#that I’ve had for as long as I can remember’

[lunarlando]

Hi I love ur girl dad lando fics sm they're adorable I was wondering if u could write smth where lando and readers girls invite their friends for a sleepover (like a crossover with carlos,charles, Oscar and max F's kids) cuz they're besties and reader and lando putting in lots of effort for the girls and making it a fun time for them and overall fluff and comedy pls xx

Hope u have a grt day and feel free to ignore this request if u don't want to write it xx 🫶🏼

so so sorry this took me so long to get around to, but thank you for your request! as a quick refresher since it's been ages since i've written for this little universe, we've got estelle and delilah norris, adrien leclerc, teo sainz, maeve and clara piastri, and some new additions—luca and lina fewtrell! hope you enjoy x

feel free to request more :)

“If someone told me I'd be in my thirties blowing up air mattresses for a bunch of children instead of going for a night out, I’d call them mental.” 

“And yet, here you are.” 

Here Lando is indeed, sitting in the middle of the living room floor, blowing up the third of eight child sized air mattresses for the girls’ sleepover tonight. Mattresses one and two have been cast off to the side, ready to go. You’re watching him moan and groan from the kitchen while you prep snacks and drinks for the kids. 

Estelle and Delilah had begged you to have a sleepover with their friends this weekend, and with all of them actually in Monaco for once, how could you refuse? 

“Y’know, you’re making terrible time on those mattresses,” You tease, turning towards the fridge to grab those little smoothie drinks the girls love. You’re all stocked up on their favorite foods, you’ve got their favorite movies queued on the television, and you’re pretty much prepared for anything a group of excited kids would want. 

All you want is for everything to go well tonight, because your girls are your world. 

You’re swept off your feet before you can throw another smart remark Lando’s way, drawn into his chest as his fingers dig into your sides, making you nearly shriek with laughter. You manage to push him away, but not before he’s rendered you breathless with his tickling. 

“When are all the little rascals coming over?” 

You slide your hands up his chest to link around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the curls at his nape. “Should be soon. Carlos is picking up Adrien on his way to bring Teo here, Lily and Oscar are dropping off the twins after gymnastics, and Pietra said she’ll be sending Max over with Luca and Lina pretty soon.” 

“Pietra’s not coming round?” 

“Pietra’s eight months pregnant on bed rest, my love. Have you forgotten, or has all that blowing made you lightheaded?” 

Lando rolls his eyes, squeezing your hip. “Ha ha, very funny, you.” 

“You love me.” 

“Duh. Wouldn’t have let you rope me into this circus otherwise,” He teases. 

“Don’t act like it hasn’t been your life’s dream to host a sleepover with eight kids hopped up on sugar and sweets.” 

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

There’s an undertone there, something more serious in his words that makes you smile warmly.

Lando has always been a family guy. His loved ones are his world, and the little family you’ve been able to create with each other despite all the challenges is one of the few things that take precedence over racing. You still remember the day you told him you were pregnant with Estelle. How he’d gone completely misty eyed and nearly tackled you in a hug before you’d even finished uttering the words. 

He’s told you before, getting to be a father, getting to have a family, it’s a gift he’d never be able to thank you enough for. 

You pull him in closer to kiss him, taking advantage of the girls being busy in their room to have a little time alone to love on your husband. 

“Daddy!!!” Estelle’s loud shriek has you both pulling away from each other in a snap. Lando deflates against you, groaning quietly. 

“Yes, lovebug?” He calls, angling his head towards the direction of her voice. 

“I can’t find my race car pajamas!” 

“That’s ‘cause they’re in the laundry! You got ice cream on them last night, remember?” 

You dig a sharp elbow into Lando’s side, eliciting a high pitched yelp and an incredulous look aimed your way. You raise a brow at your husband. “You gave them ice cream last night?” 

“Shit. Erm, no, ‘course I didn’t,” He says unconvincingly, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t do that, would I? Definitely did not give them—”

“Daddy!” Estelle screeches again, the end of the word long and drawn out. 

“Wow, would you listen to that? I reckon I should go see what I can do for that darling daughter of ours!” He’s wriggled himself free before you can blink, pressing the hastiest of pecks to the corner of your mouth quickly before speeding off to Estelle’s rescue (and away from the trouble he’d been about to get in). 

You laugh and shake your head, because he's just the same as when you’d first had the privilege of loving him all those years ago. He was younger then, more boyish, maybe even a little naive, but that was who you fell in love with. In some ways, he's the same. In other ways, he's grown tenfold. 

Either way, changed or not, you've loved him all this time and will continue to, even after you inevitably become old and grey together. It won't happen for a long time, but you're looking forward to growing old with Lando. 

—

“My back is killing me,” He grumbles later in the night, as he pads gingerly across the room over to his side of the bed. It’s nearly midnight and all the kids had gone off to bed a few hours ago after a fully action packed evening, so now it’s your turn to wind down. 

The days when you’d stumble home hand in hand, drunk and giggling in the wee hours of the morning are nothing but a distant memory. Now, you can barely stay up past twelve most nights. Right now, you’re both exhausted. But the kids had a blast, and that makes everything worth it. 

You giggle at his over exaggerated steps. “C’mere, I’ll massage you.” That makes him perk up, smirking at you like the massage will lead to other things. “Don’t even think about it, mister. Try again another day when we’re not hosting all of our friends’ kids.” 

“Am I able to get that rain check in writing, or…”

“Uncle Lando?” A small voice from the hallway draws both of your attention. Max’s son, Luca, is peering at the two of you, half shrouded in the darkness of the hallway. 

“Luca! What’re you doing up, buddy?” Lando asks, beckoning him into the room. The boy pads in hesitantly, looking worried.

You pat the covers as a sign for him to take a seat and he does, rubbing at his shoulder the same way his dad always does when something is bothering him. Sometimes you can’t believe how similar Luca is to Max. 

“I couldn’t—I can’t sleep,” He mumbles, little brows furrowed. “I miss my mum.” 

“Oh, honey,” You soothe, scooting closer to put your hand over his smaller one. The seven year old’s bottom lip trembles a touch. 

“You know, there was one time your dad and I had to stay in the same hotel room, and he couldn't sleep either because he missed your mum,” Lando mentions, voice light, like he's recalling something casual. 

“You and dad had a sleepover?” 

Lando looks very much like he wants to explain that no, he and Max, two grown men, did not have a sleepover, but at your subtle shake of the head, doesn't. He nods instead, patting the boy on the back. “Yeah, mate, we had a sleepover. Anyways, your dad just couldn’t fall asleep for hours, and d’you wanna know what eventually did help him?” 

“What, Uncle Lando?” 

“We gave your mum a call, and they talked for a bit, and afterwards, he was able to fall asleep right quick. Shall we do that? Give your parents a ring?” 

Luca nods quickly, sniffling. Lando smiles warmly as he reaches over to swipe his phone off the bedside table. You watch as he shows the boy what to do instead of just ringing Max himself. 

Suddenly you're hit with an overwhelming feeling of what Lando would be like if the two of you ever had a son. You’d had the conversation many times before, whether or not you wanted to have a third child. The timing had just never been right. 

Raising two kids under two whilst Lando was away racing most of the time had been rough enough, but the girls were nearly eight now. And sure, his career is still going strong at the moment, but you've got years of experience under your belt now. 

You wouldn't say no to another kid if Lando felt the same way, especially if it ended up being a boy. Make no mistake, you were a girl mom through and through, but the thought of having a little mini Lando running around with his big sisters made your heart swell.

“Mate, shouldn’t you be—Luca! Hey, big guy!” Max answers on the third ring, teasing demeanor morphing straight into parental as soon as he catches a glimpse of his son on the other side of the screen rather than Lando. “What’s up? You having fun with your friends?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Um, is…” Luca hesitates, casting a nervous glance at Lando, who only nods encouragingly. It seems to help, because he turns his attention back, sounding much more firm when he speaks again. “Can I talk to mum?” 

“Can you talk to mum? Of course you can! Let me go find her. You know your mum, always wandering around these days,” Max jokes, winking. Luca giggles quietly. He already looks like he's feeling much better. “Oi, P! There’s someone special who wants to talk to you.” 

Luca chats with Pietra for a little bit, and you can tell just how much that little boy loves and adores his mother. He’s beaming happily when the call ends, a far cry from the timidness he’d come in with earlier. 

“All good now, mate? You’ll try and get some sleep tonight?” Lando asks, clapping Luca on the shoulder gently. 

“Yep! Thanks, Uncle Lando!” He runs off without another word after that. 

“Well, I think we handled that pretty well, don’t you think?” Lando hums, tossing his phone back on the bedside table. “Hello? Darling?” 

“What would you think about having another baby?” You blurt. 

“Another—babe, what? Where is this coming from?” He splutters, looking utterly bewildered. His eyes go wide a split second later. “Wait, you’re not—are you?” 

“No, no, I’m not—I just—fuck, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to ask so bluntly like that, I was trying to ease into the conversation.” 

“Oh. Okay. That’s…yeah. Sorry, you just caught me off guard is all.” He scrubs a hand over his face.  “I didn’t know you were thinking about it. Last I recall we were on the same page about stopping at two. Did something change, or…?” 

“I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking about, y’know, what if we wind up having a boy? A mini Lando, running around with his big sisters one day?” 

Lando opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then snaps it shut before inhaling a sharp breath and trying again. “I love our little family more than anything.” 

“I do too.”

“Are we really ready to have three kids?” 

“I think we are. We managed eight of them pretty well tonight.” You shrug, sliding a reassuring hand over Lando’s. “Plus, there’s more than enough love to go around, don’t you think?” 

That seems to solidify the decision, because he brings your joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “We got this. Let’s have another baby!” 

[bambisnc]

            . . sippin' diet pepsi ♡

⤷ "fuck,.." his voice is slightly hoarse as he struggles to catch his breath, a delicate string of spit stretching from your lips to his, "y'taste so sweet. what is that, cherry?"

### . STARRING ⌢ n.rk ⋆ suggestive xx + 1.1k // uneditted + swearing + implied innocent!reader + first kiss, kissing + implied fuckboy!jungwon ˖ ✧

🗨️ .. ⌞ untouched, XO ⌝ shit's crazy + [m.list]

thinking about childhood bsf!nishimura riki.

thinking about how you've known him pretty much all your life owing to the fact that you literally grew up with him as your next door neighbor; it was only obvious that the proximity would lead to a close relationship between the two of you and, well, it was only obvious (to everyone but you, apparently) that you'd end up developing feelings for the boy.

but as time passed, you grew older and ended up going your separate ways and losing touch. of course, you didn't ever really end up getting proper closure on whatever it was that you felt for him, resulting in a weird crush you never really get over.

but fast forward and it's winter vacation! both your families decide it's the perfect time for a huge get together, because, it's been so long with everyone here~! so you're all but threatened to spend your time off back at home. well, hey, if it's any consolation at least niki will be suffering with you?

oh, what's that? he volunteered to drive you? well isn't that lovely! what a wonderful opportunity to spend time and catch up with your beloved friend!

...

"fuck,.." his voice is slightly hoarse as he struggles to catch his breath, a delicate string of spit stretching from your lips to his, "y'taste so sweet. what is that, like, cherry?"

the slight sheen of sweat on his features and mussed up hair from your hands running through his locks captivates you so deeply that you almost forget to answer. "... it's cherry lip gloss, yeah."

his tongue runs over his lips before he simply hums in response. you doubt riki knows how badly you want to lean in again, to close the little remaining space still between you and to kiss him again and again till he's completely senseless. even if for no other reason than to, somehow, convey your own yearning for more.

the cool metallic cans of half finished diet pepsi in the center console graze your thigh lightly when you shift to settle in your position on top of him more comfortably.

merely a half an hour ago, while stopping for gas and earlier mentioned refreshments, you remember him asking if there was anything you were looking forward to going back home.

and you, high off of sugary lollipops and cringey yelled out song lyrics, had promptly replied back, "yang jungwon."

"... jungwon? that nerd we went to school with?" riki had asked, voice almost alarmingly low pitched. "and why is that, exactly?"

"i mean ... he's cute; messaged me on insta a couple times recently."

"oh yeah? s’that right?.. never really took him to be ... your type."

"...? what is that supposed to mean. are you even in touch with jungwon?"

"mm, nah, i’ve just heard stuff through the grapevine. he's more the type to get around, if you know what i mean. more of an, ah,.. experienced dude," he pauses, letting his gaze trail up and down your figure, "and you're basically .. well.

... a naive little girl."

you didn't talk to him for a whole hour after that. 

the silence settling in afterwards was heavy, until the childhood best friend you’d been rather looking forward to meeting decided to be even more of a shit than usual and let slip a few more harsh jabs about how you were so, so innocent that you probably hadn’t even had your first kiss yet~.

“yeah, well,” you’d said, deciding you couldn’t take it anymore. “unless you’re planning on helping with that – just shut the fuck up and drive.” 

riki had glanced at you sideways, calculating, one hand casually draped over the steering wheel. 

“alright.”

“that’s what i thought — wait what?.”

“i said, yeah, i’ll help.” his face was rather composed, considering what he had offered up, only the barest hint of a smirk visible, “might as well, if you’re planning on whining about this all the way.”

“i wasn’t-,” but before you could even think about formulating a coherent response, he was already shifting into reverse and bringing the car to a halt. you’re pretty sure you’d all but sat there with your mouth hanging agape. was riki serious about this?...

his hand brushing against your jaw, moving your face towards his from how you were previously resolutely staring forward, jolted you out of your haze. “i’m going to kiss you now.”

“... okay.” 

and then his lips were on yours, and the world outside the car seemed to disappear.

…

fast forward to the present, which you’re brought back to by a harsh jab, tantalizingly veiled by the fact that the person mumbling it does so with his lips so close to yours that you feel riki say it before you hear him. “you suck at this, fyi.” 

and there was that infuriatingly gorgeous smirk of his again.

you huff, annoyance clearly oozing from the sound, "guess i need more practice, then."

“mhm.” he presses a soft peck to the corner of your mouth, “that’s what i’m here for.”

riki’s hands readjust themselves on your waist, pulling you closer, finally, but instead of kissing you properly, he only peppers a trail of featherlight ones along your jaw all the way down your neck. with an ease that can only be accounted for by a certain familiarity between you, you allow your head to tilt back. 

the increased access is taken full advantage of by him, obviously. one of his hands glides up to rest behind your neck, the softer kisses leading way to increasingly rougher, more bruising bites and nips. 

“hey – ouch. stop that.” 

“what’s that, hmm? ‘s it getting too much for you?” his thumb strokes your tender skin that is bound to end up with red and purple marks – marks that will definitely inspire questions you won’t really know how to answer. 

“‘m sorry, baby. let me apologize for it, yeah?” 

and you can’t really bring yourself to turn that down. not when he looks like that,.. kiss swollen lips, red flush against his honeyed skin, eyes half lidded with something you can’t exactly place…

unbeknownst to both you and him, however, riki’s phone buzzes where it lays forgotten in the backseat. when the vibrations stop, a soft ping! makes itself known. if either of you were paying any attention, that is. 

the display screen shows 4 new messages from a contact named “yang jw” 

riki wtf you guys were supposed to call like 2 hours ago. your guys' moms are freakin' PISSED at me rn

istfg i will beat ur ass. make out on YOUR OWN TIME MF

𐙚 . regulars : none yet! ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

[badasoneandonly]

𝘗𝘜𝘛 𝘔𝘌 𝘐𝘕 𝘈 𝘔𝘖𝘝𝘐𝘌 || 𝘏𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕-𝘏𝘖 × 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘞𝘤: 1,118𝘬

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺:

Y/N is manipulated by her neighbor Hwang In-Ho into a relationship, questioning it only to be gaslit into submission, ultimately losing herself to his control.

𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘙𝘌: MANIPULATIVE INHO, NAIVE READER, READER IS 22 WHILE INHO IS 45, NEO-NOIR, DARK ROMANCE, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP.

𝘈/𝘯: 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘏𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰 × 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 ;)

"C’mon, you know you like little girls,” the voice cooed from Y/N’s phone as Lana Del Rey’s lyrics flowed through her headphones. The eerie, saccharine melody filled her quiet room as she absentmindedly hummed along, the words settling somewhere deep in her subconscious. She wasn’t sure why she liked this song. Something about it felt unsettling yet intoxicating, a contradiction that mirrored her own life.

Her neighbor, Hwang In-Ho, had always been there. He had lived next door for as long as she could remember. While their families were close, her connection with In-Ho had always been... different. As a child, she idolized him. He was older, wiser, and had a calm, commanding presence that made her feel safe.

But now, things felt different.

---

Y/N was sitting in her backyard, flipping through a novel, when In-Ho leaned over the fence that separated their properties. His casual smile disarmed her, as always.

“You’ve been reading that book for weeks now,” he teased, his deep voice carrying warmth.

She smiled shyly. “I like to take my time.”

“Some things are worth savoring,” he said, his words laced with a meaning she couldn’t quite grasp.

They chatted for a while about nothing in particular, and before long, he invited her over for tea. She agreed without hesitation. It was second nature to her—In-Ho had always been like an older brother, someone she could trust implicitly.

But that trust would soon be tested.

---

As they sat on his patio, sipping tea, In-Ho began to reminisce.

“You know, I remember when you were just a little thing,” he said, his eyes glinting with nostalgia. “You used to follow me around everywhere.”

She laughed softly, her cheeks warming. “I was a kid. You were the cool older neighbor.”

“You still do,” he said under his breath, but loud enough for her to catch.

Her laughter faltered, and she looked at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his smile returning. “It’s just funny how some things never change.”

The conversation drifted to lighter topics, but a strange tension lingered in the air.

---

That night, as Y/N lay in bed, the memory of his words replayed in her mind. “Some things never change.” It was such an innocent phrase, but the way he’d said it made her skin prickle.

---

The weeks that followed were filled with small moments that left Y/N questioning everything. The way his hand would linger on her shoulder during conversations, the way he seemed to watch her a little too intently when she laughed, the way he always seemed to be there when she needed something.

She told herself she was imagining things. This was In-Ho. He’d always been kind and attentive. He was like family.

But then he confessed.

---

It happened on a quiet evening, as they walked together through their neighborhood. The sun had set, and the streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement.

“In-Ho,” she said, breaking the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he replied, his tone gentle.

“Why do you spend so much time with me?”

He stopped walking, turning to face her. The look in his eyes was intense, almost desperate.

“Because I care about you, Y/N. More than you know.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve always cared about you,” he said, stepping closer. “But it’s not just as a friend or a neighbor. It’s... more than that.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“I-In-Ho, I don’t know what to say,” she stammered, her mind racing.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he said, his voice soothing. “Just think about it. All I want is to make you happy.”

---

Y/N spent the next few days in a fog of confusion. She had never been in love before, never even dated. The idea of someone feeling that way about her was overwhelming.

And then there was In-Ho. He was safe. He was familiar. Maybe this was what love was supposed to feel like.

---

She agreed to date him.

At first, things were almost perfect. He was attentive and thoughtful, always making her feel special. He would surprise her with her favorite snacks, take her on long drives where they would talk for hours, and tell her how beautiful she was in ways that made her blush.

But as time went on, the cracks began to show.

---

He would ask her not to wear certain outfits.

“You don’t need to dress like that,” he said one evening as she prepared for a dinner with friends. “You’re already beautiful. Besides, who are you trying to impress?”

The comment made her stomach twist, but she brushed it off.

He started isolating her from her friends.

“Why do you need to spend time with them?” he asked one afternoon. “I’m here. Isn’t that enough?”

The questions felt harmless at first, but they began to pile up, eroding her confidence.

---

One evening, as they sat together in his living room, she finally voiced her doubts.

“In-Ho, do you think this is right?” she asked hesitantly.

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”

“I just... I feel like something’s off. Like this isn’t how things are supposed to be.”

He sighed, reaching for her hand. “Y/N, you’ve never been in love before. It’s normal to feel uncertain. But I know what I feel, and I know this is right. You just need to trust me.”

---

“C’mon, you know you like little girls,” the lyrics played in her head like a taunting whisper.

She began to question everything: his intentions, her own feelings, the way their relationship had started. But every time she tried to pull away, he would pull her back in with words that felt like a lifeline.

“No one will ever love you the way I do,” he told her one night, his voice soft but firm. “No one else could ever understand you like I do.”

---

Y/N wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that this was love, that the unease she felt was just her own inexperience clouding her judgment.

But deep down, she knew.

She knew that something about this wasn’t right.

---

By the time she realized the truth, it was too late.

In-Ho had woven his way into every aspect of her life, his presence a constant shadow that she couldn’t escape.

And somewhere along the way, she had stopped trying.

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @ehcausewhynot @akumazwrld @elledumplings @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog

𝘈/𝘯: soo that happened, ik this isnt the usual sad angsty sht i post but like hey its just me branching out to diff genres ^_^ let me know if u liked it, i would love to hear yalls thoughts...

[reyesstrand]

I wish you would write a fic where they remedy the 'he fell asleep during sexi-time' situation

(so. reading this back i’ve realized something possessed me and this is probably not what you were hoping for anon 😭 but once the idea got in my head i just ran with it. sorry!!)

“So, how are we doing today?”

It feels like a reprise of their first session. It’s raining, today, and the gentle tap tap tap of it against the windows feels like a comforting embrace. Not just for the serenity, but because things have been good, recently. The pit of hope that they can make it through anything has only bloomed inside him since they first saw Dr. Spencer, and it keeps him afloat as he leans to the side so he can keep holding Carlos’ hand.

The first few questions are geared toward Carlos, as Dr. Spencer—Helen, she keeps reminding them—asks him about his work; about any changes he might have made recently after previous revelations about grief and finding answers at the bottom of a case file. It still takes a few moments for Carlos to put his thoughts together, to be vulnerable, but he reflects on all that’s changed in the past two weeks as TK gets lost in staring at his husband.

He crosses one leg over the other and feels at peace, as he reminisces on this morning’s brunch at a new place uptown, where they ate on a colourful patio and shared chilaquiles while sipping on iced lattes. TK absentmindedly plays with his wedding ring, twisting it around his finger with his thumb, as he takes in the way Carlos looks younger, now that he’s here in this office out of uniform.

He still grapples with a weight too big to name, visible in the slight hunch of his shoulders and his need, today, for his glasses, but he looks beautiful just the same—curls not tamed by any gel, his arms bursting in his maroon t-shirt.

“You look like you agree, TK,” Helen says, snapping him from his reverie. Carlos had been talking about how there’s still work to do, but they’re good, again. More like how they used to be.

“I do,” TK nods, squeezing back when Carlos grips his fingers tight. “It started on the night of our anniversary, actually.”

“Tell me about it,” Helen encourages, pen poised above her notepad but her warm gaze focused on them both.

“We just…connected, again,” TK starts, gazing over at his husband to find Carlos already looking at him.

That night is something rich in vivid colour to him, a treasured keepsake that he cradles in the space between his ribs and his heart. He remembers his pulse jackrabbiting when Carlos looked imploringly at him; when Carlos spoke the words TK’s always believed to be true, that every moment they share is a gift.

TK also remembers the kiss. The moan he fed into his husband’s mouth when Carlos’ hand gripped the back of his neck and pivoted them so TK was pressed against the dining table; the shivers that traveled up his spine when Carlos’ knee pushed between his legs.

“You had a long day,” TK gasps, as Carlos bites down on the hinge of his jaw. “You’re sure you’re—”

“Baby, I’m sure,” Carlos tells him, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. He steps away, then, and walks toward their bedroom. With a crook of his finger, Carlos’ voice sounds wrecked as he half-pleads, half-commands, “Come here.”

TK can still feel the weight of his husband: on his body, against his thighs, on his tongue. TK looks at Carlos again, and feels a dimple carve into his cheek as he shrugs one shoulder and tells Helen: “He didn’t fall asleep on me this time.”

Carlos rolls his eyes playfully, but strokes his thumb over TK’s knuckles. “Never living that one down, huh, babe.”

TK grins, and wants to sit in the familiarity of their teasing longer, but something more prods at his brain.

“We aren’t—I don’t think we can be what we once were, exactly,” TK admits, looking now at the patterned carpet under their feet. “But we aren’t the same people we were before my mom died. We aren’t the same people we were before we lost our first place together. And I think this path we’re on…I think it’ll take time, but, we’ll be better. We always make it through.”

Carlos gives him a watery smile, and presses a kiss to the back of TK’s hand. “Always.”

(i wish you would write a fic where…game!)

[oraltraditionfiction]

Us | QH43

Quinn Hughes x f! reader (angst)

Summary: Snippets of you and Quinn's secret relationship, and the aftermath.

Warnings: angst, hurt with no comfort, ambiguous ending, sad Quinn, anxious reader etc

WC: 1.8k

Author's Note: !!! This is fully inspired by us by Gracie Abrams (which has been on repeat for like. 4 days now. absolute banger.) This is pretty angsty 😭 I apologize in advance I think I was just really in the mood for some pain.

This has an ambiguous ending (for the most part) but I do have an idea for a part 2 if anyone is interested! Anyways, enjoy! - 🐇

(I'd also like to note that the italicized poetry is taken from Crush by Richard Siken, and Leaping Poetry by Robert Bly!)

I know your ghost, I see her through the smoke, She'll play her show

And you'll be watchin'

He caught himself watching you again. It had been habit for so long now. Checking on her from the corner of his eye. He had learned to act in such a way that it was hard to tell he was stealing a glance at her. Her. He needed to snap out of it. 

He looked straight ahead, steadfast in his resolution to break old patterns. He could hear her from the end of the hall. She was briefing one of his teammates on the video they were about to film.

“I know this is hard but please try not to swear, at least not too much. The timbre of her laugh, echoing down the hall. Quinn  knew without looking at her that she was checking her phone. Her disorganized notes app, full of spare ideas for videos and poems that came to her during the twilight hours. “Oh! I know this is obvious but, try not to talk about anything personal that you or a teammate wouldn’t want 400 teenagers online to know.”  He watched from lowered lids as she brushed past him, a slight hesitation in her steps as her shoulder brushed against him. “That stuff’s just hard to edit out-“ her voice trailed off as they turned a corner. The reverb of her warm murmur echoing back to him, taunting him. He just knew she was reminding Brock not to talk about anything personal because of him. 

He scuffed his covered skate against the worn floor. Tilting his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes, and imagined that he was waiting for her to walk with him, instead of someone else.

Wonder if you regret the secret

Of us, us

He could remember the first wrong turn.

“What do you mean you don’t want to tell anyone?” He had asked, confused, thumb stroking against her pulse point soothingly as she cradled his face. 

“Quinn…” she had sighed, suddenly looking so small and vulnerable sitting on her old patterned couch. He kissed her palm, a small comfort.

“I mean, you’ve seen the weird shit people can comment about the wags.” He nodded. “Imagine just seeing that all day. All that negativity. And it’s just your job to navigate that and delete it. I’ve seen awful things about some of these women.” She swallowed, slipping her hand away from his cheek. He missed the warmth immediately, absently leaning into her orbit to make up for it. “I just,.. I don’t know what I would do. Knowing that people were saying those things about me.”

Quinn understood. Honestly the thought of seeing those kinds of things said about her…

Yeah. He could keep a secret for a few more months.

“Sure, sweetheart,” Quinn said, folding her into his arms. “We can keep it quiet for a little bit longer. Just until you’re comfortable.” He could feel her melt into him, relaxing at his agreement. Once she was more comfortable with the idea of them, he thought she wouldn’t mind what people would say.

It felt like what I've known

You're twenty-nine years old

So how can you be cold when I open my home?

Quinn  placed the last box on the bedroom floor, lovingly labeled “poetry <3”. As he gingerly cut through the packing tape, he heard a gentle knock on the door. 

“You don’t need to knock,” he laughed, turning his head so he could look at her. 

“I mean, it’s your house still-“ she said, anxiously shifting her weight from side to side. Quinn stood, fondly shaking his head as he approached her.

“Your house too now, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping his arms around his girl, and swaying from side to side. 

“I just don’t want it to be too soon Quinn. It’s only been like, a year.” Shesaid, tense in his arms. 

“Mi casa es tu casa, right?” he said jokingly, trying to get the woman in his arms to relax. 

She laughed, encapsulating the room in warmth again. They melted into each other, the tension evaporating. “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable, Quinny.” Murmured softly into his shoulder.

Quinn hugged her tighter, trying to forge them together, “you could never make me uncomfortable,” he said as he placed his cheek atop her head. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” And as he said that to her, he knew it to be true. This love was different, quiet— almost sacred.

And if history's clear, the flames always end up in ashes

And what seemed like fate

Give it ten months and you'll be past it (you'll be past it)

He knew it had to move at some point. Every morning it confronted him, like a ghoul living in his sock drawer. Quinn reached for the intruder, thumb brushing against delicate blue velvet as he withdrew the small ring box from its hiding place. The man sighed as he flipped it open once again. The light reflecting off of the diamond and shining small, nebulous glimmers of light across his tired face. 

A click as he closed the box, the sound of a sharp thump. The little blue box landed somewhere amongst the debris on your abandoned side of the closet. It had been nearly 10 months. Out of sight, out of mind.

That night you were talkin'

False prophets and profits

They make in the margins

Of poetry sonnets

Quinn watched, transfixed as you read aloud to him. His head sat heavily on her thighs, savoring the feeling of her hand touching his hair absentmindedly. The words nearly escaped him, too immersed in the way her sweet lips shaped the words. Nectar falling from her mouth as she kept the meter.

“I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want.

You said Tell me about your books, your visions made of flesh and light and I said This is the Moon. This is the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube... We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said What do you want, sweetheart? and you said-“

“Marry me.”

It was spoken on the breath of a sigh. Nearly inaudible. Still, the room seemed to lose some of its color. 

“What?” You whispered, hand withdrawing from his hair, leaving an inexplicable dread lingering around his heart.

Quinn sat up, nose brushing hers. “I meant it.” He reached for her hand, shaking and limp in her lap. “Marry me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He breathed out as he looked into her eyes earnestly. 

“I-“

“I know you’re scared. And I know you don’t want anyone to know about us.” The man said, placing her hand on his heart, cradling it gently. “But I don’t care! I would marry you right this second if I could.” He leaned his forehead against her temple, murmuring “just you and me, baby. No one has to know. I would marry you in secret, as long as it means you’re  mine.” Quinn was rambling now, but he’d do anything to convince her. “I already have a ring and-“

His hand landed unceremoniously in his lap. 

Before he could reach out, before he could even breathe, she slipped out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry.”

And Quinn felt like he would never breathe again, staring across the room at his sock drawer and the now open door to what was once their bedroom.

Robert Bly on my nightstand

Gifts from you, how ironic

Three drinks in, and Quinn was conquering his fears. There was 11 months of dust buildup on the slim book, still clinging to the paperback cover. He thumbed it open, nearly caving in and going back for another drink as he glimpsed the tail end of the note you had left for him underneath the title page. 

“- hoping these poems will remind you of me when we’re apart.

Love you lots,

Yours-“

He flipped to another page, hoping to find something he hated enough that he could find the strength to finally throw this book out.

“Longing to find her in a phrase, and be close-“

Quinn closed the book.

Mistaken for strangers, the way it

Was, was

The moment he was  dreading was here. You approached him after practice, quietly waiting for the rest of the team to file past. You toyed with your phone anxiously, “Is it alright if I grab you for a quick video?” She looked as tired as he felt these days. He just stood, gazing at her, responding with a  slow nod. She smiled, relieved. Quinn had almost forgotten what it looked like in person. Still a such a sweet sight. 

He leaned in slightly, irresistant to the gravity of your presence. As you opened your mouth to speak, lips quirked up into a private grin, a voice came from behind him.

One of the new girls on the social media team. She smiled as she approached. “I didn't realise you two were close! Guess it’s something to look forward to, huh?”

You forced a laugh saying, “Well, when you work with someone for two years, you get about as close as coworkers can get.”

Quinn’s spine straightened, in no mood for media duties now. He thought of the ring box, and all the photos he still had yet to delete. The stolen kisses in supply closets, the notes you left him in the margins of your favorite poetry books, highlighting secret code in between the stanzas 

(“O love,  where are you leading me now?”). The words of her favorite poem echoed in his head, “As close as coworkers can get” 

He mumbled something about putting his gear away as he brushed past you, no longer recognizing the foreign way your shoulder bumped against his.

Do you miss us, us? (Us, us, us)

The best kind, well, sometimes

Do you miss us?

He stood, leaning against his counter, trying to decide the best way to respond to this text. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the cardboard box full of miscellaneous objects to donate, the creased cover of a poetry book peaking out.

He made his decision.

A blind date sounds great! Is she free Friday?

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: The Feels

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Azzi Fudd x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: Azzi crushing and she’s crushing bad

Word count: 1,260

Tag: @authentic-girl03

Freshman Year

I met Azzi during the first week of our business communications class. I remember walking into the room in my UConn volleyball jacket, a little nervous but ready to face the day. Azzi caught my eye immediately, sitting near the back with a notebook in front of her, already jotting something down.

“You can sit here if you want,” she said when she noticed me hovering. Her voice was soft, inviting, and I nodded, sliding into the seat beside her.

“I’m Y/N,” I introduced myself. “Freshman, volleyball team.”

“Azzi,” she replied, giving me a small but warm smile. “Freshman too—basketball.”

From that moment, we clicked. Study sessions turned into shared meals in the dining hall, which turned into late-night talks about everything from our families to our dreams. Azzi was easy to talk to, and her quiet strength drew me in like nothing else.

Now

Fast forward three years, and Azzi and I were as close as ever. My dual role as a volleyball player and cheerleader kept me busy, but Azzi always made time for me, an I did the same for her. Whether it was meeting up for smoothies after practice or us staying up late to help each other with assignments.

But something had shifted lately. Azzi seemed quieter than usual, more reserved. She’d blush when I hugged her, and her hands would linger just a second too long when we high-fived. At first, I brushed it off. But then I started catching her staring during practices or glancing my way during group hangouts.

Paige noticed it too.

Azzi's POV

“Just tell her how you feel,” Paige said one afternoon in the locker room. She was sitting on the bench, lacing up her sneakers, while I sat slumped against the wall.

“It’s not that simple,” I muttered.

Paige rolled her eyes. “Azzi, she’s your best friend. If you can’t be honest with her, who can you be honest with? Besides, the way you’ve been looking at her lately—it’s kind of obvious.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “You don’t understand. What if she doesn’t feel the same way? I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Paige leaned back, giving me a knowing look. “Y/N likes you. Trust me, I’ve seen the way she lights up when you’re around. You just need to make a move.”

I hesitated, my heart racing. “How, though? What do I even say?”

Paige smirked, standing up and tossing her towel over her shoulder. “Leave that part to me. Just be ready tomorrow night.”

Reader's POV

I was confused when Paige texted me, asking if I was free to hang out with her and Azzi. Normally, Azzi would’ve been the one to make plans, so I was surprised when Paige took the lead. Still, I agreed, curious about what they had in mind.

When I arrived at Paige’s apartment, the lights were dim, and there was a cozy blanket fort set up in the living room. Azzi stood awkwardly in the center, her cheeks flushed as she played with the hem of her hoodie.

“What’s all this?” I asked, stepping inside.

Paige popped her head out from behind the couch, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “This,” she said, “is my cue to leave.” She gave Azzi a wink before slipping out the door.

Azzi cleared her throat, looking anywhere but at me. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” I said, smiling. “What’s going on?”

She took a deep breath, finally meeting my eyes. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something. And I thought this might be a nice way to do it.” She gestured to the blanket fort.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Azzi, this is adorable.”

Her face lit up, and she motioned for me to sit down. Once we were both settled inside the fort, surrounded by fairy lights and snacks, she turned to me, her expression serious.

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” she began. “About us. About how much you mean to me.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Azzi…”

“No, let me finish,” she said, her voice steady despite the nervous look in her eyes. “You’re my best friend, Y/N, but… I want to be more than that. I’ve had feelings for you for a while now, and I’ve been too scared to say anything because I didn’t want to mess up what we have. But I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

I stared at her, my mind racing. Azzi liked me?

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way,” she added quickly. “But I had to tell you.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then, without thinking, I reached out and took her hand in mine.

“Azzi,” I said softly, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

I laughed, squeezing her hand. “Yes, really. I like you too, Azzi. I always have.”

The relief on her face was palpable, and before I knew it, she was pulling me into a tight hug.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” she murmured, her voice muffled against my shoulder.

I smiled, holding her close. “Well, now you know.”

The Next Morning

Paige couldn’t stop smirking as she watched Azzi and me walk into the dining hall together, our hands intertwined.

“Told you,” she said smugly, earning an eye roll from Azzi.

“Alright, alright, you were right,” Azzi admitted, though her smile never wavered.

I laughed, leaning into Azzi’s side. “Thanks for the push, Paige.”

“Anytime,” Paige said, giving us a wink. “You two were long overdue.”

As Azzi and I sat down to eat, I couldn’t help but feel like everything had finally fallen into place.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[kaynanarie]

Eyes of Gold (Part 12)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (First) (Prev)

            “Where are you? Please come out?”

           The whispers of a familiar voice roused you from a restless sleep. You yawned and blearily squinted around you, trying to remember where you were. The shadowy silhouettes and dust tickling your nose brought back memories of a storage room. It had been daylight when you first hid but now, night had shrouded you in disorienting darkness. You sat curled up in the corner, wondering how much time had passed and if it was safe to finally leave.

           A quiet creak startled you as the door swung open. You watched a shadow silently creep in, slow and low to the floor. As you grew more accustomed to the dark, the form of a small monkey took shape. A familiar monkey with glowing, golden eyes.

           “Peaches, are you in here?”

           You sat up from your hiding spot in surprise. “Shihou?”

           As soon as he saw you, Shihou dashed across the room and flung himself onto you. He clung to your shoulder and patting your face with his tiny paws. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

            “I’m fine,” you assured the monkey, wrapping your cloak around him in a warm hug. “What are you doing here? Won’t you get in trouble?”

            “I was worried.” Concern, relief, and disapproval flashed across his face when he met your eyes. “You didn’t return to the mountain after the demons left.”

            “I guess you heard about the attack, then?”

           “Yes.” His frown pulled into a scowl, teeth bared as he glowered at the floor. “If I had known Bull Demon King was here, I never would have let you leave alone.”

            You ran a hand through his fur, feeling him relax under your soothing touch. “It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

           “Why didn’t you come back?”

             “I was helping the villagers,” you said, sitting back down with Shihou perching on your lap. “Thankfully, no one was hurt; just some damaged buildings. But when my sister heard the demons were gone, she came to see for herself. Elder Gran sent me to hide until she left but I guess I fell asleep.” Gentle brushes smoothed his agitated fur back into place. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

            Shihou sighed and nuzzled against your shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

            “Thanks to your hair.” Shihou suddenly looked worried when he met your gaze. You quickly explained to calm his concern. “It protected me when the bull tried to attack. Sorry I lost it. I think Sun Wukong took it with him…” you trailed off with a yawn.

            “Don’t worry about it. As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters,” the monkey said with a relieved smile. “You should get some rest. We can return to the mountain in the morning.”

            Shaking your head, you forced yourself to stand, keeping Shihou balanced on your shoulder. “No, we should leave now while everyone else is asleep. I’ve already stayed too long and my sister might catch us trying to leave it we wait.”

            “If you insist,” Shihou agreed hesitantly. “There were guards posted around the village when I snuck in. I can guide you around them but we’ll still have to be careful.”

            You nodded. “Okay. Let’s get going.” Pulling your cloak close and Shihou closer, you slipped out of the storage room and through the empty house with careful steps. At the front door, you paused to peek out.

            Tilting his head, Shihou listened and pointed down a side street. “No guards for now. That should be the fastest route out of town. Once we’re outside the village, I can take you the rest of the way.”

            With a final glance, you hurried down the alley and into the shadows. The night was thankfully empty, the rest of the village sleeping off a stressful day. Only moonlight and icy wind filled the streets as you weaved between buildings. Distant voices on the winter breeze occasionally floated by. Each time, you would freeze and Shihou would listen but the guards were too far and too distracted to be of concern.

            It took longer than expected and exhaustion was quickly catching up. Your steps were clumsy, your body weary, and yawns plagued you with every other breath. Even your eyes were fighting to slip close between heavy blinks.

            Soon, you reached the edge of the village, shivering from bitter cold and fatigue. You almost cried seeing the great stretch of field and looming mountain still left to traverse.

            “I’ve got it from here,” Shihou said, nimbly flipping off your shoulder. In a puff of smoke, he transformed and landed in his taller demon form. You weren’t sure if it was your own tired mind or the moonlight softening his features but his figure seemed more striking than usual. It was only made worse when he smiled at you; warm, golden eyes brightening his handsome face. “Come on, up you get.”

            You were still recovering from your drowsy admirations when Shihou turned and knelt away from you. “What?”

            “I said I would carry you before and this will get us back to the mountain faster.” He grabbed your hand and tugged you forward so you were flush against him. Looping your arms around his neck, he held your knees and stood, easily hoisting you onto his back. “Ready?”

           Too tired to protest, you only nodded and nestled against his warm shoulder. “Yeah, let’s go home,” you mumbled sleepily.

           Shihou startled and stumbled a bit but quickly recovered with a brisk pace. “Sure thing, Peaches. You get some rest; we’ll be there in no time.”

            You closed your eyes and drifted off, only half aware of your surroundings. Shihou’s rhythmic steps, quick and sure; his hold never faltering. Winter chill shifting to a summery heat, chasing away your lingering shivers. The quiet ambiance of the slumbering jungle settling around you as the mountain welcomed you back. It was comforting and familiar and gently lulled you to sleep.

            The next thing you knew, Shihou was setting you down amongst plush blankets and fluffy pillows. As he turned to leave, you caught his hand and clung to it. “Stay?” you asked, smiling soft and sweet. Your half open eyes caught his flustered face but he didn’t shy away. Instead, you felt him shuffle into bed next to you, hugging you against him in a comforting embrace. Warm fur tickled your cheek, carrying his soothing scent of peaches and stone. You snuggled closer as you felt the tug of sleep pulling you back under.

            “Goodnight, Shihou,” you whispered.

            The last thing you remembered was his purred, “Goodnight, my Peach,” and the gentle press of lips to your brow.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~🍑 Peach Friends 🍑~

@joyfulllittlething @iluxurycruisedthatship @drspecialhell @moondrop39-dovewing70 @happycarp @chibifox88 @rutabaga-menace

(If you would like to join the tag list, let me know!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something fluffy and cute with the return of Shihou! Just to share the vision of the soft boi, he's absolutely inspired by various artworks I saw of the 1996 Journey to the West. Thank you so much for reading, all the wonder feedback has kept me motivated! Until next time!

You can also find this story on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60643669

[oh-phoenixx]

"Ball" - Black Brothers/Jegulus microfic - 937 words

-

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Remus had all his scars, why he and his friends were busy every full moon. After realising that Remus was a werewolf, Regulus understood quickly what his friends had done to help him. He decided to do some research into becoming an animagus, and at first, it was just to understand how his brother, James, and Peter had done it. He had no desire to become an animagus himself, really. But he grew curious, eager. It was a long process, yes, but he could do it. 

So, on a full moon, he put a mandrake leaf in his mouth, which he would have to keep there until the next month. He collected everything else he would need with the help of Pandora, the only person he had told his plan. 

Regulus stopped Sirius outside the Great Hall after the following full moon. “Sirius, can I talk to you?” Regulus asked, his voice coming out smaller than he had intended.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Sirius replied with a nod, waving his hand for James, Peter, and Remus to go inside. “What’s up?”

“Don’t laugh,” Regulus started nervously, “but I’m…I’m trying to become an animagus. And I know you and your friends already are, and I wanted your help.”

Sirius’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what you mean, we, uh, we aren’t…”

“Sirius,” Regulus sighed. “I know you are, I’m not an idiot. And I know that Remus is a-” Regulus looked around, remembering that they were in public. “Well, I know what he is.”

Sirius gaped at him further, looking worried. He seemed, for a moment, as though he might argue, but instead took a deep breath and gave in. “Fine. I’ll write down the steps.”

“I’ve already done it all. I just,” Regulus’s voice became an embarrassed murmur, “I wanted you to be there when I, um, transformed.”

Sirius’s concerned frown turned into a grin, and he tried to ruffle his brother’s hair. Regulus sidestepped and glared at him, though Sirius wasn’t deterred. 

Regulus regretted asking him for help, though, when he transformed the next day and it turned out his animagus was a tiny black kitten. When he managed to become human again, Sirius was clutching his stomach and laughing like a maniac.

“It’s not that funny!” Regulus grumbled.

Sirius didn’t seem to agree.

-

Quite soon after becoming an animagus, Regulus found that it was much more comfortable for him to be a cat than a human being. Maybe it was because he was always trying to make himself smaller anyway; maybe because, as a cat, he could just hiss at anyone who came too close, which was not ‘socially acceptable’ for a person.

Regulus sat outside the Gryffindor common room one day, and followed after a student as they stepped inside the portrait. He had intended to talk to his brother, but once inside he found Sirius, James, and Marlene all sitting by the fire. He walked over and curled up by Sirius’s legs, not wanting to disturb his brother's evening.

“Aw, look at him!” James nearly shouted, leaning down to stroke Regulus.

“Don’t, James,” Marlene warned, “I tried to pet him the other day and he scratched me. He’s evil.”

“He’s not evil, Marls,” James frowned, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “He’s a little ball of fluff.”

James picked the cat up and set him on his lap, stroking him absent-mindedly as he continued his conversation with Marlene. Sirius, however, glared at the small black cat. If anyone else had tried that, Regulus would have hissed or bitten them. Regulus was sure, as Sirius looked between him and James suspiciously, that he knew.

It became a habit for Regulus, going into the Gryffindor common room and sitting with James. Everyone else was confused as to why the little black cat hated everyone but him, and James took pride in this. 

“What do you think I should call him?” James asked his friends, the cat nuzzling his face. 

“Leo,” Sirius scoffed. 

James didn’t hear the sarcasm in his tone, and held the cat a few inches from his face. “Leo!”

-

“Regulus,” Sirius called.

Regulus tried to walk away, pretending not to have heard him, but Sirius caught his arm before he could. He dragged him to an empty corner of the hallway, trying to catch Regulus’s eye. 

“You’re in love with him,” Sirius stated. Regulus’s mouth opened and closed, searching for a defense. He couldn’t find any. “It’s okay, you know,” Sirius said, softer now. “But I wish you would have told me.”

“Thought you’d laugh,” Regulus mumbled. “It’s stupid.”

“Nah, it’s not. I mean, I probably would have laughed, yeah, but it’s not stupid.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, and he would never admit that knowing Sirius wasn’t annoyed felt like a weight being lifted off his shoulders. Steeling himself, Regulus clenched his jaw and fixed Sirius with a glare.

“If you tell him, Sirius, I swear I will pull your fucking teeth out,” Regulus threatened. 

“Yeah, whatever you say, loverboy,” Sirius grinned, walking away. 

-

It was months before Regulus built up the courage to confess. He was looking everywhere but James’s eyes as he wondered how to phrase this. 

“I know what you’re going to say,” James smiled down at him.

“You do?” Regulus asked, taking a deep, shaky breath.

“You’re Leo,” James declared, seeming proud of his discovery.

Regulus tried to form words, though was momentarily stunned. “That’s not- I was going to tell you I was in love with you, but how did you know about-”

“You’re in love with me?!”

[sterifels-blog]

Last night I had a thought about Simon but I'm not creative enough to come up with a good scenario, so I'll just skip ahead.

Imagine that Simon and Reader had a thing for 1 or 2 months but they never ended up dating, and then Simon disappears and doesn't respond to Reader's messages. A while later Johnny takes Simon and Kylie to spend the week at his house after a mission and there Simon discovers that Reader is Johnny's younger sister, and that the 1 year and 7 month old boy who is very attached to her is actually his son. As if Reader looks a lot like Johnny but her son is identical to Simon.

Feel free to ignore this 👀 Any language errors are Google Translate's fault. Either way I'll spend days thinking about this 🤸‍♀️

this is definitely not a prompt i'd usually cover, but i'll attempt it nonetheless. i had such a hard time trying to conceptualize what an appropriate reaction to this sort of situation would be, but there are so many different ways to validate a reaction. this is the best take i can offer you! ⤵️

A mess of things to fix.

Simon had never imagined that he would be standing in Johnny’s kitchen, staring at a child. A child that he couldn’t fathom, whose heartbeat was unmistakably his own, though he'd never had the chance to know him. The sticky summer heat of a mission’s aftermath still clung to him, sticking to his body in cloying sheets of sweat and travel-worn leather. Simon was a contradiction in flesh: battle-hardened, skin soaked in salt and iron, and yet standing awkwardly in the glow of the kitchen’s overhead light, as if someone had poured an entire century's worth of regret down his throat.

And there you were— you— who had once been just the woman who had made his bones hum beneath the skin. A weekend, a couple of months… something like that. Something forgotten by time, but carved into the ether between you both like graffiti in an alley only the broken remembered.

You were Johnny's younger sister. Johnny, the one who'd so effortlessly pulled him into this twisted little family. But now? Now everything was mangled and unspooled.

His son.

He tried not to blink too hard when he first saw the boy. You were holding him, cradling him in your arms. The little thing was bundled in too many blankets, chubby cheeks peeking from under his small beanie, his large eyes a mirror of someone Simon had never really been sure he wanted to meet. But there they were, those eyes—those identical, goddamn eyes.

Simon didn't remember this. He didn’t even remember the night. But here, in Johnny’s kitchen, surrounded by mugs and heavy laughter that seemed too far off to touch, everything started to settle in his chest like lead.

You didn’t know how to look at him either. There was the hesitation—splayed, unsaid—heavy between you both. The moment when his presence meant more than just the passing shadow of the past. The truth had settled and clung to your face like old makeup. You didn’t want him to see, but you knew. He knew. He knew because his blood had turned to ice, and in his veins, a cold panic spread.

You had a child. His child.

Johnny, ever the oblivious one, smiled as if he didn’t see the earthquake unfolding. “She looks just like me, right? Gave her my best traits. Don’t let her tell you otherwise.”

But it was clear, wasn’t it? Your son. He looked like him, even if the years had stolen what could have been.

“What’s his name?” Simon’s voice was gravel, rough with an unfamiliar edge. He felt nauseous with the knowledge. He couldn’t escape it. The knowledge of a past he’d left behind, unspoken, unresolved, and now here it was—too real to ignore. His son.

You swallowed thickly, keeping the boy close to your side. You told him the name, and Simon didn’t even register the syllables. The truth was louder than any name could be.

"Charlie."

Johnny clapped Simon on the back, misinterpreting the silence. “Oi, mate, just don’t look too long at her kid. He’s already on a first-name basis with trouble, trust me. I’ve seen the future, and it’s got a lot of broken windows in it.”

Simon forced a smile. A bitter curve of his lips. “..Right.” The awkwardness slithered around the table like some beast with too many eyes. Conversation flitted, fragile and half-formed, until dinner had ended and the quiet remained, stretching longer than it should have. The little boy yawned, and it was cemented in the moment it was time for bed. Simon barely heard the clinking of silverware, until Johnny was cooing a cheeky goodnight to his nephew- re-stating that his "favorite uncle" would be there to see him in the morning.

You stood, giving him no choice but to follow. The weight of the moment anchored his feet to the floor like gravity had decided it needed a joke at his expense. As you ascended the staircase with the boy in your arms, Simon’s boots followed behind in a trance. There was something haunting in the way you moved, like a shadow threading through space, one that should’ve been broken long before this— one that felt like a single thread was holding it together.

He hovered by the doorframe of the child’s room as you placed him gently into the crib. The boy squirmed for a moment, settling into the warmth of his sheets, but his little fingers gripped at your sleeve, unwilling to release. Simon watched, his throat tightening like an iron clasp.

You turned to look- and for the first time that night, you made eye contact. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. The weight of the silence between you both felt like it had grown too heavy, and there, in the doorway, he lingered, as if you had just invited the storm into the room.

You couldn’t escape it any longer— the elephant sitting in the room had too many sharp edges. The question hovered between you, thick and suffocating. He was trying to push it back, but it was there, in his eyes, tangled with guilt and regret. Until, finally, he broke the silence.

"..Love. Can I… can I see him?" Simon’s voice cracked the air, raw and desperate, as if he had the right to ask something like that after all this time.

The words felt like they had shattered the air between you. There was an edge to them—like a plea wrapped in anger. He was furious, but at what? Himself? You? The situation? The fact that he was asking this, now—it made everything too complicated, too impossible.

It made your blood boil. Made your chest tight with a heat you couldn't contain. How dare he? How could he stand there and ask, knowing nothing? Knowing how many nights you’d spent alone, how many times you had to bite back tears, pretending you weren’t breaking under the weight of it all? You didn’t even tell him. You couldn’t. You hadn’t. And now, after all this time, after all the silence, he had the gall to ask for what was his—when he hadn’t been there to help raise him.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms, but you didn’t snap at him. You couldn’t. You didn’t know how to explain it— the hurt, the fury, the helplessness. He didn’t know. And you hadn’t given him the chance to.

You swallowed hard, biting your lip to keep your voice from shaking. "Yeah," you muttered, cold as ice, before stepping aside. The words stung like salt on an open wound, but they slipped from you, like a wave crashing over the rocks. You didn’t know if you could even trust yourself to speak. "Yeah.. Just— don't hurt him.."

Simon’s eyes softened— too late— and he stepped toward the crib slowly, uncertain, like the boy wasn’t his own flesh and blood. Like he had no right. But he was there. He was looking, and you couldn’t stop it.

You stood by the door, back against the frame, arms crossed, watching as he hesitated, before reaching down to lift Charlie, awkwardly at first, as if he were holding something breakable. It was almost a joke— the way Simon held him like he was a piece of glass, fragile and unworthy of the comfort the child had never known he needed from his father.

And then, like a dam breaking, Simon’s face crumpled, his shoulders shaking, and you saw it. The first tremor of realization, of loss, of guilt— flooding over him in waves too powerful to stop. His hands shook, the child still clutched tightly in his arms, and he cried. A tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another, each one a crack in the wall he’d built around himself, and your heart twisted.

The bitter taste of resentment clawed at your throat, but it was drowned out by the ache you’d been carrying for so long. For so, so long. Watching him finally hold Charlie— the son he’d never known— made something snap inside you, something raw and real. And though you were furious— though a part of you wanted to hate him, to blame him for everything that had been missing, you couldn’t. Not entirely.

The tears fell freely now, down his stubbled chin, mixing with the slow, shuddering breath that escaped his lips. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t even apologize in the right way, but you saw the regret in his eyes, and it twisted the knife a little deeper. He was sorry— more than he could ever express— but it was too late.

"You should’ve been here," you whispered, but Simon couldn’t hear you. He was lost in the weight of it all, too consumed by the moment, holding onto your son like he was the only thing left to hold onto in this shattered mess. He didn’t know how to fix it. Neither did you.

But you couldn’t take him back. Not like this. Not now.

And so, you let him hold him. And Simon wept.

[sockswithsog]

“Just once”

So I’ve like never made a tumblr post let alone written smut before so if this is bad don’t tell me 🙂‍↔️

[edit: fine I’ll finish it]

You wouldn’t have been so okay with this if you intended on the emotions that came along with it. It had been weeks, no, months since you’ve felt any physical contact from any person besides the friendly tap or like shoulder nudge. And you had expected that but JESUS you did NOT expect your labido to be so strong. Being your age and in a job so ‘complicated’ you usually felt that you were able to control yourself pretty well, it’s what landed you a special position in this crew, it’s what got you out in space, now it’s what got you stuck in your room all hot and bothered tossing and turning on the stiff company provided mattress. What made it no better if the fact that you can tell that your co-worker and good friend is having the same problem.

Daisuke, you wouldn’t even attempt at denying the fact that he was attractive, and for the past week you’ve noticed that the previously subtle flirting he’d usually do has turned more desperate, his usually confident demeanor around you has sort of shifted. you were a couple months older than him but you two were by far the closest in age on the crew so his playful comments of your looks or personality came of as more playful than anything, so until now nothing was out of the ordinary. Your position felt like more of a budget cut but the excuse you were given was that they’d appreciate your extra hand, when you found out your long time acquaintance Daisuke would be taking an intern position on the job you appreciated at least one familiar face. Now that familiar face had met yours flushed in the past week more than once, the amount of “intimate” encounters you two have had have happened quite apparent to you. The long looks, the hesitation in his words, the flushed look on his face, something was up and you were getting impatient with this aching feeling.

You wake up, clock in, tend to your work performing little tasks in your field, time passes and you and everyone else begins to wind down, you make it to your room before you hear someone turn the corner, you see Daisuke and you were going to wave and say a quick little hello before turning back to your room but he calls for your attention.

“Hey! I was looking for you, do you have a second?”

You look at him a little strangely, though you two were considerably closer to each other than anyone else you can’t remember the last private conversation you two have had when it’s not work related.

“Yeah what’s up?”

He lets out a huff of a laugh and hesitates before speaking “it’s just a little private”

Your mind begins to wander in places you’re definitely not proud of, but realistically you realize it might just be some small request, though you would definitely make a move you’re not sure if he ever would even if he does treat you the way he does.

“Alright did you wanna like- come in?”

You gesture to your room, the only slight privacy in this massive machine, the only other options being echoey rooms and halls, even the rooms provided have paper thin walls.

You both step into your room and you let yourself plop onto your bed, it’s a bit of a fall but it makes it funner for you. You smile up at Daisuke and tap the space next to you, inviting him to sit and continue what he wanted to ask. He giggles down at you before doing the same thing you did, causing you to bounce a little closer to where he sank down into your mattress. You both giggle a little before you turn to him expectantly and when he realizes what you were expecting he became nervous and hesitant again. His eyes became darting and he started laughing awkwardly before stuttering out the first half of his explanation.

“So, I- Uh- I’ve been having a hard time, um, focusing I guess, I just… I’ve been having… needs?”

So much for some small request you think, you shift where you’re sitting, clenching your thighs a little, finding something to do with your hands that doesn’t put them too close to your crotch. You listen to him because you’re interested now, and you feel the same, but also because you didn’t expect this from him. The blush on his face, how quiet he is, he’s acting very different from the silly guy you’ve been friends with for the past months, but you kinda like it. He continues,

“I don’t mean to sound like a perv and you can totally say no and we can forget I ever asked but I thought it would be worth a shot-”

He’s speaking too fast for his own good now but it’s so cute, he’s thinking a mile a minute and you can tell.

“Please, I just want you to consider it we don’t even have to do anything now and I would do all the work I just really need- our id really love to be umm intimate? With you?”

Now you’re just looking at him, he was definitely brave for asking you just had no clue what to say, he took that for you not being convinced enough.

“Please we don’t even have to go all the way I can just eat you out or we can only do hand stuff you’re just so sexy and it’s been hard to focus on work when you’re all I can think about, please I can just make you feel good-“

You jump on him, your mouth smashing into his stopped him from begging any longer,

“Just once.”

he looked pretty doing it but you had better ideas, and apparently so did he. His hands started moving onto your hips grabbing you and adjusting you on top of him slotting your legs between each others while he lightly squeezed your hips. One of his hands moved up to your chest to feel more of your body, he was kissing you like you were the only woman he’s ever seen and he was gripping you with his hands like he couldn’t afford to let you go. He pulled away and he looked so amazing his face was hot and his breath was heavy, he was looking at you with his eyes mostly trained to your lips. You continue to scan his face before you make eye contact with each other and he gives you a little smile before switching positions with you, laying you down. His fingers dance at the hem of your shirt, he kiss you in the eyes.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

He pulled your shirt up just over your bra so he can get a good first look, he spends a good minute running his hands up and down your hips and squeezing where he wants before he lowers his head to kiss between your tits. He moved to the left, kissing up to your nipple before lightly taking it in his mouth, testing it, you roll your head back, letting him continue so he does. After a while he moves over to your right, showing it the same amount of attention, and when he’s done he slowly starts to move down, cherishing every second of bliss you allow him. He

Reaches your light happy trail and traces it with his tongue, you couldn’t tell if this was passion of skill but he was doing amazing, his hot breathe left shivers on your body, letting the parts of you he’d left behind long for his touch again.

He looks up to you while fiddling with the button of your pants

“Can i?”

You nod, and he immediately unbuttons your pants, sitting up to yank them off you only to realize he needs to tone down the enthusiasm, but you thought it was cute. As soon as your pants are off and moves back down to the edge of your panties, inhaling your scent through the fabric. He decided it wasn’t enough, he moved his nose closer, his hot breath hitting you in the most sensitive way causing you to let out a sigh, careful not to be too loud.

“Please…” you needed more.

And he gave it to you, he yanked your panties off just to return just as close, breathing you in, getting ready to enjoy your taste. You can only hum in anticipation before he plunges into you, letting his tongue lead his actions. Uncoordinated and sloppy, he’s less focused on technique and more focused on how fucking good you taste. It made him regret wasting his time on sweetener packets. After his first initial taste he settled into a rhythm, one he noticed made you grip the cheap sheets tighter. You began to lose focus on staying quiet and Daisuke noticed, he grabbed your hand and moved it to his hair, letting you guide him where you needed him, making you slightly louder. You grew closer and closer until you reached your breaking point, you hold his head still to make sure he didn’t stop, helping you ride through the amazing orgasm he just gave you. Soon after you let go of his head, letting him pull back and away, only then do you notice his right hand retreating from his length, he’d also finished while pleasing you. He shifts on top of you still holding it, he uses his non-dominant hand to lightly trace your folds before using one to press into you until he’s knuckles deep, after a little bit of that he starts using two. You can’t handle it. You need more.

“Please..”

“Yes?” He asks, he couldn’t help but look up to admire the look on your face when you ask him to please you.

“I need more.”

He already knew that, he’d been waiting longer than you can imagine for this. After you ask him he aligns himself and runs the tip up and down your pussy, teasing you, he wanted to see what you’d you. He’d continued teasing for a second before you wrapped your legs around him, bringing him closer. He giggles at your desperate behavior.

He lines up and slowly presses in,

“H-holy shit..”

He leans down after bottoming out wrapping his arms around you as he does stabling himself. He’s almost whimpering while he tries to remain still,

“You feel go fucking good.. this is better than I’ve ever imagined”

The last part got a little quiet, like he was still embarrassed to say it out loud. You moaned after he said it, the just the way his voice sounded and the way he felt inside you, just the sensation. It was… to die for.

“Please don’t stop…” you don’t even realize what you ask till after you do. Daisuke takes that as the okay to move and he wastes no time being slow. He leans down to your ear.

“I won’t.” It sounded like a promise.

You moan at the feeling, he adjusts to hit the most sensitive part of you, making your legs clench around him and you head rolls back, he takes this chance to kiss your neck. He starts sucking a bit high on your neck you notice, but you don’t care, if your co-workers can’t already hear this they’re bound to find out some other way.

He gets restless with the position, maybe he felt like he wasn’t deep enough, he grabbed both your legs, binding them in just one of his arms and over his shoulder, going deeper into you than you thought possible, and your glad he’s the one to show you. As he moves in and out of you he turns his head to kiss up and down your leg, before spreading them to reach your other leg, kissing up your calf to your heal, before letting both legs rest on his shoulders. His hands resume squeezing into your thighs as he uses them to bring up to meet his thrusts. You love how it feels like your being treated like a slut, but he’s so attentive. Having only had sex once or twice before this you’d never experience this desperate feeling of desire, it felt completely different and you liked it. Loved it even, loving the way Daisuke had you wrapped around his finger right now, you wondered if making you feel this good was always his intention, that made you love it so much more. He’s writhing above you, groaning at the feeling of you pulling him back in the second he pulls out, he’s never felt this good before, he’s never really gotten this far with anyone. Knowing that he can make you feel so good suddenly boosts his ego majorly, inspiring him to do better, go faster. So he does, and as he does he moves one of his hands from your thigh to your clit, beginning to lightly trace circles around it and above it to avoid overstimulating you. After a while both his hands are playing with you, on your chest and continuing the circles he’s doing, pushing you closer the beautiful edge Daisuke has been influencing you to.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he huffs out, and it makes you look at him, you’d been more focused on how you were feeling rather than how you looked, you were a little embarrassed about how silly you must look, before he starts kissing all over your face, you forget it, he seems to like it.

You grab his face and kiss him more, just as passionately, he moans in your mouth and speeds up. Making your moans fall into his, and it encourages him to continue. You can feel the end coming close you and grip him tighter. You pull away from the kiss to breathe but keep him close, he pulls back letting your legs fall off his shoulders so he can wrap his arms around your waist letting his head fall on your chest, using the grip on your sides to keep relentlessly pounding into you.

“Daii-“ you can’t finish what you were saying before you fall into another earth shattering orgasm, causing you to tighten around Daisuke. You both are making the most pathetic noises as you both finish, you remember his noises, you’d be using it later.

“Was.. was that okay?” He said breathlessly collapsing next to you.

“Oh god more than okay” you giggle, catching youre breath as well.

“Heh.. I’m glad, can we do this again then?” He sounds excited, going back to the cute playful Daisuke you love,

“Maybe one more time.”

OKAY I FINISHED IT, i just added more sex bc that’s what I wanted. I hope you like it, and I lied ig please lmk what u think 😩

[skylarsblue]

❁Love & Deepspace❁

Incorrect Quotes - 1 (Divider by @elfbar-baby )

Sylus: Why do I make them so uncomfortable? MC: They feel your methods, your theories are…. Sylus:Spooky? Sylus: Do you think I’m spooky? MC: I think you're silly. Sylus: Silly? MC: Silly goose even.

(Event minigame) *tower LEANS, but doesn’t fall*

Rafayel: >:3 MC: ARE YOU KIDDING?! THAT’S UNFAIR, YOU MADE T- I need to calm down. Rafayel: …(Name)- MC: Everything’s fine. I’m an adult.

- Zayne, genuinely concerned: How’s your head? MC, with a headache: Well I haven’t had any complaints yet. Zayne: …excuse me? MC: Hm? Oh! Uh- I think I’ll live.

- Caleb: You need to eat. Here, an apple a day keeps the doctor away. MC: …I’m allergic to apples. Caleb: What? No you’re not? Since wh- Zayne, appearing: Caleb: THE FU-

- *phone ringing* MC: Ugh- Wh- hello? Rafayel: Text me. *hangs up* MC: *looks at phone* What the fu-

- (OOC but shh) MC: Yeah I’m gonna try and stay out of drama, focus on work, be a better person- Tara: Guess who got caught sucking dick in the bathroom. MC: Who?! *falls out of chair*

- MC: Now is there a problem? NPC: No I don’t want no problem. MC: Yeah that’s what I thought. *steps away* NPC: walkawaylilpunkass- MC:*holds up microphone* Speak up, I couldn’t hear you bitch.

- Zayne: And what’s your reasoning for killing three people? Caleb: I mean, shit, I’m a Gemini! Sylus: I understand completely. MC:No!

- (I don’t hate Caleb but my partner does and it’s super funny)

Caleb: *sigh* Rafayel: Do you ever shut the fuck up? Zayne: What’d he do? Rafayel: Bitch gon’ breathe. Zayne: He stays doing annoying shit.

- MC: Did you drink my juice? Caleb: Yeah but i didn’t know it was yours. MC:…bitch my name. Is on. The bottle. Caleb: …🏃🏻‍♂️ MC: GET YOUR ASS BAC-

- Tara: What’re you all dressed up for? Where’re you going? MC:, going into snapshots: I’m taking selfies.

- Caleb: *enters* Rafayel: Ah hell- See I thought I was gonna have a happy day today, but then you walked in. Zayne: What did he do? Rafayel: Exist. Zayne: Why would you do that to him? Caleb: I JUST GOT HERE-

- Sylus: Okay, you’re driving pretty good. Luke: I’ve been practicing!- Sylus: But if it start raining dicks which way do you swerve? Luke , trying to remember which gear to shift in: …what?

- (IM SO SORRY AHAHAAH)

MC: Babe I just want you back- Tara: *hits stereo button to play track* MC: PSYCHE BITCH! I don’t want’chu, fuck-a you and your grandma too bitch what the fuck is up- Caleb: ?????

- Caleb: S-say it again. MC: No way José? Caleb: That’s right! WHO is José? MC: Babe it’s just a thing- 6th LI: Andale- Caleb: WHO THE FUCK IS HE-

- (Im so so sorry)

Teacher!Zayne: Pop quiz guys. Greyson: I don’t even know any of the answers- Zayne: Okay, we’ll start with an easy one. Whose wife cheated on them January 22nd? Greyson: Uhm, is it- Zayne: MINE!

- (This how quick some of y’all switched by the way)

Caleb: *holding book in the air* Haha! MC: C’mon give it back! Caleb: First you gotta say my name- MC: Alright, big daddy. Now come on give it b- Caleb: ….my name Cale-

- Sylus: You’ve been in your room all day. Kieran: No earlier I went- Sylus: You’ve been in your room all day. Kieran: …earlier I- Sylus: Don’t talk back.

- MC:Hey grandma- Granny: Can you get in the oven to clean it? MC: …….bye grandma-

- Kid: Ms.Hunter I think there’s a wanderer under my bed. MC: Hun, there’s no wanderer’s under your b- *looks* Wanderer: LONG DICK STYLE- MC: pulling out a gun: Okay, we’re leaving.

- Sylus: RAFAYEL, What, what is this? *holds up belt* Rafayel: That would be a Louis Vuitton belt, Syl- Sylus: Have you lost your mind- this is a Gucci household, gill-boy.

- MC:So you been spying on me? Caleb: I mean I was but I’m not a spy- MC: You know what they call people who spy on people? SPIES Caleb: Oo bars, but look I’m not-

- Sylus: Today’s a good day to get out of the house. Kieran: See I- I can’t fly yet. Sylus: That sounds like a you problem. Kieran: I- I’m yo s- Boss.

- MC: That’s why yo dick little- Caleb: BITCH YOU KNOW MY SHIT DETACHABLE…put the wrong one on, shit-

- Sylus: Bitch I can sing. Rafayel: Bitch sing something. Sylus: *crow caw* Rafayel: Bitch you can’t sing. Sylus: Bitch you’re right, shit-

- Zayne: Do you know where the bathroom is? Caleb: Yeah, go straight down there andsuckadick- Zayne: Pardon? Caleb: I said you gotta go straight down. Zayne: ...alright- Caleb: andIhopeyoudiewhenyougetthere. Then make a left-

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest Pop-Up: Birthday Boy Prompts: Gift, 21

Summary: Every year for his birthday, Eddie gets a special gift. When they stop coming, he feels an unexpected way about it.

Word Count: 1502

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: No Upside Down AU, Friendship, Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Unseen Character Death

Notes: Thanks to @corrodedcoffinfest for another fantastic pop-up. I’m glad to be able to get back into these. I missed one and it was like I was missing a part of myself.

This entry is one that doesn’t make the most sense, logically, to a canon Eddie. But, like many other things, this is incredibly personal and something I’ve been wanting to write for a while. So I’m using this prompt as an excuse to do it for myself. It’s not my exact story, but it’s taking from both of my grandmothers. Nonna, who spoke English very well but couldn’t read or write it. And Babcia, who knew no English and I, of course, knew no polish. Still, she wrote novels in all of her cards to me. And my piece of shit father always refused to translate them. Eddie, you deserve all the love of a dearest grandparent, so I’m loaning you some of mine.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

He doesn’t know why he cares.

There are plenty of other things to think about today; it is his 21st birthday, after all.

But there are some things you just take for granted when you’re younger, and when they suddenly aren’t there anymore, you can’t help but realize the mistake you made. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that shit.

He used to only care about the crisp $20 bill that was tucked into the cards. A fresh note, straight from the bank. Used to buy toys, then candy, then books, then records. For birthdays and christmases and Easters.

Eventually he paid attention to the cards themselves. Pretty things with cartoons and pictures and, on birthdays, the numbers coinciding with the age he achieved. There were inscriptions inside, lengthy passages in fancy handwriting that he couldn’t read.

Not because they were illegible. He simply could not read them.

Dniu Urozdin. Wesołych Świąt.

Paragraphs upon paragraphs of words. And he wasn’t sure what they meant. Or the emotion that he was supposed to feel reading them.

“But who are they from?” He asked Wayne once when he was finally old enough for curiosity to spark.

“Your grandma,” was the simple response. But he knew no grandma, beyond old Nana Munson who passed right after his mom did. “I’ve told you that before.”

There was no return address for him to send a letter back to, no telephone number for him to call. Just a simple “Kocham cie, Busia” at the bottom of the novel his supposed-grandma wrote.

“Buss-ee-ah,” he pronounced slowly, and then looked to his uncle again. It felt wrong on his tongue. Not only in English but somehow also whatever that language was. He felt it in his gut. “Is that her name?”

Wayne scratched his chin, and looked at him sadly, then explained that he had only met Elizabeth’s mother once. Twice, at most? A small, elderly woman who spoke English very well—if accented—but apparently couldn’t write it much. He couldn’t remember her name or address or anything that would be useful in contacting her.

Of course, Al would have been some kind of help, but a long lost grandmother wasn’t exactly the first—or last—thought on any of their minds when the eldest Munson deigned to come to town.

”I’m sorry Ed,” Wayne whispered and mashed a hand on top of Eddie’s buzzed curls. “Maybe one day she’ll put her phone number in.”

Of course, by that time Eddie had developed some degree of self-loathing, and he chalked it up to a grandma who felt obligated enough to send a card, but didn’t care enough to really want to know her only grandson.

That’s when the cards started getting put away. In a drawer. Out of sight, out of mind til the next one came. Then the $20 bill would be slid into a wallet and the card would join the rest.

“Thanks Busia,” Eddie would whisper and offer a stiff and sarcastic salute as he slid the drawer closed. It never really felt right, but his hardened heart couldn’t care much more than that.

Jeff had seen them once, the stack of cards in his nightstand. He’d stayed the night and had been snooping.

“What’re these?” He asked, a laugh partially escaping from his mouth. A dozen greeting cards with illegible stories inside.

“They’re my lore,” Eddie explained, only slightly sarcastically. “I just haven’t leveled up enough to read them yet.”

“Guess you need to find a better DM,” Jeff joked back. He took one more look at the gently written closing, then slid it back into its home.

More time passed, more $20 bills spent.

But now, it was Eddie’s 21st birthday. Nothing in the mailbox. Nothing waiting for him on the counter amidst the bills and circulars. Nothing.

He didn’t think much of it at first. Distantly, during lunch, he wondered if the snowstorm that had blown through the previous week had delayed the mail at all. Because Busia’s cards always came through on time. Always.

So that had to be it.

And he tried to make excuses. Because it was just a card. Just a $20 bill. They weren't important; he didn't know why he cared.

Beer was drunk, weed was smoked, fun was had with his friends, who gifted him with new cassettes and a leather-bound notebook for him to write his stories.

But the next day, the only birthday gift waiting for him was a hangover.

Nothing the next day. Or the next.

“Nothing for me?” He asked Wayne anxiously a week after his special day.

And Wayne knew what it was he was asking for, even though he hadn’t said it aloud.

A hand was clamped down on his shoulder.

“She was old,” Wayne whispered. “Same age as Nana Munson, I’ll bet.”

The words rang in Eddie’s ears, an uncomfortable ringing, even as Wayne tried to blame the lack of a card of forgetfulness.

Because there had been a Christmas Card. And Eddie’s birthday had only been a month later. She wouldn’t have forgotten. Not after she’d sent one for almost two whole decades.

He sat at home late that night, in the dim light of his bedroom, trying to decipher something from those cards. Some kind of hint that Busia would excuse the lack of a birthday card. Maybe in a language he didn't understand, she would explain that she was having surgery or going on a trip, and that her birthday gift would be late this year.

Deep down, as he saw her beautiful handwriting get messier as the years went by, he knew why there was no card.

And he sat there every night, for days, amidst the only thing he had from his grandmother, mourning something that he never really had at all.

Jeff stopped by on the third day, backpack clutched in his hand, and he pulled the comforter off of his supposedly sleeping friend.

"Wake up! Come on, we've got character sheets to write! Gah, it smells like stale Cheetos and farts in here." Jeff laughed, then stopped, as he spotted the stack of cards beside Eddie's supine form. "Oh no."

"I'm feeling human feelings, Jeffy," Eddie groaned and curled up on his side. "Avert your eyes."

Jeff huffed a sigh and plopped down on the edge of the bed. "If anyone knows how many human feelings you have, Ed, it's me."

He tried to reach for one of the cards and Eddie had the audacity to hiss at him.

"What if I said I had a present for you?"

Of course, that piqued the older boy's interest.

Jeff heaved his backpack over his shoulder and rooted through it, searching for small object that he'd been keeping for a while.

"I've had it for a while," he explained. "I didn't want to...listen Ed I know how much you keep things close to the chest sometimes. But Timmy Kaminski was my lab partner last year, before we graduated. I recognized something in that one Christmas card. He calls his grandma 'Busia' too."

Eddie groaned and ran a hand over his face.

"I don't call her Busia," Eddie scoffed. "I don't call her anything. I don't even have a grand--"

But Jeff shoved a book in Eddie's face. A small yellow paperback thing, edges a little worn from being tossed around Jeff's backpack, but otherwise relatively new.

Polish to English Dictionary.

Eddie hesitantly took the book from Jeff and stared at it.

"I'm not gonna pry," Jeff said softly. "But obviously...obviously something upset you. Because of these cards. And last time...last time they upset you, you said that you hadn't leveled up enough to know what they said yet. So I decided I would take over as DM...and Level 21 is enough to start unlocking basic translation as a skill."

"But--"

"You know enough Klingon and Sindarin, you might as well learn what your god damn birthday cards say! I'll even help you, damn it!"

Jeff stared at Eddie expectantly.

And Eddie felt the pit that had formed in his stomach over the past few days begin to close a bit.

There was a pang in his chest as he sat up and stared at all the cards surrounding him. The little yellow book might as well have been made of gold, how much it suddenly meant to him.

"Thanks Jeff," he muttered, holding back tears.

"Of course, man," the younger boy nodded and patted a hand on his shoulder. "And if you ever...ever want to talk...you know I'm here. God knows I've talked your ear off plenty."

"Yeah you have," Eddie snarked, earning a scoff.

He was about to pick up a card, ready to begin the slow process of translating it.

However, an idea struck him, and he began flipping through the book.

Not an idea. Words. Simple words that he'd read over and over for years, let alone the last few days.

He reached the page, and he felt his heart grow.

Kocham cie. I love you.

*a handful of cards I had gotten over the years. I (proxied by my mother when I was too young to know) kept them all. The oldest card I have is from my first birthday in 1995. I hope she knows how loved they are.

[marauder-misprint]

Letters that never arrived i

Sebastian Sallow x Ravenclaw!reader

part 2

14.7k words

cw: HL spoilers, swearing, miscommunication, fluff, angst, Y/N

There were flashes of red and green lights and you screamed his name. “Sebastian!”

Then you woke up, drenched in sweat. It was still pitch black outside. You slowly sat up, shaking from your nightmare. A gentle breeze chilled you to the bone as your pajamas clung to your body. Sebastian was not there, but you still looked around the room, filled with worry. The last you had heard he was staying at his late uncle’s house in Feldcroft. As you sat up, you tried to remember the dream that had awoken you. You didn’t know which end of the lights the boy had been on. You shuttered. 

You got out of bed and shuffled over to your trunk. You took out a small box of neatly arranged vials and picked out two. You debated which potion would be better to take: Sleeping Draught or Dreamless Sleep Potion. The former would get you back to sleep faster, but the latter would likely keep you asleep. You put the Sleeping Draught back with a sigh. You had taken one of those before bed, and your dreams hadn’t been pleasant. You drank the other potion in one gulp and went back to your bed. Its immediate drowsy effect allowed you to feel more relaxed. After a few minutes, you were back to sleep. 

In the morning, you cast a protection spell over your tent before making the trek to Hogsmeade. You could’ve flown on your broom, rode your graphorn or a thestral, or even taken the floo network from the closest hamlet. You had taken to walking everywhere. There was something about being on the ground that reminded you that you were alive and it was all real. The last time you flew on your broom you had ended up lost in the clouds above the ocean. It had taken you over an hour to get back to your tent; it was an event you never planned on repeating. 

You entered J. Pippin’s Potions and greeted the shop’s owner, Mr. Pippin. 

“I have your order ready. Just let me go grab it,” he said, disappearing to grab a bag from the back. When he returned, he asked, “Can I ask what you are brewing? This is a fair amount of lavender, sopophorous beans, nettle and asphodel?”

You handed him a small pouch of galleons and took the bag he handed you. 

“I’ve got a few potions I’m working on,” you said nonchalantly. “I like to have my own stock and with school starting up soon, I need to get busy.”

Mr. Pippin nodded, although he noted that you didn’t really answer his question. “Starts next week, if I recall.”

“That’s correct, sir.”

“Enjoy your brewing, Y/N. And I’m only an owl away if you need help.” 

After leaving the potion shop, you visited various other shops around the village to pick up supplies that you had ordered for the upcoming school year. You had quite the stack of packages when you stumbled into the Three Broomsticks and nearly collapsed at a table in the front corner. Sirona Ryan was quick to bring you a butterbeer.

“Looks like you’ve had quite the day, hmm,” she said, setting the mug down.

“A walk in the park compared to last year,” you replied with a tired smile. 

Sirona knew a fair bit about the messes that you had found yourself in last year. She had witnessed parts of it herself, like when Rookwood barged into the pub and demanded to speak with you. You sat back in your chair with your hands grasping the warm mug. It had just been a day of picking up school supplies and small talk, yet it still drained you. The mundane always felt worse than battling poachers, goblins and trolls. 

A few butterbeers later, you felt ready to go home to your tent. You were about to wave Sirona over to pay her when the door opened with a jingle and familiar voices filled the air. 

“We won’t stay long, Ominis. I just want one drink before we go back,” Sebastian Sallow said. 

You were glad for the pile of supplies in front of you, blocking you from their view. You could barely see them yourself through bits of space between your packages. 

“One drink. Then we have to go back to Feldcroft. I do not like walking that far through forest when it’s dark out,” Ominis Gaunt responded to Sebastian.

“You’re blind! What difference does it make?”

Ominis scoffed. “It is more to do with the time of day. You know it is less safe at night.”

To your relief, the boys chose a table further into the pub. You felt safe to wave Sirona over. 

“Some of your classmates just came in. You know you can move tables without telling me,” she said with a soft smile.

You shook your head. “I need to get going. It’s been a long day and there is a bed calling my name.”

You handed some galleons to Sirona and worked on stacking your packages in a way that wouldn’t make them too cumbersome to carry. You could bewitch them to float and follow you, but you would worry too much about them getting stuck on a tree or boulder. As you got your grip and headed to the door, you heard Ominis speak across the bar. 

“Is that Y/N’s voice I just heard?”

You didn’t turn around and hurried out the door before you could hear Sebastian’s answer. You hadn’t parted on the best of terms and you wasn’t ready to face them yet. 

“Huh? Maybe?” Sebastian said, looking at the door as it closed. “I didn’t see.”

Sirona heard them and walked over. “Yes, that was Y/N who just left. Bit surprised myself that she didn’t say hi to you boys.”

--- 

The next week seemed to fly by. You spent most of your time brewing your collection of potions and triple checking that you had all of the required supplies. Your worries about returning to the castle caused you to be more paranoid. You were looking over your shoulder whenever you left and moved your camp. The dangers of living in the highlands weren’t as severe as they had been, but they still persisted. Even without a leader and definitive cause, goblins and ashwinders were posted in various locations, and if one thing made them furious, it was you since  you were responsible for their leaders’ downfalls. And poachers were always a given. 

The day before you would return to the safety of the castle, you set up camp in a treasure vault you had discovered a while ago. You had recalled this one being free of spiders, inferi and standing water. You conjured a door and locked it, hoping to deter wild animals. You knew that any wizard determined to get in could, but some would move along at the sight of a simple lock. 

You sat next to a small fire, hugging your knees to your chest. One of the things you loved most in the world was watching the flames of fire dance erratically. It was more soothing than you could ever explain with words. It allowed you to get lost in your mind without the daunting feeling of falling into an endless hole. You could think and reflect. Sometimes you thought it was your ability to control ancient magic that allowed fire to have this effect on you; to you, fire was the oldest magic there was. 

You decided on a simple Sleeping Draught for the night. Your mind was wide awake with nerves and dreamless sleep would be pointless if you couldn’t sleep. You passed out immediately after drinking it. 

Waking up, you felt groggy. Your sleep wasn’t the most restful but it had been sleep. The nightmares were more mild. Stress of exams and forgetting homework. Embarrassment of being late to class or losing Ravenclaw points. Awake, you wanted to laugh at how trivial these were, but they still frightened you. You knew people expected the world of you, and you’d be damned if you let them down. 

You condensed all of your things down into one trunk with an extension charm on it. You figured you would mill around Hogsmeade until it was time to go to Hogwarts. Most students would be arriving by train. Once you arrived in the village with your trunk, you made the decision to hole up in the Three Broomsticks. If it was slow, you could chat with Sirona. It ended up not being slow enough for Sirona to chat for more than a few minutes at time, but that was sufficient for you. Even more so, you were glad that you didn’t see anyone that you really knew all that well, which meant no one else was stopping by your table.

---

“Y/N!” a voice shrieked from across the Great Hall. 

You looked up from the Ravenclaw table to see Samantha Dale and Constance Dagworth running toward you. 

“It’s good to see you’re still alive!” Constance said, engulfing you in a hug. “I tried to write to you but my owls couldn’t find you!”

“I had the same issue!” Samantha added.

The girls sat on either side of you, awaiting your answer for their inability to reach you.

“I was moving around a lot,” you said. “I guess if you don’t stay in one spot for too long, owls can’t find you as easily as they can if you’re established.” 

“Well, you’ll have to tell us all about your summer. We have so much catching up to do,” Samantha said adamantly. 

The Great Hall didn’t take much time to fill up as the train had obviously arrived and students had made it to the castle from Hogsmeade Station. The temperature in the hall rose significantly with everyone’s body heat. It was good to see everyone’s faces again and to hear their voices. Students who took the train were swapping stories with those from the local hamlets or had been in different compartments. The animated conversations fell quiet when Professor Black stood at the lectern at the front of the hall. His welcome speech was half-hearted and he quickly passed the spotlight over to Professor Weasley who led the sorting ceremony. You were shocked at the number of first years and paid immense attention to the ceremony, since you hadn’t seen one before unless you counted your own that had been after all of last year’s first years had finished being sorted. The other sixth years around you were less enthralled by the ceremony. 

The ceremony ended and dinner commenced. All of the students around you began filling their plates immediately; some looked at the food like they hadn’t eaten all day. You were regretting sitting in the Three Broomsticks all day and drinking your fair share of butterbeer. You made a small plate for yourself and nibbled away at it as you listened to your friends recount their summers. 

“William was obnoxious all summer. He was always in the way, no matter what I was doing. I couldn’t read or stitch without him being an absolute git,” Samantha complained. “Maybe we should’ve left his feet as beets!”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “You were beside yourself when he was at St. Mungo’s. Have you considered that maybe he just wants to spend time with you?”

“Absolutely not. If he wanted to spend time with me, he could come over from the Gryffindor table once in a while.”

You cocked your head. “He’s a student here?”

“Did you not know?” Constance asked. 

You shook your head.

“He’s a fourth year. Gryffindor, as I just said,” Samantha said. 

She turned around to point in his direction. You looked in the direction of the Gryffindor table and saw a boy who looked like he could be related to Samantha. 

“I see. I guess he didn’t come up that much last year…”

“You were busy, saving Hogwarts and all,” Samantha said.

“Don’t forget being joined at the hip with her guard dogs,” Constance chirped.

You made a face at your friend. “I still don’t understand why people call them that.”

“Ever notice how people never really approached you when they were at your side?” Constance laughed. “They were protecting you, guarding you. And well, yeah. Guard dogs.”

“Protecting me? Please!” you said in mild disgust. “I do not need protecting.”

“From goblins and ashwinders, no. Overzealous fans? Possibly. But we’ll never know because of them,” Samantha clarified. 

“Overzealous fans,” you repeated. “What, am I going to be hugged to death?”

The girls shrugged. 

“Might have been to ensure some privacy. Usually when someone gets a title like Hero of Hogwarts, people want to know everything about them,” Constance said.

“Whatever,” you said with a sigh. “Connie, what did you do this summer? Do you have a sibling who goes here that I don’t know about?”

—-

Before going to bed, you made sure to organize your stuff in the closet. You had conjured additional shelves so that your collection of potions could be properly displayed and easily accessed each night. Samantha peered over your shoulder and gasped.

“Merlin, Y/N! Do you have enough potions in there?”

You shut the door, hiding your collection of vials. Constance looked up from a letter she was writing.

“How many are in there?”

“At least twenty,” Samantha answered.

“Been busy brewing this summer?” Constance asked with a laugh. 

“I like to be prepared! Don’t come crawling to me when you need wiggenweld and are too embarrassed to get some from the hospital wing,” you defended. 

“You have more than enough in there to share. And what was all in there?” Samantha asked, sitting down on her bed. “I saw purple and wiggenweld is green.”

“Just some stuff to help with sleep,” you said with a shrug. “Pretty sure the lavender makes it purple.” 

The other two girls exchanged worried looks.

“Are you still having nightmares?” Samantha asked, her voice laced with concern.

You had tried to hide your nightmares from your roommates in the spring. You had placed a silencing charm on your bed to at least muffle the noise. However, they were perceptive and grew concerned over your visible exhaustion. It had been one thing for you to fall asleep in History of Magic as Professor Binns droned on about various goblin rebellions; it was another when you slipped out of your chair and onto the floor in Defense Against the Dark Arts and then in Charms. They called you out on it and you had no choice but to come clean. You had been  given a small ration of sleeping aid potions from Matron Blainey. 

You had led them to believe that after two weeks of restful sleep you were back to normal. That was not the case. The first night without one of the potions left you riddled with nightmares worse than before. It felt like the two weeks without dreams had compiled into one. In a calm and collected panic, you discussed with Garreth Weasley if he knew how to brew those potions; as advanced as he was, he did not but knew they were to learn more about them next year. Rather than discuss your predicament with Professor Sharp, you turned to the master of mischief, Sebastian. Sebastian was able to find you books with directions and you worked on perfecting the brews in the Room of Requirement. You appreciated that he didn’t ask questions about it. 

“They come and go. Not as frequent, but like I said, I like to be prepared,” you lied, allowing your friends’ expressions to ease. 

The girls talked about their expectations for the year before getting ready for bed. You were glad to be laughing about the small things that made going to school fun: the drama and potential sources of gossip. They talked about much the school rallied around quidditch, something you had missed out on last year due Professor Black canceling the season. When it was finally time to turn in, you had to sneak open her closet to grab a potion. You weren't going to start the term off with horrible dreams that woke you up screaming. 

---

You were excited to truly experience Hogwarts as a regular student. Well, more or less a regular student. You knew that you were treated slightly differently due to your title of Hero of Hogwarts. You were excited for classes and quidditch, unburdened by looming threats outside the castle walls. 

After two weeks, you thought everything was going good as you adjusted to a new normal. And it was, until you heard something that made you choke on your morning coffee at breakfast. 

“Did you hear that heartthrob Sebastian Sallow made Slytherin quidditch team as a beater?” a third year gossiped with her friend. 

“Everything good?” Constance asked, slapping your back. 

“Just surprised,” you managed to croak. “Wasn’t expecting to hear that.”

“That Sallow made the quidditch team?” Everett Clopton asked from across the table. 

You shook your head. “Heartthrob.”

Samantha and Constance burst out laughing. You shot them a confused look. 

“Maybe you’re too close to him to have noticed,” Samantha said, “but puberty took him through the ringer over the summer.”

You raised an eyebrow before turning around to try to find him at the Slytherin table. So far, you had managed to avoid talking to him and, consequently, really getting a good look at him. You spotted a mop of brown hair but it wasn’t enough to confirm Samantha’s statement. 

“So he’s a heartthrob now?”

Constance nodded. “Before his sister got sick, he was fairly well-liked across houses. Just a funny, goofy guy who was always up for a good time. Quite popular. Anne gets sick and suddenly he disappears from the spotlight. You show up and he’s sort of back to normal, but it was mostly when you were around. And now, puberty plus his old charm, simple equation for heartthrob status.”

“And he’s on quidditch now,” Everett added, earning him a look of accusation from Constance. His hands went up in a sign of defense. “I’m just saying I’ve heard girls like an athlete.” 

Samantha hummed in content. “He’s not wrong.”

“Thank you!”

---

Two weeks later, the girls were relaxing in the common room after a long day of classes.

“Is it quidditch yet?” you asked, laying down on a couch in the common room. 

“Nope,” Constance answered her, popping the ‘p.’ “Next weekend, and we’re not even playing yet. Slytherin plays Hufflepuff.”

You sighed. “I want to watch quidditch!”

Samantha laughed at you from a nearby arm chair. “You’ll get your fair amount of quidditch, don’t worry about it, L/N.” She paused. “So are we going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

“I’d like to. Not to say I’m tired of the castle already, but I could use some chocolate frogs and butterbeer,” Constance said.

“Yeah, I’m game for Hogsmeade,” you agreed. 

At that moment, Andrew Larson and Everett appeared next to the girls.

“Did we hear Hogsmeade trip?” Everett asked, resting his arm on your head. 

“Tomorrow,” you said.

“Is it… a girls’ trip?” Andrew asked, looking from Constance to Samantha and then stopping on you. 

“Are you trying to get an invite?” Samantha laughed, poking his side.

“Just trying to gauge if it’s worth seeing if you mind if we tag along,” he replied defensively. “Didn’t want to intrude if it was definitely a girls’ trip. We would’ve made a point to avoid you.”

You removed Everett’s arm from your head. “You guys can join us. Make sure you invite Amit too.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. 

“Andrew!” you chastised. 

“Would you rather we have you invite Puffskein or Mahendra?” Constance asked with crossed arms. 

“Amit it is!” Andrew declared. 

“Plus, he’ll probably say no,” Samantha said, sitting on the armrest of Constance’s chair. “It’s just the effort that counts. It’s called maintaining a friendship.”

The next morning, only Everett and Andrew sat down next to the girls.

“Sammy was right, he said no but thanked us for inviting him,” Everett said, stealing a piece of toast off your plate.

You smacked his arm playfully. 

“What if I was going to eat that?”

“You’d grab another slice and butter it again.”

You narrowed your eyes at Everett before laughing. “I hate you.”

“Hmm, debatable.”

Constance cleared her throat across the table from you. You looked at her with confused looks. 

“If you’re done flirting, are we ready for Hogsmeade?” she asked.

You gasped, looking at Everett. “Shit, were you flirting?”

He shook his head vigorously, causing his curls to bounce. 

“I wasn’t either.”

“You’re literally my sister.”

You nodded. “Yes, we are siblings. Not lovers.”

“Okay, but Hogsmeade? Are we going?” Samantha repeated Constance’s question.

“Yeah,” you said, standing up while taking one last sip of your coffee. “Let’s boogie.”

As the group walked to Hogsmeade, the girls led the group, walking three across on the path. The boys followed, both of them with their hands shoved in their pockets. 

“You really think of her as your sister?” Andrew asked Everett in a low voice, hoping there was enough distance between them and the girls that they wouldn’t be able to overhear. 

Everett gave him a sideways glance, smiling. “Just about. She’s perfect but I think I was friendzoned since day one. Made peace with it,” he said with a laugh. “Now, she’s just a good friend when she’s not hidden behind her little guard dogs.” 

Andrew made a face. 

“Hey, she’s here with us today. Not them…” Everett paused. “Have you seen her with them since the start of term?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?” Andrew replied, thinking about it. “I’ve seen her with Natty and maybe once or twice with Garreth. Otherwise she’s been around Connie and Sam.”

“That’s about what I thought. She’s been pairing up with Natty in Defense rather than Sallow.”

Andrew let out a hearty laugh. “Now that’s a welcomed change!”

You looked back at them, not having heard anything. “Honeydukes, yeah?”

They nodded. The group adjusted their path to the sweets shop. Once inside, the group split apart, each beelining to their favorite candies. Andrew stayed close to you, pretending to look over pumpkin pasties while you debated between chocolate frogs, choco-locos and chocolate cauldrons. 

“What do you think, Andrew: frogs or cauldrons?” you asked, turning towards him.

“Hm? Oh, I like frogs better,” he said. “But why not get a few of both? Can’t hurt to have variety.”

You nodded and took a handful of each. Andrew’s eyes went wide; he hadn’t expected you to grab that many.

“Got galleons waste, have you?”

“I’m going to spend them anyways. Either I buy them all now and have chocolate on hand, or I have to sneak out to get my fix in the middle of the week. Do you want me to get caught and lose points for Ravenclaw?” you explained with a laugh. 

“Suppose not, although you do earn us a fair share.”

You walked towards the other end of the store and he followed, after putting back the pumpkin pasty that he wasn’t actually interested in.

“How do you sneak out and make it here and back so quickly?” he asked, standing next to you at the doxy floss stand. 

“I mean, Moon doesn’t lock the doors too well,” you lied. You weren't going to tell him about the one-eyed witch statue that Garreth had shown you last year. “And then I either run or take a broom. But I’m also not against riding a thestral.”

He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I always forget that you can see them.”

“Trust me, I wish I couldn’t.” You paused, looking up at Andrew. “They are eerily beautiful creatures and wonderful beasts, but the cost… Some things you just wish you could unsee.”

George Osric. Solomon Sallow. Eleazar Fig. Countless goblins and ashwinders who had attacked her and others. You shivered at the thought of them. Andrew put a loose arm around your shoulder to give you a light comforting squeeze. Then he let go, not wanting to push you past your comfort level.

“I suppose you could say I’m lucky that I can’t see ‘em yet.”

“Yet?” you asked with a soft chuckle. “What makes you so certain you’ll see someone die?”

He shrugged. “I figure I’ll see an old relative die or something. Definitely won’t be in my line of work after Hogwarts.”

“What are you planning on doing?”

“I want to work in legal for the ministry. My uncle works in a different department, but I’ve met some of his coworkers and it’s fascinating.”

“Legal… Not my cup of tea, but someone has to do it.”

“What is your cup of tea?”

“Research, I think. I want to know about ancient magic.”

He nodded and looked around the shop. Constance and Samantha were checking out and Everett already had his purchase in a bag. 

“Looks like they’ll be waiting on us soon,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of their friends. 

“Oh, yeah.” 

You checked out and the group walked outside. They weren’t quite ready to hole up in the Three Broomsticks to drink butterbeer until it was late so they walked around the village. You made them walk over to J. Pippin’s so you could get more lavender. 

“What does she need lavender for?” Andrew asked as the rest of the group waited outside the shop. 

“She’s got a collection of sleeping potions,” Constance said nonchalantly. “Used to get wicked nightmares last year and now it’s just habit to keep it on hand. Emergency stock, if you will.”

“Remember in the spring, when she was falling asleep in Defense and Charms? A literal walking zombie? Yeah, she hadn’t sleep in like a week because of the nightmares. We convinced her to talk to Blainey and it seems to have helped,” Samantha added. 

“Gods, I do remember that,” Everett said. “Hecat was so concerned to see her on the floor. Thought she was cursed or something and then Sallow gave her a nudge and determined she had just fallen asleep.” Then he looked at Andrew and then back at the girls. “Do you know why she hasn’t been around her guard dogs this term?”

“Huh, I suppose she hasn’t, has she?” Samantha asked. “She hasn’t said anything to us, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Everett hummed. You exited the shop with a bag that said you bought more than lavender from Mr. Pippin. Once in the shop, you looked over his inventory and bought everything you thought you might run low on in the next week. 

“Looks a bit more than lavender,” Samantha snorted. 

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I like to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” Andrew asked, trying to get a peek in the bag. “Decorating the entire common room and roof with flowers?”

You tightened your grip on the bag. “My ingredient stores won’t be running low anytime soon and when you need billywig stings, don’t be coming to me because you know I’ll have them.”

“Always threatening to withhold things from us!” Everett gasped. “But you cave every time.”

“That was one time and you fell off your broom from like 30 feet!” 

“You were the first one there and basically forcing the wiggenweld down my throat,” he reminded you. 

“Fine, next time you are in a life or death situation, I’ll stand back and let you suffer.”

The group walked to the gardens outside of Hogsmeade to relax for a bit. You sat on a bench at the bottom of the overlook, the part more in the garden that looked at the enchanted dragon bush. You loved how it moved. You could hear snippets of the rest of the group’s conversation up on the overlook platform. You enjoyed your little bit of solitude, and appreciated that they let you have it. 

“Could you pine any harder?” you heard Samantha ask.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Andrew’s voice responded. 

There was laughter and you didn’t catch what was said next. From your distance, overlapping voices meant you couldn’t follow the conversation. You were slightly interested in who Andrew was pining after. You weren’t interested in him, but you were nosy and liked knowing other people’s busy, despite wanting them to stay out of yours. 

“... sister!” Everett laughed.

You heard one of the gates open and close. You turned to see Sebastian entering the garden. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and he looked frustrated. His gaze was intently set on the ground. You weren't sure if he saw you but you were in no mood to talk to him yet. You stood up and hurried up the steps to your friends. 

“I think it’s time for butterbeers!” you announced as you reached the platform.

Andrew’s face was bright red, but the rest of the group seemed overly merry.

“Yes, let’s go!” Samantha agreed, grabbing your arm and the two of you led the group to the Three Broomsticks. 

As they walked, you glanced sideways at Samantha. 

“So, who is Andrew pining after?” you whispered. 

A wicked smile crossed her face. “Oh, that’s something for him to tell you.”

“But obviously he’s told you!”

“Hm, no,” she replied with a soft laugh. “I found it glaringly obvious and confronted him about it last year.”

You stopped walking with your arm still linked with Samantha, therefore causing her to stop walking too. The rest of the group was still a few steps back so no one ran into each other. 

“It’s been at least a year?” you asked in disbelief. “How have I not noticed?”

“You’ve been busy and distracted. I don’t blame you.”

You narrowed your eyes at Samantha, causing her to laugh. 

“Guys, come on! I need butterbeer!” Constance whined, pushing in between her friends.

She grabbed your hands and practically pulled you into the Three Broomsticks, leaving the boys to trail them once again. You managed to find an open table with enough seats for all of them. Sirona wasted no time in placing butterbeers in front of them. 

“I love how she just knows,” Constance said cheerfully, picking up her mug.

“It’s not like she’s going to serve us meade or firewhiskey,” you chirped. 

“Maybe for a few extra galleons she might,” Everett teased. “That would require me to have a few extra galleons to slide her way though.”

“Oh, just wait for Ravenclaw to win at quidditch. You’ll be supplied,” Andrew said, giving Everett a nudge with his shoulder. 

“What happens after a win?” you asked, foam sitting on your upper lip. 

“That’s right!” Samantha exclaimed. “You haven’t been to a Hogwarts party yet!” 

You raised her eyebrows. 

“There’s usually one after each quidditch game, hosted by the winning house. If it’s in another house, you have to arrange to be let in. Sometimes, if the seventh years are feeling frisky, they’ll have parties at other times. But it’s mainly for quidditch,” Everett explained. “Being that it was canceled last year, no parties.”

“Damn, I feel bad for the seventh years,” you muttered. 

“Um, Hufflepuff definitely had a gathering,” Constance piped up. “I think the entirety of seventh years were accounted for.”

“What?” Everett coughed.

“I guess you didn’t get an invite,” she said smugly. “Lenora let me in.”

Gesturing to Constance, Andrew said, “See, you have to know someone.”

“I could maybe go to party at each house if I play it right,” you said. As you listed off your friends, you counted on your fingers, “Obviously I can attend Ravenclaw. Natty would let me into the Gryffindor Common Room. Poppy for Hufflepuff…” She paused to think. “Maybe Imelda or Priscilla for Slytherin?”

“What about Gaunt or Sallow?” Samantha asked, a little too eagerly. 

“What about them?”

You knew what they were asking. You just didn’t want to answer it. You saw as everyone at the table exchanged knowing glances with each other.

“Couldn’t they let you in?” Samantha asked, more cautious this time. 

“That requires them to want me around.”

The table was quiet. 

“And why wouldn’t they want you around?”

You sighed. “Shit went down last year and they haven’t tried to talk to me since so…” 

You pressed your lips together, hoping they would glean to drop it from your expression.

“Maybe they tried to write you over the summer?” Constance offered, not changing the subject. 

“I doubt that.”

At that moment, Sirona arrived with more butterbeers for the table. They chorused thank yous to her. When she was gone, the table was quiet again as everyone sipped their drinks. 

“So… that Potions essay?” Everett asked. 

“Oh, don’t even get me started on it!” Constance said.

You sighed and drank your butterbeer, zoning out from the conversation. Maybe they had tried to write you over the summer, but you was determined to not be found. 

After a few hours, the group left the Three Broomsticks to make their way back to the castle. Everett had linked arms with Constance and Samantha, joyfully having a loud discussion over why Arithmancy was better than Divination. You thought they were walking quicker than they usually did, putting some distance between them and you and Andrew. 

Andrew reached out and grabbed your hand as they approached the road signs a little bit outside of the village. “Hey, Y/N, can I ask you something?”

You stopped walking. “Yeah, of course. What’s up, Andrew?”

You thought he looked nervous. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to the quidditch game next weekend.”

“I think the entire castle is going,” you replied, a little confused. 

“No, yeah, the entire castle will be going. But I’m asking if you’d like to go with me. Like a date.” 

“Oh, Andrew…” you started to say.

Then a figure came barreling in between them, knocking Andrew to the ground. You didn’t see who it was. 

“Oi, Sallow! What the fuck?” Andrew yelled from the ground. 

Turning to see a green and silver cloak disappearing around the corner, you were able to see him flip them off. You helped Andrew stand up and he dusted himself off.

“So?” he asked. 

You bit her bottom lip nervously. “That’s really sweet of you, but I don’t think I’m ready to date anyone.”

“Oh,” he said dejectedly, but quickly recovered. “I get that. Hope that doesn’t make things awkward between us…”

“I’ll try to not let it,” you said with a soft smile.

You started to walk again. 

“But that was Sebastian who came barreling through?” you asked. 

“I’m like 95% sure it was. Not sure what his problem is.”

“You and me both,” you said, shaking your head. 

---

You skipped dinner on Thursday to study in the library. You planned on being there for a while and wanted to ensure that you had a good table. You took up half of a table on the upper level. You were happily chugging away on various assignments that you put off during the week. It was fairly obvious when dinner had ended because students started pouring into the library and began taking up any open table. You tried to condense your stuff, but your efforts were futile. With a sigh, you just continued to work. 

You only looked up when someone placed their stuff directly across from you. Seeing who it was, your eyes narrowed despite knowing he couldn’t see it.

“This table is for mudbloods only,” you snapped. 

Ominis looked horrified at what you said. “Y/N!” he whispered.

“Ominis, where did you disappear to?” Sebastian asked before suddenly appearing next to him and seeing you sat at the table. 

“You know he didn’t mean it,” Ominis said, ignoring Sebastian. 

You shifted your glare from Ominis to Sebastian. 

“You don’t say something like that unless you mean it. And it sounded like he meant it.”

Sebastian looked uncomfortable and confused, looking from you to Ominis. 

“Sebastian, I think we need to find a different table,” Ominis muttered, picking his bag back up. “We will see you later, Y/N.”

Before they were out of earshot, you heard Sebastian whisper, “Is she still on what I said?”

Ominis nodded. You were glad to see Sebastian hang his head. A Hufflepuff seventh year sat at your table after a few minutes passed. You worked in silence, not really acknowledging each other, which was just fine for you since you didn’t know him. You sat working until Madam Scribner announced that the library was closing in ten minutes and students needed to begin packing up. You stole a glance at the boy as you piled your stuff back into your bag. He was decently handsome and tall. You looked away as soon as you saw him sneak his own glance. You ended up heading down the stairs at the same time and leaving the library together. 

“Y/N, right?” he asked as you walked through the doors leading to the Central Hall. 

“Yeah. That’s me. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.” 

He held out his hand. “Elias Cotton.”

You shook his hand. “Well, nice to meet you, Elias Cotton.”

He smiled. “It was nice to work across from you. If you ever need a study buddy, have Poppy find me.”

Then he walked away towards the Hufflepuff Common Room. You stood there, watching him disappear down a set of stairs. You blinked a few times to process what had just happened. You hadn’t spoken until then; why did he think you needed a study buddy? You were mildly amused that he knew you were a friend of Poppy. You shook your head before turning to take a long route back to Ravenclaw Tower. You’d have to ask Poppy what she knew about him later. 

---

You decided you would ask Poppy about this Elias Cotton during Beasts class. You were learning about Golden Snidgets, which both of you already knew in extreme detail. 

“Poppy, can I ask you about someone?”

Poppy hummed, not looking up from her sketch of a snidget. 

“Elias Cotton? I think he’s a seventh year and in Hufflepuff.”

Her head snapped up, wide eyes staring at you.

“What about him?”

You felt yourself blush. “He studied at my table in the library yesterday. Just trying to see what he’s like?”

“Probably the sweetest guy in all of Hogwarts, a true gentleman. Definitely a favorite within Hufflepuff. Quite shy though.” She paused. “I think his girlfriend broke up with him last week.”

Poppy eyed you for some time of reaction. Nothing. 

“Huh. You say he’s shy? That would explain why he didn’t say anything to me until after we left the library.” 

“What’d he say?”

“Introduced himself, said it was nice to study at the same table as me and if I ever needed a study buddy, to ask you where he was,” you listed off. 

Poppy thought this was more exciting than you did. Poppy squealed.

“Ms. Sweeting, Ms. L/N, something to share with the class?” Professor Howin asked in a stern tone.

You quickly glanced at the board. 

“Sorry, Professor,” you said, realizing that there was nothing to correct on the board and you didn’t feel like telling the whole class that you and Poppy were part of the reason Golden Snidgets were being seen again.

Professor Howin continued with her lesson. You gave Poppy a warning look.

“No more squealing, but explain,” you hissed.

“He was flirting with you!” Poppy whispered, still visibly excited. “He’s freshly single and you’re not being guarded by your dogs.”

You suppressed a groan. “How long until they lose the nickname?”

Poppy shrugged.

“Also, flirting?” You shook your head. “There must be something in the air.”

“What do you mean?” Poppy asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Larson asked me out on the way back from Hogsmeade last weekend.” 

Poppy light smacked your shoulder. “And you waited until now to tell me?”

You gave her a sideways glance, trying to look like you were paying attention.

“I didn’t think it was that important? I turned him down.”

“Y/N, you didn’t!”

“What?”

“Andrew is fine. Goodness…” Poppy paused. “So you’ve had at least two good looking boys make moves at you. Turned down one, and the other one put the power in your hands.”

“Elias is about to be disappointed too. I don’t think I’m ready to date.”

“You go up against ashwinders and poachers and trolls. I’ve seen you charge completely unfazed into spider caverns, despite claiming you hate them. And you’re not ready to date?”

You flushed. “I know what I’m doing, what I’m walking into with all of that. Dates? No.”

“If you had the choice to go on a date with a boy or give the Hebridean Black her egg back again, which would you do?” Poppy asked, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. 

“Dragon. Easily.”

---

You found it odd walking to the quidditch pitch for the match the next morning. Poppy had found you at breakfast to give you a Hufflepuff flag. You were sure that if they had had games last year, you would’ve been a proud Slytherin supporter. But it wasn’t last year. So you accepted the flag and promised to find Poppy in the stands. 

All around you as you walked were whispers of excitement to see Sebastian make his quidditch debut. Apparently Imelda Reyes, the Slytherin captain, had been bragging about him all week, only adding to his ‘heartthrob’ status. Despite your mental notes to actually look at him to see if he deserved that title, you still managed to avoid looking at him for more than a moment. The library incident had been the most interaction you’d shared so far this term. 

It didn’t take too long to find Poppy within the sea of Hufflepuffs. She saved you a spot at the front of the section and excitedly waved you over once she saw you. You had to awkwardly scoot behind some students to get to Poppy, but you thought it was worth it.

“This better be some game!” you said to Poppy. “You may need to explain parts of the game to me.”

“Red ball goes through hoops for points. Three chasers for each team trying to score. Keepers protect. Beaters hit the budgers, both an attack and protect position. Seeker tried to catch the snitch,” Poppy quickly recapped for you. 

You nodded and peered over the edge of the stands as the teams exited the locker rooms. The stands erupted into cheers as the teams mounted their brooms and took flight. Each team did a lap of the pitch before taking their starting positions. As the Slytherins flew over them, you could’ve sworn that you made eye contact with Sebastian. At least in his uniform, he did look a bit more muscular and filled out. You didn’t think that was enough to be suddenly considered a ‘heartthrob’ but what did you know?

“Excuse me,” a voice said near you.

A few students muttered around them. You looked to your left, where no one had been standing a moment before. Elias Cotton had appeared. He smiled at you and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hi, Elias Cotton!” you said. “Just in time for the game to start!”

Poppy leaned forward to make sure that she heard you right.

“Elias!”

“Hi Poppy, Y/N.”

Standing back up straight, Poppy elbowed you in the side lightly.

“Told you!” she said in a singsong voice.

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed. “A Hufflepuff in the Hufflepuff section doesn’t mean anything.”

Your attention was quickly turned to the field as Madam Kogawa blew her whistle, starting the game. Most of your conversation ceased. The section cheered loudly every time Hufflepuff scored, and booed when Slytherin scored. It appeared to be a fairly even match. You did watch Sebastian for most of the game, impressed as he flew with skill and had extreme precision aiming bludgers toward the Hufflepuff team. It would likely come down to who caught the snitch. 

After Hufflepuff scored three times in a row, Elias leaned in and whispered in your ear, “You are welcome to come to the party after we win.”

You wanted to respond with something like ‘I know, Poppy’s going to let me in.’ 

However, you blushed and all you could get out was a flustered, “Okay.”

“Watch out!” someone yelled and you and Elias were pulled in opposite directions as a bludger broke the stands where you had been standing only a moment before. 

You looked out into the pitch. Sebastian looked like he had just swung his bat, and his face was seething with anger. 

“What the?” you asked, looking from Elias to Poppy.

There was a whistle and Lucan Brattleby announced “Penalty on Slytherin beater Sebastian Sallow, bumphing.” 

“In english, Poppy?” you asked, looking at your friend.

“Hitting a bludger at spectators.”

Elias now had to stand a little off to the side so he didn’t accidentally step into the hole the bludger left. He seemed very thrown off. From the stands, Imelda could be heard yelling at Sebastian for being an idiot. Based on how his aim had been all game, you could only assume it had been on purpose, although you weren't sure on why he would send a bludger your way, unless he really hated you. 

Hufflepuff made the penalty shot and the game continued. It wasn’t too much longer before the Hufflepuff seeker caught the snitch, confirming their win over Slytherin. Fans clad in yellow and black erupted in wild cheers. As the boisterous crowd headed back to the castle, you could hear Imelda berating Sebastian inside the locker room as you passed. 

“Jeez, she is pissed.”

“She should be,” Poppy said as they kept walking. “I’m pretty sure their seeker spotted the snitch as Kogawa blew the whistle for the penalty. The game could’ve been over and in their favor.” 

“Why did he hit the bludger toward me?”

“Maybe he’s mad at you for something?” Poppy suggested.

“He was the one who hurt me. I’ve done nothing for him to be mad about,” you defended yourself.

“It was just a suggestion. But you’re coming to the party, right?”

You nodded. “I was planning on it.”

“Cool. It usually starts some time after lunch so you can come down any time, really.”

“Is it alright if I just find you when we’re done eating? I fear if I spend too much time in Ravenclaw Tower, I’ll end up having to bring everyone.”

Poppy laughed, “Of course.” 

You had barely entered the Great Hall, not even halfway down the Hufflepuff table to sit down when you heard a commotion outside the hall. Several students turned to investigate, so you felt inclined to see what the fuss was about. As you got closer, you heard people say something about a fight between a Slytherin and Hufflepuff. You pushed forward through the crowd. You were a little concerned that they were calling it a ‘fight’ and not a ‘duel.’ As you got closer, you heard someone say it was Sebastian. Color drained from your face. Once at the front of the crowd that had circled around the boys, you saw Sebastian standing over Elias, who was on the ground, both breathing heavily. Elias, shaking and with a bloody nose, had his wand out, pointing at Sebastian. Sebastian’s wand appeared to be in his back pocket. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, knuckles bloody. 

“Depulso!” you cast, sending an unexpecting Sebastian flying sideways into the crowd. 

You ran forward to help Elias up. 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know…” he muttered, not looking you in the eyes.

You gave him a concerned look. “Didn’t know what?” 

“That you’re dating him.”

You turned bright crimson, in embarrassment and rage. 

“I’m not,” you said firmly. “I’ll talk to you at the party. Apparently I have to take care of something.”

You nudged him toward the crowd on the side of the Great Hall and you turned to where Sebastian was beginning to stand up. 

“Levioso,” you said calmly with a flick of her wand, sending Sebastian into the air. 

He struggled in the air, which made you laugh.

“Since when are we dating?” you asked bitterly. “Hell, since when are we talking?”

“Y/N, I-” he tried to say. 

“Silencio! I’ve decided I don’t want your excuses.” You walked closer to where he was still hovering. “I keep my mouth shut about you. You should do the same.”

You let him fall to the ground with a thud. He sat up, but didn’t attempt to stand. He had a worried look on his face, knowing that you was referring to the events of the Catacombs. 

“And you can tell Ominis this too, you two are not my guard dogs. Stop acting like you still are.” You paused, debating if you had anything more to say. “Might as well… Expelliarmus.”

His wand went flying out of his back pocket. You turned and went back towards the Great Hall, the crowd of students parting to let you through. You found Poppy tending to Elias’s bloody nose. 

“It’s not broken, is it?” you asked as you approached them. 

“It was, but I fixed it. Now he’s just… bloody,” Poppy answered. “Elias isn’t feeling too chatty. What the hell happened out there?”

You shifted your weight. “From what I can tell, Sebastian attacked him and claimed that we were dating. Which is almost funny being that he hasn’t spoken to me all term. Actually, we haven’t spoken since last term.” 

“So you’re really not dating him?” Elias asked sheepishly. 

“I’m not dating anyone.”

Poppy shook her head, smiling at you two. She felt pride in calling that Elias had been flirting with you in his own subtle way. You and Poppy both turned your heads when Imelda and Sebastian burst through the doors of the Great Hall having a loud argument.

“You already lost us the match and now you’re trying to get suspended?” she yelled at him.

“Fuck off, Imelda. Some of us have more going on in our life than quidditch.”

“I am your captain! Your behavior and reputation concerns me and the rest of the team.”

“And I can’t be bothered by that.”

The Great Hall had fallen almost silent. A few students looked at you, almost expecting you to go defuse their argument. You just rolled her eyes, sitting down between Poppy and Elias. As Sebastian and Imelda’s conversation lowered into angry whispers, the rest of the hall resumed their conversations. The Hufflepuffs around you seemed quiet for a house that just won the first quidditch match of the season. However, once they retreated to their common room, you gleaned that they were just being polite to the Slytherins. 

The common room had loud music playing and a seventh year was handing out drinks. From what you could tell, the younger students were given butterbeer and older students had a few options. Poppy and you took cups of meade; Elias took a cup of butterbeer. 

“No fun drink for you?” you asked.

He smiled and said, “I prefer to keep my wits about me rather than summon up false courage.”

“Hmm, noble,” you muttered, taking a sip of your drink. 

You, Poppy and Elias milled around the perimeter of the common room, slightly pressed against the wall. You were fairly certain almost all of the Hufflepuffs were in the common room with a decent number of students from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. With all the people moving past you and the room being so insanely loud, you didn’t actually notice when Poppy disappeared from your side. Not knowing many other Hufflepuffs, you nervously grabbed Elias’s hand, not wanting to lose him. When he felt you hand grab his, he smiled and gave it a squeeze. He turned to look at you, but his smile fell when he saw the nervousness in your eyes. 

“Let’s find somewhere to sit,” he said, leaning into your ear so you could hear him.

You nodded and followed as he pulled you into the crowd. You went deeper into the common room before finding a spot on a couch. It looked as if furniture had been pushed towards the wall to make a pseudo dancefloor. You were shocked at the number of bodies in the room. Elias pulled on your arm to get you to sit, seeing that you were still overwhelmed by it all. He was sitting on the end of the couch with you next to him. He tentatively put an arm behind you on the back of the couch. You took the opportunity to scoot a little close to him. In this situation, you felt safe. 

“Is this your first Hogwarts party?” he asked, his breath hot on your neck. “I don’t recall seeing you at the one last year.”

You turned to look at him. “Didn’t make the invite list, I guess. Although, I was rather busy… and didn’t you have a girlfriend at that point?”

Elias turned a little pink. “Uh, yeah… But that’s over with. I’m surprised you weren’t invited. Definitely had your title by then.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Hero of Hogwarts can sound like snitch sometimes,” you said with a soft laugh. “But the amount of rule breaking I had to do to earn it? Makes it a bit ironic.”

“Breaking rules, huh?”

“Sneaking into the restricted section, sneaking in and out of the castle, learning spells that aren’t on the curriculum, breaking curfew a lot, missing classes, unnecessarily putting myself into danger’s way. You know.”

His mouth fell slack. He was baffled by how casually you talked about it. 

“Wait, did you say spells that aren’t on the curriculum?”

You nodded slowly, blushing. “I needed to know how to protect myself and fifth year spells weren’t up to snuff.” 

You really didn’t want to expand on how much you had used the Cruciatus curse on goblins and ashwinders last year. Multiple uses of an unforgivable curse would likely earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban and at that point, you might as well turn Sebastian in as well. 

“I’m sure you only did what you had to. Plus, from what I’ve heard from rumors, trouble did come and find you by itself. A troll in Hogsmeade followed by Rookwood accosting you in the Three Broomsticks? That story made its rounds.”

You laughed, feeling more confident. 

“Well, that’s all true. I just wanted to get my own wand and school supplies. And a troll attacks the village. Sebastian and I took care of one while Officer Singer and some others led another away from the village,” you recalled, noticing a momentary distaste cross Elias’s face when you mentioned Sebastian. “And then we went to get butterbeers to celebrate. Enter Rookwood and suddenly I had the entire tavern standing up to protect me from him. It really was something.”

Elias reached toward your face and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You certainly are an accomplished witch.”

“Why, thank you,” you said graciously. “So I’ve had plenty of rumors about me spread through school. I haven’t heard anything about you. Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t really much to tell,” he said meekly. “Don’t play quidditch. Never was any good at dueling. I’ve been taking alchemy, which I seem to be rather good at.”

“Alchemy… Hmmm. What about your family?”

“Got an older brother who’s graduated, obviously. He’s a magizoologist. Mum and Dad are alive and well,” he said with a chuckle at the end. “What else do you want to know?”

“Your favorite color.”

“Robin egg blue.”

You smiled widely. “I like a guy who knows his shades of colors. So much better than ‘I dunno, blue.’”

“I like a girl who’s accomplished,” he replied, glancing down at your lips briefly.

You noticed and blushed. “Having a silly title doesn’t make me accomplished.”

“But you also won Crossed Wands last year. And are a trove of knowledge,” he said, adjusting his arm so it was draped across your shoulder rather than the back of the couch. “I glanced at your work in the library. You work quickly and diligently. That seems to scream accomplished.”

“So your brother’s a magizoologist?” you asked quickly, trying to change the topic off you. 

He nodded, but didn’t say anything more. He continued to look at your face. You nervously looked around, being reminded that you were at a party. No one was looking at you. Everyone seemed totally consumed in their own lives, dancing and drinking and enjoying the party. A thumb stroking your cheek brought your attention back to Elias. 

“So being a hero and master duelist doesn’t make you accomplished. Tell me about you and your family. There must be more to you than extreme humility.”

You blushed again. “Don’t have much for family.” Well, not since you erased your parents’ memory of you. “Taking Beasts and Divination as my electives. Although, I’m not entirely sure why I decided to carry on with Divination, not really my cup of tea. A bit unsure of what I want to do after Hogwarts, but I’m thinking research.”

“Very on brand for a Ravenclaw. Would it be something for the ministry?”

You shrugged. “More of a personal thing, I guess. I’d probably write essays for publication. Someone has to understand all this magic around us.”

Some Gryffindors walked towards your couch and tried to sit down. It was tight with four students across. You had hoped they would get uncomfortable and leave quickly, but they didn’t. 

“Let me,” Elias said, grabbing under your legs to turn you sideways and then pulling you into his lap.

“Oh!” you gasped in surprise, throwing an arm around his neck to balance yourself.

Your knees were now resting on the armrest, feet dangling. Your face turned bright red.

“Too much?” he asked as if suddenly realizing how intimate this position was. 

“No,” you breathed. “Just took me by surprise.”

He snaked one arm around your waist to hold you steady, the other resting on your thighs. 

“You’re sure that this is okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You nodded. “Elias, this is fine.” You leaned in closer to his ear. “Much better than being squished up against them.” 

Returning to your original position, you spotted Poppy walking through the entry to the secondary room that you were in. She was walking with Lenora, who pointed at you on Elias’s lap. Poppy’s eyes went wide and then they exchanged giggles before turning around. You sighed and rested your head on Elias’s shoulder. 

“What are you doing after Hogwarts?” you asked. 

“I have an apprenticeship set up in Diagon Alley for a potioneer. I figured it’s something solid to work on while I see if I can actually make anything out of Alchemy.”

“I’ve never been to Diagon Alley. Is it nice?”

He gaped at you momentarily. “What do you mean you’ve never been?”

“Fig took care of getting my school supplies and I stayed in the highlands over the summer so I just placed my orders from Hogsmeade. It’s in London, right?”

“Yes. Merlin, Y/N, you have to go!”

“I just need a reason too,” you said with a giggle. 

Elias removed his hand from your thigh and traced his thumb under your jawline. 

“I think that can be arranged.”

He leaned in and kissed you. It was gentle and soft at first, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer to his chest. You kept one arm around his neck and placed your other hand on his chest. 

You felt brutally reminded that you hadn’t kissed anyone in years, and even then, you had never properly made out with anyone. You almost gasped when his tongue touched your lips. Having parted your lips in surprise, his tongue slid into your mouth and started to explore. Your own wrestled with it for dominance. 

It didn’t take long for you to adjust your position so that you were straddling Elias on the couch. You had one hand behind his head tangled in his hair with the other arm still wrapped around his neck. He had one hand firmly placed on your waist and the other up your shirt, groping your chest. You didn’t mind it. 

It wasn’t until a Prefect broke you up did you realize how long you had been snogging in a public place. 

“Alright, that’s enough. There are still first years out here,” he said, a hand on each’s shoulder. 

You both blushed deeply. 

“Maybe they should go to bed then,” Elias suggested, not looking away from you. 

You, however, were looking at the Prefect. 

“What time is it?”

“Almost curfew,” he answered. “So decide if you’re staying or not.”

You turned an even darker shade of red. You removed yourself from Elias’s lap. 

“I’ll see you around, Cotton,” you said flirtatiously, giving him a wink. 

Then you left the Hufflepuff Common Room. You took your time as you walked to Ravenclaw Tower. There weren’t many Prefects out yet and you could always use a disillusionment charm if you needed. You liked being out and about in the castle after curfew; it was always much more peaceful and you thought the moonlight gave it an eerie beauty. This meant that it was well past curfew when you entered her own common room. 

You immediately saw Samantha asleep on the ground by the fire. You crouched by her to wake her up. 

“Sammy Dale, wakey wakey!”

She slowly opened her eyes. 

“Y/N? You’re back!”

You nodded. “Yes and it’s time for bed.”

“I’ll go to bed after you tell me about the fight and the party!”

“Should we go wake up Connie so I don’t have to tell the story twice?” 

“Hmmm… no. Tell me now!”

“Can we at least go to the couch? You were sleeping on the floor.”

Samantha nodded and you got settled on the couch. You recounted the fight and breaking it up, although you left out Elias’s comment about you maybe dating Sebastian. You did explain how you put Sebastian in his place and told him he was relieved of his “guard dog” duties. Samantha’s eyes watched you intently. 

“I saw you ate with Poppy and the guy Sebastian fought.”

“Elias Cotton, yeah.”

She hummed before saying, “And then you went straight to the Hufflepuff party?”

“Yeah. It was crazy. First off, getting to see another house’s common room? So cool. But also, the party was basically in full swing by the time we got there! You walk in, you’re handed a drink and then you’re basically shoved into the wall unless you’re pushing back.”

“So, how was your first Hogwarts party?”

“I’d say pretty fun. Looking forward to going to others. Drink and dancing, what could be better?” You were purposefully leaving out everything that happened with Elias. You didn’t feel you needed to tell anyone since you didn’t expect it to develop into anything. 

Samantha seemed content enough with your answer and yawned. You helped her up to their dorm, where Constance was happily snoring away. Once you tucked your friend in, you grabbed a simple Sleeping Draught. You figured that day had been good enough to guarantee you good dreams. 

You didn’t expect to wake up to both Constance and Samantha standing at the side of your bed, shaking you.

“You left out some very interesting details from your story, Y/N!” Samantha exclaimed.

You sat up, looking a little confused.

“She filled me in at breakfast and then we hear from the Hufflepuff table that you were snogging Elias Cotton all night?” Constance said. 

“You just said dancing and drinking!” 

“It didn’t seem relevant? It’s not like it’s going anywhere,” you muttered, still trying to wake up. 

“Based on what we heard, it’s about all you did? Did you even dance?” Samantha asked.

“No… But we were surrounded by dancing. So close enough?”

“No! Not close enough! Plus, now you have to deal with Andrew,” Constance told you.

“Why do I have to deal with Andrew?”

“Boy has been pining after you basically since you were sorted into Ravenclaw. We finally convince him to just ask you out and you say no, only to be snogging someone else the next weekend? He’s a bit upset, Y/N,” Constance explained. 

“It was just kissing. It didn’t mean anything!”

“Cotton seemed fairly happy about it at breakfast,” Samantha chirped.

“Great. Good for him. Where is Andrew?”

“Common room.”

“I’ll get dressed and sort stuff out.”

Once dressed, you descended the stairs to find Andrew. Your friends followed close behind, not wanting to miss out on what was most likely going to be very entertaining for them. Andrew was sitting at a table with Everett, playing wizards’ chess. 

“Andrew, I hear we need to talk,” you said as you approached the table.

“You can say that,” he grumbled, not looking up from the game.

“Andrew,” you said, trying to get him to look at you.

“So when I asked you to the quidditch game and you said you weren’t ready to date, you really meant that you didn’t want to date me? You could’ve just said no!” 

“I’m not ready to date. I’m not dating anyone!”

“I heard you two were pretty cozy at the Hufflepuff party,” he sneered. “He’s surely not trying to hide it.”

“Yes, we made out. A proper snog. It’s called a party. Sorry I had fun!” Your voice was rising and beginning to carry. 

“A proper snog?” Andrew gasped. 

“Yes,” you said indignantly. “And that’s all it was and will be. Because I am not ready to date anyone. I don’t care what you hear from anyone else. I am not dating anyone.”

Their small argument had drawn attention from other Ravenclaws in the common room. You hoped that this could help cancel out whatever rumors were already spreading about you and Elias. You weren't a fan that he was leaning into them, especially since you didn’t spend the night with him. If you had, that would have been another story. 

---

You had spent the rest of the weekend doing homework and informing anyone who came up to you that you wasn’t dating the Hufflepuff. It was certainly more people than you would’ve liked. By the time Beasts class rolled around, you were hoping to get Poppy to spread the word around the Hufflepuff Common Room that you were not dating Elias. 

“Yeah, I’ll spread it around. I can even tell Elias to shut up, assuming you’re avoiding being seen with him for the time being. Although, I must say, so much for taking another dragon over spending time with a boy,” she teased with a grin.

“Oh shut up! But, thank you for helping squash these rumors. I figured I should avoid him since that would only add to the rumors,” you said with a laugh. Professor Howin was still talking with a student from an earlier class.

“I’ve been thinking about something though. Was Sebastian around when Andrew asked you out in Hogsmeade?”

“Actually, yes. Andrew asked and then Sebastian comes barreling through, knocking Andrew to the ground.” 

“Huh. That only helps my theory.”

You gave her a look. “And that theory is?”

“I don’t think Sebastian likes seeing you with other guys, especially not in a romantic setting. It would explain the bludger.”

You gave her a confused look as you played with the Golden Snidget chick on your desk, still waiting for the professor to start the class. 

“Sebastian pushes down Andrew in Hogsmeade when he hears him ask you. He sees Elias standing too close for his comfort during the game? Launches a bludger to force you two apart. I guess Elias must’ve said something while walking to the Great Hall when Sebastian attacked him… I didn’t peg him for a muggle fighter though.” She paused. “Anyways, sounds like Sebastian is jealous or overly protective. Maybe both.”

You rolled your eyes. “Idiotic is what he is. He has nothing to be jealous of since I’m not going to date anyone. And, please, like I need protecting. He’s seen me fight more trolls and ashwinders last year…”

“I know. But just think about it. Have you seen the way he looks at you? Last year, the way you two flirted and were always together?”

“Poppy, what are you implying?”

“You know fully well what I’m implying.”

You groaned. 

“You don’t know him like I do,” you said. “There is no way that Sebastian likes me like that.”

And then Professor Howin cleared her throat, apologized for starting class late and began that day’s lecture on Golden Snidget chicks. 

---

You learned from a Ravenclaw quidditch player that Slytherin had the pitch booked for practice on Wednesday. You were determined to talk to Ominis about what Poppy had suggested in Beast class. If anyone knew, it would be him and you were desperate enough to swallow your pride. You had taken claim to a spot on the Central Hall fountain outside the library. You waited and watched. 

You saw him approach the library.

Standing up, you called out “Ominis!”

He visibly tensed and stopped walking. He turned in the direction of your voice. You were already walking toward him, which he knew because of his outstretched wand.

“Do I need to run or cast Protego?” he asked nervously.

“Neither,” you said shortly. “I have a few questions.”

His body eased slightly. “Okay…”

“Do you know why Sallow is attacking every boy who asks me out?”

“Is it… not obvious?”

“Ominis,” you warned. 

“You can say we are not your guard dogs anymore but I do not think Sebastian possesses the ability to just let you go.” 

Your eyes narrowed, searching his face for something more than what he was saying. “I’m not sure I’m understanding what you are saying.”

“Let’s sit, shall we?” he offered with a sigh. “Let me tell you about the summer.”

You walked to an alcove up the stairs where no one else was sitting. Ominis sat with his back all the way against the wall, giving him impossibly perfect posture. You, however, sat cross legged on the bench, turned towards Ominis with your elbows resting on your knees.

“So this summer?”

“Utterly horrible without you. Even worse with Sebastian spending almost every moment sulking. I am honestly not sure if he would have done anything at all without me there. Like not eating, bathing, maintaining the house.” He paused. “And he has become increasingly insufferable this term.”

“Okay…”

“Listen, Y/N, he regretted what he said from the moment he said it. I hate to have to define it, but we were both aghast to hear what you had planned. He just chose the absolute worst words to use.”

You didn’t say anything.

“Did you… did you do it?” he asked softly.

“Yes.”

“Where did you end up spending your summer?”

“Traveling. Never in one spot too long.”

He nodded. “I wish you could have seen the number of half-written letters that littered the floor in Feldcroft. I think he tried to send one or two, but the owl came back with the letter.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t reachable by owl for anyone. Constance and Samantha gave me an earful about that. Oops,” you said, not sounding remorseful. “But you mean to say that he would’ve died without you this summer?”

“Essentially. It was like after Anne was first cursed again.”

You laughed dryly, causing Ominis to grimace slightly. “Except he caused this.”

His lips formed a thin line. “He did.”

There was silence for a moment.

“He has a tendency to push away people who care about him, doesn’t he?” you asked softly.

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Solomon, before the Catacombs, obviously cared for the twins. Sure, he only gave them tough love, but I think that’s just who he was. Anne saw what Sebastian did, even if he was just trying to heal her. I’m surprised that you’re still at his side, given everything he’s done. Even if some of it has been with my encouragement. The Scriptorium… And then what he called me. When I’ve been at his side since I met him. I wanted to ensure that I could stay by his side and then he calls me… that,” you said, scoffing at the end. 

“He might regret losing you the most,” Ominis said, his voice tender. 

“And he shows it by attacking every boy who asks me out?”

“He’s rash.”

You laughed heartily. 

“These are not his words, but they seem to have the right feel to them. Sebastian thinks of you as his and anyone threatening that is, well, a threat. So he takes care of the threat.”

You blinked at him. “That I’m his? Merlin, is he really telling people that we are dating?”

“I do not think he has gone that far,” he said, biting his bottom lip nervously. “At least verbally. It is sort of implied?”

You groaned loudly. “Well, if it didn’t get into his head after he fought Elias, you can remind him that we are not dating.”

You stood up and left Ominis sitting on the bench alone. You marched all the way back to Ravenclaw Tower and up to your dorm. You had never been more glad that it was empty. You did not have it in you to talk to Constance and Samantha, nor anyone else. Feeling more irritated than you had before talking to Ominis, you tried to focus all of her energy into finishing your homework. Once you had finished, you decided to skip dinner. You downed both a Sleeping Draught and Dreamless Sleep Potion. 

---

As the rest of the week passed, you were still adamantly denying the dating Elias rumors. You had managed to avoid him since the party, not even seeing him at meals in the Great Hall, but that might have had more to do with you not actively looking for him. Perhaps Poppy had given him an earful and he was avoiding you as well. At some point, you overheard someone say that he was in the Hospital Wing, suffering from a nasty combination of hexes. You just sighed and continued on your way to class. You figured that not visiting would enforce the notion that it had just been a snog and that you were nothing more. 

The Potions classroom was a mixture of emotions when you walked through the doors. The female portion seemed to be buzzing with excitement while the males were more disinterested. You looked at the board where Professor Sharp had scrawled “Amortentia.” You took your seat next to Garreth.

“What’s the deal with Amortentia?” you asked, leaning over to him. 

“Only the most powerful love potion,” he answered. “That’s why,” he gestured to the giggling girls, “they are all so excited.”

“Huh… Doesn’t seem like something they should teach us how to brew?”

“Oh, I’m not,” Professor Sharp said, standing near your station. “I’ll be teaching how to recognize the potion, its effects and its antidote. Those are far more useful.”

Professor Sharp brought the rest of the class’s attention to him and he began the lesson. The first half was extremely detailed. Every characteristic of the potion. Its effects on the drinker. You were intrigued by it; you would never brew it but magic this powerful always drew your attention. You felt that the inventor had been trying to make an actual love potion, rather than the obsession potion it really was. 

Professor Sharp paused his lecture to show them a small cauldron of Amortentia. He lifted the lid so they could see its mother-of-pearl sheen and perfect spirals of steam. Then, he invited each student to smell it so they would know what it smelled like to them. Some students were eager to share what they smelled while others were more sheepish. Garreth turned nearly the same shade of his hair, which you momentarily teased him about. But then it was your turn to smell the potion, which would smell like whatever attracted you the most.

After barely taking one whiff of the Amortentia potion, you tumbled backwards into a potion station. You felt as if you were going to faint. 

“Professor, may I be excused?”

Professor Sharp looked you over briefly. “Very well.”

You left your stuff behind as you bolted out the door. Sebastian watched you leave before raising his hand. 

“Professor, may I be excused as well?”

“Mr. Sallow, are you going to chase after Ms. L/N?”

Sebastian didn’t know what answer the professor wanted to hear so he settled on saying nothing. Apparently his facial expression betrayed him. 

“Ms. L/N is a remarkable young witch, fully capable of handling herself,” Professor Sharp told him. “You can speak with her if she returns or after class. In other words, no, you may not be excused.”

“But sir!” he protested. 

“Mr. Sallow, no.”

Sebastian slumped in his seat. He needed to check on you. His thoughts were spinning with ideas of what you could have possibly smelled in the potion that made you go so pale and need to leave the classroom to be able to compose yourself. 

You kept running. You hadn’t been expecting the potion to be that potent and it felt like you couldn’t breathe. You pushed through doors and ran up stairs, not paying attention to where you were going. Until you stopped and realized you found yourself outside the entrance to the Undercroft. Having left both Ominis and Sebastian in the Potions classroom, you took a breath and entered. It would be empty. 

The cold air that greeted you was a friendly welcome. It was almost exactly as you had last seen it. The shattered boxes and destroyed books from your fight with Sebastian were gone. The floor and pillars had more scorch marks than you remembered, but given Sebastian’s love for Confringo, it made sense. You walked over to a couch that you had conjured in the spring. You could still hear the boys complaining about your choice to conjure a worn-looking couch, but you stood by your defense that it matched the general feeling for the Undercroft. There were two cushy armchairs across from the couch and new bookshelves along the walls, holding books and small trinkets. 

Sinking into the cushy cushions, you sighed and put your head in your hands. Your brain felt foggy from the effects of smelling the Amortentia. You thought you were just supposed to smell what attracted you. You had expected fresh cookies and a woodfire, with a hint of lemon. With one small breath in, visions of your adventures with Sebastian from the previous year flashed in your mind. Each memory had its own scent that took over. The intensity of it almost made you black out. You didn’t understand why you had been so affected. Every other student was able to still function after they smelled the potion.

You also had to figure out why it showed you the memories with Sebastian. You had acknowledged ages ago that you had a crush on him from the day she met him. Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome, he had told you before you easily won your first duel against him. You adored how he cared for his sister and his determination to find a cure, willing to do whatever it took to a fault. You remembered feeling so completely utterly hurt when he called you ignorant for trusting Lodgok. But he had held you so tight after Professor Fig’s death… 

You shook your head, trying to get anything sappy out of your brain. You had to remember your fight after receiving your O.W.L. results. It had been at that moment you swore that you were over him. You thought after a summer of not thinking about him, you would be over him. According to the Amortentia, that was far from true. 

***

The three of you had gathered in the Undercroft to open your O.W.L. results together. After studying for hours together, it only felt right. A quick glance at the collections of O’s and E’s and singular A told you that you all passed. You had all gotten the grades you wanted and would be able to continue in your desired subjects. You took great pride in being the only one from the trio to get an O in Potions. 

Being that it was your second to last day of the semester, you wanted to spend all day together. You planned on seeing each other during the summer, but spending time in the Undercroft in your uniforms was just different. 

“Are you still planning on bachelor padding this summer?” you asked as you lounged on the couch.

“Bachelor padding?” Ominis asked slowly.

“She’s asking if you’ll be staying in Feldcroft, Ominis,” Sebastian clarified for you. “And yes, he is.”

“Ah. Well, I do have to go home to Gaunt Manor for a week, but that is only a quick mandatory visit.” 

“You never talk about your summer plans,” Sebastian observed, looking over at you. “I mean, you said you’d come visit us, but never what you’re doing or where you’ll be the rest of it.”

“I have a few options. Haven’t decided on anything yet.”

You didn’t elaborate. Your plan was to visit your parents briefly, but not out of obligation like Ominis. You were planning on using Obliviate on them, a spell you had read about, to erase yourself from their memory. If you didn’t, they would be more than concerned about your inability to sleep without potions and then they would pry until you told them of all the events of the past year. If they knew everything, they would never let you go back and you decided that you couldn’t risk that. After wiping their memory, your plan was to wing it. You had briefly discussed renting a room from Sirona for the summer, an expensive option that would keep you local to Hogwarts. If you decided to go that route, you would’ve seen if Mr. Pippin needed an assistant or maybe the Magic Neep or Dogwood and Deathcap needed help. A part of you was still debating asking the boys if they minded you joining in. Sebastian’s uncle’s house wasn’t the biggest, but you assumed the three of you would make do. And then there was your last option: to rough it around the highlands. 

“Are you going to your parents? You’re muggleborn, right?” Ominis asked.

“Yes, and yes. I don’t think I’ll be staying with them all summer.”

It wasn’t a lie but it sure did feel like one. 

“So where will you be staying?” Sebastian asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I just said I haven’t decided on anything yet,” you repeated yourself. 

“Okay, then why aren’t you spending the summer at your parents? What are your options?” Sebastian asked intently.

“Might get a room at the Three Broomsticks. Might travel…”

Ominis tilted his head to the side. “You didn’t answer the first question. I won’t be at my parents’ because I have a disdain for them. Sebastian, sorry mate, but he doesn’t have any parents, but at least we will be at his uncle’s place.”

You looked down at your hands and picked at your fingernails. 

“I’m afraid… they won’t…” You paused, trying to find the right words. You cleared your throat before speaking again with an unsteady voice, “They won’t remember having a daughter in less than a week’s time.”

“Excuse me?” Ominis asked.

“What on earth do you mean?” followed Sebastian.

“I’m going to Obliviate them,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. 

They stared at you in complete shock. Sebastian looked at Ominis and then back at you.

“You’re going to do what?”

“Make them forget they ever had a daughter, let alone a witch,” you said, your voice slightly more confident. 

“And why the hell would you do that?” Sebastian asked, standing up.

You sighed and then explained your fear that they wouldn’t let you come back after everything and the nightmares.

“It’s just easier this way,” you said. 

“So let me get this straight, you have a loving family with both parents still alive. And you are going to choose to leave them? To have them forget about your existence?” Ominins asked in disbelief, shaking his head. 

“I know it sounds insensitive, especially given both of your circumstances, but…”

Sebastian cut you off. “No, you can’t do that. You have a good family! You can’t let that go to waste. You can’t.”

“They’ll cut me from…”

“No. We wouldn’t let them do that to you. And we won’t let you do that to them,” Sebastian continued. He started pacing around the Undercroft. “You have a family that loves you and is alive and cares for you and…”

It was your turn to cut him off. “And won’t let me leave the house, maybe not even my room, if they knew how many times I was inches from death. They would block anyone from reaching me. I can’t have that.”

“Y/N,” Ominis said with concern in his voice. 

“No. You two cannot convince me not to do this. I have to do this. I can’t lose magic.” Your voice, although sure of itself, was thick with emotion. 

“Y/N,” Ominis repeated with more conviction. “You control ancient magic. You literally cannot lose magic.” 

“They’d find a way.”

“You can’t push away your family. You can’t. You… you have…”

“I don’t have to do anything you say. I can’t lose this,” you said, gesturing to everything around you. Your voice was getting louder and determined. 

“You have a good family, Y/N,” Ominis said, maintaining his calm tone. “I do not think it is wise to…”

You cut him off too. “It’s my only option. You don’t understand!”

“You are experiencing what the family-less look like here and you want to join us… That’s so…” Sebastian was struggling to find words.

“I have felt more at home here than I ever did in the muggle world. That family doesn’t matter anymore. I’d rather be an orphan.”

Hearing you say that struck a nerve with Sebastian.

“You fatuous mudblood!” he yelled at you, regretting it the moment the words exited his mouth, but that didn’t stop the red sparks from appearing at the end of his wand.

The look on your face said it all. It brought you directly back to when he had called you ignorant.

“So that’s how you really feel,” you said, suddenly sounding calm, although tears were beginning to form in your eyes. 

You felt anger well up inside you. You launched Confringo at a crate in a corner, to prevent yourself from sending it at Sebastian. It felt good, a cathartic release. You sent a handful of spells towards other crates and a pile of books. Sebastian put a Protego shield around him and Ominis to protect them from your cascading spells. By the time the dust settled and smoke cleared, you were gone.

“Sebastian,” Ominis said slowly. “Please tell me you did not call her what I heard you call her.”

“I-I can’t.” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “I’m afraid I’m not myself right now. Excuse me.”

Sebastian walked out of the Undercroft. His face was stoney.

You had sprinted all the way to Ravenclaw Tower. You packed your things as quickly as you could. You still technically had one more night at Hogwarts, but you didn’t care. You were leaving as soon as you could. Samantha and Constance didn’t see you leave. You were gone before they returned to the common room and were left wondering where you disappeared to. It wouldn’t be until July that you showed your face in Hogsmeade, and by that time, your parents believed that they had never had a child.

[buttercandy16]

A Taste of her Masterpiece

PAIRING(s): DarkChef!Agatha Harkness x Reader

SUMMARY: Celebrity chef Agatha Harkness hides a dark secret behind her fame. When a young fan joins her kitchen, obsession takes a twisted turn, blurring the lines between love and danger.

WARNING(s): Dub-con, Cannibalism, Blood, Murder, Manipulation, and other Dark Themes.

A/N: This is sick, and I love it. Don't read if you can't handle it.

The name Agatha Harkness was synonymous with culinary perfection. She wasn’t just a chef; she was an artist. Her restaurants, scattered in the most elite corners of the world, weren’t just places to dine but experiences to be revered. There was something about her food that entranced people. Some described it as divine. Others said it evoked emotions they couldn’t quite explain—comfort and terror, ecstasy and unease, all in one bite.

You had followed her career for as long as you could remember. Watching her TV specials, reading her cookbooks, religiously recreating her recipes—it was a passion, maybe even a mild obsession. She was captivating, her confidence magnetic, and her talent undeniable. When an opportunity came up to apply for a position at her flagship restaurant, Memento, you didn’t hesitate. Landing a job there wasn’t just a career move—it was a dream.

What you didn’t know was that it would also become your nightmare.

Walking into Memento for the first time was surreal. The ambiance was intoxicating, luxurious, and yet strangely eerie. The staff moved like ghosts in their pristine uniforms, their faces stern and obedient. There was no sound of clattering dishes or shouted orders—only silence, broken occasionally by Agatha’s voice drifting from the kitchen like a symphony conductor’s commands.

You didn’t expect to meet her right away, but there she was: elegant, poised, and powerful. Her sharp features were framed by soft waves of dark hair, and her piercing eyes seemed to look right through you.

“So, you want to learn?” she asked, her voice smooth as silk but carrying an undercurrent of something sharp.

“Yes, Chef. I—I’ve admired your work for years,” you stammered, suddenly aware of how small you felt in her presence.

Her smile was faint but genuine. “We’ll see if you’re worthy of my kitchen. Follow me.”

You didn’t realize then that stepping into her kitchen would mean stepping into her world, a world where culinary brilliance masked a much darker truth.

The first few days working in Memento were grueling yet exhilarating. Agatha Harkness was a perfectionist, as ruthless as she was captivating. She demanded excellence and punished failure with sharp words, but she rewarded brilliance with smiles that made your stomach flip.

From the beginning, she singled you out. When your fellow apprentices were scrambling to keep up with her instructions, she pulled you aside to demonstrate techniques herself. Her hands would brush yours as she corrected your grip on a knife. Her whispers, low and intimate, felt like secrets meant only for you.

“Don’t let the others distract you,” she said one evening, as the rest of the staff cleaned the kitchen. You had stayed behind, eager to please her. “They don’t see what I see in you. But I do, darling. You’ve got potential. If you trust me, I can make you extraordinary.”

She poured you a glass of wine, her fingers lingering on yours as she handed it over. The way she looked at you made your pulse race. There was something disarming about her, something that made you want to confide in her. You started telling her things—about your ambitions, your struggles, even your insecurities.

She listened intently, nodding and offering words of comfort. But Agatha had a way of twisting the knife.

“You give too much of yourself to people who don’t deserve it,” she’d say, her tone dripping with venom. “The people you love—do they really love you back? Or do they take and take, leaving nothing for you?”

It stung because part of you believed her. Soon, you found yourself drifting away from old friends, even family, making excuses not to call or visit. Agatha was always there, always ready to fill the void.

“You don’t need them,” she told you one night after a particularly long service. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll teach you everything. You’ll be my masterpiece.”

Her words were addictive, and you found yourself craving more of it, more of her. She was always near, her presence wrapping around you like a fog. But there were cracks in the veneer of perfection. Little things—a peculiar smell wafting from the back freezer, missing staff members who were never spoken of again, whispers from the other cooks that stopped abruptly when you entered the room.

She handed you a plate of food to taste. It was exquisite, the flavors rich and unfamiliar, yet they lingered uncomfortably on your tongue. “What do you think?” she asked, watching you intently.

“It’s... amazing,” you said, though something about it unsettled you. Her smile widened, and for a moment, you swore there was something predatory in her gaze.

“You’re learning,” she murmured, placing her hand on your shoulder.

As the weeks went on, Agatha tightened her grip. She insisted you take more shifts, pulling you away from your life outside the restaurant. Your coworkers began to whisper, their jealousy evident, but Agatha made it clear you were above them.

“Don’t let them drag you down,” she hissed after you mentioned the cold glares the others had been throwing your way. “Mediocrity despises brilliance, and you, my dear, are destined for so much more.”

But there was always an undercurrent of cruelty beneath her praise. If you made a mistake in the kitchen, her disappointment was palpable, her words cutting.

“I expected more from you,” she said once, after a dish you’d prepared fell short of her expectations. “Maybe I was wrong about you.”

Her disappointment was unbearable, a gnawing ache that kept you awake at night. The only way to earn her approval was to work harder, to give her more of yourself.

One night, as you sat together in her office, Agatha poured another glass of wine and leaned closer to you. “Do you know why I’m so hard on you?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Because I have potential?” you replied hesitantly.

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Because I love you,” she said.

The words hit you like a thunderbolt, rendering you speechless.

“I see you, truly see you,” she continued. “And I’ve given you everything. My time, my knowledge, my devotion. No one else will ever care for you like I do.”

Her hand rested on your thigh, her thumb tracing slow circles. “And you love me too. Don’t you?”

Your heart raced. It wasn’t true—was it? But the way she looked at you, the way her presence filled every corner of your life, made you question everything.

“Yes,” you whispered, though the word felt like surrender.

Her smile turned triumphant, her fingers tightening on your leg. “Good. Because I’ll never let you go.”

Then came the night when she revealed her “true art.”

She led you into the backroom after service, a place the other staff seemed to avoid. The air was cold, the metallic scent of blood hanging heavy. In the center of the room was a table, and on it lay what could only be described as a macabre masterpiece—a carved human leg, meticulously prepared, the skin glistening under the fluorescent lights.

You stumbled back, bile rising in your throat, but Agatha caught you, her hands firm on your shoulders.

“Do you see now?” she whispered, her voice soothing yet terrifying. “The secret ingredient. The reason my food touches people’s souls. It’s because they taste life itself.”

“You’re insane,” you choked out, but even as you said it, you couldn’t pull away from her.

“No, my darling. I’m an artist,” she said, her eyes alight with passion. “And you... you’ve already tasted it. That’s why you’re still here. That’s why you can’t leave.”

Your stomach churned as you realized the truth. She’d been feeding it to you all along, seducing you not just with her words but with her food.

Whether out of fear, fascination, or something darker, you stayed. She lavished you with attention, pulling you deeper into her twisted world. She claimed it was love—that her obsession with you was pure and consuming, and she began to whisper her ultimate truth:

“When you truly love someone, you must consume them. Body, mind, soul.”

You didn’t fight as hard as you should have. Maybe you were too far gone, too ensnared by her charisma, her manipulation. When the night came, you let her guide you to the table, let her touch you with tenderness as she prepared to take what she believed was hers.

The room was dimly lit, candlelight flickering across the table where Agatha had arranged an array of her finest culinary tools. The knife she held glinted as she tilted it, running a finger along the blade with the care of a maestro tuning their instrument. Her expression was serene, as though preparing for something sacred.

You sat in the chair, wrists trembling against the restraints she’d insisted were “necessary.” Her eyes met yours—intense, full of adoration and madness. “I would never hurt you,” she purred. “This is love, my darling. This is how we become one.”

Your chest tightened. “Agatha, please…” you whispered, though it wasn’t entirely fear driving your plea. Deep down, a horrifying part of you craved her touch, her obsession. The thought sickened you, but her words and actions had eroded your sense of self. You didn’t know where your revulsion ended and your strange desire began.

She knelt before you, taking your trembling hands in hers. Her touch was tender, her thumb stroking your palm as though to calm you. “You’re exquisite,” she murmured. “Every piece of you is a masterpiece. And when I consume you, it won’t be to destroy you. It will be to preserve you. Forever.”

Agatha pressed her lips against your wrist, the warmth of her mouth a cruel contrast to the sharp chill of the knife resting on your skin. The blade kissed the delicate flesh of your forearm, slicing with precision. A slow bead of crimson welled up, and Agatha’s breath hitched, her pupils dilating as though she were beholding the most precious wine.

She licked the blood, her tongue darting out to taste the coppery warmth. Her eyes closed, and a shiver ran through her, a sound of pleasure slipping from her lips. “You’re perfect,” she whispered.

Terror gripped you, but so did something else—a morbid fascination as she pressed a square of white cloth to the wound, pausing only to meet your gaze. “This is trust,” she said softly. “And trust is love.”

You wanted to scream at her, to fight the straps that bound you, but her presence overwhelmed you, her obsession having carved itself into your psyche over weeks of whispered devotion and manipulation. You were hers now. You didn’t even remember what it felt like to belong to yourself.

Agatha turned away briefly, her movements deliberate and graceful as she arranged small bowls on the table: herbs, spices, drizzles of amber-hued oils. She hummed softly, the melody haunting and strangely comforting.

She cut a small piece from you. Your mind blanked, panic giving way to numb disbelief. She handled the slice of your flesh delicately, as though it were a rare delicacy. Blood still oozed from the cut, staining the pristine white of her apron, but she paid no mind.

“I’ll make this beautiful,” she said, her voice hushed in reverence. “Because you’re beautiful, and you deserve only the finest presentation.”

You were shaking now, tears streaming down your face as she seared the flesh on a small cast-iron pan. The smell wafted upward, rich and intoxicating, and it sent a new kind of horror rushing through you. Her movements were confident, almost graceful, as she added butter and herbs, basting the slice of you in its juices.

When she plated it—garnished with an artful smear of sauce and a sprig of thyme—it looked like something out of one of her shows. Perfect.

Agatha returned to you with the plate, her face alight with a mixture of pride and something darker. She cut a bite-sized piece, her hand trembling slightly as she brought the fork to your lips. “Open, my love,” she whispered.

You pressed your lips tightly together, refusing, but her gaze sharpened, her tone turning firm. “You’ll taste it,” she demanded, her obsession igniting into something commanding. “You have to. You’ll understand everything when you do.”

Reluctantly—out of fear, out of exhaustion—you parted your lips. The morsel slipped past your tongue, and the flavors exploded in your mouth: rich, savory, decadent. A groan escaped your throat before you could stop it, tears rolling down your cheeks as you hated yourself for the pleasure that coursed through you.

“There,” she said, smiling as though you had just declared your undying love for her. “You feel it now, don’t you? You feel how special you are.”

Your voice cracked. “You’re insane, Agatha…”

“I’m in love,” she corrected sharply, cupping your face. Her thumb wiped a tear from your cheek before brushing across your lips. “And you will love me the way I love you. We’ll be inseparable.”

Her mouth hovered over yours, and before you could recoil, she kissed you—deeply, possessively. You tasted your own essence on her lips, and something shattered inside you, replaced by a grim acceptance.

Then she pulled away, and before you could think to protest, she took a knife and made a shallow cut across her palm. Blood trickled down her wrist, and she let it drip onto the plate. She cut a thin strip of skin from herself and prepared it the same way, searing it with precision.

“This,” she said, handing you the fork, “is how you love someone. By letting them become part of you. Eat.”

Your body betrayed you. Your trembling hands reached for the fork, and you brought the slice to your lips. The flavor was different—darker, heavier—but no less intoxicating. Agatha’s smile widened as she watched you chew.

“You’re mine now,” she whispered, leaning close, her breath hot against your ear. “Completely. And I am yours.”

In the weeks that followed, the world outside faded into nothingness. Your life became Agatha—her kitchen, her obsession, her love. She continued to take pieces of you, small parts each time, weaving them into her dishes and savoring them with a reverence that frightened and thrilled you.

You didn’t recognize yourself anymore. You weren’t just her apprentice—you were her masterpiece. And as she fed you pieces of herself, you realized the horrifying truth: Agatha’s obsession with you seemed boundless.

 The way she looked at you—hungry and adoring—was equal parts unnerving and intoxicating. But you noticed a shift after she began feeding you pieces of herself and consuming you in return. Her affection deepened, but so did her control.

“You’re ready,” she told you one night, her tone reverent, like a priestess before a sacred ritual.

“For what?” you asked, still raw from the evening’s events—both in body and soul.

“For the next step,” she said, cupping your face with hands that were simultaneously tender and unyielding. “You’ve trusted me enough to taste and be tasted. Now, it’s time you create.”

She didn’t elaborate, but her words lingered in your mind. The next evening, when service ended, she led you into her private quarters. Unlike the rest of the restaurant, which gleamed with sterility and perfection, her personal space was dark and opulent, with velvet-draped furniture and walls lined with bookshelves.

She handed you a glass of wine and sat beside you, unnervingly close. “When I first began my journey,” she began, her voice soft and hypnotic, “I was lost, like you. Then I discovered the art of it all—the power of taking life and transforming it into something divine.”

You felt your blood run cold, but you didn’t interrupt.

“Every great artist begins with an apprentice,” she continued. “And you’re mine. To understand true creativity, true mastery, you must do more than taste. You must take. I’ll guide you, my darling. I’ll teach you how to savor every moment.”

You should have refused, but her words wove themselves around you like a spell. Agatha made it seem so... inevitable.

The next evening, Agatha brought you into the backroom again, but this time, a man was bound to the same steel table where you’d first learned the truth. He was unconscious, his face bruised but breathing steadily.

Your heart thundered in your chest as you looked at her. “Who... who is this?”

“No one of importance,” she said dismissively, brushing her fingers over the man’s temple. “He made mistakes. Crossed lines. But his life doesn’t matter now. What matters is what he will become.”

Agatha handed you a knife—your knife, she said, one she’d chosen specifically for you. The handle was cool and smooth in your hand, the blade shining under the stark light.

“Don’t look at him as a person,” she said, her voice low and coaxing. “He’s an ingredient. A canvas. And with my guidance, you’ll make something beautiful.”

Your hands trembled, bile rising in your throat. “I can’t,” you whispered.

“Yes, you can,” she said firmly, standing behind you. Her arms wrapped around you, her hands guiding yours as she brought the knife closer to the man’s bare arm. “Do you trust me?”

“I—” Your voice cracked.

“Do you love me?” she whispered into your ear, her lips brushing your skin.

“Yes,” you croaked, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Then trust me,” she said, pressing your hands forward.

The blade sank into flesh, and the man stirred, his groan muffled by the gag in his mouth. You flinched, pulling back, but Agatha held you steady. “Good,” she said, her voice filled with pride. “You’re learning.”

It was agony and ecstasy at once, your body rebelling against the horror of what you were doing even as her praise lit something deep within you.

Agatha breathed, her voice thick with approval. "Now, don't stop."

Obediently, you continued to cut, each slice of the knife sending a jolt of dark pleasure through you. Agatha watched, her eyes glinting with pride and something else—something hungrier, more primal.

When you finally stepped back, covered in blood and trembling, she pulled you into her arms. Her lips found yours in a searing kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth. You moaned, tasting the coppery tang of blood on her lips.

"You're amazing," she purred, breaking the kiss to trail her fingers down your neck. "I knew you had it in you."

She pushed you back against the table, her hand sliding under your shirt. Her touch was rough, possessive, igniting a fire low in your belly. You arched into her, craving more.

Agatha seemed to sense your need. She tugged your shirt off, tossing it aside carelessly. Her mouth latched onto your breast, sucking and biting at the sensitive flesh until you cried out. All the while, her hand worked between your legs, pushing your skirt up and rubbing your clit through your soaked panties.

"Please," you gasped, grinding against her hand. "I need you."

She chuckled darkly, tearing your panties off with one swift tug. "Patience, my darling. I'm going to take care of you."

She plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt without preamble, making you scream. Her thumb circled your clit as she pumped in and out, building a rhythm that had you writhing on the table.

"That's it," she growled, her eyes dark with lust. "Take what you need."

You did, fucking yourself on her fingers as she drove them deeper. Your orgasm built quickly, coiling tight in your belly. Just as you teetered on the edge, Agatha pulled her fingers out.

"No coming until I say so," she commanded, smacking your clit hard enough to make you yelp.

"Please," you whimpered, "I can't take it anymore. I need to come."

She smiled cruelly, pressing the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. "Suck," she ordered.

You did, moaning at the taste of yourself on her skin. Agatha watched, her expression intense and consuming. "That's my girl," she purred.

She pushed you to your knees, opened her pants and took out her fake cock."Now, put that pretty mouth to work."

You obeyed, taking her into your mouth without hesitation. Agatha groaned, thrusting her hips forward. "Fuck yes, just like that."

She set a brutal pace, fucking your face with abandon. Tears leaked from your eyes as you gagged and choked around her cock, but you didn't stop. You couldn't stop. Not with the way she was looking at you—like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"Come here," she growled when she finally pulled out. She lifted you onto the table, kissing you deeply as she shed her clothes.

The head of her cock pressed against your entrance, and you braced yourself for the invasion. But when she pushed inside, it was different. gentler. She filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way.

"Mine," she whispered against your lips, starting to move. "All mine."

You clung to her, your nails digging into her back as she rode you hard and deep. The table creaked beneath you with each thrust, the scent of blood and sex mingling in the air.

Agatha reached between your bodies, finding your clit. She rubbed it in rough circles, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come for me," she commanded, her voice rough with need. "Let go."

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your cunt clamping down around her cock. Agatha followed shortly after, burying herself deep as she came with a hoarse cry.

She collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and sweat-slicked. You looked over to the lifeless body, the reality of the horror of what you've done finally sets in. Agatha cradled you in her arms, her fingers stroking your hair as you sobbed. “You did wonderfully,” she murmured. “You’ve taken your first step into becoming truly extraordinary.”

From then on, Agatha began involving you in her process. She taught you how to choose victims—how to find the “undeserving,” those who wouldn’t be missed.

“You’re not taking life; you’re elevating it,” she explained one evening as you watched her methodically butcher a new victim. “Without us, they’d vanish into nothing. But we make them immortal, unforgettable.”

Her justification worked its way into your mind, twisting your guilt into something almost noble. You began accompanying her on hunts, watching as she charmed her targets with her beauty and wit. When the time came, she’d make the kill swift, then turn to you with a smile of triumph.

“You’ll do the next one,” she told you after a particularly successful hunt. Her tone was light, as though she were offering you a new recipe to try.

And when the moment came, you did. Your hands trembled as you held the blade, but Agatha was there, her voice soothing and encouraging. “That’s my girl,” she whispered as the life drained from your victim’s eyes.

You felt sick afterward, but she kissed your forehead, wiping the blood from your face with a tenderness that only deepened your confusion. “I’m so proud of you,” she said. “You’re mine now, completely. And together, we’ll create something the world will never forget.”

The more you killed, the more natural it felt. Agatha’s voice became the only thing grounding you, her touch the only thing anchoring you to reality.

“You’re perfect,” she said, pulling you into her arms. “You’ve surpassed even my greatest expectations.”

Her lips met yours, the kiss passionate and consuming. You melted into her, unable to tell where you ended and she began.

“You and I,” she whispered against your lips, “we’re gods in the kitchen. Together, there’s nothing we can’t create. And nothing we won’t destroy. You’re everything I ever dreamed of—my equal, my masterpiece.”

And yet, no matter how deeply entangled you were in her world, you couldn’t quite banish the small voice of doubt within you—the part of you that still longed for freedom, for the version of yourself that existed before Agatha.

But Agatha knew. She always knew.

“You’re wondering if you can leave,” she said one evening as the two of you stood side by side in the kitchen, preparing the next course. Her tone was calm, but her eyes glinted with something dangerous. “You can’t. You’re mine. And if you ever try to escape, you’ll realize just how far my love for you truly goes.”

The blade in her hand gleamed as she worked, the casual threat lingering in the air between you like smoke. “Love isn’t something you can abandon,” she continued softly, slicing into the meat before her with precision. “It’s something you surrender to. Completely. Just as I’ve surrendered to you.”

Her words left you paralyzed, your mind a storm of fear and dark infatuation. Escape was no longer a possibility. You were trapped, not by the physical confines of her world, but by the chains she’d woven around your heart and mind.

And as Agatha stood behind you, her arms draped possessively over your shoulders, she whispered the words that sealed your fate:

“We are one now, my love. And nothing—not life, nor death—will ever change that.”

In that moment, you knew there was no going back. You were hers, just as she was yours, bound by blood, obsession, and an unholy art that would forever define you both.

Her love was a cage, but it was warm. And you couldn’t imagine life without her.

_-_-_

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[biblical-chronicles]

Custard creams

_________________________________________

where Liam is pressured to confess with the power of a biscuit tin (and Noel)

_________________________________________

Liam had a problem. A you problem.

For as long as he could remember, you’d been there—his childhood best friend, his partner-in-crime, the only person who could talk him down when he was about to kick off. It was no secret to anyone (except maybe you) that Liam was completely gone for you. Proper gone. You were always on his mind, always the one he looked for when he needed grounding, always the one he wanted to impress.

The problem was, Liam didn’t know how to deal with feelings exactly. He could weave his way through most things, puffing his chest out and pretending he didn’t give a toss about owt, but when it came to you? You turned him into a fumbling idiot. He’d tried asking you out a handful of times, but every single attempt had gone belly up. Either he bottled it, or Noel, or Bonehead, or someone else interrupted at just the wrong moment, or Liam just decided it wasn’t 'perfect enough' to do you justice.

And so, here he was, stuck in this weird limbo where everyone but the two of you could see the obvious fact that you two fancied each other stupid.

It was a Saturday afternoon when Noel finally hit his breaking point. The two brothers had popped into the local shop to grab a few bits—crisps, fags, a couple of cans—nothing fancy. Liam was trailing behind Noel, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and glancing around aimlessly when something caught his eye.

“Oi, get those.” Liam said, nodding toward the shelf of biscuits.

Noel stopped mid-stride, turning to look at his brother with raised eyebrows. “What, custard creams? Since when do you give a toss about biscuits?”

“They’re not for me, are they, you div,” Liam shot back, his cheeks going slightly pink. “She likes ’em.”

Noel blinked, then let out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’d just been handed the most exhausting news of his life. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Liam. I can’t do this anymore. You’re gone, mate. Properly gone. It’s embarrassing.”

“Shut yer gob.” Liam muttered, grabbing the tin of biscuits himself and shoving them into the basket Noel was holding.

“No, I’m serious,” Noel continued, gesturing wildly with his free hand. “I’ve had to listen to you bang on about her every bloody day for years. ‘She said this, she did that, she’s well fit, Noel, do you reckon she’d go for a lad like me?’”

Liam groaned. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You do,” Noel shot back, grinning now because he could tell he was winding him up. “And now we’re buying custard creams for her like a pair of mugs. D’you think she’s gonna fall at your feet just ’cause you’ve turned up with some fuckin’ biscuits?”

“Just get the fuckin’ tin, Noel.”

“No, I’m serious, mate. When are you gonna do something about it? She’s not gonna wait around forever, y’know. Especially since all you have the balls for to offer her are some custard creams.”

Liam glared at him, his jaw tight. “It’s not that easy, is it? You don’t know her like I do. She’s… she’s proper good, Noel. Too good for me.”

Noel stared at him, his teasing grin fading slightly. “Liam,” he said, his tone softer now. “She’s mad about you. Everyone knows it. You just need to stop pissin’ about and ask her out.”

Liam shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at his brother. “Yeah, well. I told you It’s not that simple.”

Noel rolled his eyes, tossing a bag of crisps into the basket. “You’re hopeless, y’know that? I’m gonna have to sort this for you at this rate. Can’t be arsed watching you mope about anymore.”

“Don’t you dare.” Liam warned, but Noel just smirked and sauntered off toward the till.

Once he paid for the shopping, he turned to Liam and lifted the little plastic bag he was holding. “Right, I’ll take this back to the studio, yeah? Gotta grab summat I forgot, but I’ll be back in, like, twenty minutes. No point hangin’ around.”

“Yeah, sound,” Liam said, relieved at the thought of not dealing with his brother’s commentary for a bit. “See you round, then.”

He started walking off, waving a hand over his shoulder, but then paused mid-step, spinning on his heel. “Oi, what about the biscuits?”

Noel grinned, already halfway out the door. “You'll get ’em tomorrow, you soft git. They won’t go stale overnight, will they?”

Liam rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, and headed in the opposite direction.

Noel waited until he was sure his younger brother was out of sight, then made a sharp turn down the street toward your place. The biscuits weren’t going to wait until tomorrow after all.

Your flat wasn’t far from the shop, a little tucked-away place that Noel knew well from the handful of times he’d either been there or had to drag Liam out of. He made quick work of the walk, pulling the custard creams out of the shopping bag and tucking them under his arm as he knocked on your door.

A few moments later, you opened it, your face lighting up in surprise when you saw him. “Noel?”

“Alright?” he said casually, holding the tin out to you. “These are for you.”

You blinked, glancing down at the biscuits and then back up at him, confused. “Custard creams?”

“Yeah. Liam spotted ’em in the shop and thought of you. Wanted you to have ’em.”

Your eyebrows shot up, and you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “Oh, did he now? Where is he, then?”

“Stuck at the studio,” Noel said smoothly, leaning a little on the doorframe himself. “Manager’s been on his arse all afternoon, but he insisted I drop these off for you. Proper nice of him, yeah? Got the tin not the plastic pack, how thoughtful.”

You smiled, your fingers brushing against the tin as you took it. “That’s sweet of him. Tell him thanks for me when you see him.”

Noel chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, you can thank him yourself. Told me to ask if you wanted to meet him down at the pub after the session finishes. Said he’s got summat dead important to tell you.”

That caught your attention, your expression shifting slightly. “Dead important? Should I be scared?”

“No, no,” Noel said quickly, waving a hand like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Nothin’ heavy. Just… y’know, dress nice, yeah? Don’t let him peg it, though. He needs to say it.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before a soft smile spread across your face. “Alright, Noel. Tell him I’ll be there.”

“That’s more like it,” he said, straightening up. “And don’t forget, you owe me now for playin’ messenger.”

You laughed, shaking your head as he turned to leave. “Thanks for delivering the biscuits, Noel.”

“Anytime, love.” he called over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips.

The pub was buzzing, not packed to the brim but busy enough for some privacy. Noel slipped into the booth opposite Liam, dropping his pint onto the table with a clink. His brother was slumped over, tapping a restless rhythm on the edge of his glass.

“Alright, mate?” Noel asked, smirking as he leaned back against the worn leather of the booth.

“What do you want now?” Liam grumbled, barely looking up.

“To tell you that your soon to be bird’ll be here any minute now.” Noel said casually, watching his brother freeze mid-tap.

Liam’s head shot up, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck d’you mean? Why’s she comin’ here?”

Noel shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Caught her earlier on me way back from the studio. Said she was walkin' to the shop and asked about you, so I told her you’d be here. She asked if she could swing by, so I said yeah.”

“You what?” Liam hissed, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the pub noise.

“Relax,” Noel said, holding up his hands like he hadn’t just thrown a grenade into Liam’s already frayed nerves. “Perfect chance for you to grow a pair and tell her how you feel, innit?”

Liam glared at him, his jaw clenched tight. “I can’t just tell her, you knobhead. What if—”

“Oh, here we go,” Noel groaned, cutting him off. “You’ve been dancin’ round her for years. She’s mad about you, mate. Everyone sees it except you two.”

Liam opened his mouth to argue, but Noel leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Listen, you’ve gotta stop pissin’ about. She’s too good to wait forever, and frankly, I’m tired of watchin’ you make doe eyes at her like a lost puppy. Just tell her.”

Liam stared at him, the frustration bubbling just under the surface. He wanted to say something, anything, but before he could, Noel’s eyes flicked toward the door.

“Oh, look,” Noel said, grinning as he stood up. “Your date’s here. Don’t cock it up, yeah?”

“Noel, you absolute—”

But Noel was already gone, leaving Liam to scramble for composure as you walked toward him, a warm smile on your face.

“Hi, Liam.” you greeted him, slipping out of your coat before leaning in to hug him.

“Alright?” he muttered, his voice a little too gruff as he tried to play it cool.

You slid into the booth across from him, settling in comfortably. “Thanks for the biscuits, by the way. That was really sweet of you.”

Liam blinked, his mind racing. Biscuits? What biscuits? He felt his mouth move before his brain could catch up. “Cheers, yeah.”

You tilted your head, amused by his distracted tone. He seemed… off tonight. Nervous, even. You let it slide, figuring he was just shifty after the long session Noel was on about earlier.

For a few minutes, you chatted about nothing in particular, but Liam wasn’t really responding, his replies short and vague. Finally, you leaned forward, resting your arms on the table.

“Are you alright, Liam?” you asked softly, your brows knitting together in concern. “You seem… I don’t know, distracted.”

“Yeah, fine,” he mumbled, though his foot was bouncing under the table, betraying his nerves.

“Do you wanna step outside?” you offered. “Get some air?”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding quickly. “Yeah. Good idea.”

The crisp evening air hit you both as you stepped outside, the din of the pub fading behind you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, glancing over at Liam as he downed the rest of his pint putting it down with slightly shaky hands.

“You sure you’re okay?” you asked again, your voice tainted with worry.

He just loudly exhaled, his gaze fixed on the pavement. “Yeah. Just…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Dunno.”

You leaned against the wall beside him, studying his profile. Something was definitely on his mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with you.

“Liam,” you said softly, your tone gentle but insistent. “Do you have summat you want to tell me?”

He froze, slowly turning to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

This was it. Noel’s voice echoed in his head, urging him to stop mucking about. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it ring in his ear.

“I…” He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. But then he saw the way you were looking at him—patient, kind, like you’d wait forever for him to find the courage. And suddenly, it didn’t seem so impossible.

“I like you,” he blurted out, his voice rough but honest. “Proper like you. Always have.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he thought he’d completely bottled it. But then you smiled, your cheeks flushing as you stepped closer.

“Liam,” you said softly, your voice trembling just a little. “I like you too. I have for ages. I just… didn’t think you felt the same.”

He stared at you, stunned. “You’re takin’ the piss.” he said finally, his voice thick with disbelief.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Not at all. I mean it.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension thick between you. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, Liam leaned down and kissed you.

It was a little clumsy at first, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right, but when you kissed him back, all his nerves melted away. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his heart still racing.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you grinned up at him. “Who’d have thought it’d be custard creams that got us together?”

Liam blinked, confused. “Custard creams?”

You laughed, your arms still looped around his neck. “Yeah, the ones Noel gave me. Said they were from you.”

Realization dawned, and he groaned, resting his forehead against yours. “Of course it was fucking Noel.” he muttered.

_________________________________________

sorry in advance to any of you lot who do not enjoy a custard cream

also, loved usin' Noel as an uber eats driver here pretty much

and tomorrow I'll be sittin' down to scribble New arrival pt.2 down, so be ready xx

[meowkwisis]

╭───.★..─. ♯┆nishimura riki (niki) x fem!reader | very fluffy fluff | smau & written pieces .ᐟ

──୨ৎ─── ꜱᴛᴀʀʀʏ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ————————————-

╰─..★. ──────────────────╯ -`♡´-

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ! : swearing/cussing, very fluffy, silly goofy, very mild angst, slow burn…

𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴: childhood best friends to lovers, friends to lovers, obvious to everyone but them…

𓍯𓂃 ~ in which nishimura riki has been in love with his childhood best friend for as long as he can remember, but of course, he would never admit it, and neither would you.

[written piece]

Niki pressed on the green facetime call button, his face instantly lighting up when he heard the “connecting” sound playing from his phone. Propping his phone up, and seeing as your face filled his screen. You were at your desk, having propped the phone up on the lamp next to your computer.

“y/nnie, outfit options- help me choose please. I’m gonna die. how do i get the huzz without a good fit.”

“We both know your little soft heart can’t take a hoe. show me the options.”

as he reached over to his closet, pulling out a hanger, and showing it to his phone.

it was an essentials hoodie, and those baggy jeans he always wore. You swear he has multiple.

“nishi, that’s the most basic fit I’ve ever seen. if you wanna attract girls with no taste, I guess that’s good..”

although that is the hoodie you like the most because it smells like you, due to the fact you’ve worn it so much- you would never admit it.

neither will he.

“but it’s so comfyy- and I can sleep in it.”

he says, putting his hands up to his head to show the sleeping motion.

“ooou- you should wear that one zip up hoodie! The navy blue one.”

Niki tilted his head at your words, obviously confused, a perplexed look on his face.

your heart swelled at the sight of his questioning eyes and hair flitting off to one side, looking at you.

“You’re so stupid. the navy blue hoodie? With the stripes? With a white t shirt underneath? And dark wash jeans?”

You said it in a bit harsher of a tone to hide the fact your heart was racing due to how he looked.

“you’re so right. I love you. Have I ever told you that? Ugh.” Niki’s voice was full of sarcasm with a hint of an airy tone, obviously meaning it in a lighthearted aspect. only wishing he could mean what he says in another way.

You were so grateful he had moved out of the frame, unable to see your blushing face.

“Yeah, I know. Love you too, ki. I gotta go finish my homework though. you still coming over later, right.?”

“of course. want me to snipe haerin and sunghoon for you?”

His mischievous smirk, as he playfully tousled with his hair.

you sighed, looking at the screen with your typical fake-annoyed- Ihateyou look.

“Literally bye. Don’t get too drunk by the way, remember, be careful be safe and don’t get into any strange cars or anything. Okay?”

“…yes maam..”

y/n clicked the end call button after saying goodbye, and hastily set back onto her work, wanting to finish before Niki came over.

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a/n = I haven’t written in SO long so I apologize if this is rly crappy :((

part 2 coming as soon as it’s proofread!! lmk if u guys like this so far <33

once I make a master list I will link it here :P

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