, huffing out a nervous laugh.

"Come along, lost boy. Let's get you home," you tease, fixing him with a fond smile as you take him by the hand and lead him down a curved, winding pathway that twists around the cliff face of the clearing, tall grasses and fragrant wildflowers weaving between the pickets of the worn wooden guardrail, down down down until you reach a magnificent waterfall spilling out into a vast, glittering lake on the periphery of a familiar terrain.

As you climb down the last moss-covered boulder and make your way across the clearing, you spot Hazel curled up around her little foal, the two of them softly dozing under the shade of an oak tree, gentle sunlight spilling through its branches in a lazy waltz across the lush green grass. 

Hand in hand, the two of you step back through the doorway opposite the edge of the forest, and into the heart of your starlit study.

Sebastian shakes his head like he's coming out of a trance, glancing back toward the sunlit doorway to double check it hadn't all just been a dream.

"An entire world — sorry, four entire worlds — existing inside a single room in the castle?" he marvels, breathless laughter rushing out of him as he glances around the study. "And you managed to set all this up in just two weeks?"

"Well, I had a lot of help," you're quick to assure him, not wanting to take all the credit. "From Deek and the room itself."

"But you're the one who rescued all those creatures, and you chose all the decor, didn't you?" he insists, playfully knocking his shoulder against yours.

"I suppose that's true…" you relent, lips curving up in a proud smile as you glance around the room, sleek mahogany bookshelves lining nearly every wall, just waiting to be filled with all your favorites, moonlit sky casting shadows on the polished marble floor through the twisting greenery adorning the skylight up above.

"It's magnificent, by the way…your private study," he tells you, voice soft and low as he turns back to look at you.

"Our private study now, if you'd like," you correct him, mesmerized by the way the moonlight dances in his eyes.

"A secret room that's just ours alone? Oh, I like the sound of that very much," he says, voice close to a whisper now as he keeps his steady gaze fixed on yours.

It's easier to catch this time, now you're no longer under the spell of a Disillusionment Charm, the way his eyes trail down to your lips and linger there, just for a moment. Your tongue darts out to swipe across your bottom lip in instinctual anticipation, and you could almost swear you hear his breath hitch, hand gripping yours a little tighter.

And oh, you're going to do something very stupid if you don't snap yourself out of this right now.

"So," you prompt, embarrassed by how breathless you sound. "You promised to show me something forbidden tonight?"

Sebastian blinks, eyebrows jumping to his hairline.

"What?" he blurts out, half shocked disbelief, half breathless laughter.

Ah. You just clocked the way that sounded. Brilliant subject change. Spectacular choice of wording right there.

"You— you said you had a spell you wanted to show me?" you clarify, cheeks burning at the eager look in his eyes.

"Oh," Sebastian breathes, shoulders sagging a little. He shakes his head to try and clear it.

"Right, we should—" he falters, suddenly nervous, hand slipping out of yours as he makes his way into the middle of the study. (You try very hard not to mourn the loss, the space between your fingers a little too empty without his to fit perfectly between them.)

The look he gives you as he stands opposite you is apprehensive, posture worse than usual as he ducks his head down in an effort to appear smaller.

"So…" he starts, lips pulling up in a wincing smile. "I trust you remember a little spell called…" he swallows. "…the Imperius Curse?"

All the air rushes out of the room like a Dementor's kiss, fear lancing through you like slivers of ice, leaving pins and needles in its wake.

It's been over a year since the catacombs. You thought he'd put all that behind him.

"Sebastian…" you say his name like a warning.

Sebastian puts his hands up in surrender.

"Allow me to explain," he says softly. "Please."

You purse your lips, eyes narrowed. After a moment's deliberation, you let out a sharp sigh and give him an impatient look, your silence giving him permission to continue.

Sebastian breathes a sigh of relief and nods in gratitude.

"Okay, so…hear me out," he starts. "You and I have both known what we wanted to do since the end of our fifth year, yeah? But getting Outstandings in our O.W.L.s is only the beginning. If we're to have even a shot at surviving life as Curse-Breakers, then we need to be prepared for what's out there."

"Even— no, especially— all the things the school deems too dangerous for us to even know about. Honestly, what's the use in Defence Against The Dark Arts if they're not going to teach us how to properly defend ourselves against the Dark Arts?" Sebastian scoffs, rolling his eyes as he riles himself up over his longstanding disdain for the curriculum.

Your lips twitch into a small smile in spite of yourself.

Sebastian shakes his head and lets out a wearying sigh, reeling himself back in, gaze softening as he turns back to look at you.

"Listen, I know you didn't want to learn it last time…but this time, I really think you should," he insists, solemn conviction laced with an undercurrent of soft, desperate pleading. "Not for the purpose of using it on anyone, but so you can understand how it works, the kind of power that comes with wielding it, and most importantly, how to fight against it, so that if anyone is ever fool enough to cast it on you, you won't be so easily subject to their whims."

A shudder runs through the both of you at the very thought, Sebastian bristling with a kind of fierce protectiveness you've only ever seen him display for a few choice souls — his twin sister, his oldest friend, and you.

"And the other two curses?" you ask tentatively, voice low and quiet as your vision swirls with sparks of acid green and crackling carmine, a phantom burst of pain unlike anything else in this world rippling across your abdomen as the memory of cold stone beneath your hands and knees overwhelms you. "Would you have me fight against those, too?"

"No!" Sebastian says a little too sharply, terror flashing in his eyes. 

He takes a deep breath, grounding himself.

"The only one I feel even remotely comfortable casting on one another is the Imperius Curse. In the right hands, it's the only one that isn't inexorably harmful…the only one anyone's ever been able to fight against. With the other two, it's really just a matter of…of dodging it," he swallows thickly, a flash of guilt tightening his jaw. "Or…or enduring it."

Sebastian's expression darkens and you know he's thinking back to the Scriptorium again, his reaction so raw and visceral it's as though you're back on a different stone floor, tears drenching the hood of your cloak as he'd clung to you, shoulders shaking in violent, body-wracking sobs.

It's not as though he's made peace with what happened with his uncle, or that he feels more remorse for one grievance over the other. You suppose it's just a little easier to contend with your past mistakes, to quiet the voices of all the people you've wronged, when you don't have to look one of them in the eye every day…when they've been nothing but kind and loyal to you, and all you did in return was repeatedly let them down.

And you know, because he's told you countless times now, that there isn't a single day that goes by where he doesn't wish it'd been him instead, that he should've fought harder against your refusal to cast it on him. But that's an empty regret, because even if you had to go back and do it all over again, you still never would have let him be the one to take it.

"I'll never cast that spell on you ever again," he says, broken, choking. "Once was already too much. I'm so—"

"I know you are," you tell him softly, the same words you've repeated countless times since that quiet little moment in the Undercroft at the end of your fifth year.

You'd kept in touch over the summer, too eager to hear from him to follow through on any half-baked notions of needing space. And a good thing, too — Sebastian, it seemed, was just as keen to hear from you in return. He'd written dozens of letters — two, three, four, sometimes five times a week, if his owl was feeling up to it (though according to one of his letters, she'd start biting his fingers if he ever reached for his quill a sixth time in the span of a single week.)

He never veered toward the topic of your magic or what happened down in the catacombs, content to talk at length about the mundanities of your day instead, asking after your fancy new life in London living all on your own in the flat Fig had left you in his will, commiserating over the hardships of settling a late loved one's affairs. He never seemed bored in the slightest, even when you felt you were droning on about nothing, always happy to hear what you've been up to, even on the days you never left the house. To Sebastian, it seemed no subject could be exhausted, especially when it came to you.

In each new letter, he'd oh-so-casually ask about one of your favorite things, from sweets to flowers to the muggle authors you'd grown up reading, and every week, you'd find a little hand-wrapped parcel among his many letters — a box of sugar quills or a chocolate frog he'd picked up in Hogsmeade the weekend before, a bright blue jobberknoll feather he'd found at a nearby den and fashioned into a quill, fresh honeysuckles and hyacinths from his neighbor's garden pressed between the pages of a quote he'd scribbled down from one of your favorite books, along with an essay on why he liked it.

He'd been keen to keep you up-to-date on how he'd been faring too, eager to keep busy and make himself useful, helping his neighbors with various errands and tasks they might need done, tending to livestock and community gardens, helping to fix up the hamlet in the wake of loyalist destruction. He spoke like he was desperate to prove himself, prove he was keeping his word. A few times, you couldn't help but giggle at the way he sounded like an overzealous suitor trying to woo his intended, keen to sell up his accomplishments.

At first, you'd thought it was simply because he was lonely, that you were his only correspondent, but then Ominis finally broke his silence in July (insisting in his letters to you that given the choice between his family's company and Sebastian's, he supposed he'd rather tolerate the latter, and not because he missed the impish bastard, or anything — his words) followed by a tentative hope you're well from Anne in August. Though she hadn't quite been ready to forgive him back then, Anne was still anxious to know how her brother was faring, not-so-subtly asking if you'd heard from him in her owls to you, and, according to Anne's letters, getting an earful from one of her former neighbors.

After Anne left Feldcroft, she'd kept in touch with one of the neighbors she'd always been closest to — a kindly old woman who used to send over home-cooked stews when Anne and Sebastian first arrived on Solomon's doorstep, and who'd apparently been singing Sebastian's praises all summer for all the hard work that nice young man had been doing to help cut back on the gnome infestation threatening to overtake her rose garden. 

Evidently, there were only so many times Anne could bear to hear about that poor boy's crumpled face every time the old woman mentioned Anne's name in passing, how sweet it was that he missed his twin, but wished her luck in her travels as she took a much-needed respite to mourn the loss of their uncle, opting to stay behind and look after the estate, that she'd finally broken and decided to send him a letter. Just one line — hope you're well — but to Sebastian, it was everything.

And yet, the frequency with which he wrote to you never wavered. If anything, it'd given him even more to talk about.

You remember how excited he'd been for term to start back up again — it was all the two of you seemed to be able to talk about in the days leading up to September. You'd grown so used to his presence, even if it was only through letters, that the stroll through Diagon Alley felt rather lonely without him, as did the train ride from King's Cross (though an afternoon of stories, snacks, and Exploding Snap with Ominis, Poppy, Natty, Garreth, and Amit certainly made for a lovely journey through the countryside) but seeing as he could easily get all his supplies in Hogsmeade and simply use the Floo Network to travel to the castle, it seemed rather silly to invite him to come all the way to London, just to go all the way back.

You remember the way the floor fell out from underneath you the first time you saw him again — teeth as white as a Patronus Charm against the sun-kissed glow of his skin, an impossible surplus of freckles scattered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, spilling into the curves of his dimples as his lips pulled up into a bright smile, warm brown eyes lit up like afternoon sunlight across the forest floor, somehow even taller and stronger than he'd been only a few months prior as he'd rushed toward you and lifted you off your feet in a dizzying hug, shivers dancing down your spine as he'd buried his face into the crook of your neck and whispered, "Merlin, I've missed you."

By then, you'd finally begun to admit to yourself that maybe, quite possibly, you might have developed something of a small crush on your closest friend. This moment clearly endeavored to whack you round the back of the head with it.

Laughter caught like honey in the back of your throat as you'd pulled back to look at him, cheeks burning like you'd just hugged a living Confringo blast, and said, "Thought you'd be sick of me by now. We only wrote each other every day."

But Sebastian's sincerity only grew stronger.

"Never. Much as I looked forward to your letters, it's not the same as getting to see you in person. Merlin, can't believe it's been almost three months since I last saw you. You look—"

Sebastian paused, eyes lingering on the silken spill of your hair as it cascaded down your shoulders, longer now and out of its usual braid, the healthy glow that had blossomed across your cheeks from all those downtown strolls in the warm summer sun, same bright eyes, same soft smile you always seemed to reserve just for him.

"I sure hope the end of that sentence is good," you'd teased in the wake of the silence that stretched between you, momentarily worried you had some leftover pumpkin pasty on your face, or forgotten to repair a singe in your cloak.

But then Sebastian had let out the softest laugh, ducking his head in a sheepish grin and peering up at you through his lashes. And Merlin, how your heart raced.

"That's one word for it. Good. You look good," he said softly.

He looked at you for a moment longer, lips pulling up into a soft — dare you call it adoring — smile. And then he shook his head, and in the next instant it was gone, replaced by something sharper, cheekier.

"Though it appears you've somehow gotten even shorter since the last time I saw you," he added in a teasing lilt, lifting his arm and settling it atop your head as though you were a particularly moody armrest.

"Or you just shot up over the summer, you bloody tree," you'd quipped, wriggling out from under his arm, only for it to fall around your shoulders and stay there until they called for everyone to take their seats for the start of term feast.

Sebastian's laughter lanced through you like a bolt of lightning, and you spent far more time than you'd care to admit lying awake later that night wondering whether he'd planned it.

The next morning, you awoke to find him waiting for you bright and early outside of your common room, in the midst of a heated debate with the eagle door knocker over the answer to the riddle: when is a door not a door?

"When it's ajar," you'd answered as you stepped out into the corridor, eagerly accepting the freshly-baked croissant held out in his hand.

"That's—" Sebastian blurted out, flustered. "How is that more of a correct answer than a portrait? Ever heard of the Fat Lady? The painting of the ticklish pear? The doorways to both the kitchen and the Gryffindor common room are literally hidden behind a portrait. So technically, my answer was correct."

You'd never seen a door knocker look so exhausted.

"Does this little serpent belong to you?" the bronze eagle asked you as it cast a wearying glance at Sebastian.

Now that's one hell of a riddle.

"I— yes. He's with me. Sorry," you answered quickly, turning on your heel and steering Sebastian down the corridor before the door knocker decided to exact vengeance by locking you out of your common room later that night.

You glanced over at the serpent in question, shit-eating grin spread across his ruddy cheeks.

"Sebastian," you prompted as you took in the sight of him, out of breath as he greeted you with a cheeky hello you. "Do you know how many staircases it takes to get from Slytherin Dungeon to Ravenclaw Tower?"

"Oh bloody hell, not another riddle," Sebastian groaned.

"Seventeen," you replied, cheeks aching from the effort of trying not to laugh. "Seventeen staircases. And you climbed all of them this morning just to…what, argue the merits of what makes for a good riddle with my house's door knocker? You do know I could've just met you in the Great Hall, right? You didn't have to go to all the trouble."

The redness in the hollows of his cheeks spread like wildfire across the bridge of his nose, nearly drowning out the smattering of freckles there.

"Well yeah, I could've just waited downstairs," he brushed it off with false bravado. "But I figured it's only right I escort my charge to her first day of classes. It is a special occasion, after all."

"Is it, now?" you asked, smile growing even wider.

"It is," he quipped. "Did you know it's officially been one whole year since the day we met?" he asked, puffing out his chest with a kind of pride that made your stomach swoop like you just fell through the vanishing step in the grand staircase.

"You mean since I knocked you on your arse?" you teased around a mouthful of warm flaky pastry and rich chocolate.

Sebastian pouted at you and made a grab to take back his croissant, barking out a laugh when you shrieked and proceeded to shove the entire thing into your mouth.

"The very picture of grace," he'd mused, smile fit to bursting as you stuck your tongue out at him.

"Speaking of which," he added, smile turning sly. "I think it's high time we had a rematch, wouldn't you?"

"Eager to make losing to me a yearly tradition?" you smirked.

"You wish," he snorted, smile fond as he rolled his eyes. "Meet me in the Undercroft after your last class, and we'll set the record back to rights."

"I look forward to sweeping you off your feet again," you countered with a playful smile.

Sebastian's eyebrows drew up the slightest fraction, lips pulling into a soft, amused smile as he let out a sound that was half hum, half laughter.

"Here's hoping one of these days I can manage to do the same," he'd mused, all the air rushing out of your lungs in a single breath as he took a step closer and reached out to swipe his thumb across your lower lip. 

You had half a mind to wonder whether the duel had begun early, whether he'd been practicing wandless, nonverbal spells over the summer, and had struck you unawares with a combination of ice and fire charms, heart pounding in your chest as you watched his tongue dart out to lick a dab of melted chocolate off the edge of his thumb, darkened gaze locked on yours the whole time.

"See you then," he said, the low hum of his laughter stirring something that felt an awful lot like wings in the pit of your stomach, threatening to burst out of you and chase him down the corridor as you watched him walk away. 

It took you five whole minutes to find your way to your first class, despite the fact that he'd literally walked you to the door.

You were still in a bit of a daze when you'd strolled through the sliding gate several hours later, hair wild from a particularly humid session in Potions brewing your first-ever N.E.W.T. level Draught Of Living Death, a streak of dirt on your nose from wrangling a screaming mandrake into a fresh pot of soil in Herbology — at least, that's the excuse you'd told yourself when Sebastian caught you off guard in the middle of your rematch, knocking you off your feet with a well-timed Depulso that had absolutely nothing to do with the way his forearms flexed beneath his rolled-up sleeves.

The spell hit you directly in the stomach and had you gasping like you'd just been struck by a charging graphorn. You vaguely registered the clattering of a dropped wand against worn stone, and in the next moment, Sebastian was on his knees beside you, hands reaching out reflexively and then faltering in midair, like he wasn't sure what to do, whether he was allowed to touch you.

You'd laughed it off, relieved for that first rush of air back into your lungs, head swiveling to where he kneeled beside you, preparing to see a sheepish grin, a wincing apology made less effective by a triumphant, gloating smirk, but all you saw when you looked into the eyes of your best friend was sheer terror, and you knew in an instant where his mind had gone.

Sebastian's gaze flitted between your eyes and the place you'd been hit — the very same spot his Cruciatus Curse had struck you less than a year prior.

"Oh Sebastian, it's okay," you reassured him, wincing at the slight wheeze to your voice. "I'm fine, see? It wasn't anything like—"

Sebastian's lower lip trembled, and in the next moment you'd been pulled into a tight embrace, shaking in his arms as seismic sobs wracked his entire body, an endless chorus of I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please forgive me spilling from his lips.

You'd held him back just as tight, assuring him between gentle strokes of his hair that you'd long forgiven him, that you knew he didn't have a choice.

"But I did have a choice," he argued, pulling back to fix you with a red-rimmed scowl. "I led you down there. I insisted. I'm the one who got us into that impossible situation in the first place. I made so many terrible choices, and all that time I let myself believe it was worth it because I thought I was doing the right thing. But in the end, all I did was hurt the people I—" he faltered, swallowing around a sharp burst of nerves that only had half to do with the guilt welling up inside him.

"I've had all summer to relive what I did to you…to everyone," he whispered softly, haunted by ghosts both living and dead as he'd looked into your eyes.

It's the same way he looks at you now, desperate and pleading for forgiveness you've already granted him, absolution he still won't allow himself.

You know how much he regrets it, how deeply it haunts him, even now. You know he's changed, learned from his past mistakes, determined never to repeat them. You know you can trust him. So if Sebastian wants you to learn one of the Unforgivable Curses, then you have to trust that it must be for good reason.

"So you're telling me it's actually possible to fight against the Imperius Curse?" you ask, still wary, but, you'll begrudgingly admit, curiosity effectively piqued. "How in Merlin's name did you ever learn how to do that?"

Sebastian lets out a breath he'd likely been holding that entire time, some of the tension unraveling from his shoulders as his lips pull into a smile like he's relieved you're still standing here with him, eager to share in something new he's learned like it's just another trip to the Restricted Section.

"Well, as you may have noticed, our dear friend Ominis is not exactly thrilled about our choice of career," Sebastian starts, and you can't help the small smile that curls across your lips as a litany of passive aggressive comments about how he'd better not see the two of you anywhere near the Janus Thickey Ward when he starts his residency in June, comes flooding into your memory. Sebastian clocks your smile and his lips twitch into one of his own.

"Keeps lamenting about how he wishes we'd choose something less dangerous," he adds, rolling his eyes in a show of fond amusement. "But that if we absolutely must, then he'd rather we go in fully prepared for what's out there. I'd assumed he was just going to help us practice a few defensive spells, offer to teach us some of the healing charms he's been learning shadowing Nurse Blainey. Imagine my surprise when Ominis Gaunt, self-proclaimed opposer of anything to do with the Dark Arts, offers to teach me the ins and outs of the Imperius Curse."

That certainly does surprise you, helping to put whatever remains of your unsettled nerves at ease. You know Ominis would never agree, let alone be the one to suggest practicing dark magic unless he truly felt it would be beneficial, unless he truly believed Sebastian could be trusted with such a thing.

"We've been practicing nearly every night in the Undercroft for the past several weeks," Sebastian goes on to explain. "I'd have told you sooner, but I didn't want to risk subjecting you to such a spell until I'd grown comfortable using it myself, fighting against its effects. Now that I have…would you like to see how it's done?"

A frisson runs down your spine, and you're not entirely sure whether it's thrill, fear, or some strange combination of the two. You swallow, only trusting yourself to nod.

"Alright then, draw your wand," he instructs, taking a few tentative steps closer until he's standing right behind you, gentle hands wrapping around the wrist of your dominant hand and bringing it into the air alongside his own.

"We'll begin with the wand movements so you can establish muscle memory," he says, warm breath ghosting across the back of your neck as he speaks in a low, soothing voice, sending shivers that have nothing to do with the forbidden magic you're about to perform racing down the length of your spine.

Together, you aim for the opposite wall, following his directions as he speaks them aloud. Arc up…left…up at a sharp diagonal to the right…and then straight back down in a figure four.

After you've completed your first circuit, Sebastian takes a step back and allows you to practice a few more times on your own, making sure you've got the movements just right.

"Good," he says, sounding impressed, but not altogether surprised. "Perfect form, in fact."

You can't help the automatic smile that curves across your lips at his praise.

"Now to put it into practice," he prompts, drawing his own wand from the inside pocket of his cloak and turning round to face you.

"Do you trust me?" he asks softly, fixing you with a serious, almost pleading look, like if you answer no it's as good as casting Crucio.

"You know I do," you answer automatically. Because even though you're still a little nervous at the prospect of delving into darker forms of magic, there's no one you'd rather learn it from.

Sebastian's eyes crinkle in a grateful smile, before quickly shifting back to something more serious.

"Alright then," he says, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Prepare yourself, I'm going to cast it on you."

"I'm ready," you tell him, standing with your spine a little straighter, wand at your side.

"Imperio," he intones, wand flicking through the air in the pattern he'd just taught you.

The effect is instantaneous, a serene sort of blankness settling over your mind like you're floating through the clouds, a comfortable warmth akin to dozing off in front of the fireplace spreading throughout your entire body. Then, clear as a bell, you hear Sebastian's voice ring out inside your head, instructing you to walk over to your desk and bring him back an apple from the bowl set atop. Without even questioning it, you do so, legs moving of their own accord.

"Finite," he says as you come to a sudden stop in front of him, a bright red honeycrisp apple held out in offering in the palm of your hand. The floating high disappears instantly, leaving you feeling out of sorts, a little dazed as you stare down at the apple, almost as if you'd dreamed you'd gone to fetch it.

"How are you feeling? Are you alright?" he asks, checking you over like he's the one preparing for a Healer's career. "It can be a little overwhelming when you first experience it. Part of why I asked you to bring that," he adds, pointing down at the apple. "The sugars will help you recover."

Sebastian's always had a bit of a sweet tooth, but the sudden uptick in the sheer amount of sugar quills you'd seen stuck between his teeth as of late suddenly makes a lot more sense. Slowly, as though testing the bounds of being back in control of your own limbs, you lift the apple to your lips and take a small bite, mulling over his question.

"It was…strange," you decide, aware that's the biggest understatement of the century. "I know I should've been scared, but instead I felt oddly serene."

"That's what it does to you," Sebastian nods solemnly. "Lulls you into a false sense of security. Tricks your mind into complacency, like you're merely a vessel and someone else is steering the ship."

"I can see how it earned the name unforgivable," you agree with a grimace. "I reckon the only reason I'm not nearly as unnerved as I should be right now is because I knew you were the one casting it."

"That's exactly why I wanted to be the one to teach you," he says with renewed conviction. "In order to learn how to defend ourselves against it, it's important to practice with someone we trust."

"Which is why," he adds with a wry chuckle. "You're going to be the one casting it on me next."

Your lips part in surprise. Even though you knew it was coming, it still catches you off guard.

"Are— are you sure?" you ask warily.

"Course I am," he reassures you with a confident grin. "As I said, it's important to know what it feels like from both sides, understand the kind of power you wield."

You stare at him for a moment, mulling it over, and then give him a curt nod, taking a few steps back to allow enough room for a safe cast.

"Remember, you have to mean it," he reminds you, stowing his wand in his pocket and standing in front of you with his arms behind his back. "Concentrate. Think the command very clearly in your mind."

You take a deep breath as you square your shoulders, assume your stance, and raise your wand.

"Alright, I'm going to cast it," you tell him, giving him the same warning he'd granted you.

"I'm ready," he assures you in an echo of your words.

"Imperio," you say aloud, and a warm weight like you've just been handed the reins to the carriage of Helios himself settles into your dominant hand. The effect on your intended target is immediate, spine straightening as he stands to attention, an eerie green glow flickering to life in the heart of his warm brown eyes.

You nearly lose your nerve when you see it, an overwhelming, all-consuming realization that you're completely in control of another human being settling into the pit of your stomach like lead, terrified that one wrong move could potentially hurt your dearest friend. But then you remind yourself that he's the one who asked you to cast it on him, that you're learning this spell for a reason, and so you close your eyes and clear your mind, focusing on the task at hand.

Walk over to the desk and bring back one of Highwing's feathers, and then place it behind my ear, your own voice rings out inside your head, clear as crystal. You open your eyes in time to see Sebastian already on the move, watching with a kind of macabre fascination as he does exactly as you'd commanded.

"Finite," you say the moment you feel the quill gently slide into place behind your left ear — though at first you wonder whether you've done it right, when Sebastian doesn't immediately withdraw his hand, instead letting it linger to brush back a lock of hair and tuck it behind your ear to join the bright white feather. You're saved from worry when he clears his throat a moment later, the bridge of his nose dusted in a curious shade of pink.

"A perfect first cast," he tells you, and although you don't necessarily want to be proud that you'd gotten such a dark spell right on your very first try, you can't help but preen a little at his praise.

"Now, I want you to try it again, but this time, let's focus on recitation," he says, backing up a few paces and resuming his stance from before. "Think the words very clearly inside your mind and watch as they come spilling out of my mouth as though we were a living ventriloquist act," he quips, lips curling up in a wry smile.

Used to his rather dark sense of humor in light of things he should probably take a bit more seriously, you merely smirk and roll your eyes.

After another steadying breath, you lift your wand and cast it again, beginning with a simple, "Hi, my name is Sebastian Sallow, and I'm a seventh year Slytherin at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," watching in equal parts wonder and horror as he repeats every word you'd just been thinking in perfect recitation.

That's what an utterly ridiculous idea comes to you, and, curious to test the bounds of the enchantment beyond mere facts and figures, you instruct him to say something you know he never would of his own accord.

"Hello, I'm Sebastian Mallowsweet, and cockroach clusters are my favorite treat in all the world! I can't wait to buy a whole barrel from Honeydukes the next time I'm in Hogsmeade," Sebastian repeats in a bright, cheerful voice that makes you giggle so hard you nearly slip up and lose your hold on the spell, but not before you get him to add in a hearty, "Perhaps I'll share some with my best mate, Duncan Hobhouse, the bravest man I've ever known."

"Finite," you manage between poorly-stifled bouts of laughter.

"Oh, that's just cruel," Sebastian chides you with a playful scowl, shaking himself out of the enchantment.

"I'm not sure what's worse, the image of a whole barrel of cockroach clusters, or the idea of voluntarily spending time with Puffskein Dunkein," he adds with a sharper shudder toward the latter. "Rest assured I'll get you back for that heinous slander."

At this point you're a lost cause, laughing so hard it's like you've downed a dozen shots of giggle water, shoulders shaking as you struggle to regain composure. Try as he might, Sebastian can't even pretend to be cross with you, lips quirking up at the corners in a fond smile.

"It's a powerful feeling, isn't it?" he asks softly, giving you an appraising look, curious to see how you'll answer.

"Is it bad that I sort of enjoyed it?" you ask, wincing as though you've just admitted something wicked.

Sebastian studies you for a moment, choosing his next words very carefully.

"There's nothing wrong with the thrill that comes with learning a bit of forbidden magic," he says thoughtfully. "As long as you're responsible about how you use it."

"Some people learn that lesson through trial and error," he continues, lips twisting into a self-effacing frown. "And to some, it just comes naturally. Given that I am speaking to the person who had the chance to take one of the most powerful sources of magic known to wizardkind and keep it all to herself, but chose not to…I think it's safe to say you've more than proven yourself."

Your lips pull up in a small, grateful smile.

"And let's not forget one very important caveat: I gave you full permission to cast it on me and make me say whatever you wanted," he reminds you. "So let me ask you this: would you ever cast it on me without my consent?"

"Of course not!" you answer without hesitation, scandalized by the very thought.

"There you go," he says with a reassuring smile. "So, no, you're not a bad person for enjoying that little moment of power, because in the end, all you did was make a friend say something silly."

"But the kinds of people who usually wield this type of spell…well, let's just say their intentions aren't quite so whimsical," he says, grounding you back in a sharper reality, the chilling warning like a gust of wind through lantern light, reminding just how dark and twisted the path through the woods can be.

"Which is precisely why you're learning it," he says with bright conviction. "So you can understand the dangers of it, learn how to fight against it."

"Now, with your permission, I'm going to cast it again, and this time, I want you to try to break it, alright? Concentrate on channeling your own wants and needs, making your own voice louder than the one giving the commands."

You give him a firm nod of affirmation, wand held steady at your side.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Ready," you reply.

Sebastian raises his wand.

You brace yourself for it this time, try to shake yourself out of the fog the moment it hits. Just before you slip under, you see Sebastian's lips curl upward in a mischievous smirk, dark eyes glinting with mirth. It doesn't take long for you to figure out why, when, true to his promise to get you back for your little cockroach clusters prank, the words, "Sebastian Sallow is the best in our year — a dueling champion, clever as Merlin, graceful as a phoenix on the wind," come tumbling out of your mouth without your approval.

You concentrate all your effort on trying to break his hold on you, your own voice snorting with laughter inside your head as you recall that first day in Defence Against The Dark Arts when you'd knocked that cocky little smirk clean off his face with a single blow. Dueling champion, my arse.

That little burst of your own laughter grounds you, gives you clarity, strengthens your resolve to push back against the commanding voice inside your head, until you feel the curse's hold on you start to weaken, little by little, like the steady tick tick tick of an unlocking charm, before all the right tumblers and springs click into place.

Spell broken, you decide that the best way to get Sebastian back is to take his own ostentatious accolades a step further, hand over your heart as you pretend to swoon, sighing, "Devilishly charming, too. I would gladly spend hours charting constellations in the freckles that adorn his handsome face."

"With my lips," you add with a salacious wink to really drive it home, delighting in the way his whole face goes up in flames, burning brighter than a Confringo blast.

(The fact that it's all true is irrelevant. The point of the thing is to tease him, and judging by the stupefied look on his face, you've succeeded.)

"I—" Sebastian falters, embarrassingly breathless. "Hang on, I didn't tell you to say any of that!"

"That's right!" you exclaim, doubled over laughing for the second time in as many minutes. "I'd already broken your hold on me, that was me having a lark," you tell him, beaming with pride.

Sebastian looks relieved and disappointed all at once.

"That's…that's amazing," he manages. "Broke free from the enchantment on your very first try. You really are something special, you know that?"

You sweep into a low, theatrical bow like a performer on a stage, lips curving up in a smile when he snorts with laughter.

"Alright now, don't get cocky," he chides with a playful roll of his eyes. "While that was excellent for a first try, I still managed to get in a few commands before you broke the enchantment. So, we're going to keep practicing until you're able to completely throw it off from the get-go, alright?"

"Yes, professor," you tease him, stifling one last bout of giggles as he levels you with an admonishing arch of his eyebrow, though the fond upturn of his lips gives him away.

"Cheeky," he chuckles, shaking his head.

You can't help but stick your tongue out at him, further proving his point.

"Now, as you'll have no doubt noticed, fighting off verbal vs. physical commands requires different levels of concentration and technique," he continues, assuming a professorial stance in spite of (or perhaps, unconsciously, because of) your playful commentary. "One is merely a matter of holding your tongue, but it's a different game entirely having to fight for control over the entire rest of your body."

"With that said, I'm going to cast it again," he warns, wand at the ready. "And this time, I want you to practice fighting against a physical command."

"Ready?" he asks, checking in one last time.

"Ready," you nod, back straight as you prepare for the incantation.

"Imperio," he says, and in an instant, that same serene blankness creeps in, only this time, it's like you can make out distinct shapes in the fog, growing clearer and clearer the harder you focus, the more you ground yourself, holding fast to your own thoughts, your own feelings, your own desires.

His task is simple — button his cloak and straighten his tie.

You feel your feet start to move toward him, hands raising to complete the command, when—

No, your own voice rings out, loud and clear. I don't want to do that.

Your hands settle over the front of his cloak, pausing as they inch closer to the open clasp.

Button my cloak and straighten my tie, Sebastian's voice calls out again, more insistent this time. But the voice that answers — your voice — is so much louder and stronger.

No, you stand your ground, snapping back with a triumphant laugh. No, I really don't think I will.

In fact, that's the last thing I want to do right now, you muse, lips curving upward in a cheeky grin.

A heady rush of defiance and determination surges through your veins, lighting up all your nerve endings like a live wire, and in your eagerness to rebel against the enchantment, you end up doing the complete opposite of Sebastian's request, hands sliding under the fabric of his cloak and slipping it off of his shoulders in one swift, fluid sweep, silk-lined wool pooling at his feet as you dive straight for his necktie, making a fine mess of the striped emerald and silver satin in your eager attempts to loosen it, fingers curling around smooth silk and giving it a gentle tug to urge him closer, unraveling until it's completely come undone, spilling into the hood of his cloak.

You can't help but notice how pretty and pale his throat looks beneath it, adam's apple straining with each swallow, caught on the edge of a soft, stuttered groan as you slide your hands up the length of his chest, fingertips dancing across the back of his neck and threading through the soft chestnut curls at his nape. Your eyes follow the movement with a needy, yearning kind of hunger, consumed by the thought of how much prettier it would look littered with pink and purple bruises in the shape of your lips.

A sharp intake of breath sends your senses into overdrive, head swimming in an intoxicating blend of spearmint and strawberry sugar quills lingering on the edge of his lips and the tip of his tongue, and suddenly all you can focus on is how badly you want to taste it. The words kiss me ring out inside your head, desperate and longing, and for a moment, you can't tell whether it's his voice or your own imagination, caught up in a fantasy you've been playing out inside your head for the past two and a half years.

Whatever remains of the enchantment's hold on you is immediately withdrawn, sobriety washing back over you like a sudden plunge into a freezing lake, stumbling forward as Sebastian takes a few cautionary steps back. Instinctively, he reaches out to steady you, gentle hands prying yours from around the collar of his button-up shirt. He holds them there between the two of you for a moment, and then slowly glances down, letting out a small gasp when he realizes he's touching you, and immediately pulls away like he's just been burned.

He looks at you like he's afraid of you, eyes wide with panic and shame, a fiery red heat blossoming in the hollows of his cheeks.

For a moment, you're terrified you've crossed some sort of line, turned his stomach with the regret of having to eat his own words, all that lavish praise he'd bestowed upon you, all those gallant notions of a natural proclivity for responsibility, moral compass thrown off course by the magnet that always seems to pull you toward him.

Your mind reels as you struggle to process what just happened, one little moment changing the course of everything in the space of a few seconds. It all happened so fast — one minute you were fighting against the enchantment, and the next, your hands were in his hair, all sense lost to everything but how soft it felt beneath your fingertips, swept up in the way those warm brown eyes fixed on yours like he burned for you, sunlit warmth and dulcet sugar ghosting across your lips with each breath, and suddenly all you could think about was how desperately you wanted to kiss him, so focused on channeling your own thoughts and feelings into a shield to defend yourself against the curse, you unwittingly summoned everything you've ever wanted to the surface, all those long-held desires you've tried so hard to keep buried, unearthed.

You open your mouth to apologize for getting carried away, scrambling to come up with a reasonable explanation that doesn't involve spilling your deepest secrets, pouring your heart out to the man who's held it captive for years, hoping like hell the connection severed before he heard those stupid little words ring out inside your head, that you haven't completely ruined your friendship — but before you get the chance, he's the one who starts talking, a litany of apologies falling from his lips at a dizzying speed, promising you that he would never, ever use Imperio to make you kiss him of all things, begging you to trust him.

You blink in surprise. What's he on about? Of course you trust him. That was never in question. He's mischievous, certainly, a silver-tongued charmer when he wants to get his way, but you know he would never do anything as villainous as use potions or spells to try to get someone to…to…

Oh.

So you hadn't imagined it, then. 

His thoughts. His words. His voice. Wrapped so sweetly around those two little words.

Kiss me.

Not a command, but a subconscious desire, just like yours. 

Sebastian wanted you to kiss him.

A mad, blissful smile spreads across your face, heart pounding in your throat as it threatens to leap right out of your chest. Your lips part, willing the right words to come, to assure him it's more than alright, but his anxious steamrolling doesn't give you the chance.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian cries, agonized. "I'm so sorry. You have to believe me, I would never take advantage of you like that. I swear to you it wasn't intentional, I just got carried away in the moment and it sort of slipped out. Beautiful girl tugging at my clothes like that, soft hands running through my hair, the way your eyes sort of burned when you looked at me, I—"

His expression softens to something you'd dare call smitten, lips curving upward in a big, goofy grin as he plays it back, and then quickly shakes his head, admonishing himself.

"Merlin, there I go again," he sighs, wincing in embarrassment as he chances a glance at you, an earnest longing burning in his eyes that makes your heart ache with the need to reach out and touch him. "I've tried so hard for so long to keep my feelings in check, because I know you don't feel the same way, and the last thing I want to do is jeopardize our friendship, so I—"

You're certain the end of that sentence would've been lovely and heartfelt, but you'll never know for sure, the rest of his words swallowed in a soft, surprised oh as you rush forward, closing the distance between you and pressing your lips against his. It's soft and small and tentative, hands gently cradling the sides of his face to keep you both steady, but when you pull back a moment later, Sebastian looks at you like he's just been Confunded, his face an adorable blend between shocked and hopeful, sun-kissed freckles spilling into the curves of his dimples as his lips curve into a bright, blissful smile.

And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it's gone, replaced by apprehension and disbelief.

"Wait," Sebastian falters, holding you back at arm's length and looking you over with the same care and consideration he'd shown the first time he cast the curse on you, concern etched into his narrowed eyebrows. "Are you still under my spell?"

You can't help the smirk that curls across your lips at his choice of wording.

"In a manner of speaking," you reply, sly smile turning soft as you reassure him, "but not in the way you're thinking."

Sebastian blinks at you, confused.

"Then why would you…do that?" he asks, like he genuinely can't believe you'd kiss him of your own accord.

"Because I wanted to," you tell him, and the weight of it makes you laugh like you're about to cry. "I've wanted to kiss you for so long, Sebastian, you have no idea."

Sebastian's breath comes out in a sharp burst, redolent of that same euphoric laughter bubbling up inside your chest.

"How long?" he asks.

"Since you took the fall for me that night we got caught sneaking into the Restricted Section," you tell him, smiling fondly at the memory.

"The first time, that is," you add with a wry chuckle.

Sebastian lets out a disbelieving laugh, raking a hand through his hair and grinning at you like he would gladly go back and do it all over again.

"And you?" you ask tentatively, hardly daring to believe this is actually happening.

Sebastian's lips pull up into a playful smile.

"About five seconds after you knocked me on my arse during our first duel."

Now it's your turn to let out a surprised laugh. All that time you spent thinking your feelings were one-sided, and he's the one who fell first.

"It took you five whole seconds?" you tease, slipping easily back into your usual banter, reveling in the fact that you can freely flirt with him now.

Sebastian snorts with laughter.

"Yes, well…if you'll recall, I was rather stupid back then," he heaves a dramatic sigh. "After all, it took me two and half years to finally work up the nerve to kiss you."

"I'm the one who kissed you," you remind him, quirking an amused eyebrow at him.

"Ah, still besting me, I see," he chuckles, warm breath ghosting across your lips as he takes a step closer.

"Oh, but I wonder…do I still have the power to knock you on your arse?" you tease in a soft, low murmur.

His eyes do a slow, deliberate sweep down to your lips, tongue darting out to lick his own in anticipation, before slowly trailing back up to meet your eyes.

"Every time you smile at me," he replies with a cheeky smirk.

"You charming bastard," you chide him, laughter swallowed up in another kiss as he leans forward to press his lips against yours.

"Mmm, that reminds me," Sebastian murmurs in between stolen kisses, smiling against your lips as you let out a needy whimper, already addicted to the way he tastes.

"So, earlier…when you called me devilishly charming and told me you wanted to — what was it — chart constellations in the freckles that adorn my handsome face…you really meant that?" he teases, positively beaming.

The look on his face is so smug, you're torn between wanting to knock him on his arse again, and wanting to kiss the stupid smirk right off his stupid, handsome face. (Though you already know which one is going to win out.)

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh. "Yes, I think you're handsome and charming—"

"Devilishly so."

"Yes, yes, you absolute menace. I think we've well and truly established that I like you," you wave him off, rolling your eyes in fond amusement. "Now, shut up and kiss me."

Sebastian chuckles under his breath and starts to lean forward, stopping just short of your lips, making you let out another impatient whine.

"Just one more thing," he says, remnants of mint and sugar ghosting across your lips as he leans in close, voice dropping to a low, prowling murmur. "You are, without a doubt, the most breathtakingly beautiful person on the face of this earth, and I consider it a goddamn tragedy worse than the falling out of the founders that I've gone this long without the pleasure of reminding you every single day from the moment we met."

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, spellbound by his words, heart aching to leap right out of your throat and build a home inside his chest right next to his own, and then you're rushing forward, closing that hairsbreadth distance that might as well be the space between two mountains, crashing your lips against his and kissing him senseless.

Your hands are everywhere, tugging at his shirt, threading through his hair, pulling him as close as possible. So lost in the intoxicating touch and taste of him that you don't realize you've been steadily moving backwards until your backside collides with the sharp corner of your desk. You let out a startled gasp that quickly turns to laughter, head lolling against Sebastian's shoulder as your own shake with self-effacing mirth.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern akin to a battle with an ashwinder and not a piece of inanimate furniture. You manage a small nod through your laughter.

"Damn desk, bruising my girl," Sebastian scowls, the words my girl sending a thrill like a bolt of lightning right through you.

You let out a surprised giggle as he picks you up and gently places you on top of the desk, settling between your thighs.

"The only kind of marks you should ever have on you are the ones from my lips," he whispers in between soft, slow, teasing kisses up the length of your neck, sucking a bruise against your pulse point that has you curling your fingers through his hair and moaning his name.

"Always hoped I'd hear you say my name like that," he murmurs in a deep, rumbling growl you can feel thrumming between your ribs like thunder.

Eager to return the favor, you thread your fingers through his hair and give him a gentle yet insistent tug, delighting in the way it elicits a rough, guttural moan in the back of his throat, pulse point jumping beneath your touch as you run your tongue along the curve of his adam's apple.

You're fairly certain one of the buttons goes rolling off under the desk as you tear open his shirt and splay your hands across his chest, pleased to find a whole new canvas of well-earned muscle teeming with sun-kissed freckled dotted between soft patches of chestnut hair, uncharted territory just begging to be mapped out with your lips.

By contrast, Sebastian is equal parts gentle and nervous. Clumsy, trembling fingers work the buttons of your blouse and the lacings of your bra until you're completely bare before him, the flowing fabric of your sleeves hanging loosely off your shoulders. For several long moments, all he can seem to do is stare at you like you're a miracle made real, licking his lips in anticipation as his eyes rake across your breasts.

Sebastian's gaze flickers up to yours, a silent plea. You let out a soft breath, nodding eagerly. In the next second, he's pressed in close again, warm hands skimming up the length of your torso before gently settling under the swell of your breasts, holding you like you're a precious artefact, pleasure sparking low in your core as hard-earned callouses graze across your nipples with a perfect texture.

Sebastian lets out a soft hum as he feels them pebble against the palm of his hand, eyebrows arching in a kind of curious fascination as he glances down at his own hands like he's just performed a spectacular bit of magic. Freckled cheeks curve into an eager smile as he ducks his head down, pressing a series of tentative, exploring kisses from the soft slope of your breasts down to the pale peaks of your nipples, taking one of them into his mouth and applying the gentlest bit of suction as he swipes his tongue across the sensitive bud, grinning in triumph as you let out a lurid moan and arch into his touch.

He pockets that bit of very useful information for later as he slowly makes his way back up toward your lips, eager to kiss you again, peppering fevered kisses across your collarbones and up the length of your neck, not wanting to miss a single inch of skin. Within seconds, he's captured your lips in a searing kiss, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gently cradling your cheek as he kisses you breathless, groaning into your mouth as you pull him flush against you, soft breasts pressed against the hard plane of his chest, heathered skirt hiked up around your hips as he cages you in.

Sebastian's rapidly growing hardness is an insistent pressure between your thighs, sparking your own arousal in a pleasant ache that pulses through your core with each touch. In an effort to get even closer to you, Sebastian shifts, and the head of his cock inadvertently grinds between the gusset of your underwear, sending shock waves of pleasure that have you gasping into his mouth, white-knuckling the sleeves of his shirt.

You can't take it anymore. It's too much and not nearly enough all at once. You need more of him. You need all of him.

"Sebastian," you sigh, breathless between kisses. "Do you— do you have protection?"

"Protection?" Sebastian pulls back to look at you, eyebrows arched in a look of adorable confusion. 

"From what? I doubt anything will attack us while we're in—" he stutters as the tip of your finger curls into the waistband of his trousers and gives a suggestive tug forward.

"Oh," Sebastian's eyebrows jump in surprise.

"Unless you don't want—" you immediately pull back, feeling foolish.

"Oh, I want," he insists, drawing you back toward him, voice rough and pleading with exactly how much he wants. "I was just caught off guard. I wasn't expecting—"

Sebastian falters, nerves ramping up again.

"You have to know, when I asked you to come out with me tonight, I wasn't expecting any of this."

"I know you weren't," you reassure him with soft, gentle strokes through his hair. "I trust you, remember?"

Sebastian nods, breathing out on a sigh of relief.

"But, yeah…if you're asking me to be honest…stick a pin in trying to be a gentleman," he lets out a sheepish laugh, one of his hands coming up to attack a phantom itch on the back of his neck. "Then the answer is a resounding, embarrassingly keen yes. I very much want to."

"I do too," you admit with a shy giggle, fingers curling under the collar of his shirt to draw him in for another, softer kiss.

The moment the words leave your mouth, two small crystal phials appear next to you on the desk, labeled in pristine print across each side: infecunditatem temporalis, XXIV h. — temporary infertility, lasting twenty-four hours.

The two of you stare down at them for a moment, blinking in surprise, and then slowly pick them up.

"Well, that's handy," Sebastian remarks with a breathless laugh. "This room really does think of everything."

"Cheers," you murmur softly, instinctually linking arms the same way you've always done for every shot of Firewhisky and post-match Butterbeer toast, before downing your respective phials in one swig.

You set them back down on top of the desk and glance up at one another, suddenly nervous.

"I've never done this before…have you?" you ask, not entirely sure you want to know the answer. You've always been exceptionally close, but you doubt he's told you everything.

"Ah well, you know me…" Sebastian starts with a cocky upturn of his lips, and then immediately deflates, letting out a long, slow, defeated sigh. He knows he'd never be able to lie to you, but a part of him momentarily considers whether he should, irrational fear mingling with a deep-seated insecurity that you'll be put off when you find out he has no idea what he's doing. He's researched, of course. Extensively. But it's not like he's ever put it into practice.

"No," he sighs, admitting it like it's some kind of flaw. "Most I've ever done is kiss someone…and that was back in fourth year…on a dare."

He doesn't miss the way your shoulders relax, relief in the form of a small smile curling across your lips, and suddenly he's very glad he never did anything for the sake of just getting it over with, rebounding his hopeless feelings with some faceless stranger wishing it was you, giddy with a heady mix of nerves and excitement that he'll get to be your first.

And if he's very, very lucky, your only.

"And since?" you nudge, keen to hear him say it.

Sebastian's lips quirk up in a playful grin.

"There's only one person I've wanted to kiss since then," he says, leaning forward to capture your lips in a slow, deep kiss.

"Only one person I've imagined lain on their back as I fall to my knees and bury my lips between their thighs," Sebastian confesses in a low, hungry growl, punctuating each word with a searing kiss as he slowly works his way down the length of your body, mouthing at your neck, between your breasts, across the ticklish plane of your stomach, until he's on his knees in front of you, gazing up at you like you're a brand new constellation in a starless night sky.

"You've no idea how badly I've been longing for a view like this," he says with an appreciative groan, kissing a hungry trail up your inner thighs. "Makes the view from the top of the Astronomy Tower look rather dull by comparison."

You can't help the blissful laugh that escapes you, legs trembling beneath his eager lips. Sebastian pauses his ministrations to look up at you, eyebrows arching in lighthearted indignation.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I say something funny?" he admonishes, nipping playfully at your inner thigh and making you let out a sharp peal of laughter.

"No, it's just…oh, please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm just…pleasantly surprised, is all," you giggle.

"Whatever for?" he asks, rising back up to meet you. You throw your arms around his shoulders and pull him close, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

"You hear stories…about men who absolutely refuse to do that sort of thing, yet seem to expect it from their partners," you explain, thinking back to all those hushed conversations you'd overheard in the girls' lavatories, whispered in the dark before bedtime. "I suppose a part of me has always wondered whether you'd be the same. More of a taker than a giver in the bedroom."

Sebastian leans back to look at you, lips pulling into a frown.

"On the one hand, I'm insulted you think I'd do anything short of worship you," he says, diving back in to press a series of hungry kisses up the length of your neck that have you shaking in anticipation of such a promise.

"But on the other," he counters, pulling back to fix you with a teasing smirk. "It's nice to know you've spent a great deal of time thinking about what I'd be like in the bedroom."

A carmine blush creeps across your cheeks as you remember all the times you'd done far more than just think about him, careful to draw your curtains and cast a silencing charm so no one would hear you when you called out his name.

If only he knew…

…come morning, you'll make certain he does.

"Speaking of which—" Sebastian prompts, eyes darting around the room with an appraising frown, before landing on the desktop underneath you, broken quills and crumpled sheets of parchment hastily shoved aside to make room for your — ahem, more amorous ventures.

"This room might be fine for study and spellwork, but it's not the most romantic of places. I can fix that," he says, giving you a wry smile as he offers you his hand and helps you down from the desk.

"Just close my eyes and picture what I want, yeah?" he asks, looking to you for reassurance. You nod in encouragement, slipping your fingers between his and giving the palm of his hand an affectionate squeeze.

Sebastian closes his eyes and concentrates, summoning two and a half years' worth of fantasies to the forefront of his mind. A moment later, there's a soft grind of stone, and the two of you glance up in time to see a marble statue of an owl that's always sat in the alcove between the grasslands and the coastal vivarium twisting into an invisible recess in the floor, revealing a brand new corridor in its wake.

You let out a startled laugh as Sebastian scoops you up into his arms and carries you down the corridor, lulled by the excited thrum of his heartbeat as you bury your face into his chest and wrap your arms around his neck. In just a few short strides, you arrive at the end of the hallway, where a handsome set of oak doors adorned with elegant swirling filigree in blossoming flowers and twisting vines, crescent moons and little stars, springs to life like fast-growing ivy. 

You reach out to turn the handle, and for a moment, you're plunged into total darkness, the room beyond an unfinished painting, transforming before your very eyes the moment the two of you step inside, polished floorboards rippling into place like piano keys playing an arpeggio, walls and ceiling a patchwork puzzle as they slowly piece themselves together.

Brushstrokes in deep ocean blues and dark verdant greens turn the heart of the Forbidden Forest under a midnight sky into a painter's palette, dozens of paper lanterns lit by softly flickering candlelight floating all around you like fireflies, bathing the room in hazy hues of silver and gold as they mingle with the light of the crescent moon trickling down from up above, ceiling enchanted to look as though it opens out onto the heavens, night sky glittering with thousands of shooting stars. 

A trail of your favorite flower petals leads to a cozy alcove bed cradled between two recessed bookshelves brimming with pristine leather-bounds the two of you will no doubt spend hours perusing at leisure, gossamer curtains woven with intricate stars and crescent moons spilling down across the silken sheets.

The gentle cadence of rainfall taps its fingertips against the glass of an ornate three-paned window set just above the bed, painted in a perfect replica of the sprawling landscapes from the hidden corridor he'd shown you earlier in the night, while a crackling fireplace dances merrily in the heart of a cozy reading nook complete with two plush armchairs tucked together side by side.

Sebastian lets out a contented hum as the last little details of the room settle into place, glancing down to gauge your reaction, eager to know what you think.

"Oh, Sebastian," you whisper as you gaze around the room, candlelight dancing like flecks of gold in your eyes. "It's beautiful."

Sebastian beams. Of all the times you managed to leave him utterly spellbound tonight, it's a point of pride to finally be able to elicit the same response from you.

"Trust I've been dreaming of the perfect place to be romantic with you for quite some time," he murmurs, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against your cheek.

You gaze up at him adoringly and lean up to kiss him, butterflies taking flight in your stomach when you feel the hard press of his uncontainable smile against your lips.

"Now, where were we?" he whispers, whisking you away to the cozy alcove bed at the heart of the room and gently setting you down at its edge between the star-strewn curtains.

As though he can't stand to be parted from you for a second longer, Sebastian sweeps forward to capture your lips in another breath-stealing kiss, gentle hands sliding across the curve of your jaw to thread through the hair at the back of your neck, cradling the back of your head as he kisses you slowly, deeply, savoring every second.

He takes his time peeling off the layers of your clothing, unwrapping you like a gift, hands sliding between bare skin and soft cotton until your blouse comes spilling off your shoulders to pool around your waist, eager lips following its trajectory as he presses a series of adoring kisses down the column of your throat, tongue darting out to smooth across the tender, claiming bruise he'd left on your pulse point, smirking at the way it jumps beneath his touch, gently palming at your breasts as he makes his slow descent.

Where before he'd allowed himself a small taste, this time Sebastian indulges, falling to his knees and burying his face between your breasts, pressing lavish kisses in time to the beat of your heart, before taking the nipple he hadn't had the pleasure of tasting earlier into his mouth and applying a gentle suction, delighting in the way it elicits the same sinful response from you as it did before.

Not wanting to neglect either of them, Sebastian tries to mimic the same technique on the one not currently occupied by his mouth with his fingers, gently kneading the pebbled peak between his thumb and index finger. Clearly it's the right move, because the moment he does both in tandem, you let out a sharp gasp, arching your back in an effort to get even closer to him, fingers curling around the sleeves of his shirt and gripping tight.

Sebastian chuckles, a low rumbling laugh that vibrates like a crackle of thunder inside your chest as he worships every delectable detail of your breasts, until a series of pink and purple bruises in the shape of his lips starts to blossom across your skin. The sight of it stirs something primal inside him, little reminders lasting well beyond tonight that let everyone know you're his.

Sebastian would gladly spend the rest of his days buried between your breasts, but the curious, insatiable, thrill-seeking side of him is eager to keep exploring, map out every inch of your body with his hands, lips, and tongue until he's memorized every single way you love to be touched, keen to know what other addictive sounds he can get you to make.

He presses a trail of kisses down your torso, smiling when you giggle and squirm beneath him as his lips tickle the curves of your stomach, pausing when he reaches the waistline of your skirt.

"Lay back, darling. Let me take care of you," he insists in a low whisper, sending heat like an inferno straight to your core. You do as he asks, hair fanning out across the sheets, a cool press of silk against your fevered skin.

Deft fingers carefully work the buttons at your waist, unraveling your wrap-around skirt until it's laid out flat beneath you. Hands shaking from a mess of excitement and nerves, Sebastian carefully hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your knickers and slowly slides them down your legs, breath hitching when you tilt your hips to help ease them off, giving him a glimpse of your backside.

"Fuck, you're stunning," he says with a wrecked, desperate groan that has you blushing like you've just downed a shot of Firewhisky, laid bare beneath his hungry gaze as he takes a moment to drink you in.

"Can I touch you?" he asks in a quiet, almost pleading voice.

"Please," you tell him, just as desperate.

Nervous, gentle hands slide up along the outside of your thighs, smoothing over the curves of your hips before settling in the space between, breathing out on a soft, stuttered gasp as his fingers thread through the soft patch of curls at the apex of your thighs.

He skims a finger featherlight along the seam of your lips, testing the waters before delving deeper, a low groan rumbling in the back of his throat when he feels how wet you already are for him. Heat pools low in your belly as he slides between your folds in an achingly slow tease, sending shivers like shock waves rolling down the length of your spine, working you into a frenzy as careful, calloused fingers graze your clit.

Once he's satisfied you're ready to take him, fingers coated in your slick, Sebastian slips down to rub teasing circles against your entrance, driving you to the point of madness, canting your hips with soft little whines, until finally, he relents, slowly sliding his ring and middle fingers inside you and curling them in a come hither motion that has you gasping and writhing above him.

"Is this— is this alright?" he asks, concern bleeding through breathless exhilaration.

"It feels amazing, Seb," you manage, your words barely more than a stuttered moan as his fingers twitch inside you. "Please don't stop touching me."

Your soft gasps and moans guide him to where he needs to go, thumb rubbing heady circles against your clit as his fingers curl in that blissful breath-stuttering way inside you. He works you into a maddening frenzy, pressure slowly building like an arrow being drawn across a bowstring, and Sebastian can't help but let out a low groan each time you flutter and tighten around him. If this is how incredible you feel against his fingers, he can't even imagine how amazing you're going to feel around his cock. Though that particular pleasure will have to wait just a little bit longer, because Sebastian isn't anywhere near finished with you yet.

You let out a needy whine as that delicious pressure suddenly disappears, only to be replaced by a sharp burst of breathless laughter as Sebastian grabs a handful of your backside and hauls you closer to the edge of the bed, coaxing your legs over his shoulders as he buries his face between your thighs.

"Forgive me, darling, but I need to taste you," he groans, tongue darting out to delve between your folds.

"Sebastian," you cry out as a burst of pleasure sparks through you, hands fisting in the sheets. Sebastian lets out another loud moan as you call out his name, tongue gliding down to lick at your entrance, burying himself deep enough to taste your pleasure at the back of his throat, before sweeping back up to capture your clit in a blissful blend of gentle suction and the sinful swirl of his tongue.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his fingers back inside you, curling them against that sweet spot deep within you, lips and tongue working in perfect tandem to worship your clit with the same eager attention he'd given your breasts.

You've never felt so feral in all your life, hands clutching at the sheets as you writhe above him like a wild animal in heat, Sebastian's name spilling from your lips in a flurry of sighs and soft, keening moans. With a contented hum, Sebastian reaches up to gently pry your fingers from the bedspread, lacing his own through yours and giving the palm of your hand an affectionate three-pulse squeeze, encouraging you to hold fast to him instead, not wanting to miss a single detail of just how wild he makes you.

Your other hand follows suit, seeking him out, chestnut curls even softer than the silk sheets as you curl your fingers through his hair and give him an insistent tug, and oh, he really likes it when you're a little rough with him, so desperate and needy for his touch that all you can think to do in that moment is pull him even closer, the low, throaty moans he makes every time you do only serving to heighten your pleasure as they vibrate through your core like rolls of thunder.

He brings you crashing over the edge, wrecked and breathless as you call out his name, begging him between stuttered sighs that you need him to be inside you, now.

Sebastian lets out a soft, blissful breath as he presses a few more kisses to your inner thighs, and then slowly rises to his feet, gaze locked on yours as he swipes the pad of his thumb across his lower lip, tongue darting out to lick the last of your release. The sight is obscene, riling up a primal pride deep within you that only makes you want him even more.

You sit perched on the edge of the bed, reaching up to slide his button-up shirt off his shoulders and running your hands down the length of his torso, soft curves over hard-earned muscle, freckles scattered amidst soft patches of chestnut hair like a star-strewn sky through a forest canopy, pausing to take a steadying breath as you reach the waistband of his trousers. Hands trembling from a mix of nerves and excitement, you carefully work the buttons to relieve him of his trousers, the last layer of clothing left between you.

You take a moment to drink him in, eyes raking down the length of his body in hungry appraisal, letting out a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his generous length, before slowly sweeping back up to meet his gaze again, thrill and desire outweighing any apprehension over his intimidating size. You understand now how he must have felt when he first saw you — every inch of him is absolutely stunning.

You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss, sending the two of you tumbling backward against the pillows, giggling and grinning as you cling to one another. Sebastian kisses you, soft and slow, his body a warm, comforting weight as he settles between your thighs, hovering above you. The two of you breathe in on a stuttered gasp as he takes himself in hand and slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating himself in a combination of his saliva and your release, hesitating as he lines himself up with your entrance.

"Ready?" he asks with a steadying breath, heated gaze locked on yours.

"Ready," you answer, just as breathless as you tilt your hips in invitation.

With a broken, blissed out moan, Sebastian slowly sinks inside, stuttered breaths ghosting across your lips as he closes his eyes and presses his forehead against your own, hips stilling the moment he hears your soft gasp from underneath him.

"How're you feeling, love? Are you alright?" he asks with an edge of panic to his voice, terrified at the thought of hurting you. He keeps still as a statue, giving you a moment to adjust to the sheer size of him.

It's indescribable — the most incredible pressure, a pleasant ache like kneading sore muscles, building and unraveling tension all at once; a feeling of fullness after a life spent starving; a kind of magic even more timeless and powerful than the rarity thrumming through your veins, wonderstruck by how perfectly he fits inside you, like the two of you were made for each other.

"More than alright," you reassure him with a breathless, euphoric laugh. "I feel amazing."

Sebastian lets out a sigh of relief.

"Merlin, that's one word for it," he breathes out on a blissful laugh, eyes rolling back at how amazing you feel wrapped around him. "You're perfect."

He leans down to kiss you, soft and slow and sweet.

"I'm going to start moving now…is that alright?" he asks after a few quiet moments, voice straining like it's been torture holding back.

"Please," you sigh, coaxing him closer as you wrap your legs around the small of his back.

Sebastian sets a slow and steady pace, achingly tender as his hips rock against yours in long, languid thrusts, pressing soft little kisses to your cheeks and the corners of your lips as he moves above you, whispering between kisses how beautiful and breathtaking you are. He's careful and controlled, each move dulcet and deliberate like a slow dance between the sheets, determined to make this perfect for you, determined to get it just right, because it has to be. Because this is you, and you are everything.

He's been dreaming of this moment for years, and a part of him still can't believe it's really happening, that he actually gets to be with you. He's spent the better part of the last two and half years convincing himself you'd never feel the same, that he was lucky just to call you his friend, selfish to want more, that he didn't deserve you…though that never stopped him desperately wanting you all the same.

He understands now why they call it lovesick — feverish blush prickling at his skin, heart beating like a staccato as he moves above you, hands trembling as they gently cradle the back of your head and draw you in for a slow, sweet kiss. It's all-consuming, burning through him in equal measures of fiery fervor and glowing embers, like he's just swallowed an Incendio charm. Incurable — though this is one life sentence he'll gladly serve.

It's overwhelming how amazing you feel wrapped around him, soft hands threading through his hair and tugging ever so gently, legs locked around his hips to keep him anchored in your depths, shallow gasps and stuttered ohs whispered in between soft sighs in the shape of his name as you gaze up at him like he is everything to you. 

It would be all too easy for him to lose himself in the euphoria of finally getting to be with you, and Merlin, he wants to.

He wants all of you. It's like he can't get close enough, a primal hunger to fuse himself with you, body and soul, bury himself inside you like treasure, climb inside your chest and build a home inside your heart, dive down to your depths and spill all his secrets inside you, long-held confessions of how deeply he's fallen for you.

The words bubble up inside his chest like steam inside of a screaming tea kettle, burning his throat as years worth of messy, nerve-addled feelings threaten to spill past his lips. He wants to kiss the words into your skin, knit his love so deep within you, you feel it in your bones, with each pulse of your heart, his name a subliminal sigh with each breath you take, until you're inextricably woven together, until he's an irrevocable part of you, just as you are for him. 

He aches for you to be his, because he's so desperately yours. He'd shout it from the top of the Astronomy Tower, from the stars themselves, if he could.

But if he does…he's afraid you might actually hear him. And Sebastian can't have that. He can't let you know the true depth of his feelings. Not yet. It's too soon, too much for something so fragile and new. He knows he can be a little intense, a little overwhelming. When Sebastian loves, it's fierce and unwavering, and as much as he wants to tell you, show you, how deeply he loves you, he's afraid the intensity of his feelings will drive you away.

He supposes that's one of the many reasons he's always been so drawn to more fiery forms of magic. After all, they're just like him. Fervent. Insatiable. Incendiary. Kindred — kindling — spirits. Cast with the best intentions — to protect and keep warm — but one wrong move, too much, and it becomes dangerous, destructive.

Sebastian has spent his whole life being told as much — that he's too much. Overzealous. Unrelenting. Reckless. Doesn't know when to stop. Breaks everything he touches. Loses everyone he loves. 

He can't lose you too.

He's a wildfire, and you— you're a forest teeming with birdsong and greenery, and he's terrified that with one wrong move he'll burn you to the ground, when all he wants to do is keep you warm.

So he holds himself back, concentrates all his efforts into taking it slow, swallowing a symphony of lovesick confessions and pouring the softest version of his love into every touch, determined to make this perfect for you, determined to get this just right. Because maybe, if he gets this right, he'll actually be lucky enough to keep you.

"So perfect," he sighs as he moves above you, soft and sweet.

"Tell me what you need, love," he urges between stuttered breaths and slow, languid thrusts. "To make this perfect for you, too."

You can tell he's holding back — each touch a little too gentle, a little too careful, a little too reserved — and you think you know why, because you know him. 

Sebastian Sallow has never done anything halfheartedly, so when he loves, it's without reservation — fiercely, deeply, perhaps a little madly. 

You also know that he's lost just about everyone he's ever loved.

Though you've never actually spoken the words out loud, you know that he loves you too. It's always been there, unspoken, thrumming beneath the surface of every interaction.

You can hear it in the silence of a lazy afternoon spent cloud-watching under the shade of a flutterby tree in the summoner's courtyard, splayed hands edging across the grass until you feel the accidental brush of his pinky finger against yours.

In little gestures played off as teasing banter, covert hands sliding stacks of toast and chocolate croissants across the shared desk of your first class, wrapped in scribbled notes admonishing you for missing breakfast after yet another sleepless night.

It's in the way you wish each other goodnight, stretching out the moment with hastily stifled bouts of laughter and stolen glances over your shoulders as you watch him make the long trek back from Ravenclaw Tower to Slytherin Dungeon, hesitant to part after yet another nighttime lark, despite the fact that you know you'll see each other the very next day.

In the way he insists on coming along with you on some of your more daring ventures, pushing down his deep-seated fear of spiders and instinctively stepping between you and a thornback ambusher seconds away from incapacitating you with its venom.

You've always known Sebastian loves you, but up until tonight, you've always thought it was in the same way he loves Anne and Ominis. Fond. Familial. Kindred. 

That was before you'd felt the weight of his lips against yours, the tremble in his hands as he'd pulled you close, the beat of his heart thundering in time with your own.

Now that you know it runs even deeper — not just friendly or familial love, but romantic love, too — it adds a whole new layer of vulnerability. And if he loves you the way you think he does, the same way you love him, then you know why he's holding back. Because when someone is your whole heart, the prospect of losing them is that much more terrifying.

This is a man who has endured more pain and loss than most people could even dare to imagine. This is a man filled with more fear and guilt than anyone should ever have to bear. Afraid to fuck up again. Afraid to hurt you again. Afraid to lose what little remains of the people he loves. Afraid to let himself have what he wants, because deep down, he still doesn't think he deserves it.

Afraid that he is too brash, too broken, too intense, too much for anyone to ever want, the weight of his grief too heavy for anyone else to carry, spirit too bright and burning for anyone to ever want to get close enough to touch.

And maybe he is. Maybe he is too much. But that's never stopped you wanting all of him just the same. If he is an untamed beast, then your heart is a vivarium, a home built for an occamy at its full potential. For you, he could never be too much, because you could never get enough of him.

He's a wildfire, but you've always been drawn to his warmth, his light, bright sparks lighting up your coldest, darkest nights. You wouldn't just walk through his flames, you'd dance in them, safe in the knowledge that you'll never get burned.

Because he's a wildfire, but you are a hurricane, and you're more than a match for his heat.

So when he asks you, soft and sweet, what you need to make this perfect for you, that's exactly what you tell him.

"You. Just you," you sigh as you lean up to press a trail of kisses in between the freckles that dapple the pale column of his throat. "I want all of you, Sebastian. Please, show me how badly you've been wanting me all this time, too. Don't hold anything back. I can take it…anything and everything you're willing to give."

Sebastian's hips still as he pulls back to look at you, lips parted in surprise. 

"Are— are you sure?"

You lean up to kiss him, slow and deep, your answer little more than a sigh against his lips. 

"I'm yours, Sebastian. I've always been yours," you whisper. "Now all you have to do is take what's yours."

Sebastian gazes at you, stunned for a moment, breath catching in his throat. And then his eyes darken, and that charming smile that's always made you weak in the knees curls across his lips, adoration burning like the heart of a wildfire in his irises as he keeps his steady gaze locked on yours. 

He laces his fingers with yours and pins your entwined hands above your head, holding you captive, using them as an anchoring point as he begins driving into you with rough, zealous thrusts that hit deep and steal your breath, his other hand coming up to smooth across your cheek as he pulls you in for a kiss, swallowing his own name as it falls from your lips in a stuttered sigh.

"Like this, love?" Sebastian groans, the hard line of his smirk pressed against your lips. "Is this how you want me fuck you?"

"God, yes. Please, Sebastian—"

"As you wish, darling," he growls, picking up pace even faster, his thrusts coming even rougher. "You've no idea how badly I've wanted to have you just like this."

"Tell me," you urge, voice barely more than a whisper.

A litany of lovesick confessions spill from his lips in between desperate, hungry kisses: how deeply he adores you, how beautiful you look laid out beneath him, how amazing you feel wrapped around him, how you must've been made for each other with how perfectly you fit together, how he's been dreaming of being with you like this for so long and he can't believe he's lucky enough to actually have the real thing.

How he'd love nothing more than to keep you forever, make you his in every possible sense of the word (because he's yours, he's always been yours, every beat of his heart belongs to you and you alone) wants you to feel the ache of him throbbing between your thighs days after he's made love to you, a constant reminder of what you've done together; wants to leave claiming bruises all over each other's necks so that everyone will know you belong to one another.

You tilt your head back, bearing your neck in offering, and Sebastian lets out an appreciative groan, swooping down to leave another mark right below the first, fire dancing in his eyes as he pulls back to admire his work.

"Mine," his voice rumbles through you like thunder as he presses the word into your pulse point.

"Yours," you sigh, leaning up to graze your teeth along the column of his throat, eager to claim him in return.

It's enough to drive him over the edge, burying his face in your neck and breathing in deep, greedy lungfuls like you're a burst of fresh air after a life spent drowning, praising you between hungry kisses. How he could gladly spend the rest of his life right here between your legs. How wild you drive him with the sounds you make, the way you call out his name.

"I've wanted to hear you say my name in every possible way — in laughter, in sighs, in gasps…in screams," he says with a prideful smirk as he gives a rough snap of his hips that hits deep enough to pull his name from your throat in a sharp, breathless gasp.

Sebastian lets out a low, throaty chuckle that sends shock waves straight to your core, heating burning every inch of your skin like a shot of Firewhisky as he tells you how badly he wants to watch you come undone beneath him, feel you wrapped around him as your body clings to him, see himself reflected in your eyes as you call out his name, to know that he's the only one who can make you feel like this, take you apart just to be the one that completes you.

The hand that's spent all this time tangled in your hair, gently pressed against the curve of your cheek, comes down to wrap around your waist, tilting your hips upward and pulling you roughly against him, the new angle giving him access to an even deeper sweet spot inside you, each thrust causing the space where you're connected to grind against that sensitive bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout your entire body as he keeps a steady, consistent rhythm, buried to his hips between your thighs, building you to climax until you're crashing over the edge, fingers laced with his as you fall together, fluttering around him, pulling him in even deeper, an endless chorus of I love you, I'm so in love with you, I'm yours falling from his lips as he spills deep inside you, calling out your name like it's a sacred prayer and you're his salvation.

Sebastian collapses against you, panting against your neck and pressing lazy kisses to your cheek before rolling to the side to lay on his back. You're barely able to get out a breath before he's pulling you into him, coaxing your head onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a protective hold, burying his face into the top of your hair and breathing you in with deep, contented sighs.

The words he'd said to you as he'd fallen over the edge repeat inside your head like a mantra, pulling your lips into a bright, blissful smile.

"Sebastian?" you ask as you snuggle in closer, heart full.

"Yes, darling?" he asks, still breathless but utterly blissed, voice muffled by your hair.

"I love you too."

You feel his whole body relax, exhaling on a long, slow, contented sigh that almost sounds like a sob toward the end, like he's relieved to hear you say it out loud.

"D'you know," he says into the comfortable silence after a few moments, lips pulled into a bright smile as he glances over at you. "I've seen entire ecosystems co-existing inside a single room tonight — bloody hell, I saw a phoenix — and all of that still couldn't even hope to compare to being with you," he marvels, still a little breathless. "To think, we could've been— I mean, two and a half years. I can't believe it took us this long to finally act on our feelings."

You lift your head, a playful look in your eyes as you gaze up at him dreamily. 

"We just took the scenic route," you tell him, smiling as you lace your fingers together and press a kiss against each of his knuckles in turn.

Sebastian's chest rumbles with laughter as he nuzzles in even closer, pressing kisses to the top of your crown. You do the same to his chest, charting constellations of your own design in the sun-kissed freckles you find there, falling into a deep, comfortable sleep before you have the chance to name them all.

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt Viii

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader, mentioned Isildur x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Series Masterlist

Summary: He wants to earn you.

Tags: Minor argument, pining as always, Sauron deceving himself as always, fluffy and kinda cute tbh, implied physical violance because its sauron, reader is a unable to resist this man but who would be, sauron is a simp and totally heart eyes but he hates it

Notes: There is illusions to Tolkien lore in this, he doesn't outright say anything really but I know not everyone is familar with his backstrory so just lemme know. I am always always always down to answer questions about lore stuff and stuff with the story. I love to yap yap yap. Thank yall for all the support. Who knows maybe in like 3 more parts they'll finally kiss

He stood outside your door, a piece of sweet bread wrapped in cloth clutched in his hands. The words he said the previous night, the insults to your honor, were swimming through his head. Then there was the whole debacle outside your door, the feel of your breath on his face, the way you looked up at him, the feel of your soft lips under his thumb. He didn’t sleep, but if he did, he would be haunted with dreams of you. Not that his every waking moment wasn’t fraught with thoughts of you and daydreams of the way you would look under him or how you would feel curved into the side of his body.

But he threw that all away. Why?

He breathed in, resting his forehead against the door. He could hear you in there. You were awake. He could tell by the way your pulse sounded. Sometimes he’d tune his hearing to it so he was surrounded by you. His eyes closed as he thought of his course of action. He could not have you unhappy with him. The thought itself was unbearable. Yet again, you reduced him to no more than a teenage boy. He could only imagine what his master would do if he saw him now.

No, not master. Morgoth was no longer that, and he held no power here, not anymore.

But was he, Sauron the Great Deceiver, really about to sincerely apologize to you for questioning your honor? You never ceased to surprise him. With an inhale of breath, he softly knocked.

He heard shuffling, and then you opened the door. You looked at him wearily. The smile that once lit up your eyes when you looked at him was painfully absent, but you stepped aside to let him in. He stepped in and took in your appearance. You were bathed, your skin looked soft, and your hair shined. You had braided your hair, but strands of hair framed your face, falling into your eyes, and you wore a simple pale blue dress that he suspected was left out for you by the ship captain.

You were gorgeous. You always were, but now, it was breathtaking.

He pressed his tongue into his cheek, plopping himself down into the chair. He held the cloth out to you, “It's a peace offering, sweet one.”

You took it hesitatingly, peeling the cloth off it, “Thank you,” your voice was soft and small, but he could tell you were genuine. He did not bother for small talk and got to the point.

“I did not mean it. They were words spoken without thought, in anger not at you but at the situation I found you in,” his tongue pressed against his teeth as he tried to think of more words to say, “your honor is not something that is mine to question. You have never shown that…-”

“I do not care that you may think it easy to bed me. I care that you spoke it so confidently in front of the strangers of this place, who already look at me with an uneasy gaze. In front of a man who had been nothing but kind and offered me food and fellowship. I do not understand you, truly I do not,” he watched as the fire in your eyes grew and he felt a similar fire in him, “You accuse him of wanting to bed me and yet you seem to be the one with intentions of taking my maidenhood. Last night, I dont’.....you are…..”

The fire was still there, but as you were stumbling over your words, he worked hard to fight the smile that was tugging at his lips. Luckily, you were so caught up in your own intense emotions that you hadn’t noticed him.

“You are a mystery to me. I do not understand your actions, let alone what motivates them. You know so much of me, of my darkest secrets, and yet I know nothing of you. You claim to care for me, and you have done more than any to protect me, and yet you find it easy to entertain the affections of one who had likely wished me dead. Do you not understand what elves like her have said to me for 15 years now? You do that while also leading me along and pretending that there is something more here by pushing me into a door and kindling something inside me that I have never known, and then leaving me. It is like I am only a plaything to you and I…”

“Stop,” He looked at you, his stare hard. “You, of all beings, are most certainly not a plaything, and for you to think I would think that of you is an insult to me. Do not forget it was you who was having dinner with a man who has intentions to court you.”

“That is not the same thing. You must know it.”

“Is it not? You were flirting with him. It was clear as day to all who saw.”

He watched as you hesitated, your features softening, “It is not the same. The Numenorians have never done anything to hurt you. I do not seek to absolve my family of their crimes, but did you know that there were elves that swayed the king to make me watch their executions? I wonder what side she was on, truly. I do not think it is sound for you to be mad at me when your intentions for me ever change.”

He swallowed thickly, “My intentions for you have not changed,” he spoke softly, picking at the dried skin on his palms, “But perhaps you are right. You do not know of my crimes of my history. You do not know what makes me hesitate when it comes to you.”

He inhaled a breath. This was a story he had rather kept to himself. Always. Secrets, he did not wish to share and regrets that he would rather keep for eons. But there you sat, hurt and confused, and he could not help the words that spilled from his mouth.

“My father was a blacksmith. He had a mighty forge, and he crafted weapons and armor and great many objects with such beauty. The craft was one he instilled upon to me, the desire to create burned within as it still does,” he watched as you relaxed, wondering if you were surprised to be getting your answers, “But I became arrogant, I wanted for things I could not have with my father and I wanted a change that my father was not ready to bring. But, my uncle was a man who created his own fortune, and he was not afraid to fight for what he wanted. I admired it, I craved it, and so I left my father and his forge.”

His tongue pressed into his teeth. How could he confess to her the evil that he had done? How could he explain to her the relationships of the divine in a way she could understand? But with a breath, he continued on, “My uncle was not all he seemed but I was so caught up in it and the idea that my vision would become a reality that I was blind to it. The things I did I do not wish to repeat, but my father and my family made it known I could never return home, even after my uncle was disposed of.”

He looked to you, and there he saw a look of empathy, one he was sure would be erased from your face if you knew who he was. It was a look that healed part of him. It was a look that all but answered the questions inside of his head and what remained of his heart. His future would be with you. His fate was tied with yours.

“The sins I have committed have condemned my soul,” He spoke softly. “Perhaps one day I will be able to speak them to you. But for now, I must prove to myself that I am worthy of you. That I could provide for you. That is my intention.”

He stood from his seat, his hand reached for yours, and he squeezed them tightly as he rested his forehead to yours. “My intention is to have you in every way. But I have yet to earn it.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you looked into his eyes. He could see as your resolve melted. He could have you now. He knew he could close the distance, and he could have you in any way he wanted. For a moment, he considered it. For a moment, he wanted to fill you with his corruption.

But then he imagined you without your light, and you would not be the woman he loved. To corrupt you was to ruin you and to remove what he loved so much of you.

Loved.

Love.

He loves you.

He loves you.

Sauron loves you.

He pushed the realization to the back of his mind. He had to ignore it. He would unpack it later, go over this emotion. It could not be love. He would not allow it.

The sound of your voice tore him from his thoughts. “What if I believed you had earned it?” The way you looked up at him, it made his cock twitch and he had to clench his fist to stop from grabbing your face and bring his lips to yours.

He closed his eyes, and his jaw clenched. “You tempt me, sweet one. But I must do this. Not only for you, but for me.” He held your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, “I will have you, and when that day comes, so will you.” He smirked softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading to the door.

He stopped before leaving, “Do not turn away that boy's friendship if it is what you wish.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. You did not deserve to be sentenced to loneliness forever. However, Isildur being your friend, made it easier for him to continue his game of cat and mouse with the elf. He knew that friendship was the last thing on the boy's mind, and he was also all too happy to watch you reject his advances.

He had seen it in your eyes. There was none but him for you.

~

“Please, don't do this,” he said. He knew they were no match for him, but his anger was threatening to overtake him.

He had tried to find work as a blacksmith but was rejected. They would be beyond blessed to have him in their forge. There was no being on Middle Earth who could craft better than him. It was not arrogance but fact. He had crafted things no mortal man could dream of, and these men dared to insult him and his breeding. Insinuating that he was not good enough for the elf, they never spoke of you, but the insinuation still burned a fire in his veins. He controlled himself, however, for he saw an opportunity to take the man's crest. Of course, that led to this moment.

“Why not, low man?” The words were followed by a swift punch. “He dare speak of taking our women, and yet the lowborn woman with him seems to be taken with the uncrested son of a ship captain. How can he take ours if he can't keep his?”

He heard their laughs in agreement. They rang in his ears, and the taunting was too much.

For you, he would not kill them, but for you, he would break them.

[megalony]

You've Been Hurt

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine, based on a request by anon. I hope you all like it, any feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme

911 Masterlist

Summary: The 118 is shook up after a call out when someone open fires on them. Eddie does everything he can to protect his wife. Luckily no one gets hurt, or so they think.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wave of tiredness that washed over (Y/n) started to drift away like the tide leaving the ocean when her eyes landed on a very familiar mop of brown curls and a set of broad shoulders that straightened out in front of her. She pushed forward and leaned up on her toes, gluing her chest and abdomen up into his back while her arms cocooned around his neck.

Her chin perched on Eddie's shoulder and she leaned across to peck his neck cheekily. She could feel his head turn towards her and he kissed her temple while he brought his hands up to hold her wrists.

"Is it time for home yet?"

"Hm, afraid not mi amor. Six more hours."

(Y/n) burrowed her face further into his neck to smother her groan of disappointment. She wanted to go home now. She wanted to be curled up on the sofa with Eddie wrapped around her like a comfort blanket.

They had been on shift for six hours, they were halfway through their shift but (Y/n) just wanted to go home. The only good thing was with them both having Chris, they didn't do that many double shifts because of childcare. (Y/n) wasn't sure she'd be able to cope on the double shifts anymore when she barely managed to sleep at home unless Eddie was there beside her.

"Let's pack it up and get back for lunch." Bobby waved his hand and motioned to the truck. They needed to go and refuel before another call dragged them back out again and kept them busy.

(Y/n) nudged her nose up and pecked Eddie's jaw, reaching to sink her teeth down into his skin just to hear him growl before she pulled back and scuttled over towards the truck.

She whipped her helmet up from the floor and grabbed the hacksaw she had been using earlier, ready to pack them away in the truck. The compartments slammed open and closed as everyone put their equipment and helmets back. (Y/n) almost lost herself in her thoughts as she put her helmet back but a spark of adrenaline lit up in her stomach when she felt Eddie lean over her shoulder to put his helmet back.

He muttered a quiet "Excuse me," against her ear and let his hand wander down to her bum before he turned and headed after Evan to pile into the truck.

Evan pulled himself up into the truck and moved to take a seat while Eddie climbed up behind him. He could feel (Y/n) close behind him and he found himself smiling.

Until a gunshot rang out through the air.

He could see Evan jerk forward with his arms up over his head and his knees jolted up like he had been given an electric shock and was starting to spasm. And when another gunshot fired into the truck and smashed through a window, Eddie was sure he screamed.

Eddie felt (Y/n) scream into his back when more shots started to fire and her hands clamped down on his arms. She glued herself into his back, trying to get him to move before they got hit because they were still in the firing line. Eddie scrambled to get one arm behind his back so he could grab (Y/n)'s arm and make sure she stayed behind him, but he wasn't sure whether she pushed him or whether she fell into him.

Either way, he stumbled down onto his knees with (Y/n) on his back and his free hand slammed into the floor to break his fall and stop his head from colliding with the metal floor and giving himself a nosebleed.

No one at this scene had been going around waving a gun. They weren't here to sort out a fight or a threatening situation with a gunman. If they were, the scene would be flooded with police. They didn't even have the ambulance with them today because they had no injured persons to deal with. Who was shooting at them? Why were they being targeted?

"Get down! Get on the floor!" Evan jerked his right arm out and pulled Chimney's arm before he moved to do the same to Hen, trying to drag them both down onto the floor.

Someone was shooting at them, they needed to cower down in the footwell below the windows so they weren't easy targets. Sitting in their seats made them easy to spot and aim at. (Y/n) and Eddie had been stood up when the shots started, they might have been aiming for both of them.

Chimney and Hen went down on their knees and leaned forward with their heads hunkered down low and their hands braced on the seats in front of them.

When the shock started to turn into adrenaline, Eddie shifted around so he was laid on his back instead of his stomach. He coiled one arm around his wife's waist and reeled her up into his chest, pulling her until her legs were no longer dangling out the door. He nudged her in Evan's direction before he shimmied down on his back to try and reach for the door.

He counted to three in his head before he bolted up like he was doing a sit up and grabbed the door to swing it shut.

Once it was closed, Eddie turned back around and reached both his hands out for (Y/n).

He hadn't been shot at since he was in the army and that was over five years ago. Eddie didn't think he would ever have to worry about someone aiming a gun at him for the rest of his life. He thought that part of his life was over. He was back home with his family, gunshots should only ring in his ears when he was having a nightmare. This was the worst nightmare there was. His wife was here with him. Eddie never wanted (Y/n) to have that kind of experience or be in the line of fire.

Everything within (Y/n) turned to mush. Adrenaline sparked through her blood and flurried through her stomach that was tingling with nerves as all the blood rushed to her head.

She cocooned her arms to her chest but she let herself go limp when she felt Eddie grabbing her. He reeled her over to him until she was curled around his thighs but her breath caught in her lungs when Eddie moulded himself over her like he was trying to press them both together and merge them into one being. His chest weighed down on her back, but it was a soothing, comforting weight like a blanket. He kept an arm around her waist and smothered his lips into the back of her hair.

She knew he was whispering something, but through the panic and the blood pumping through her ears, (Y/n) couldn't work out what he was saying. It didn't take a genius to guess that Eddie was reverting back to his army training and whatever he said was some kind of mantra to get him through this.

She dug her fingers into his thighs and closed her eyes tight, letting each breath fan into his thigh and dampen his trouser leg. Hoping it would stop her from having a panic attack and also give Eddie something else to focus on.

"Drive! Drive- go!"

"Everyone stay low!"

Bobby turned the lights on but not the sirens and leaned forward until his head was level with the steering wheel for extra coverage and protection. He didn't think twice before slamming his foot down on the gas to get them moving. Whoever was shooting was aiming for them and they needed to move.

"This is Captain Nash, shots fired! Repeat, shots are being fired we need police assistance. Is anyone hurt?"

There was nothing they could do. They couldn't stay and try to see if anyone was injured or hurt or stop the gunman when they seemed to be the targets.

Everyone took a quick glance down at themselves before they looked over at one another. No one seemed to have been hit and one of the windows had smashed but the glass hadn't cut any of them. They had escaped that one safe enough, but it had been close.

They were all still bowed down, no one dared lift their head above the chairs but Hen braved it first to move around until she was sat on the floor instead of kneeling down. She slouched until her head was resting back on the chair behind her and her arms could curl around her knees that she brought up to her stomach. Chimney stayed kneeling down and kept himself wedged into the corner and Evan stayed hunched over on his knees with his hands rubbing up and down his thighs to try and calm himself down.

Silence continued to envelope them as they all looked around at each other, but their eyes started to linger on Eddie longer and longer when he started to rock back and forth. He had his eyes closed as tight as possible and both his arms were keeping (Y/n) pinned between his legs and his chest so he could stay coiled around her. But when they began to hear what he was whispering, they all looked at each other.

"Shots fired… we're going down."

He must have repeated himself over ten times before Evan finally worked up the courage to rest his hand on Eddie's shoulder. He hated the way his brother in law jerked away from him and the rabid, frightening look when Eddie glared up at him.

"Are you both okay?" Evan didn't think they had been shot or caught bu the bullets, neither of them were screaming in agony or seemed to be bleeding out anywhere. But he needed to check that his little sister and his brother in law were alright.

When Eddie didn't respond, Evan reached over and tried to carefully pull Eddie up. Eddie allowed Evan to help him sit up and he shuffled back until he was slouched down much the same as how Hen was sitting. His pupils had blown wide and his chest was rising and falling so quickly he was going to make himself pass out. His panicked state made it somewhat easier for Evan to check him over and make sure he wasn't hurt. He didn't have any injuries.

But when Evan tried to reach for his sister and reel her up, he jerked back into Chimney when Eddie gripped his wrist. His hold was ferociously tight and his fingers were already bruising into Evan's skin and making him shake.

His face fell into a look of despair and that was enough to make Eddie realise what he was doing. He dropped Evan's hand with a very quiet apology and tried to stop the trembling from setting in through his system. But (Y/n) was his wife. She was his girl and he wanted to protect her. Eddie needed to protect her. No one else needed to touch or her get close to her apart from him.

Shivers bolted up and down (Y/n)'s spine when she felt Eddie's shaking hands curl around her elbows so he could reel her up. She let him pull her up and when she was close enough, she shifted around. She sat down between his thighs, wiggling closer until her back was pressed into his chest and Eddie's thighs clamped down tightly into her legs, squeezing her between him.

(Y/n) couldn't find her voice, but she managed to nod her head at her brother. She was okay, she had to be okay. She didn't feel like she was in agony and that was a good sign.

Her head slumped down against Eddie's chest and she bound both her arms around his middle as she closed her eyes. She whispered "it's okay," and pressed a kiss against his chest through his shirt until Eddie coiled his arms around her waist and smothered his face against the top of her head.

Her ears were pounding with her heartbeat that was beating beneath every inch of her skin like she was a drum or a sound machine vibrating madly. Adrenaline was still forming and churning in her stomach and it made her feel sick. The gunshots had sent her falling into Eddie and it had made her lower back twinge in pain which was still aching and there was a dull throb between her hips from how they landed.

The shots must have been close.

"Is anyone hurt? Do I have to make a trip down to the hospital?" Bobby needed an answer. The turning for the hospital was coming up and he could either take that turn, or carry on straight and head back to the station.

"We're good, Cap."

None of them wanted to move when the truck pulled up in the station.

All of them seemed to exchange looks before Evan sighed and took the plunge. He used the seat behind him as leverage and pushed up to his feet so he could carefully climb over Eddie and his sister. He opened the door and hopped down. He cracked his neck into place and stretched his arms in front of him while he waited for everyone else to follow him out.

Hen climbed over Eddie to get out, followed by Chimney. She folded her arms over her chest and rubbed her hands up and down her sleeves to try and calm herself down. Any one of them could have gotten a gunshot wound today.

"Are you okay?" It was the first proper thing Eddie managed to say and he fought every instinct within him to unravel his arms from (Y/n)'s waist.

His hands moved to cup her face and he leaned his forehead down against hers, brushing their noses together as he stared into her eyes that worked wonders on calming his soul. He wished she had been stood in front of him instead of behind him. He could have pushed her down quicker and covered her better if she had gotten in the truck first. Grabbing her from behind him had been so much harder and she could have gotten hurt.

"I think so… help a girl up, handsome."

(Y/n) pressed a quick, wet kiss against his lips before she felt his hands move to hold her hips. He stood on shaking legs and pulled her up with him, kissing her again and moved to climb down first. Their hands stayed tangled together and (Y/n) curled her free hand around Eddie's bicep, gluing herself into his back.

Bobby had his hands on his hips, his foot was tapping against the floor and he moved one hand to drag across his chin before he scratched his nails into the back of his head.

"The police will be down here soon to take statements, and I'll need you all to complete some paperwork for the Chief, but that can wait until tomorrow. Does anyone need to see a councellor or have a session before you carry on with your shifts?"

The police would no doubt be here within the hour to take statements and talk them all through what happens next. And Bobby would need to fill out an incident report and have everyone make their statements for the paperwork. He could let that wait until tomorrow, until the shock had worn off and everyone felt better.

But they all knew that they had a right to see a councellor or therapist and if they wanted to, they could have an appointment to be cleared to come back to work. Bobby wouldn't want anyone to carry on working if they felt too shaky or unsettled and thought they should talk it through with someone first. Their health and wellbeing came first and they had almost taken a bullet today, it would be understandable if anyone wanted to go home.

(Y/n) buried her nose into Eddie's jacket and tightened her hands around his arm when she felt a little lightheaded. The shock was starting to set in and she couldn't tell who was shaking more; her or her husband.

"Are you all sure you're okay?"

A chorus of 'yes' and nodding heads filled the air and Bobby waved his hand at them. They all knew what to do. Go get changed, get themselves a drink and try to calm down while he sorted dinner before the station became flooded with police.

(Y/n) closed her eyes for a few seconds when everyone started to disappear and float around the station.

She didn't now what to do. She wanted to be sick. She wanted to collapse and pass out. Her head was spinning so violently she thought it was going to disconnect from her neck. Her lower back was aching and thumping with her heartbeat and her knees were starting to wobble. All she really wanted to do was go home and lie down in bed.

But she would feel silly and cruel and weak if she asked to go home. She didn't want to speak to a councellor, Eddie would be the one out of them all who would benefit the most from that. (Y/n) wanted to take him home, but she knew he wouldn't want to go home just yet and she wasn't leaving his side.

"Let's hit the gym."

(Y/n) let her eyes drag over to her brother who was shaking his hands at his side, clearly full of adrenaline that he didn't know how to get rid of.

She knew what he meant by that. He meant he was going to go into the gym and break the equipment. He had ripped the last punching bag they had at the station after a bad fallout with their parents when they were last in town.

Eddie nodded in agreement and he glanced his eyes over at (Y/n) who squeezed his arm. She would go along with them, she didn't want to be parted from Eddie just yet and they had nothing else to do but calm down. Her face stayed buried in his arm and she closed her eyes, letting Eddie turn them both around and guide them down towards the gym.

She felt dizzy.

Her legs were starting to tremble again and (Y/n) pinched her fingers into Eddie's arm as they reached the gym.

She felt his lips press against the top of her head and he helped her flop down onto the bench like she had turned to jelly. When Eddie shrugged off his jacket, a smile pulled on his lips and he looked a little more human and relaxed when (Y/n) reached her hands out in a grabbing motion. She took his jacket and coiled it into her chest, breathing in his scent to see if it would calm her down and ward away the shock rattling through her body.

"You sure you're okay mi amor?"

"In shock I think."

(Y/n) managed a smile when Eddie cupped her chin and dragged his thumb across her lower lip, pulling it down. He bent forward and kissed her sweetly and then he waited, watching closely as (Y/n) leaned to her right and laid out on the bench.

She held Eddie's jacket against her chest and kept the collar pressed into her nose to calm herself down and breathe in his scent again. When her eyes fell closed and she started to hum, Eddie turned around and moved over to Evan. He didn't feel like doing any training or exercises just yet, but he would gladly watch Evan and chat to him if he wanted to talk.

(Y/n) didn't know how long they had been in the gym, all the noises around them seemed to fizzle and drown out and she was sure she passed out for a little while. It could have been a few minutes, but it could have been half an hour for all (Y/n) knew.

"I think Bobby wants us." Evan heaved and nodded towards the door where Bobby was waving them over. It would either be to get something to eat or have a chat and do a quick statement with the police. Either way, neither of them cared, they would do whatever they needed to. Half an hour in the gym had calmed Evan down and cooled Eddie off back to a more human form of himself.

Evan took off his boxing gloves and headed out the room, glancing his eyes at his sister who was still laid out but he knew Eddie would check on her and get her up. He figured they both needed some time together.

"Mi amor, do you want to come and get a drink?"

Eddie crouched down in front of (Y/n), resting his elbows on his knees while he reached one hand out and brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. He grazed his fingertips across her cheek and down her jaw until she opened her eyes and tried to smile, but when she winced, Eddie tilted his head to the side.

"Do you feel okay, baby?"

"Hm," (Y/n) didn't have any energy to speak so she tried to shake her head, but she found she could barely do that either.

Her throat felt dry and sticky and her eyes wouldn't open or focus properly, she could barely narrow her vision on Eddie's mesmerising eyes. Her body felt so heavy she couldn't move and her back was now aching and killing her with a more intense, throbbing pain that made tears well up in her eyes.

She managed to move her hands just enough to reach them out towards Eddie, sweetly and silently asking if he would help her up.

He obliged with a tender smile, moving his jacket out of her grip so he could hold her hands and gently sit her up. He stood in front of her and pulled her up but the moment she was on her feet, her head started to spin. Her knees trembled and her head flopped forward into Eddie's chest as she groaned. She felt dizzy and sick and feverish all at once.

Her knees juttered into his thighs and her hands gripped his exposed arms before he cocooned his arms around her waist to stop her from going down to the floor.

"Shh, come here, I got you." He leaned her back and sat her back down on the bench. He needed to take a look at her, she clearly wasn't feeling well. The shock might be getting to her and taking over and if that was the case, Eddie needed to take her home.

After what they had been through, it would probably be best if they went home.

A frown formed on his lips when he pressed the back of his hand against her temple and realised she was sweating and starting to get a fever. Shock wouldn't necessarily push her into a feverish state like this.

"Do you feel sick, baby? You're burning up."

"Hurts," Her voice croaked and a few tears trickled down her face, making Eddie's heart drop down to his stomach.

"What hurts, hm? Talk to me, it's okay." He tried to cup her face and tilt her head up but even then, her eyes were still hooded and they wouldn't focus on him. (Y/n) finally closed her eyes and flopped her head forward onto his shoulder with a thump that jostled him.

He barely managed to hear her mutter 'my back' into his neck before she tried to wrap her arms around his neck.

"Let me take a look, sweet girl."

Eddie reached behind him and pulled (Y/n)'s arms back down so they dropped between them. He carefully rolled her florescent jacket down her shoulders and shimmied it off her arms before he dropped it to the floor along with his. He hushed her quietly when she nuzzled her nose into his neck and whimpered and he trailed his hands down her back and around to her hips as he straightened up and tried to lean over her shoulder.

But his lips curled into a frown when he felt something wet on his hand.

Terror was the only thing Eddie could feel when he lifted his left hand from her back and held it up in front of his eyes.

Blood.

Why was she bleeding? What had happened to her? Why wasn't she groaning or screaming in pain and telling him she was hurt? Why didn't she tell him she was bleeding from somewhere like this?

"Oh God- baby you're bleeding!"

Eddie pushed up and swiftly sat down beside her on the bench so he could try and see what was going on. He shuddered when (Y/n) flopped across his lap with a thump and buried her face into his thighs that she tried to squeeze to show she was still conscious and awake.

With her laid over his lap, Eddie grabbed the hem of her shirt and tugged it free from her trousers so he could yank it up to her shoulders. His fingers hooked into the hem of her trousers and he gave them a little tug down but his heart dropped down to his stomach and bile rose in the back of his throat when he saw what the problem was.

She had been shot.

The wound was small, not much larger than a mole and Eddie figured the bullet couldn't have been from a sniper because there was no exit wound in or around her stomach. That was a good thing. He didn't want to have a hole shot through his wife's stomach, she wouldn't survive from that.

It was rather close to her right hip but Eddie couldn't pinpoint what had been hit. She could have caught a kidney, her intestine, even her hipbone. At least it wasn't close to her spine.

The adrenaline must have countered out the pain and it amazed Eddie that (Y/n) had gone this long without collapsing. But that meant she had gone almost an hour, bleeding out and steadily getting worse right before his eyes and he hadn't known. He hadn't done anything to help her or make her better, he had done absolutely nothing for his wife.

When he dared to sneak a glance down to the floor, he reached down and moved her jacket around a little. And sure enough, right there between the A and the Z of their shared last name, there was a small circular rip in the fabric with gunshot residue caked around the fraying cotton.

How had he missed that?

"Baby, baby we gotta go now. Come on, come here."

Eddie slipped his hands beneath her arms and lifted her back up into a sitting position. He hated the way her head flopped forward into her chest and how her shoulders slugged down and made her look like a puppet with no strings.

"Go?" (Y/n) tried to mumble and reach her hand out for Eddie's wrist but she could feel herself starting to drift off.

Where were they going? What was the sudden rush? Why did she feel like she was slowly draining away?

"You've been hurt baby, I need to take you to hospital. Just stay with me, hm? You stay awake and talk to me, sweet girl. Come on now."

His hands stayed under her arms while he moved to crouch back down in front of her. He grabbed her hands and slung her arms loosely around his neck and lifted her head onto his shoulder before his hands moved to cup her bum. Eddie hoisted (Y/n) up and secured his right arm around her bum while his left hand cradled the back of her neck to keep her steady on his chest as he began to run.

He didn't know where his sudden burst of adrenaline and energy had come from but it powered him to run out the gym and down the corridor until he was back in the main floor of the station.

"Buck! Buck, go- go someone start the ambulance we need to move!"

"What? Eddie what's wrong?"

"Eddie, what's going on?"

Evan hurried up down the stairs when he saw Eddie run past him and his eyes narrowed. He was sure he could see (Y/n) in his arms. What the Hell was he doing carrying Evan's sister around the station like that? Why was she limp and fraying in his arms? What were they doing?

Eddie moved his hand from the back of (Y/n)'s neck to point Hen towards the ambulance until she seemed to get the hint. She dropped whatever paperwork was in her hands and flung open the back doors although she had no idea why.

"Eddie-"

"She's been shot! The adrenaline's wearing off, she's been shot in the back- get us to the fucking hospital now!"

Eddie didn't break his stride. As soon as he was close enough, he reached his hand out for the ambulance door and used it as leverage to propell himself up the steps to get inside. He hunched over, cradled the back of (Y/n)'s neck again and leaned over the gurney to lay her down as carefully as possible. He laid her on her left side so she was facing him and stretched her arms out in front of her so they hung off the side of the gurney.

He bolted round to stand on the other side of the gurney just as Evan clambered up into the back with them and Bobby and Chimney hung at the doors, desperate to know what was going on.

"Eddie, what the fuck… (Y/n)? Sis, hey stay with me," Evan crouched down in front of the gurney and moved his hands to cradle his sister's face in his palms. He shook her head until she managed to open her eyes but he looked up at Eddie when he grabbed a pair of scissors and slashed up the centre of (Y/n)'s scrunched up shirt. He ripped it apart and pulled it off her arms before he sat down behind her.

"She was shot?"

"There's a bullet hole here, I- the adrenaline must have clouded the pain, come on we have to go!"

Bobby pointed Hen towards the driver's side of the ambulance, muttering that he and Chimney would follow along behind them and meet them there.

Reaching across the gurney, Eddie handed Evan a pulse monitoring clip so he could attach it to (Y/n)'s finger while Eddie slipped a blood pressure cuff onto her arm.

"Fuck, her BP is dropping fast, I don't know what kind of internal bleeding she's got. Here, give her some adrenaline, I need to pack the wound." Eddie handed over a pre-filled needle of adrenaline before he sat down behind his wife and got to work. He grabbed two sheets of gauze and pressed them as forcefully to (Y/n)'s back as he could until she weakly mewled and her arms spasmed in front of her.

He ripped some medical tape between his teeth and taped it tightly over the gauze to keep it in place. He then stood up and leaned over the gurney while he pressed his fingertips around (Y/n)'s hip, squeezing her waist and pressing down over her stomach. Her skin was flushed and the squidgy, jelly feeling told Eddie she did have internal bleeding.

"Alright baby, you can keep the pressure on that for me, hm? You can do that, can't you?"

Eddie's hands shifted to (Y/n)'s shoulder and he reached around and hooked a hand beneath her tummy so he could carefully roll her onto her back. Laying directly on her back would add all her weight onto the wound and stop the blood from oozing out as quickly. They needed the blood to stem as much as possible so she didn't bleed out in here.

They had no transfusions to give her and an IV would do nothing if she had no blood left to circulate through her body.

Reaching beneath the gurney, Eddie found the oxygen machine and switched it on before he strapped the mask over (Y/n)'s nose and mouth. He leant down to kiss her burning temple but he pulled back when she started to gasp. Her chest juttered up and down like she was starting to seize and a horrible tremble set in across her body as her heartbeat began to drop.

"She's going into shock," Eddie ransacked one of the drawers until he found a thermometer and pressed it into (Y/n)'s ear. "Fever's burning high, she's gonna shut down. Get the compress packs out and find me all the saline bags. Now Buck!"

The same tremors that rattled through (Y/n) began to shudder through Evan as he turned around and shakily pulled out drawer after drawer to find what he was told to search for.

He found the cold compress packs and he took a sharp breath when his brother in law snatched them and placed one over (Y/n)'s chest near her neck. The rest went over her stomach, against her wrists and down her legs.

Once Evan handed over the four saline bags that were stocked up this morning for emergencies, he frowned. What was Eddie going to do with those? He couldn't hook (Y/n) up to four at once, it wouldn't work it would only overload her system. And they weren't that cold to act as more cold packs to try and bring her fever down.

"Sorry baby, you're not gonna like this."

Evan stumbled back with wide eyes when Eddie held one of the saline bags and pierced it with a scalpal. It burst wide open and Eddie let all the water spray across (Y/n)'s stomach and splash up her neck. He did the same with the other ones that Evan had dumped on the end of the gurney. Each one got torn open and water sprayed all across (Y/n)'s trembling body and splattered up the walls and across both men.

It was the quickest way Eddie could think to drop (Y/n)'s temperature before her organs began to shut down from her fever.

Hen found no words when she opened the back doors and stared at the scene in front of her.

(Y/n) was subtly trembling on the gurney, covered head to toe in water that was dripping down onto the floor as if a tidal wave had washed over the three of them. Compresses were piled up on (Y/n)'s body, both Eddie's hands were smeared with blood that was steadily dribbling down his arm in a strange burnt orange shade, dampened by the saline.

Saying nothing, Hen grabbed the end of the gurney as Evan reached for the top and they both juttered it down to the floor. Eddie kept a tight hold of (Y/n)'s hand as the three of them bolted in through the paramedic's entrance over to a team of doctors that were clearly waiting for them.

"GSW to the lower right side of her back, a lot of internal bleeding. She's running a fever and going into shock."

"N-naproxen and ibuprofen, she's allergic to both. Don't give her any." Evan dragged his hand through his hair when they snatched the gurney and started to steal away his sister.

They had to save her.

***

"Finally! How is she? What's happening?" As quick as a shot, Evan bolted up from his seat and stumbled forward. Tripping over his feet when he realised his hand was still tangled with Maddie's and she wasn't quite stood up yet.

He turned to look at his big sister for a brief moment until she stood at his side, her hand tangled with his and her free hand wrapped around his arm that she had confiscated and pulled tight to her chest.

The last few hours had felt like an eternity had passed them all by. They had filled up the waiting room. Maddie, Evan and Chimney had sat beneath the window, worrying, humming and crying the afternoon away. Hen had gone on multiple coffee runs for everyone and Bobby and Athena had been pacing up and down the hallway. Bobby's rosary beads were wrapped tight around his wrist and curled between his fingers to let him pray.

Eddie had been sat on the floor, knees pulled up to his stomach and his hands clasped together pressed against his lips.

He only moved when the doctor dragged him down the hall to talk in private and no one knew if that was a good thing or not.

"How'd it go?" Maddie tried to control the trembling in her voice as she looked over at Eddie, trying to decipher the expression on his face but he was always hard to read. He was stood in front of them, chest heaving, hands clamped down on his hips and shoulders bursting through his shirt.

Eddie reached a hand up to run across his jaw and scratch down his neck while his eyes danced around the waiting room. He didn't know where to look or who to focus on.

"The bullet ruptured her right kidney, they had to remove it. That's why it's taken so long."

"Y-you can live with just one kidney, right?" Evan wasn't a doctor or a medic, he didn't know how well the body would cope with just one kidney when it was supposed to have two. He'd never had any problems with any of his organs and when he had his accident, it was his leg that had been damaged.

Maddie patted Evan's arm and nodded, trying to smile up at him to reassure him. It wouldn't be easy and it would come with complications, but (Y/n) would be able to live without one kidney.

"They've got her fever down and done two blood transfusions. The only thing they're worried about is if she gets sepsis… we can go see her now."

Eddie felt his brother in law follow closely behind him like he was a shadow, always present and looming behind. But it was oddly comforting to feel Evan this close and he could almost feel the adrenaline rolling off of Evan in waves. He wanted to see his sister. The last look he got of her was seeing her lying on a stretcher, shaking and deadly close to falling into cardiac arrest.

Evan wanted a better image of (Y/n) in his mind. He wanted to see his younger sister smile and take his hand and tell him she was okay. He wanted to hear her speak and see her move around and reassure himself he wasn't about to lose any of his family.

A wide grin broke out across Evan's face and he weaved around Eddie to move and sit down on the chair pulled close to the bed. He reached his hands out and coiled (Y/n)'s hand up to his chest while he watched Eddie move to sit down on the opposite side of the bed. And he felt Maddie move to stand behind the chair, both her hands holding Evan's shoulders comfortingly like they were all children again trying to care for one another.

"How you feeling?"

"Sore…" (Y/n) squeezed Evan's hand but when she tried to push up, she felt Eddie's hands on her shoulders, gently but firmly pushing her back down.

"No, no mi amor. You need to rest." A gentle smile formed on Eddie's lips when he leaned over to kiss her temple and felt her free hand brush across his jaw. She didn't need to be sitting up and moving around when she was only just waking up from the anaesthetic. The last thing they needed was (Y/n) moving and rupturing her stitches.

"Only you could get shot and not even know about it, sis."

[cheriihoney]

Back from the dead because i was busy with internship but im free now.

I thought i would leave behind genshin impact but wRIOTHESLEY GOT ME BY THE NECK,,,,,HES SO HANDSOME,,,, SO QUICK THING FOR YANDERE!WRIOTHESLEY AND MAID!READER

Have not played the latest archon quest. I only know that wriothesley is hot so bear with me here ^^

EDIT: just took out some repeating dialogue, sorry it took a while to notice!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You’re one of the braver maids, or one of the more dumber oness, for accepting a job to work in an underwater fortress. To be perfectly honest the place isn’t so bad if you ignore how cold and lonesome it is. The other maids barely raising their voices above a whisper when the lord of the fortress is there. They were afraid. It is common knowledge that beyond his role of subduing criminals he is a kind, gentle and noble man with the way children flock to him to clumsily honor his gauntlets with stickers. And yet, despite knowing this it is difficult to be in his presence. Tall, dark, foreboding and handsome. People who come across him are at crossroads with how they are intimidated by his presence and how enamored they are with it.

With you however, youre just doing a job as his ‘official’ personal maid. Originally you were a simple new hire and as one of your first tasks, you were expected to take care of his grace after a long grueling day at work. Other maids were too skittish to do it. For fear of doing something wrong or being caught oogling at their employer. You didn’t have any personal feelings towards his grace. Aside from being thankful that he employed you, payed and gave a roof over your head. You owe it to your philosophy of not sticking your nose where it shouldn’t be. Silently dressing Wriothesley’s wounds from a particularly bad brawl that day. A large gash was inflicted on hjim, luckily it wasn’t deep and didn’t require stitches. Basic empathy made you feel concerned and made extra sure that before the he arrived home, you lit a soothing lavender candle in his room to help him relax.

“Lighting a candle for me isn’t necessary” Wriothesley murmured. The sudden statement made you drop the roll of bandages in surprise, not expecting the lord of the fortress to speak to you. You quickly picked up the roll from the floor, setting it in back in the medical kit.

“Of course your grace” You replied carefully. You werent afraid of him, hes just a guy to you but still. This man is your boss and you did something that he didnt ask you to do. Potentially you could get scolded, or worse. Fired.

“It is presumptious of me but I thought it would be good for you if I lit a lavender scented candle before your arrival. Given that you came back injured and that you’re an extremely hard worker” your palms were sweating profusely under his steel gaze. He may be sititng in his chair while you stood by his side, but even then he still held all the power in the room.

Those short, excruciating, moments of him staring into your eyes when you gave your reasoning gave you ample time to overthink that you were booted out of the job. It must’ve been the trick of the eye when something carnal and possessive glinted in his eyes. Before you could think on it more he turned away and grabbed his newspaper in front of him.

“I see. You may go” Was all he said, turning a page. You bowed deeply before politely skedaddling away from him. As you turned the door knob his voice broke the silence again. This time, his voice sounded a tad softer.

“Thank you. It was kind of you to do that”

Stunned by his gratitude, your mouth refused to form words. Instead you noddedly dumbly with a nervous smile to match and promptly left the study. Unaware of the brewing affections that you ignited in Wriothesley.

[hunters-vigil]

request: could i request something fluffy with mavuika and a fem!reader? like maybe they're cuddling while stargazing but the reader just ends up focusing more on mavuika's beauty instead. maybe some kisses as well. thank you very much!

Thanks for the request, anon, I hope this is okay.

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller.

Untouched bedding that was soft to the touch was all Mavuika found when she returned to her chambers. The moon's glow lit up the space, the candles burnt out rather than lit. You were nowhere to be seen, but the bedside table was strangely bare. Ever since you'd began to spend more nights in Mavuika's chambers, some of your things had joined you.

Your journal was missing, plus the larger blanket throw that sat on the end of her bed. It was made from some kind of plant apparently, you loved the feeling of it on your skin when cuddling with her late at night. Natlan was often hot, especially after the volcanic activity caused accidentally by Mavuika's workouts outside…

The view from her chambers was stunning, but they didn't often include a pair of feet dangling from above.

"There you are, my love. How did you get up there?" Mavuika leaned out of the window, looking up to spot you sat on the flat roof of her chambers.

Your eyes lit up as you looked down to meet your lover's gaze, "I climbed. Look, the skies are clear enough to see the stars tonight!" you failed to hide your excitement, watching as Mavuika made her way onto the roof from the window, much more gracefully than your attempt had been. Luckily for you, only the baby saurian you were looking after was there to bare witness to that.

The baby saurian who had curled up on the blanket, sleeping with his head next to your thigh. "Paimon asked me to watch him while she and the traveller deal with some business. I think they have ways to travel across the continent that we can only dream of…"

"I see…" Mavuika hummed, taking a seat on the blanket next to you, her arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close, "I missed you today during my workout."

"You just want to bench-press me… um, isn't that your constellation there?" you quickly changed the subject, pointing up to the sky to distract Mavuika as you hid your face in her neck.

"Maybe, you could also help with hip thrusts." Mavuika pressed her lips to the crown of your head, diverting her gaze up to the stars, "Indeed, that is my constellation… then if you look to the right… I am unfamiliar with that constellation…" She frowned, that constellation hadn't been there 500 years ago.

"Oh, that's the traveller's constellation… but I only know yours and their's… could you talk me through the rest?" you bit your lip, turning towards your darling as she beamed at you.

"I would love to…" Mavuika pressed a brief kiss to your lips, smiling as you let out a quiet whine for her pulling away too soon.

Whatever the pyro archon was saying went in one ear and out of the other with you, your gaze lingering on her face as she talked. Something about Xilonen, Iansan… but your thought stayed on how pretty Mavuika was. Her red hair that lit on fire, her sun eyes when they weren't covered in her sunglasses, (that you had stolen on many an occasion) her smile… she was beautiful and powerful…

"You're not even listening to me anymore are you, my ember?" Mavuika turned her head, raising an eyebrow with a smirk as you cleared your throat, heat radiating from your face that rivalled the heat that came from the pyro element itself.

"'My ember'? But I don't have a vision, let alone a pyro one?" you frowned slightly, but Mavuika kissed away your confusion.

"Not yet, you mean." She corrected you, using her free hand to tilt your chin up so you'd look her in the eyes, "and you are my ember, you keep my fire burning even when this fight against the Abyss feels never ending…"

"I love you." you whispered, leaning into her warmth as Mavuika smiled, closing her eyes to appreciate the moment fully.

"And I love you." she whispered back, leaning into you to press another kiss to your lips. The stars (and the traveller's sleeping tepetlisaur whelp) were long forgotten as the two of you were more focussed on kissing instead.

[pagesfromthevoid]

A Real Nightmare | a.a. | 1

Astarion x fem!Tav

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Cussing. Astarion being…Astarion

Author’s Note: I’m not even sorry.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist

Astarion, visibly frustrated, threw his jacket to the ground with irritation, aggressively stomping out the flames that had crawled up its arm. A string of colorful curses escaped his lips as he forcefully dug his heel into the dirt, determined to extinguish every ember. Witnessing the dramatic display, Tav instinctively covered her face with her hands, feeling her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and panic. The crackling sounds of the dying flames, accompanied by Astarion's expressive language, created a chaotic scene that lingered in the air, leaving an awkward tension between the two.

The majority of the party had headed into the nearest town to snag supplies or dig deeper into their quest details, leaving Tav and Astarion to handle the camp setup—just the two of them. Despite their limited interactions in the few days they'd known each other, usually confined to brief and somewhat meaningless small talk, today marked a shift. It was the day they finally got down to setting up a proper camp, making it the longest stretch of time she'd spent alone with him.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world; it’s not as if she hated him or anything…she just didn’t like his snide comments on everything. Or the way he looked at her like she was something to eat and not a person. Or the burning feeling in her belly when he flirted. But when he didn’t have an audience, he wasn’t nearly as bad. Truthfully, he was almost tolerable. 

Astarion had thrown a fit, complaining about having "worked so hard" to gather what he considered "so much firewood" (although three logs hardly qualified, she didn't bother arguing), only to come back and discover they had no means to light it. In a moment of misguided goodwill, Tav offered to take care of it. In hindsight, she should have known better than to make such an offer; her command over magic, especially when it came to fire, was far from stellar.

Which was how Astarion's jacket caught fire. And how her tent also caught fire. Though luckily, she hadn’t put all of her belongings inside yet.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, hastily reaching out to retrieve his coat as he stormed away from the smoldering fabric. Examining it, she assessed the damage, hoping against hope for a chance at recovery. The arm was unmistakably burned through, but with the right supplies, she believed she could mend it. Her voice carried a mix of guilt and fear as she spoke, "I really didn't mean to do that – truly, Astarion. I would never actually try to hurt you, not on –,"

“You can’t even cast a spell correctly!” He interrupted, turning around quickly to point at her. His eyes flashed –a mix of darkness, anger, and a touch of dangerous allure.

“Excuse me, I can cast a spell just fine,” she argued, crossing her arms over her chest like a petulant child. His jacket hung at her side as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I just don’t have a lot of control after I cast it.”

“How is that any better?”

“Because at least I can do something!”

“You lit me on fire!”

“It was an accident!”

“What kind of sorceress can’t control her own fucking magic?” He demanded.

“One that has never been taught!” She spat back at him, her guilt receding only to be replaced with anger. He was allowed to be mad at her for lighting him on fire –he wasn’t allowed to insult her in the process, however.

“What the bloody hell do you mean, ‘one that’s never been taught’?”

Tav hesitated, realizing that maybe she had divulged too much. Her reluctance to expose her...deficiencies in magic was almost nonexistent.

When she had become the de facto leader of the party, and they had gathered up Gale into their midst, he had pressed her about her skills and spells that came from her home in Otherus. She tried to play it off at first, explaining that magic in Faerun wasn’t all that different from magic in Otherus, but Gale had been persistent –even when she explained she’d rather not have an audience. He just asked for her to join him in private.

It was there that Gale learned that their leader was not nearly as capable as she had made herself out to be. While she was able to cast spells and use magic, she couldn’t exactly…control the outcome. 

Magic had long been outlawed in certain parts of Otherus –in the main cities and around the edge of the kingdom, specifically –and Tav was born to a sorceress mother and a soldier of the king, who loathed those with magic at their dispense. Her mother, Fera, had kept her abilities secret for years until after Tav had been born. However, fearing that her babe would start showing signs, Fera thought it time to reveal to her husband what they were.

Fera had thought he would understand. That he loved them enough to protect them.

Fera had been wrong.

The King’s Guard had been called to the home, and by the time they arrived –Fera was slain, and Tav’s father was attempting to remove her hands from her body.

“A sorceress without hands is no sorceress at all,” he had seethed, pressing the blade into her wrist, breaking the skin and almost hitting the bone. 

The Guard stopped him before he did further damage; demanded if she had shown any signs of magic prior. When they determined she hadn’t, the Guard charged him with the abuse of a child; but his sentence was lenient for ridding the world of one more magic user.

Tav was ten. 

For a short while, Tav lived with her grandmother in a small village outside the kingdom but she was old and frail, and had no desire to raise a child at her age. Isowen, her mother’s sister, took her instead to the edge of the kingdom, as far from the king’s guard of Otherus as possible. Isowen ran an apothecary and taught Tav in the healing arts but forbade her from talking of magic or the arcane. Too many soldiers came in and out of their little shop; it was never safe. 

This was how it went for years –until Tav was old enough to go out on her own, and make a life for herself.

Initially, she had every intention of departing from Otherus. The kingdom as a whole, in all honesty, didn't hold any allure for her, especially if she aspired to master the control of her magic. However, the lack of viable means to leave or reach any other destination left her with no choice. Consequently, she found herself navigating a transient existence, engaging in various odd jobs across villages she encountered along the way. To safeguard herself, she discreetly concealed her magical abilities, aware of the potential risks that came with revealing her unique skills in unfamiliar territories. 

It wasn’t until the damned tadpole in her eye that she was finally taken away from Otherus. And now she was the leader of a band of heroes, trying to save everyone…and she had no idea how to control herself.

Gale had been sweet enough to offer to teach her, and keep her secret. Even though he did sound a bit snobbish about the ordeal, his lessons were important to her and she enjoyed the time she spent with him. 

Astarion continued to stare her down, his gaze unwavering, expecting an explanation. She felt the weight of his scrutiny, her left hand instinctively curling around her right, fingers tracing the scar that served as a perpetual reminder of the painful history of her life in Otherus.

"Have you ever kept so much bottled up for so damn long that when it finally spills out, it's like a wildfire you can't control? But, you know, strangely satisfying? Like this unseen weight you didn't even realize you were hauling around just lifts off your shoulders?" she asked, settling onto the ground before the dormant fire pit. She absentmindedly wrung her wrist, caught in the residual tension of her confession.

Astarion remained standing, though when she looked up at him to ask him to join her, his eyes had left her face and were fixed on where she held her wrist.

“I can’t say I have.” 

His voice was soft –sincere, even –and Tav smiled wryly.

“I’m from Otherus,” she explained, and Astarion let out a little ah in response –a knowing sound. She let out a humorless laugh, holding her hand to him now. “I had just gotten enough coin to finally leave when the damn worm got me. And now…I’m here.”

There was a moment of hesitation on his end, but eventually Astarion kneeled beside her and took her hand, examining the scar that rested between where her hand and wrist met. “You’re saying, darling, that up until you became the leader of a bunch of weirdos –you had never used your magic?”

Tav nodded once, shivering involuntarily as Astarion ran his thumb over the scar. “Here and there; but never enough to be meaningful.”

“Sweet hells, we’re doomed.”

“Must you be so dramatic?” She asked, though instead of the annoyed tone she usually held, it was laced with a fear that she wished she didn’t have. “I…I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t know what happened; one moment, I was following Shadowheart’s lead then the next I was doling out orders.”

Astarion dropped from his kneeling position to sit beside her, one knee pulled up as the other was outstretched in front of him. He shifted and rested his weight on his hands. 

“You are rather bossy,” he pointed out, grinning at her teasingly, as if trying to ease the tension. “I suppose it only makes sense, minus the whole lack of skill bit.”

“You and Gale are the only two who know.”

Astarion practically giggled in delight. “Ah, so I have blackmail. I love it.”

She gave him a funny look, unable to help herself. “Astarion, you cannot blackmail me when I also know something about you.”

He scoffed. “Please. I’m an open book, darling.”

“You’re right; you are an open book. And the very first page says you’re a vampire.”

For a moment, she could tell he was debating if he would play off her accusations. She knew the look well; it was one she used herself when she wanted to avoid confrontation. But then he narrowed his eyes. 

“And how did you come to that conclusion?”

She rolled her eyes, pointing at her throat. “You have bite marks on your neck, Astarion,” then she motioned towards her mouth. “You also have fangs. You never eat with us, or when I offer you food. When you drink wine, you look nearly offended by it —,”

“To be fair, it is shit wine.”

“Regardless —I know you think me an idiot, but what I may lack in spell casting, I make up for in intelligence. I’m rather observant when I want to be.”

At this, Astarion leaned in close to her, voice turning sultry. “Oh, so you observe me, my love?”

Tav swallowed hard, involuntarily leaning in as well without even realizing it. “Occasionally, yes. Probably as much as you observe me.”

Astarion's lips curled into a mischievous smirk, and as he subtly withdrew, Tav felt the heat rise in her cheeks. A mix of excitement and self-chastisement coursed through her, acknowledging the magnetic effect he seemed to have on her. As she opened her mouth to respond, the distant sound of Karlach's animated yell reached them, accompanied by the laughter of their returning companions. Both their attentions shifted towards the camp's edge, momentarily distracted from the tension that she was certain they both felt.

Astarion rose from his spot, extending his hand toward her. Tav met his gaze briefly before accepting his hand, allowing him to help her to her feet. Their hands remained connected for a moment longer than strictly necessary, a subtle tension hanging in the air, before Astarion finally withdrew and strolled away from her towards the group. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he was about to go embellish how badly she fucked up the fire. 

But instead of feeling annoyed, she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.

“I hope you feel that weight lift one day, Astarion,” she said, soft enough that only he could hear. 

He paused mid step, glancing over his shoulder at her. “One day, perhaps.”

[jamessluttythighs]

@maraudersolympics-au - just continuing my little marauders olympics au - wolfstar -  392 words - first one - next

James always acted like a lovesick puppy every time he saw a pretty man. Remus hardly ever felt much more than a twinge of lovesick puppy for anyone before. That was until the French fencer. Remus didn’t usually fall for athletes, it wasn’t his style, but he was so far gone and he hadn’t even seen the man’s face yet. 

Remus didn’t usually work around the piste but they had been short on physios that week. He would have much rather been exploring Paris. He reluctantly showed up for his duties and he was seriously glad that he did. 

The French man was playing against an Italian, both of them definitely the highest ranking in their home countries. The way he moved lit a fire in Remus’ abdomen. He lunged and thrusted with the vigour of a snake attacking. He was ruthless. Remus was enamoured.

Remus was forced to leave the match before it ended. The gymnastics events were about to start and the match was almost over anyway. He didn’t even get to see the Fencing man’s face. Remus couldn’t imagine that the face belonging to that body could be anything other than perfect. Luckily Remus made the effort to check the names of the competitors.

“Sirius Black”

James had ventured back to his room only moments before, leaving Remus alone. He wasted no time in typing that name into the Instagram search bar. Instantly, gorgeous black curls and startling grey eyes framed by long lashes flooded his screen. Remus’ breath hitched at the sight of the beautiful man before him. Sirius was everything he could imagine and more.

Remus groaned and buried his face into his pillow. He was never going to see this man again. Unless…

He opened the Olympics app and prayed that Sirius had won the match. He knew the fencing final was in two days. He opened the tab and his heart skipped a beat when he saw:

Men’s Fencing Final - Thursday 14:00:

FRA Sirius Black 

GER Fabian Prewitt

Immediately Remus emailed his supervisor:

Dear Minerva

Something personal has come up and I won’t be able to attend my afternoon shift on Thursday. Will make up for the lost time.

Kind regards, 

Remus

Then

Remus 23:21

cancel your pining on Thursday at 14:00 we have plans

James 23:22

not wanting to shag your athletes, my ass ;)

[wishfulwithwine]

The Great War

Rhysand x Reader

ACOTAR x Taylor Swift One Shot Series 

My knuckles were bruised like violets

Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked

Spineless in my tomb of silence

The cabin in the middle of the woods was quiet, but not silent. There was water running nearby, birds chirping, and animals running through the forest. You kept the fire lit, hearing the embers crackle and feeling the continuous warmth. 

What used to be the deepest fear of yours, was now a comfort. The fire no longer reminded you of the torture you and your brother received at the hands of your other step-brothers. 

Now, you couldn’t feel the cold, dark and damp hallways, or the chill of Amarantha’s stares out here. Under the mountain was pure silence - no breeze, no animals - just a deafening, terrorizing silence. 

The makeshift punching targets on the trees had become your outlet for your pent up emotions, your knuckles inevitably bloody but at least you could let your hurt out. Your body needed to expel the bottled emotions it kept from the facade under the mountain. The wounds didn’t hurt as much as the emotional struggle you endured. 

 You survived. You survived. 

Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

And maybe it was ego swinging

Maybe it was her

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

“You shouldn’t have come with me. You should be back, back home, with everyone else” Rhysand stated, angrily, pacing once you arrived at his new room. You looked at Rhys, not just your High Lord but your brother’s best friend. You had followed him quickly back to his room after the welcoming ball, a bit more difficult in your large gown, but you weren’t a spy for nothing. 

“I’m not overjoyed to be here, especially with the likes of you, but we are here, Rhysand. I promised my brother to protect you” You said, walking closer to him. His eyes looked over at yours, fury swirling in them.

“Your brother… he’ll kill me. Why did you argue with me to go?” He asked, shaking his head.

“Because it didn’t feel right. You had to go, and if something went wrong, I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him.… Azriel won’t kill you, and you need all the help you can get here if we want to survive” You said, and although Rhys understood on some level your logic, he was furious at you. Well you were furious at him too, but that wasn’t necessarily new.

Despite being Azriel’s sister, you disliked Rhysand. You couldn’t say you hated him - which honestly, you probably did - because he had saved your brother from himself. Saved him from the daily torment of his mind, pulled him and yourself from the war camps, and gave him a fulfilling purpose. Azriel trusted him, formed a brotherhood bond with him and Cassian, yet you disliked for doing what you thought you should have been able to help with. 

“Why did you include yourself on the bargain with Amarantha? Huh? How was that protecting?” He asked, almost spitting at you, his temper rising. You kept your ground, firmly planting your feet as Rhys’s anger grew, his eyes swirling with fury.

“She wanted more than just you. She had been eyeing me all night as well, or did you not hear her words about the jewel of Illyria becoming her whore. She plays both teams, Rhysand. I don’t trust her, and Azriel would have done the same. We save home at all costs” You said, and he stared at you, and you felt the stroke on your mind’s walls. 

You shook your head, unwilling to let him in. Your mind was a place you never wanted him, nor anyone in. Luckily Rhysand was a good man deep in his core, despite your dislike of him for other reasons, and would never do anything without your consent. 

Rhys was the man who saved you and your brother from hell, and you could never repay him. You could never repay him for giving your brother all the courage and heart in the world, what you had tried to do but could never accomplish like he had. He was your brother’s knight in shining armor, and for that you would be forever grateful, and forever jealous. How could he save him from despair when you couldn’t?

“Thank you..” He uttered softly, looking at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m not doing this for you” You said, looking away, trying to force down the emotions rising from memories of your family flooding your brain. You didn’t know when you’d see your brother again, your mother, the inner circle who had become your best friends...

“I know” He said, and you nodded, unable to look at him.

“When do you think we’ll be out of here?” You asked, trying to change topics. You heard his harsh exhale.

“I don’t know, but they’re safe. I was able to bubble them” Rhysand said, a bit sadly. 

“They’re safe” You reiterated, nodding. 

All that bloodshed, crimson clover,

The bombs were close and

My hand was the one you reached for 

All throughout the Great War

Always remember 

The burning embers

I vowed not to fight anymore

If we survived the Great War

Fifty years. Fifty years of torment, torture and hell was finally ending.

“Y/N” Your name pierced through your thoughts, as you turned your head away from the corpse of Amarantha to your High Lord. It felt like your body was stuck in place, the shock of the night overwhelming your body. 

Rhys approached you delicately, reaching out a hand for you to take. No words were spoken, as you stared into his eyes, and took his hand, clutching it tightly. He looked at you cautiously, before raising his other hand to your cheek, resting his forehead on yours as the two of you synced your thudding hearts to a normal rhythm. 

“Ready?” He asked, in a whisper, after a few moments. You nodded, as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you as tightly as he felt appropriate while winnowing.

“You’re back!” Mor screamed, as you and Rhysand had winnowed back. Your whole body tensed, unable to pull away from Rhysand’s arms despite the inner circle’s stares at the two of you, your grip on his tightening. He felt you shake your head on his chest, minimally, and Rhysand opened his wings, shielding you both from the stares of the group. 

You leaned a bit from his grip, looking directly at him as you opened your mind up to him, your heightened emotions and stress of seeing everyone again after so long. After everything.

I’ll let them know when you are ready, Rhys said in your mind, as leaned into you, kissing your forehead gently. Leaning back, you shared a look before you stepped out of his arms, and winnowed away.

The inner circle stared as you left, and Rhysand put away his wings, looking away finally from where you were standing, to address his family’s. A weak smile appeared on his lips, as he finally saw the faces of the people he - they - had fought so long to protect. 

“What-Where’d-“ Azriel stared, looking at the spot his sister once stood.

“A lot has happened. Y/N needs some time alone. If I have to, I will order you not to search for her” Rhys stated, looking directly at Azriel, before glancing at all of them to show the severity of his words.

“She’s my sister” Azriel growled, protectively. Rhys stared at him, posturing himself tall to full strength of High Lord as intimidation. The Inner circle was shocked by his display of protection for someone who - before going under the mountain - had all but hated Rhysand. Y/N would barely speak to him unless ordered and was forced by Azriel to spend time with him. 

Now, Rhysand was defending Y/N against her own brother. 

“And she will see you when she is ready” Rhys stated, the violet in his eyes spinning in fury.

“Alright, we’ll give her time. We’re just so happy you’re home” Cassian said, diffusing the situation, as the pair nodded, and the rest of the group sighed, hugging their best friend and High Lord. 

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

I really thought I lost you.

We can plant a memory garden

Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair.

There’s no morning glory, it was war, it wasn’t fair.

And we will never go back

You had heard the wind shift, his steps coming closer to you after he closed the door. You smelled his distinct cologne - the scent you had previously hated, but now smelled like comfort. You didn’t look at him, as he made his way to sit next to you on the coach in front of the fireplace and took the additional wine glass you had left out for him. 

Time was another concept out here - only marked by the rising and setting of the sun around you, the cooler air breezing through the trees. The days were spent working out - climbing th mountains, training, or destroying the punching bag trees.

Every night since the first night, Rhysand had come out here after he felt your terror. Your mind was replaying on repeat all the torture and nightmares under the mountain you had faced. When he arrived, Rhysand didn’t hesitate to wrap you in his arms, wake you from your nightmares, and hold you tight against his chest.

Rhys himself hadn’t been able to sleep that night. The terrors keeping his mind active.

Both of you had sobbed, no words needed to be spoken of the horrors the two of you had lived.

The next night, you added the wine, hoping to calm yourself and forget, but it ended the same way without Rhysand. The memories too overwhelming to go to sleep safely alone. Now, days later, the two of you would drink wine before heading to bed together, knowing you were secure with the others’ arms wrapped around you.

You moved the blanket to allow him to move closer to you, snuggling in to his side as he wrapped his arms around you. You took a deep breath, inhaling more of his cologne, as he moved to make you both comfortable but surrounding you with his warmth. Your head nuzzled into the space by his neck, his arms wrapped around your waist with your legs over his.

“Azriel asked about you again today. He’s getting more demanding on seeing you” Rhys admitted. You let out a sigh.

“I told them you’ll be back on your own time and you’re safe” He added.

“Tomorrow. I’ll come tomorrow” You said, and you felt Rhys breathe deeply, before moving his body to look at you in your eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asked, softly, and you let the corners of your lips lift a bit into a smile, the first form of a smile you’ve displayed in fifty years. 

“As long as we can still continue our sleeping arrangements, I can handle our family” You quipped, and you could see his face morph with happiness. 

He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours, shooting tingles down your spine and fireworks along the softness of his lips.

“Anything you wish, mate”

I would always be yours

Since we survived the Great War

I vowed I would always be yours

[swiftsdelucaa]

Being a fellow doctor at Grey salon and also Amelia's or Teddy's lover . Maybe reader got into an accident and is critically injured .

❛ 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈 ❜

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Teddy Altman x f!reader ♡

𝘼/𝙣: So I chose Teddy since I haven't written anything for her yet! Hope you like it and enjoyy ;)

You had seen millions of soldiers lose their minds and threaten anyone who bothered them with a weapon. So you knew how to behave. You knew how to act when that boy pulled a gun out of his pocket terrifying all the passers. You were walking to the hospital, you couldn't ignore the situation. Some of them had called the police, but no one had arrived yet, so you stepped forward. You knew somehow that boy wasn't into him, otherwise why threaten everyone with a gun?

You were about to get him to put the weapon down so that you would pick it up and he wouldn't scare anyone again, but then the police came yelling at him from behind, so he started getting really upset and angry, picking on you, saying that you tricked him, so he fired a bullet that hit you right in the belly. You felt a weight hit you, suddenly it was hard to even breathe, all you could do was collapse on the ground, closing your eyes, as the blood started flowing out and people ran to your rescue. Then you heard nothing more.

You were rushed to Grey-Sloan, where April and Teddy were waiting. She was prepared for the trauma of a gunshot wound, but with you it would have been different, and maybe finding out like this wouldn't have been even one of the best ways.

"What do we have?" Kepner asked when the ambulance arrived.

"Woman, 34, gunshot wound to abdomen, she lost much blood" the paramedics carried your stretcher off the vehicle.

"Y/n?" Teddy raised her eyes when she recognized you even you had an oxygen mask and were still unconscious. "Oh my God, what happened?!" she asked confused and afraid.

"Teddy it's okay, I'll call Owen, he'll help me with he, she'll be fine, okay?" April tried to calm her down as she just panicked.

Teddy followed her as she carried you into the room, where Owen and Meredith were already ready.

"Hey, isn't she Y/n?" Owen asked.

"God, what the hell happened?" Meredith asked too, with a worried tone.

"They said a guy shot her... she tried to stop him" April said starting to check you. Teddy was still near the entrance of your room, she put a hand on her mouth as she tried to hold on the tears. Owen noticed it, so he went to her.

"Teddy, you can't stay here..."

"I- I know, I just-" she stopped, couldn't continue the sentence.

"We'll take care of her, now you should take care of yourself" he reassured her. "Do you trust us?" she nodded wiping away a tear that she couldn't help but hold back, while Owen returned with the others to deal with you.

They gave you more units of blood and took you to surgery to get the bullet out and stop the bleeding. It had managed to puncture the intestine and diaphragm, luckily nothing they couldn't take care of. The repair was done perfectly, the most involved procedure was the extraction of the bullet as it risked damaging the artery, but you had been entrusted to the best, Teddy had nothing to fear.

When you woke up it took you a while to figure out where you were and why, then you turned around to find Teddy next to you, still crying. As soon as you woke up her face lit up and she squeezed your hand.

"God, you have to stop scaring me!" she wiped away her tears and you smiled at her.

"I... I couldn't not doing anything..." you justified yourself.

"I know, I know you" she stroked your cheek. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Weak, but fine" you kissed her hand which was still on your cheek.

Her gaze remained fixed on you for a while, before she started talking again.

"How would I do without you?" You sighed at her question.

"I'll be strong for tou whatever thing will happen, I promise" you smiled at her as she approached to kiss you on your lips, then laying next to you and holding you in each other arms, feeling safe.

[heliads]

hi!!! i would like to request a zoya nazyalensky x female reader slightly based on mary's song by taylor swift! i don't know if you accept request like this so feel free to write it or not. i just think that the "i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried", "i was 16 when suddenly i wasn't that little girl you used to see" and especially "said you'd beat me up you were bigger than me but you never did" lines are sooooo zoya coded, so if you also just want to write something using this ones? idk, maybe y/n arrived in the palace a bit after zoya and was also a squaller just a little younger and they made zoya teach her a bit so they know each other since they were little and she has been a pain in zoya's ass since forever well, feel free to choose and write however you want to thanks!

'after all this time, you and i' - zoya nazyalensky

masterlist

Zoya is having a perfectly normal morning until someone finally tells her the news.

Normalcy is hard to come by at the Little Palace. It’s hard to come by when you live in Ravka, when you are a Grisha, when your closest friends are kings with demons and girls without all of their eyes. One’s even a Sun Saint. So yes, Zoya’s definition of normalcy is a little strained. Defining this morning as normal purely means that no one has yet lit any buildings on fire.

Even this tenuous thread of normalcy, though, will not stand forever. Zoya has hardly been awake for a couple of hours before all of that comes crashing down again. Luckily for her, it’s not even bad. It’s just different, that’s all. Zoya knows it’s going to be different the same way she knows when everything else changes around here:  gossip. The entire Little Palace is ablaze with it.

Zoya does her best to ignore the whispers as long as she can. Whatever new trouble has arrived to Os Alta will become her problem soon enough, but if she can push off the inevitable for as long as possible, that just means she won’t have to worry for quite as long. It’ll do her constantly furrowed brow some good, at least, if it can have a chance to rest every now and then.

She’s not too proud to admit that she’s definitely doubled back down corridors to avoid large crowds of over excited Grisha, nor that every time she sees someone who looks like they’re just bursting with information that must get out at once, she comes up with some nonexistent task that she just has to get to. If it’s a serious threat, someone would have come for her already. Zoya doesn’t want to hear about run-of-the mill calamities. Only the finest of disasters can be allowed to ruin her morning.

Genya Safin, in the end, is the one who has to break the news. This is also possibly because Genya is the bravest, or just the only Grisha around save for perhaps David who is capable of talking to Zoya without wishing the ground would open up beneath their feet and swallow them whole. Given that David is likely holed up in his lab somewhere, tinkering on gadgets and gizmos until Genya drags him off to meals, Genya herself is the one who must bear this morning’s news.

Even Zoya’s friendship with the Tailor cannot protect Genya from receiving a few haughty stares. Genya emerges from the shadow of a room as Zoya walks past, matching Zoya’s strides within moments despite Zoya’s repeated attempts to speed up and shake her.

At last, Zoya sighs and gives in, slowing down enough that they can walk comfortably. “What’s gone wrong?”

Genya laughs. “Couldn’t I just be talking to you because I felt like it?”

Zoya arches a cold brow. “Are you?”

“Partially,” Genya admits. “Also, there’s something you need to know.”

“Figures,” Zoya says. “What disaster do I have to avert now?”

“No disaster, actually,” Genya answers her. “I just wanted you to know that an old friend will be returning to the Little Palace.”

Zoya eyes her cautiously. “I don’t have old friends. Everyone I know is either here or dead.”

Genya closes her eyes faintly as if searching for patience within the confines of her mind. “Zoya, I know you’re never a sweetheart, but would it kill you to practice optimism every now and then? Just one day without making me listen to something incredibly depressing or cutting, that’s all I ask.”

“You ask for too much,” Zoya says crisply. “So? Who’s coming?”

Genya manages a smile in the midst of her consternation. “Y/N L/N.”

Zoya Nazyalensky is not much given to surprise. She has done her best to remove that unreliable element from her very existence. On the battlefield, you can’t afford for something to take you by surprise. Everything should be expected. If there is something Zoya does not understand, a battle plan or tactical maneuver she doesn’t anticipate, countless lives will be lost. Shock is simply not in her vocabulary.

However, all this being true, upon hearing that Y/N L/N will be back in Os Alta, back here, Zoya actually stops dead in her tracks in surprise. She breathes in and out deliberately, trying to regain her footing. “Y/N?” She asks at last. “You’re sure of it?”

“Positive,” Genya chirps. “I got word from her just this morning. She’ll be arriving later today with news from Shu Han.”

Zoya shakes her head slowly. “That’s impossible. I thought the crown sent her out there for five years. Has something gone wrong? Why is she back early?”

“She’s not back early,” Genya says softly. “It’s been five years to the day. Her assignment is up and so she’s coming home. You’re not unhappy, are you? I thought you’d be pleased to hear the news.”

“I am pleased,” Zoya says, but her mind is already a whirlwind of thoughts and memories, so it’s difficult to focus on the conversation anymore. All of the space in her brain has been taken up with that one idea, that one confounded, blessed, insane idea, that after all of this time, Y/N L/N might be back in Os Alta. Back with Zoya. Back home.

It’s been a long time since Zoya saw Y/N. Well, five years, if one wanted to be specific. Zoya usually likes dealing with specifics. Keeping to the rigid lines and absolute details is the only way that a person can guarantee they will be right. With Y/N, though, Zoya for some reason has difficulty sticking to the impartial. Perhaps it’s just because it’s been so long. Yes, that must be it.

Zoya met Y/N many years ago. Just about when Zoya arrived at the Little Palace, actually, they were both children. Zoya was first and Y/N was second, but only by a handful of months. They were only off in age by a year or two, but Zoya, being older and far more of a perfectionist, had convinced herself that she was infinitely more reasonable and advanced.

Both of them being Squallers, Zoya saw Y/N the most out of anyone in the Little Palace, or so it seemed. The younger girl was always hanging off of Zoya’s shoulder, talking her ear off or following her around from class to class. It used to drive Zoya mad during the early days, but over time she’d gotten used to it. It was a common sight back in the first years; there was Zoya, striding briskly across the grounds of the Little Palace, and then her shadow in a matching blue kefta, Y/N, never far behind.

During the first few years, Zoya had done everything she could to get rid of the girl. She’d threatened to use her gifts to drop her off of the tallest tower around, or beat her up in one of Botkin’s rigorous combat classes, but no matter what Zoya said, Y/N never listened. She’d just show up the next day or the next hour, beaming cheekily, and utterly, utterly immune to any of Zoya’s snarls or poor temper.

That was the beginning, though, and then it had been sort of nice to have someone always there for her. Zoya wasn’t immune to the idolatry of being older and more advanced in her practice of the Small Science. By the end of it, she was kind of fond of it, actually. Having Y/N there beside her was something to be taken for granted, a promise that would never be broken.

Just when she was starting to appreciate it, word got out that the crown was sending Y/N away to Shu Han for five years. Five. Zoya was immediately horror struck, then pretended that she was not affected at all, because why would she be hurt by something like this? Why would she find herself weeping silent tears at midnight because of the thought that where there was once a smiling, laughing girl, someone who had seen Zoya for years and genuinely still wanted her, there would soon be absolute silence?

Zoya had attempted to brush it all off like it didn’t matter. She hadn’t even hugged Y/N goodbye like the other girls, trying too hard to act stiff and unapproachable. She’d been there, though, when the horses rode off. She’d waved. She’d felt her whole world collapse.

Zoya had found a way to carry on, though, and over time she had convinced herself that she was just being nostalgic, that’s all. Goodbyes are always difficult when you’re a child. You think parting from someone once means you’ll lose them forever. It’s true sometimes, but not always. Sometimes, they come back to you. Sometimes, they sneak up on you one busy morning, and you’re left wondering how to open up their place in your heart after you locked it off for so long.

Zoya bids Genya a hasty goodbye before retreating back to her room again. She ends up pacing for quite a long time indeed, running through all manner of scenarios before deciding that she'd been thinking too much about the whole affair and needs to give it a rest. Y/N will come back. She’ll have plenty to talk about and plenty of people to talk to. It will be fine.

Zoya hears a general clamor erupt from outside the hall. The horses are here now, apparently, and everyone’s just dying to see their favorite girl after such a long absence. After taking one last moment to contain herself, Zoya steps out into the chaos, joining the other Grisha in streaming out the doors and into the bright sunshine of the afternoon.

There are too many people to get a good view of anything, so Zoya hangs back near the entrance of the Little Palace. If there are horses and riders, they’ve been swarmed by the other Grisha vying for stories and hellos and everything else. Zoya bides her time and watches everyone else go to and fro as if their lives depend on it.

There’s a slow, vague parting of the crowd as people shift to accommodate movement in the mass. Zoya tilts her head to the side, trying to see but also trying not to look as if she’s trying too hard. The grooms are moving away first, leading exhausted horses back to the stable. There are the soldiers that were sent to protect such a valuable negotiator, but then–

Someone shouts that she’s coming around the bend now, and Zoya shades her eyes with her hand to see properly, but she can’t find the girl anywhere. Zoya knows what Y/N looks like, remember it from when she was a child, but the only person there is a young woman who’s too tall and bright to be–

Oh, Saints. Oh, no. She’s beautiful.

It’s foolish to be thinking like this. More foolish still to watch the woman who must be Y/N striding confidently across the courtyard of the Little Palace, heels striking the cobblestones evenly. The blue of her kefta compliments her eyes perfectly, which flash with mischief as Y/N strolls up to Zoya and says briskly, “If it isn’t my favorite Squaller. It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Nazyalensky?”

Zoya would like to know when they reverted to a last name basis, but more than that, she’d like to know why she feels incapable of speaking without stammering. “Five years to be precise, L/N.”

Y/N’s face splits in a broad grin. “Oh, don’t be cold. I know you’ve missed me, haven’t you?”

Again, Zoya is struck by what five years can do to a girl. Before, Y/N had never dared to be so open. She never would have insisted on what Zoya could or could not feel, but now, she does it easily. She’s not that little girl Zoya used to see around the Little Palace grounds anymore, that’s for certain.

(Privately, Zoya wonders if that might not be for the best. If there might not be a reason Zoya wants her to be bright and tall and free-willed. If there is not something she can get out of the girl now that she hadn’t seen when they were both kids.)

“I did,” Zoya admits, surprising not just herself but likely both of them.

Y/N wavers on her heels for a second, evidently not expecting raw honesty from Zoya this early into her return, but then her smile returns in full force and she wraps her arms around Zoya in a warm embrace. “I missed you too,” she whispers against Zoya’s hair, and perhaps it’s just wishful thinking but Zoya swears the voice is more sly than it ever has been before.

Zoya can do sly, though. Zoya can handle conniving and planning and desperate secrets. So, she pulls away slowly, then slips an arm around Y/N’s waist, casually tugging her closer as they walk back to the Little Palace.

“You’re different,” Zoya says casually. “It’s good for you, I think. You had better tell me all about it.”

A returning grin from Y/N, and Zoya knows at last that they’re on the same page. Time can change us, yes. But it can also return us to the people we were always meant to be. For once, Zoya thinks that growing up might not always be a bad thing.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @budugu, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[thatgenderfluidmonstrosity]

@friendlesscat

Here’s the Aether Exhaustion Fic!!! I know it took forever, but I think it was really worth the wait!!

I did make it Xiao x Aether (just majorly hinted at, neither of them really make any moves) so I hope that’s okay? If not, I can always try again when I get more energy! (Aether x Xiao is just my go-to)

Aether dragged himself through the weeds of Liyues fields.

He just had to deal with 2 commissions of fighting, and two of incompetent citizens. And he didn’t want to be mean; he really wanted to help people. He loved helping people, but sometimes… it was just too much.

So, after his legs started to burn, he sat himself against a rock to rest.

Just breath… it’ll be okay… He told himself.

He was close to believing that, if it hadn’t been for the Hilichurls that started to gather around in the field.

“Noooo… no no no!” He muttered, frustrated.

He was tired- oh so absolutely tired.

But of course he had a job to do. A duty to the citizens of these nations.

He gathered the strength to pull himself up, and hold his sword steady in his hands.

The Hilichurls then noticed him- growling and hissing as they did.

“Hya!” He called out, sending a whirlwind towards the Hilichurls, knocking some of them back.

“Just- die!” He grunted, slashing others with his sword.

They lunged and one lit their fire stick, taking a moment before barreling towards him.

The fire just barely touched him, burning his shoulder- yet he didn’t have the time to heal himself before another threw a rock at him.

He sighed, slouching over as he turned his head to look at the Hilichurl that hit him.

“Really?” He asked, before slashing that one down too.

As he started to get better, a roar erupted from behind him.

“Fuck-” He muttered, turning to see the Mitachurl behind him.

“Come on! Please! Just leave me alone- I’m so tired!” He yelled, practically begging.

He felt his body slowling down- he didn’t know just how much more he could take.

The Mitachurl let out a thundering roar, then charged towards him.

He collapsed, holding his head in his hands, unable to even think clearly.

“Im so exhausted…” He murmured, shaking his head.

Wind began to whirl around him- the air keeping the monsters away.

“I'm so sick and tired of this!” He yelled, the wind got harsher and faster.

The ground started to shake and grow orange-hued glowing spikes.

“Just leave me alone! I can't take this anymore! I work all day- I protect everyone! But what's left for me!? Who’s gonna help me!? Huh!?” He screamed, letting all of his frustrations out onto the monsters.

And as the final Hilichurl laid dead at his feet, he fell to the ground once more, his body truly giving out.

“All I wanted… was to find my sister… All I've ever wanted… was to find my sister…” He cried, feeling the tears streaming down his face.

As his eyes blurred with tears, and his body hit the ground, he could only imagine a warm comfort, a body enveloping him in a much needed hug… or was he not imagining it?

The next time he woke up, he was in a familiar place. Wangshu Inn. The midday sun shone into the room, making him feel awake. Though he couldn't really ignore the striking pain in his right leg, and the pressure pain in his left.

“Aether!” He heard a voice call out.

He wiped his eyes, trying to wipe the last bit of sleep from his eyes. He recognized the voice, and he smiled.

“Paimon…” He said, exhausted.

“Oh thank the Archons, you’re alright! Paimon was so worried! You know, Paimon was scared you weren’t gonna wake up, but luckily-!” Paimon (obviously) couldn’t stop talking (or worrying).

“I wasn’t going to let anything happen to him, Paimon.” Another familiar voice said, coming over from the balcony.

Aether looked over and lo-and-behold; Adeptus Xiao. He was sitting on the railing, looking over at the two of them.

“You saved me?” Aether asked, in a bit of disbelief.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?” He asked, walking towards the injured blond.

“I just… I didn’t call for you…” He muttered, slightly surprised by the kindness of the usually stoic Adeptus.

“You didn’t need to.”

Aether smiled (and slightly blushed), as he began to examine his wounds.

There was silence.

“Paimons gonna let you two speak! Paimon needs food~!” She giggled, then floated off to the dining area.

More… silence.

“Thank you…” Aether said, eventually.

“No need to thank me. I only did what I needed to do.” Xiao said truthfully.

“I um- I’ll find a way to pay you back…” Aether said, “It might take a bit though… These wounds seem pretty bad.” He laughed a bit,

“Why… why would you need to pay me back?” Xiao asked.

“I- uh… just thought- well, you know, you helped me so… I need to help you?” Aether tried to piece the parts together.

Xiao looked at him- he looked upset.

“Wh-what?” Aether asked, concerned as Xiao took a seat on the end of his bed.

“I saved you because I wanted to,” Xiao stated, then he got a brilliant idea, “But if you insist on paying me back… I want you to relax for a couple of days. Not just for your wounds, but for yourself in general.”

Aether's eyes got wide.

“I- I can't do that! I’ve got commissions and requests to complete! I mean, once I can get some food in my system, I’ll be just fine!” Aether said, smiling awkwardly as he tried to convince his friend.

Xiao clearly wasn’t having it.

“You mortals think you are capable of everything in the world…” Xiao sighed.

Aether frowned.

“But you aren’t.” He continued, “And you'll do more harm than good if you don't realize that.”

Xiao’s face was stern, but his voice was softer than Aether had ever heard it before.

“Okay… fine…” Aether gave in, “We can relax, but just for a bit.”

Xiao seemed pleased with this.

“Good, would you like me to help you replace your bandages before we leave?” He asked.

Aether looked confused, “We’re leaving?”

“I actually wanted to take you to one of my favorite places to relax… if that's alright…”

Xiao had meant for it to sound like a comforting suggestion, or even a cheerful one, but it didn’t exactly come off that way. He wasn’t ever good at this stuff, even when he was with… the other friends…

Aethers face got pinker, and he seemed to get flustered but still smiled brightly, “O-oh! Yeah, um, of course, we can do that!”

Xiao felt his face get hot, seeing the blond smile like that.

“Good…” He murmured, looking away to hide his face.

“And yes, I could use some help with these wounds.” Aether replied.

So, Xiao started to help Aether re-bandage himself, making sure to wrap him up nicely.

“Is that alright?” He asked, bandaging where he had gotten burned.

“Yeah, that's- uh, that's fine…” Aether stuttered, his face was a sunsettia red color.

Xiao didn’t know why he was so flustered, till he realized just how close their faces were to each other.

He quickly but carefully finished taking care of the wound, and once he was done, he helped the boy stand.

“There, how do you feel?” He asked Aether.

“Hmm… Hungry…” Aether groaned playfully.

“Oh, right, we should go get you some food then.” Xiao said, holding his hand out for Aether to take it.

Aether took it carefully and they began to walk. His legs didn’t hurt too much, but enough for him to need help.

As they made their way down to the dining area of the Inn, they saw Paimon talking to the chef.

“Oh! Aether, Xiao! Paimon was just about to order her second round of lunch, what do you guys want?” She asked as she floated over.

“Your… second round?” Xiao asked, concerned.

“Don’t worry, this is normal for Paimon.” Aether told his friend, “I’ll have… Tianshu Meat, please.” He asked with a smile.

“Great! What about you, Xiao? Do you want anything?” Paimon asked.

“Oh, I… I don’t-” Xiao attempted to answer for himself.

“He’ll have some Almond Tofu.” Aether smiled.

“Huh?” Xiao asked, looking at him as Paimon floated back towards the chef.

“I know you like it, and you can consider it as some payback… for your help…” Aether told him softly.

“Right… okay.” Xiao agreed.

Whatever made him feel better, he's fine with.

So, the two of them sat at a table, and Paimon soon joined them, along with a feast of breakfast foods.

“And- this is supposed to be your second round of food?” Xiao asked.

“Don't try to think about it too long, I still don't even know how Paimon can eat this much…” Aether whispered to him as they watched Paimon pick each dish off as if they were the Millelith fighting hilichurls.

So, the two of them ate quietly while Paimon did all the talking.

Soon they all finished (including Paimon who was now stuffed). The chef then came over to collect the dishes.

“Oh, here! I’ll help!” Aether offered, attempting to stand on his own to grab the plates.

As he tried to stand, his right leg gave out under him and he fell back into his seat- wait seats don't have arms and body heat-

As he realized what or who he fell onto, he started to apologize.

“Sorry-! I shouldn’t have tried to stand- Im so sorry-” He freaked, transferring back to his own seat.

“Aether, it's okay. You fell, I caught you. It's alright.” Xiao told him gently.

“Wow Xiao! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that comforting!” Paimon mused, smirking a bit.

“Paimon! I-it wasn’t that big of a deal!” Aether blushed.

“Okay! Okay!” Paimon backed off, “Anyway, Paimon will go help with the dishes.”

As Paimon grabbed some plates and floated off, Aether was left very confused.

Since when has Paimon ever wanted to help with physical labor? (carrying things can't be very difficult for her, but still, she was helping nonetheless)

He then realized it was the second time she had left him alone with Xiao.

“So… what other things must I do to complete your request of relaxing?” Aether asked curiously.

Xiao thought for a moment.

“We’ll… if it didn’t bother you too much, we could go to a resting place that I like…?” He posed the question, waiting for Aethers reaction.

“Oh! Yeah, sure! I’d love to see where you hang out when you aren’t here or out battling!” Aether seemed delighted to know more about the Yaksha.

Xiao felt a smile dance on his lips, but he pushed the urge away. He instead focused on how Aether could go from being so happy and bright, to being saddened and in despair. It… made him feel things towards the blond… Things he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

He could barely say that he had friends, and even less so people closer than that. But people like Morax and Aether… made it different.

They were both people that could be close to him without his karma taking effect, and had helped him in many ways. He was forever grateful for them, but was scared to open to them any more than that.

Yet when he saw them smile, or laugh, or be kind to him and share in their comfort… It felt good. He enjoyed it and that scared him.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Aether calling his name.

“Xiaoo~?” The blond called out in front of him.

“Hm? Sorry- must’ve… got lost in my head…” He muttered, turning to face Aether.

“It's alright! Now, about that place?” Aether beamed.

“Oh, yeah, it's just on the coast of Guili Plains. Pretty nice. If we get going now, we’ll reach there by the evening’s end.” Xiao told him.

“Great!” Aether went to stand again, but Xiao was able to steady him before he collapsed again.

“Ah- right. Haha…” He laughed nervously, holding into Xiaos forearm tightly as he steadied himself, putting less pressure on his right leg (It was hurt worse).

Soon enough, Paimon came back from the kitchen.

“Oh! Are you two going somewhere?” Paimon asked.

“Actually, yes! Do you wanna come with us? We are going to relax. Well- I’m relaxing as per Xiao’s request.” Aether explained.

As Aether said this, Paimon seemed to get awfully tired.

“Oh wow!” She yawned, “Paimon’s really starting to feel tired! All that food has definitely caused this… Paimon will stay here and sleep! You two can go off and have fun!”

She then turned to Xiao specifically and said, “Have Aether back before Midnight or Paimon will be very upset with you!”

Xiao looked a little nervous, which surprised Aether. How could he look anything other than brooding and upset? And even more so; how could Paimon make Xiao nervous?

“Okay, okay, Paimon, we’ll stay safe. Now go get your greatly deserved nap.” Aether giggled, being dramatic.

So, Paimon floated off and Xiao and Aether left Wangshu Inn. Aether got a wonderful idea as they began to near the bridge that departed from the Inn.

“Oh! Xiao! Could you pick that flower for me?” He asked, pointing to a Silk Flower bush. “I would, but my legs really hurt.”

It wasn’t really a lie, but it would help him.

“Oh… sure.” Xiao agreed, “I don’t really know why you would want such a plain looking-“

Xiao bent down to pick the flower, when suddenly- Aether jumped onto his back. Xiao managed to stay steady enough to get a hold of Aether's legs.

“A-Aether?” He exclaimed out with a bit of panic and a sigh.

“Sorry! Is this okay?” He asked, leaning over his shoulder to look at him.

Xiao felt his face heat up once more.

What is happening to me? He thought to himself.

As they both got stabilized, Xiao gave him the picked Silk Flower.

“Yeah, it’s alright. Here, the flower you wanted…” He said, handing Aether the flower.

Aether took the flower, then neatly nestled it into Xiao's hair.

“There!” Aether smiled.

Why… why is he making my heart beat so fast? Am I dying? What’s going on?…

“Um- y-yeah… how about we get going?” Xiao asked, looking straight ahead.

“Onward!” Aether smiled, pointing towards the bridge.

The walk was nice, they talked and laughed and even got to watch the sky change from blue to orange, to pink and yellow.

As they got to the shore, sitting under a nearby tree, Xiao couldn’t help but feel… so calm…

“It’s so pretty~!” Aether was mesmerized by the view.

Meanwhile, Xiao was mesmerized by him.

He caught himself staring at the blond, admiring his hair, his eye and clothes. For some reason, he was so enamored by him. Things he had never felt before were rising to the surface, and as Aether looked at him, he couldn’t look away this time.

“Are you alright Xiao?” Aether asked, cocking his head slightly.

“Yeah… I am…” Xiao murmured, allowing himself to smile.

He felt warm.

Aether smiled back, and scooted himself closer to Xiao, which surprised the dark haired boy.

Aether then laid his head on Xiaos shoulder, which wasn't too uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Xiao...” Aether whispered, looking out to the water, “…for today, I mean.”

Xiao looked down at the blond, then back at the gleaming water too.

And as he rested his head onto Aethers, he whispered, “of course… you deserved it.”

Their hands moved to hold each other, and for once, both of them could breath and feel free.

(Also I’m going to sleep immediately after posting this (it’s 11pm for me) so I’ll respond to any/all comments in the morning :3)

Ao3 link if you wanna give this kudos over there! I would greatly appreciate it!

[d1g1tal-d1ary]

Cry // Alex Turner

No summary today as I can‘t think of anything without spoilers ☠️ All I can say that it was inspired by the song "Cry" from cigarettes after sex

Warnings: smoking weed, age gap, female!reader, mentions of sex, no smut, maybe a bit of angst? idk

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

"Wish I was good, wish that I could give you my love now“ - Cry, cigarettes after sex

I can't tell when I fell for him. I can't find the exact moment it had been too late to turn back; to maybe even flee from him.

Maybe it happened the moment I first ever laid eyes on him. I had just moved to London and had decided I couldn't just pass day by day alone in such a big city - so I went to one of those Jazzclubs with one of my friends. The ones where the life artist was a weird man with a black hat and the women were all dressed in a bordeaux red dress, sipping on expensive cocktails the whole night. But I wasn't there to drink cocktails - I wasn't a big drinker, after all - I was there to hum quietly to the music and play some cards with that friend of mine.

"You cheated," I exclaimed with a light chuckle when I had to draw another card. That had been the fifth card in a row that I had to draw since I really didn't have any suitable card to lay down.

"I'm not, I swear!" she replied, her red curls falling so effortlessly perfect from her shoulder that I couldn't help but admire her beauty. Nessy - that was a nickname for Vanessa - was the first person I knew in London. Maybe because she lived right beside my little studio apartment or maybe because the universe knew I needed a friend like her. Who knows?

"Well, I need a cigarette after that unfair play of yours," I mumbled and shook my head. "You wanna join me?"

I had searched for the packs of cigarettes when she shook her head in response, making me raise from my seat and search for the exit. The exit was one of those doors to which followed one of those typical London staircases which led to the sidewalk. Luckily, the Jazzclub knew their customers and there was a little bench on which I sat down and lit my cigarette. The street wasn't empty; I remember. There were a lot of people walking by and that was the reason why he had to step closer to me to make me hear him. At least that's what he told me.

"Excuse me," the voice I learned to love in many, so many ways approached me. I turned my head to look at where the raspy, yet kind voice had it's origin and I knew by the way he was looking down at me; so kind, so soft and so, so, so curious that he was going to be trouble. "You've got a lighter?"

My eyes went down to his lips which were his instrument and the thing which he'd make sure that I knew just how much he wanted me. Without a word, but with a smile I began to search my pockets for that stupid, stupid lighter and took it out.

Or maybe it happened when he, instead of taking the lighter to light the cigarette on his own, he leaned down and waited for me to light the cigarette for him. The way he slightly bent over, making me smell his aftershave or the way he grinned down at me spoke more words than there are words in the bible.

"Thanks," he nonchalantly said. With another swift motion, he had taken the seat next to me and that made me wonder exactly how smooth a person could be. Or maybe I was wondering how pretty a person could be without even seeming to try. "Are you even allowed to smoke cigarettes yet?"

A frown crept it's way onto my face at the question and my gaze caught his as I fired back:" How old do I look to you?"

"Dunno," he shrugged but looked into the distance while taking a drag. "Wasn't expecting to see a young girl like you outside of a Jazzclub."

"I'm not young," I replied. "I'm 19, y'know."

"For god's sake," he chuckled, his gaze studying me. "My band is older than you, love."

"That's not my problem," I shrugged and threw the cigarette onto the pathway. "I guess you're really old, then."

"I'm not old," this time it was his turn to carry a frown on his beautiful face. "Are you from around here?"

I took a quick glance and met his gaze once again. He had already been looking at me the entire time. He had already been looking. At me.

"Uh, no, not exactly," I told him, stumbling across my words but I prayed he didn't notice it.

He raised an eyebrow and suddenly looked very boyish even though the few lines on his face said something different. But to me, those lines were what made him so much more beautiful. He questioned me again:" Then where are you from, sweetheart?"

Maybe I fell for him when he called me sweetheart and made me flustered and wobbly with only ten letters. Or maybe it was the way we had talked about an hour at the end of the night. I wonder what would've happened if I realized I was already head over heels for him when he kissed me a good night kiss on the cheek and promised a simple and so easy thing with a smoot "I'll call you".

I often question myself. Am I as funny as I think I am? Do people think I'm loud? But I never questioned myself when I was with him; because it was enough for me that he had really called a few days later. I noticed very early on that he was simply knittet and wasn't actually looking for love. Or anything that could lead to love.

"Then why did you call me back?" I asked him curiously while the rush hour had begun and tons of people were walking by the little table we sat at. "I mean, if you're not looking for anything. I'm not going to fuck you, that's for sure."

"For sure?" he questioned and raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk on his face. "Ah, I dunno. I'm not exactly eager to take you home with me, either. I don't know why I called you. I guess something about you caught my interst."

I missed the way his tiny phone kept buzzing during his little speech. I missed the way girls were turning around when they saw him and I missed the way my heart was beating faster than it'd ever done before. Because all I saw was him; all I wanted was him and I must've realized back then that I couldn't have turned back or ignored him.

But that wasn't the moment I fell for him. I never dared to question why me, out of all the people in the world. And maybe that was one of the reasons I fell for him in the end.

I would've guessed it was the first time he called me late at night. I had been sitting on the couch in my apartment when his message came through - enough to make my palms sweat.

>> U up? <<

I looked out the window, weighting the options I had to text him back, but I should've known I'd be wherever he wanted me to be in a matter of thirty minutes. And that's how I ended up in a dark studio; smoke filled the air and I watched him play soft tunes on his E-guitar.

And maybe that was the moment I fell for him. Just the two of us in a room where he had only ever invited the closest people to. Just the two of us sharing secrets in the late - or early hours, however you'd like to call it - hours of the day as no one else knew he was there with me.

I realized I could stare at him for hours when I had watched him play the same song over and over again. When I'd mesmerized every detail his face, his hands and the guitar itself and I was sure I could draw him exactly as he was in that very moment. Because I adored him. I adored him so much that I didn't bat an eye when he pulled out a joint from his pocket and sat down next to me.

"Have you ever smoked weed before?" he asked me. Even though I could see his muscles relaxing and the weed working its wonder on my beautiful, beautiful boy he still made sure not to let me out of his sight.

"Yea," I lied.

With a satisfied hum, he passed the burning wonder to me and watched me take a drag. If I had been honest, I would've said the taste was disgusting. If I would've been honest, I would've told him that I was in love with him.

But I wasn't. And that's why I never realized when I fell for him. He had caught my interest from the very first interaction and when he took me for the first time on that dirty couch in his studio all high and sloppy, I never questioned why I did all of that with him. And I always told myself I did all of that because youth is supposed to feel that way. Confusing, shattering and even heartbreaking.

But I never opened my eyes enough to see that I was doing all of that for him; taking an uber at two AM and letting him do whatever he was feeling like that night because I wanted him to love me. Because I loved him. With every inch of my body, every vein in my body pumping blood and every pump of my heart - I loved him.

But my mistake was that I always wondered when I fell for him and not if he ever fell for me.

[brewsterispunkk]

a marriage of convenience, part two

pairing: pero tovar x f!reader

warnings: HEAVY TW ON DOMESTIC ABUSE! enemies to lovers

WC: 3.1k

summary: hate at first sight <3

PART TWO

Against your mother’s wishes, you arrived home later than usual, with the sun already beginning to set beyond the hills.

It wasn’t your fault entirely—Lisbeth had practically begged you to walk her home after the fright you’d had with the man in the river earlier.

She always was easier to frighten than you. And besides, there had been rumors about attacks on maidens from a few towns over for weeks. Your mothers and others in the community had already begun whispering that it was only a matter of time before they made their way to your hometown.

The very thought sent a shiver down your spine. There were enough sinister men here already– you didn’t need any more.

Unlike you, Lisbeth didn’t keep any type of weapon on her person for self defense, so it seemed only natural for you to walk her home; Men rarely attacked women who traveled in groups, and you kept a dagger hidden in your bodice for emergencies. And you knew how to use it—your father made sure of that before he lost his ability to walk.

Still, you kept an eye out for strangers as you crept the cobblestone alleyways home, to your father’s carpenter’s shop.

It wasn’t a particularly long trek from Lisbeth’s home, but it was enough to keep you wary. Nights in the village tended to be rowdy, with the merchants and travelers from every-which-way seeking their fun after months on the road.

Luckily for you, you knew the ways to go to keep out of the way of unsavory company.

You crossed the street to another alley, this one torch-lit. You silently thanked the Gods, and the tavern owner, for the light.

It put you at more ease. You’d been on edge since that afternoon and your encounter with the strange rogue in the forest.

Your mind went back to him as you hurriedly made your way through the alleyways.

His build, his hair, his eyes, how dark they were.

You couldn’t tell if you were more frightened or intrigued.

The opening of a back-door snapped your attention back to the present.

You recognized from the drunken-singing coming from inside that it was a tavern—one of the most frequented in town.

“Out with ‘ya, then!” A familiar female voice shouted, before the heavy figure of a man was thrown to the wet cobbled street in front of you.

You could barely control the shriek that left your lips.

“Christ, girl. You scared me.” The barmaid, Morwenna, placed a hand over her breast.

“And you me!” You scowled at her, only to be met with the rise of an eyebrow.

Morwenna was the daughter of a friend of your mothers and had spent many a day rearing you when your mother was tending house. Nearly a decade older than you, she married the owner of the tavern when you were only nine. Still, she was one of the many women in the village who employed your mother’s services for pains and maladies.

“What are you doing out so late, love?” She asked. “Your mother will be having a fit.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I was…distracted.”

“Again?” She flicked a black curl over her shoulder.

“Yes, again.”

“Well. You best get on home now, there’ll be more like him,” she nodded to the drunken man at your feet, “about. Be careful.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and, does your mother have another batch of my tea made up yet?”

“Almost. With this batch of herbs, she should,” you held up your basket of herbs.

“Good,” she said, beginning to close the door. “My moonsblood is almost here and I can’t bear it without it.”

“I’ll bring it by as soon as it’s ready.”

“Good girl.” she smiled. “Be safe!”

You smiled at the woman over your shoulder before continuing on your way.

- - -

You were surprised to find the house silent when you arrived home.

Your siblings rarely went to bed without a fight, unless they were thoroughly tired out, and your mother was known to stay up mending by the fire well into the early hours of the morning.

You were relieved to find your Petyr’s jacket gone from its hook near the door. It meant what it always did: that he was gone to the tavern for the night, and you were spared from his presence.

Wearily, you set your full basket at the wooden table near the kitchen, thankful that you wouldn’t have to face your mother’s wrath ‘til the next morning.

She would have your head for staying out this late, you were sure, but at least you could get a good night’s sleep first.

A sniff from behind you caught your attention and you turned your head to face the hearth.

You were so weary you had almost missed it; There, curled up on some blankets were two of your younger brothers, Hugo and Rowan.

Strange, you thought.

It wasn’t unheard of for them to tire too soon and fall asleep by the hearth, but usually Petyr or your mother would carry them up to their chambers upstairs.

You hummed in curiosity before looking at your arms.

You looked down to your tender wrists and rubbed them, hissing when you found them still tender to the touch.

It was moments like these that you allowed yourself to hate your brother—Petyr—in the silence and darkness of your home, while everyone was asleep. In a way, it made it excusable. Not real, even. Still, it was enough for you to keep your head during the day when you had to save face with the rest of your family.

You sighed and unlaced the front of your dress, allowing yourself to slump into one of the well-worn seats at the table. You saw a crust of bread sitting there, along with a bit of apple and you smiled to yourself.

That was from your sister, Grace, you were sure. At fourteen, she was the backbone of your family and sharp as a dagger, but kind as summer at the same time.

You took a bite of the bread, then realized that you had no ale or water to be seen, which meant you would have to venture down to the cellar for some.

You shivered at the thought. Though a woman grown, you still hated to go down there alone, nevertheless at night.

Still, your tongue felt like sandpaper in your mouth and you knew that you’d have to brave the cold, dank, cellar.

You stood and began to creep toward the cellar door, which was attached to the kitchen. But, as you crept in, something stopped you.

It was the quiet creak of the loose floorboard in the corner.

It crept up your spine like a serpent, and immediately you knew you weren’t alone in the dark kitchen.

You silently cursed yourself for not lighting a candle when you got home.

You took a slow breath before itching sneakily for the knife in your bodice, all the while taking slow steps into the kitchen, toward the corner.

Suddenly, there was a rush of movement, and you wasted no time.

WIth a yelp, you slammed into the person hiding in the corner, your knife drawn. You shoved them against the wall and pressed the knife to their throat.

“Stop!” You screeched, pressing the knife deeper. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to cause the person—the man—to grunt.

“Mother!” you called over your shoulder. “James!”

“Ah!” The man grunted from where he was pressed to the wall. “Suéltame, suéltame—Let me go!”

His voice would have been fearsome had you not had a knife to his throat.

You heard shuffling from upstairs, and the familiar racket of your family and you breathed a sigh of relief.

You felt the coarse brush of hair over your wrist—like that of a beard—and took the opportunity to examine the shadowy silhouette of the man under your knife.

He was broad, with a long mass of hair, that much you knew, and he smelled of lye soap. He was tall, too. Intimidatingly so.

It was almost as if—no. It couldn’t be.

Your mother’s gasp and the gold of candlelight interrupted your thoughts.

“What are you doing?” she screeched, as she and your siblings entered the kitchen behind you.

The light from their candles finally made it possible for you to see the man’s face, and it made your blood run cold.

It was him.

“You!” you yelled, pressing the knife deeper against his neck, deep enough to draw a drop of blood.

He grunted, before you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Cousin,” a familiar voice cooed from behind you.

You hadn’t heard it in years, and it had deepened some, but you could recognize it anywhere.

“Please, drop the knife.”

“...William?”

“Aye.”

You turned your head and were met with familiar blue eyes, under an overgrowth of blond hair. The man took advantage of your distraction, grabbing your wrist in a vice-like grip and prying it—and the knife with it—away from his neck.

You gasped at the pressure to your bruised wrists and pulled them to your chest, glaring daggers at the wild man before you.

You hadn’t seen your cousin William’s face in nearly a decade. He’d spent time living with your family when you were younger, after the death of his mother, your aunt.

You remembered the time when William lived with you in a myriad of gold-edged memories. Like it was always summer when he was there.

You remembered swimming in the stream, trying to teach him the lute, singing wildly off-key, and wild games of tag in the fields. You remembered him carrying your ten-year-old body on his shoulders, and dancing in a circle at the festival of the harvest.

But mostly, you remembered being heart-broken when he left.

“What on earth is going on here?”

Your mother rushed in between you and him, eyes fierce.

“I should be asking you that!” you burst.

“I awake to you assaulting a guest?!”

“---a guest?!” you cast a horrified look over your shoulder. “He is a rake!”

“He is a friend of your cousin’s, and you will hold your tongue.” Your mother’s tone held no room for argument.

“Ah, this is my friend and companion, Tovar. We’re just passing through, looking for somewhere to lay low for a while.”

You eyed the man—Tovar—skeptically, looking particularly at his hair.

“Yes, we, uhm,” William chuckled. “We haven’t had time for a cut or shave in months, I’m afraid. We shall have to remedy that tomorrow, I think.”

You hummed.

“That still does not explain this one’s penchant for spying.”

At that, Tovar snorted.

“And where is your husband, Señora?”

You bristled at that.

So he did remember your conversation from earlier, you thought.

“She has no husband,” Grace piped up from behind your brother James. “Though she should. She’s already old—”

“That is enough, Graciela.”

She merely smirked.

“Are you alright, sir?” Your mother asked Tovar.

He cast you a glare, before nodding.

He wiped a drop of blood from the cut on his neck.

“Just a scratch. No harm, Doña.” He smiled half-heartedly at your mother.

“You are too kind, Mr. Tovar, but yes there was much harm done.” She cast a withering gaze at you. “It’s a grievous sin to wound a guest under your own roof. My daughter should know better.”

“Surely, Aunt—”

“No, William,” your mother cut your cousin off. “She must learn.”

She snaps your name and your fuming gaze meets hers.

“You will dress his wounds.”

“But—”

“No arguing. You’re lucky you didn’t wake your father. The consequences would’ve been much more severe.”

You balked at her as she ushered your siblings back upstairs, but you knew better than to argue. Your mother was a kind woman, a just woman, but she was not a woman to be crossed.

You sighed, and met William’s eyes, who merely cast you an apologetic look.

“Come, then Tovar.” You spat once your mother had retreated upstairs. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” William chuckled from your right and you shot him a venomous look.

“I’m not done with you either,” you shot at him. “I want answers.”

“Then you shall get them,” he smiled, eyes fond.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

He wanted you to smile at him, to fall into his arms and tell him you missed him, you were sure of it. You wouldn’t—no matter how true it was. Some part of you was still angry at him for leaving so abruptly all those years ago. Still, it was nothing you couldn’t forgive him for.

“You’ve been away too long.” You settled with.

At that, he smirked and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into your head. You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face; you really did miss him.

“Alright,” you groaned. “Let go, you’re smothering me.”

He chuckled and did as you asked.

“Well, I shall leave you to it then. I’m tired.”

You waved to him as he exited to where you assumed he was sleeping in your younger brothers’ room.

Then, you turned and faced the real problem: the man in front of you.

- - -

“Ow,” the man—Tovar—hissed from beneath your hand.

“Be quiet,” you snapped. “You’ll wake everyone up.”

“A warning next time, Leona.” He spat at you.

You pressed the alcohol-soaked cloth harder into his neck.

“Don’t insult me in a language I don’t understand.” You said, before grumbling, “coward.”

He grabbed your wrist.

“I am many things, but I am not a coward,” his voice was dangerously low.

You met his dark eyes, and rolled your own. You yanked your wrist out of his grip, ignoring the throbbing.

“You men are such babies.”

He scoffed, but you continued.

“Whining over a scratch, over the sting of alcohol, over mere words–”

“You would be surprised how much words can fire the temper, hmm, Señora?”

You glared at him and turned to the gauze on the table.

You didn’t speak much Castilian, but living where you did you’d picked up enough to know a few words. He was calling you “Mrs.” It made you tick.

“Just shut up, so we can get this over with.”

“As the Señora commands.”

You glared and wrapped the gauze around his neck only a little too tight. It was difficult enough to dress the wound around his wild hair and beard. You hoped you wouldn’t be expected to cut it tomorrow.

“Done,” you sighed when you tied the knot on the bandage.

“Hmm,” he hummed.

His scowling face looked almost menacing in the candlelight. You wondered if it always held such a sour expression. You also wondered why on earth this man was so unpleasant.

Tovar stood from where he sat beside you at the table and you were once again reminded of his staggering height. He had to be nearly a head taller than your father, and half a head taller than Petyr.

His stature was attractive, you accepted begrudgingly. You wondered if his face was as well, under all the months of overgrowth.

There had been times in your youth when you and Lisbeth had snuck off from your chores to the village square to spy on the travelers. You’d seen men of all kinds there: tall and short, light and dark, small and big.

You two would often daydream about handsome strangers you found there—imagining them as your future husbands.

As you sat there watching Tovar stand in your kitchen, you wondered if you had seen him then, would you have imagined him there, in the place of the man you would one day marry?

One look at his scowl gave you your answer.

Wordlessly, he made his way to the wooden stairs that led to the upper level of your house, where he was no doubt sleeping in your brothers’ room.

You noted the stiffness to his shoulders, the sureness and beat in his step; This man was a soldier. If not presently, then in another life.

Your village didn’t see war often—maybe ever—but you’d seen enough of them passing through in your life to recognize one.

This new revelation about Tovar made you curious—almost as much as you were resentful.

It wasn’t until he was halfway up the stairs that you realized that he hadn’t even thanked you.

“You’re welcome.” You called dryly, causing him to scowl even more over his shoulder before he went to bed.

- - -

You stayed up by the fire, mending James and Hugo’s playclothes.

Your mother usually was the one who stayed awake into the wee hours doing chores, and you wanted to make up for the ones you’d missed that afternoon. That, and you hoped this would save you from her wrath the next morning.

You were sewing a hole in the knees of a pair of James’s breeches when you heard the front door being roughly pushed open.

A spike of fear went through your heart.

Petyr.

Your brother stumbled as he made his way through the kitchen, no doubt drunk again. You heard his drunken shuffling as he rooted through the pantry, then the empty bowls on the table. He grumbled as he stumbled into the room where you were.

“You,” he slurred, voice hateful even inebriated.

You froze in the chair.

Your brother was disheveled. His shirt was partly unlaced, and had a stain down the front. It looked and smelled like it was ale. His shoes were haphazardly tied, and his pants stained like he’d fallen in the dirt. His face was deadly.

“You didn’t save me dinner,” he growled as he stalked toward you.

You stood up, dropping the breeches to the floor and backing away from your brother.

In two steps, he was in front of you, hand grabbing your already tender wrist in an iron grip.

You cried out, and he yanked you closer, sneering in your face.

“Shut up,” he spat. “Why isn’t there any supper waiting for me?”

“I-I didn’t eat,” you struggled to get your wrist free.

“What about the bread,” his voice was too quiet. Deadly.

“Gra-Gracie left me some. I didn’t eat, Petyr, let me go!” You pulled at him, only for his hand to move from your wrist to your neck.

You gasped as he squeezed your neck in his hand, enough pressure that you saw stars.

“You don’t tell me what to do, do you understand?” he asked, face too close to yours.

You could smell the sour scent of alcohol on his breath as you struggled to breathe.

You tried to nod your head.

“Yes.”

You finally squeaked out, before his hand was gone and you were toppling to the floor.

You heard his footsteps stalking away as you tried to catch your breath, gasping on the floor. Your heart raced, and you realized after a moment that your head was pounding.

It was only until you were sure he was gone that you let yourself cry.

[multifictionx]

Bulnoriya - OT8

Chapter One

The Crash

"No! Damnit, right now?!"

The beeping red light blinds me as the alarm blares in my ears. And I listen as the ship rumbles, watching as the gray smoke clouds erupt from the raggity old piece of garbage, through the side mirror. But that's not even the most frustrating coincidence about this whole ordeal. Because faintly through the thick smoke, I catch sight of an all to familiar ship. The big ship is hot on my trail, and just when I thought this night couldn't possibly get any worse. "Come on Y/n..your just making it harder on yourself." The old man's annoying voice suddenly can be heard through the intercoms. "You and I both know if i don't catch you, the Nicrim will -" He pauses as if thinking for a moment before he continues. "I'd be fucking rich if i catch you though. Ha- "

"Damn- you just love the sound of your own voice, don't you, old man? I don't give a damn about some bounty.. Do you know even who I am?"

I cut the dirty old bastard off, already having zero patience. If I didn't have to abandon my real ship for this cheap piece of shit this wouldn't be happening. "Always so sassy, ha! You will never change-- Anyway, we can do this the easy way... or the hard way.." The man's voice no longer feigning playfulness. "Fuck you old man..I'd love to stay and beat your ass but my time is precious."

I cut the intercoms off before the man could continue speaking any longer. Soon after I feel the power of the ships shots firing near my ship. Luckily they haven't hit me yet. "Shit what do I do? What do I do?! Okay--"? I take a deep breath in and out.. before proceeding to pull up navigation. Deciding I'm going to use the last bit of life this ship has to warp to the closest planet. But pulling up the navigation I'm hit with a beam making me accidentally hit the warp button before I could see what planet it was.

The old ship is hit with the most ruthless turbulence upon entry of this planet. And I wonder how it still miraculously has stayed in one piece. The planet rumbles with the sound of a horrible storm, and as I look out the front window. Im horrified to see a storm of total chaos... one like I've never seen before... the ship moves sporadically, and I feel as though I've been caught in a tornado of some sort. And it takes one particularly harsh jerk of the ship for me to hit my head so hard on the side of the chair, losing unconsciousness.

...

"Arggh" the abrupt sound of some very loud thunder stirs me awake. And as I try to open my eyes, a pounding unparalleled to any I've experienced forces a wince out of me. It feels like every nerve in my body has been set a flame. The smoke in my lungs barely leaves room for air. Wheezing is all I can manage, and even then, it hurts like hell. The way the ship crashed has my seat sideways, so unbuckling my seat belt makes me drop like dead weight.

"Fuck.."

I curse upon impact with the hard ship, and I'm hoping the cracks I heard weren't my ribs, but the pain is screaming otherwise. Regardless of the tremendous struggle and pain It took me, just to make it to the ships door. I pulled through and made it out of the ship.

"Holy shit..."

It's barely lit outside with the sun setting. The rain doesn't help me to see in the slightest, and it's quite heavy on this planet. It practically feels like the metaphor 'raining cats and dogs' is an understatement. When my eyes adjust from the rain and dullness, I'm alarmed to find..the remains of multiple ships..like some kind of ship graveyard.

Some planets have a serious reputation, but there's only one planet I know this many ships have traversed to, only to never be seen again. That planet is Bulnoriya...

 

Before the Crash

Seriously how the fuck did they find me?! The big armored men ravage my ship in rage. As I watch from slightly afar, my anger grows, watching them tear my baby apart. They are clearly bat shit crazy if they think they're going to walk away from this alive..

Scoping the area, I smirk, when I spot the old piece of junk there riding in. Occupied by their, apparently lousy driver, sleep in his chair. I creep over sneaking on the ship so gracefully I had to chuckle quietly. Preceeding to strike the already unconscious man in a pressure point that will keep him unconscious. Then, I decided not to kill him by keeping him hostage just to let him out in space to suffer a horrific death. But to instead drag him out the ship and tie him up somewhere for at least one of his buddies to find him. After I beat their asses to a pulp. Once I've successfully secured my escape, I made my way back towards the bastards destroying my ship. "Where is she!" The Reptilian man hisses out in rage. "I'm not sure. Who you looking for?" I interrupted with an unamused tone while occupying myself with my cuticles. "Wha-" before the big buffoon could speak, I lunged at him, punching him clean in the throat. He starts choking, and his members start noticing me as well. "That's her! Get that bitch!" Another Reptilian hisses out, and you see one thing about me.. I don't like being called a bitch. "Ya momma," I glared at the ugly ass before throwing a hand knife so fast he had no time to react. The knife sits right in his voice box now. "Aww, look at you.." I cup a hand around my ear, pretending to try and listen. "what was that? Sorry I can't hear you over the gurgling." I coo out sarcastically as the last member looks at me terrified. I buck at him suddenly. "Ah, sorry!" He is running away back their ship like a bitch. I cackle loudly before grabbing my handknife out of his members' throat. Quickly making work of the other member, stabbing him right in the skull, before chasing after him. "Where do you think you're going! The fun was just getting started!" I snicker out, right on his tail. Before he could get too far, my knife pierced his right shoulder as I jumped on his back. Successfully pinning the Reptilian to the ground as he cries out in pain. I lift his head to whisper in his ear, "Should've left my ship alone... you're lucky I'm going to leave you alive. Now, don't follow me. Your ship is mine now." I drop his head hard, getting up off his back. To then take my time walking towards the ship. I start the ship without a hassle before taking off because obviously I can't hide out here anymore.

Present

I'm starting to think that possibly I am meant to die because of all places.. Bulnoriya?! My mind is going haywire, and I start to feel myself begin to panic for the first time in forever. I hold my ribs in pain as I slowly walk away from the ship reluctantly, out of fear it might explode anytime now. The smoke is still leaving my lungs as I cough up smoke. Groaning at the immense pain, it causes to shoot through my body. Ignoring the pain as much as possible, I proceed to search my surroundings for anything to take shelter in. I spot the beginning of a forest near by, the trees are the biggest I've ever seen. And even though I'm terrified to be on this planet right now.. it's breathtakingly beautiful. I slowly drag my feet in the direction of said forest. In hopes that maybe I can find somewhere safe to rest. I continuously cough up smoke as I walk. The pain of walking along with coughing is almost unbearable, but I keep telling myself I've been through worse. But those words prove to be inaccurate because I'm so close to the forest. Yet I feel my body rapidly weakening, and my eyelids grow heavy. Then the dragging becomes staggering, and I feel my breaths becoming shallow. Then everything goes dark..

...

I awake to the feeling of motion, and my head is still pounding. Though, when I go to reach for my head. I find myself not able to move. My eyes shoot open as I struggle against the bonds. In my panic, I observe where I am. I'm being dragged on a giant leaf of some sort, by 6 foot tall..humans? "Mmph" fuck even my mouth is taped.. My sudden noise gets the attention of all three of the men. But they only look at me for a split second, continuing to drag me. What the hell have I gotten myself into?! My heart starts to race uncontrollably beginning to pass out again.

...

Waking up for the third time in such a short period of time. Proves to have taken a toll on my body. Here I am, my mind awake before my body. I can hear everything but no matter how hard I try I can't move. The sound of someone shuffling around by me is all I hear. Then I can feel hands start to touch me, but I have no clue what they're doing. Literally not even a few moments pass when I jolt awake. Only to instantly regret it with a cry of pain. "Fuck!.." I curse out whilst frantically inspecting my surroundings. "Hey! Lay back! You'll mess up the bandage I just did!" The unfamiliar man raises his voice in clear annoyance. "I don't have much of a choice do I?" I snap back with a glare, proceeding to do as the man says with an attitude. "Who are you? Where the hell am I?" I don't really ask it's more like I demand answers. "I'm not obligated to tell you that ma'am. Just sit back and relax while the serum heals your wound." The man grunts out, occupied by some other task. "The hell do you mean 'not obligated'? The last thing I remember I was being dragged by 6 foot giants and I can't even atleast know where I've been taken?" I argue desperately to get some kind of answer. Speaking of giants.. why are all these motherfuckers so tall?  I start to think to myself after noticing the height of the man infront of me. "You heard me. Now relax I'll be back in a while." The man states simply before leaving the room. I curse in anger at the man as he leaves. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do..?  Now that I actually stop and look where I am. I notice this place looks expensive.. Like royalty expensive. There is gold everywhere, lining the walls, paintings, flower vases, even the tools on this man's surgical table are made of gold. Holy shit.. This place is nice. I can't help but think to myself. But before I can continue to gawk at the place. I'm screaming in agony. The pain from my ribs suddenly grows unbearable. The man from earlier comes rushing back in and puts something in my month to clench down on. "Calm down. You'll feel so much better in just a moment. The serum is fixing your ribs." I can't help the tears that flow down my cheeks. Along with the strong grasp I've got on the mans forearm, as I sob in pain. "Shush.. shush.." The man gently brushes my hair, trying his best to calm me down.  And I look at him through wet lashes and blurry vision before.. it's gone. The pain is completely gone. Loosening my grip, I shut my eyes in relief, and my labored breathing starts to slowly stabilize. "How are you feeling now?" The man asks sweetly whilst removing the thing from my mouth. "So much better.." I stretch my jaw as I speak, gazing at the man with gratitude. "Good because the kings demand your presence. You are to explain to them why you've landed on our planet. If you lie, they will know if they don't like your answer.. well, both outcomes lead to death." The man's sweet tone is gone replaced with professionalism. My eyes widen, and I have so many questions just at the tip of my tongue. Yet they go left unsaid, as two guards make their way inside. They don't speak as they each take an arm, practically dragging me away. I don't panic in the slightest, as I really could care less what happens to me at this point. I let them drag me through, seemingly never-ending halls. Till we arrive in front of a set of grand doors. The guards give a knock, and the doors slowly open on their own. The room is huge, with a carpet leading to eight throwns. I start to panic now, not giving a fuck is not working anymore. The guards drop me, forcing me to bow before their kings.

"You may leave." I hear a voice speak before, but I don't raise my head to see who. Hearing their steps dissipate is agonizing, and I feel my pulse spike once I hear the giant doors close. "Who are you? Why have you come here?" A deep voice is heard after a brief silence. "Y/n-Raise your head when spoken to!" The same deep voice cuts me off, and I wince at the booming volume. Slowly, I raise my head only to gasp quietly. The men before me are... beautiful yet look so fierce. "My name is Y/n, and I didn't land here by choice. I crash-landed here by mistake." I state simply feeling no need to further my explanation. My tone is emotionless. "What were you running from to crash land here by mistake?" A different voice speaks up. "The Nicrim." Another simple reply. "What do the Nicrim want a simple girl for?" I ponder briefly on how I should explain that I am no simple girl. "Because I was once the Commander and Cheif of their army. They want me back to do their dirty work." I tilt my head with the slightest bit of attitude. "Commander and Cheif? A little girl like you. Mm, how interesting." My face scrunched in distaste. "This girl may be little, but I could take out your whole army." I spit back as I stand to my feet, no longer in a pliant mood. "I truly doubt that, but you've got grit though I'll give that." The man in the middle says with lifted eyebrows, amusement clear in his timbre. "It doesn't matter if you doubt me. My reputation proceeds me." I challenge already bored with this whole interaction. "And our reputation proceeds us. What makes you think you're any different?" They are pretty much laughing in my face at this point. My aggravation is reaching a boiling point. "How about let's make a deal then.." I start to smile menacingly, with the plan in mind. "We're listening." It's seems to me I'm amusing them too much. It's really pissing me off. "Ten of your best warriors vs me, if I get them to the floor, I win, you give me a ship, and I leave. If they can get me to the floor they win, and you choose my fate." My eyebrows raise in question as they ponder upon the choices I've laid on the table.

"Deal," the man in the middle finally says a devilish smirk gracing his features. Silence falls upon us, and I become confused.

"Are you going to call-," I don't get to finish before the grand doors are opened once more. The men enter forming a wide circle, ten in total. How tf? They didn't even say anything.. "Well, are you going to do anything? You've been staring off into space for like five minutes already." There they go laughing at me again. My anger has peaked, and I don't reply. Advancing towards the circle. They look just as fierce as their kings. "Well, let's put on a real show, shall we." I chuckle at the men. I assume they take that as me saying I'm ready. Because two men charge me at once. The one on the right is closer, so I wait for him to get just a little closer. As soon as that moment comes, I drop like dead weight. Sliding through the mans open legs, I manage to swipe his feet from under him. The other man is hot on his trail, my eyes turn gold, and I use my power of vibration to launch myself in the air. Going right through the mans arms to which he tries to grab me in his surprised state. Wrapping my legs around the man's neck, I forcefully fall back with all my power. Flipping the man whilst landing on my feet, the man's head between my legs. By this time, three others pounce at me. I maneuver to the side last minute. Using my sound vibrations I fly around them, taking them both out as I dropped landing on their heads.  Sending them tumbling to the ground, now standing on their heads. The third one tried to sneak me from behind. Didn't work out for him, though. Doing a windmill backflip my foot connects with his jaw. Making him fall back with a painful groan. Taunting the last five, with a feigned pout before I begin to cackle loudly. I'm having too much fun. "You all should probably come at me all together.. you at least won't get your asses beat too bad." Who's laughing now bitches. Using my a series of complex vibrations, I am able to form a staff. "Let's see what you've got."

...

In the end, I stand victorious. The men are either on the ground or waiting for further instruction, it seems. That is until they all get up, leaving simultaneously. "Looks like I've won." I grin as I draw near the kings. They don't seem upset, but they don't seem happy either for some unknown reason. "Seems so..though we don't intend on letting you go." The man in the middle has an unreadable expression. "What!? The fuck do you mean, we had a deal!" My attitude does a whole 360. Rage coursing through my veins. "That's was until you showed us your unique powers.. I now see why the Nicrim wants you so bad. You're their only hope of overthrowing us and taking our planet for their own. You see, the Nicrim has been trying for decades to overtake Bulnoriya. The only time they were somewhat close was under the lead of someone named The Viperous... We've heard a lot about you, Viperous." This was a setup..fuck! My eyes start to glow, and I begin to levitate, immediately making a break for the ginormous window panel. I almost made it before a harsh pull immobilized me mid-air. What the fuck? My body begins to turn up right, and I'm forced to turn around to face the kings once more. The one in the middle now stands, a purple glow now replaces his once brown eyes. And his hand is engulfed in the same purple glow. He sports the same devilish smirk from just before the fight. Oh, how I wish to smack it off his annoyingly handsome face right about now. "Where do you think you're going, little one?" He asks smugly but I don't get to say anything in return. A sharp pinch in my neck is all I feel. "You bastards.." Then my vision goes blurry as I begin to lose consciousness.