#to find a scar on someone she cares so deeply about

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Ep 22-23 Commentary

Ha...I was inexplicably nervous for eps 22-23 and it looks like I was right to be (-: What a rollercoaster. Spoilers below!

I've just come out of ep 23 and uh????? holy shit????? ZYC????

Ok ok but to backtrack, let's do my comments semi-chronologically:

Ep 22:

A carry-over from ep 21 that I have to mention—heck yeah PSJ give WZY hell. She doesn't have all that many lines but she sure knows how to make them count. Also seeing PSJ and WX get screen time just the two of them makes my brain go "yay <3"

Back to ep 22, loved the fake-out sundial ayeee that was a nice Chekhov's gun that also brings the real sundial back into relevance for later. Also me eating up the PSJ and ZYC crumb of an interaction has brought to my attention how starved I am of their screen time together.

This whole ep was a great lament towards the feared inevitable. Every sad downcast look from ZYC, every complicated glance WX gives him. A wonderful, terrible crossroads for these characters. I love that for ZYC especially, it's such an incredible mess of emotion coming to a head. Bad enough that he's come to care about the demon who killed his family and ruined his life, bad enough that he's sworn a blood oath he regrets and tied himself to punishing someone he no longer finds culpable, bad enough that ZYZ's life or death depends solely on his choice and ZYZ is constantly practically begging for death when ZYC wants him to live. How much immensely worse it makes the whole situation that WX is literally ZYZ's soulmate. And obviously the whole team has only grown more and more attached to ZYZ, too. ZYC's personal turmoil aside, how heavy must that responsibility and guilt be? For the finishing blow that only he can deliver to also deeply threaten every other person he cares about? Everyone understands in the abstract what must happen and why, but just like seeing ZYZ lose control firsthand, the gulf between understanding and experiencing is so unimaginably wide. If he kills ZYZ, can there really be no resentment from his friends? From WX?

Also it seems ZYC only wears cloaks so that he can give them to other people lmao

Ah fuck, the farewell drinks. I didn't even factor in how ZYC might not survive the encounter (''': The drama truly was like hm can we possibly give ZYC a worse day than that night his whole fam died? Maybe give him a bunch of new family members and also the blade and the fate and the sole responsibility to potentially irrevocably scar said family members with? And he might die in the process too? (-: haha maybe? (((-:

Oh. Oh. Addendum. I forgot this til I saw it mentioned in another post—ZYC recounting his oath as he watched WX smile when they discussed reviving the tree...I could feel him weighing those words against his own life, against ZYZ's life, against WX's happiness. One way out of this impossible situation is indeed to doom himself. I'm in pieces.

Damn if WX isn't dedicated heart and soul, going into the sundial like that. I'm sad no one could keep her company for those 300 years but also I guess that's kind of an impossible ask (and maybe not survivable for the other non-goddess mortals? I'm admittedly very unclear on sundial time loophole logistics). It would have been nice to see someone offer though, even just to be turned down.

Ooh I like the soul needle fake-out, given this show's penchant for retroactive "actually we had a plan all along" moments. A good subversion of the narrative's own style.

Also I saved this for the end because it doesn't really fit the linearity of my comments but what the fuuuuuuuck oh my god I absolutely flipped out at this scene:

I am at once rabidly intrigued and at the same time not sure if I'll be satisfied with whatever payoff will come for this so I don't want to overindulge in theorizing and setting my own expectations too high. Maybe this is just a fevered hallucination, maybe it means nothing (I hope it means something). But damn!!! What a gorgeous man crazy scene.

In conclusion, ep 22 had some good stuff for me. Plot development and reflection and tension enough that I may have been satisfied with just that one episode. But they gave us two, so onward to ep 23 comments!

Ep 23:

I like how many solid reasons the team has to suspect ZYC being possessed. Even though I withheld judgment during my watch given how quickly the show usually confirms that kind of stuff with a possession mark, just simply casting that doubt made the whole build up that much more intense.

ZYC slowly walking down the corridor with the whole grounds lit a somber and haunting gold—*chef's kiss*

ZYC's monologue to a catatonic ZYZ is so important to me. The closest we'll get to his internal monologue about this whole situation. The kinds of things said when we think there's no conscious listener.

Okay so, having finished this episode and looking back, Li Lun's hands coming up from behind ZYC was not to denote possession (at least in this episode), potentially is a visual from ZYZ's POV, and seems related to the above screencap. I am so, so curious. Once again, I'm stopping myself from further speculation because I want to be surprised but ahhhhhhhhh

PSJ shooting at Ao Yin is so gorgeous. Her action scenes seriously never disappoint—the creativity of her fight choreos!! Also very cool that the whole team is getting to take part in the action, not just the two male leads.

Bai Jiu possession was not on my bingo card but I sure do love that we literally saw the possession take place and I still didn't connect the dots. Good shitttt. Also oh no ): ZYC was telling the truth about the soul needle, he was just tricked ):

Seriously from the Ao Yin case to getting PSJ released to reviving the Divine Wood to getting tricked by possessed!Bai Jiu to making pear soup to fighting ZYZ to fighting Li Lun—when will ZYC get a single goddamn vacation day holy shit.

Also when will WX tear up that contract so ZYZ can stop having a mild heart attack every time he wants to kiss her ): &I love that they saved the 300-year montage for this moment. While their ship doesn't give me brainrot personally, who could be unmoved by that incredible and undisclosed sacrifice? That's soulmatism.

Okay, I'd seen clips of them filming the ZYC and Li Lun fight but damn I did not expect it'd be happening right now!! Right after already taking damage from ZYZ? And my god is Li Lun brutal. The two actors did such an impressive job on this entire fight, what with Li Lun's ease and ZYC's suffering. I really appreciated the extensive hand-to-hand combat after Li Lun literally obliterated ZYC's sword. (Also though, given the origin of that sword, I kept hoping for a flashback to ZYC's brother once it broke, but alas, no dice.) Anyway, the show does not play around about ZYC whump it seems. I was very very shook by that throat punch; that shit legitimately looked like it hurt.

Honestly, I had a hard time with the extended ZYZ and Li Lun conversation at the very end because oh my god someone please heal ZYC lmao. But of course, that's the end of the episode~~

Y'all...check on your local ZYC stans because I was not okay after all that (': I need a heaping dose of comfort after all that hurt, but as always I'm cautious of hoping for much from canon itself. So yeah! Ep 23 was solid, but I would probably be in better shape if today's release just ended on ep 22 ((':

Time to go wait for the cast's Hi6 episode to drop so I can heal my battered heart ;-;

[reginrokkr]

𝐕𝐈𝐈. Among the things that are open for the bearer's creativity that can be done with the Temporal Mandate is to heal wounds by turning back the time of the individual's body to the chosen point of time, in this case to when their body was completely healthy. This is something Jinhsi would intend to do with Jué, having already known about this and performed it herself to others before. But not until she masters a much greater access to the Temporal Mandate she has in comparison to before, only relying on the Temporal Program that Jué lost when it brought her back to life and whatever permission she had from Jué until the aftermath of their prophesied clash. Suffice to say, other individuals of importance to her are subject to be her target of healing so long as she counts with their permission, too.

[elle-thereafter]

Perc'ahlia Smut Fic Recs

After S3E3 of The Legend of Vox Machina dropped the stats on my smut fics jumped overnight which was entertaining. Which strongly indicates a lot of you are looking for some sweet Perc'ahlia smut to follow-up the delights provided to us by the animated series.

Myself and some folks from the Perc'ahlia Week Discord server are very happy to provide a list of our favourites. Some of these (including some of their summaries and tags below) will contain spoilers beyond tLoVM S3E3 so tread lightly into the cut if you care deeply about spoilers. Assume every single one of the fics below contains explicit sex between Percy and Vex. I've included the AO3 summary and the helpful Additional Tags from AO3 to help you zoom in on your favourite thinigs and avoid the things you're less fond of.

After Dinner by Lycaboros

Summary: Vex has some definite ideas for this evening's activities. AO3 Tags: Sex Toys, Toys, Riding Crops, Teasing, Orgasm Delay/Denial

Bathing for Fun and Profit by ViciousRhythm

Summary: The bath sex we all know happened and the sex on a pile of money that Vex'ahlia deserves. AO3 Tags: spoilers for episode 81, Bath Sex, Incredibly self indulgent, sex on a pile of money, PWP

the beast you've made of me by seimaisin

Summary: Vex finds herself transported to her very first Wild Hunt. Percy and Orthax are determined to make her first time a memorable one. AO3 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Werewolf Sex, Tentacles, Bondage, Animal Transformation, Chases, Dominance, Consensual Non-Consent, Erotic Horror

before those hands pulled me from the earth by worth_the_risk

Summary: Vex knew the gods were still living, sequestered behind the Divine Gate as they may be. She knew their interactions with those who still walked Exandria were limited, but purposeful. She had never had reason to thank any of them. Now, she may have to consider it. AO3 Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Explicit Consent, Risk Waxes Poetic About Scar Tissue Again, Past Character Death, Canon Compliant, If you're here from TLoVM and have not listened to C1 here there be spoilers, Scars, Cunnilingus, Love Confessions, Campaign 1 Spoilers through Episode 72-74-ish?, Vaginal Sex

charmeause by anonymous

Summary: Percy takes the material of the hem between his fingers and absently feels at the embroidery, eyes locked onto her and her scrunched nose of confusion. “When you said you’d be right back, my mind had gone to those little rabbit slippers, not… lingerie.” AO3 Tags: Lingerie, PWP, Cunnilingus, Post-Canon, established marriage, Gratuitously sweaty Percy, Stripping, Houston they're in LOVE, Blow Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Fluff and Smut

Comparative Anatomy by Shippeh

Summary: Percy drags Keyleth to a frat party on an errand to find numbers for a project, and ends up discovering something (or someone) a lot more interesting. AO3 Tags: College AU

Control by subtropicalStenella

Summary: Percy needs to sleep, and take better care of himself, but he's also a stubborn bastard and needs to be tricked into it. AO3 Tags: Dirty Talk, Mutual Masturbation, Fantasizing, Multiple Orgasms, Erotic Electrostimulation, Prostate Milking, Overstimulation, Praise Kink

Courage To Go On by subtropicalStenella

Summary: It's That Scene, because we love to fill in fade-to-blacks and I love the powerplay of "I open the door, COMPLETELY NAKED." but also I love damaged people and working through that damage. AO3 Tags: First Time, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Desk Sex, Light Dom/sub, Light Bondage, Introspection, deliberately ignoring that introspection, Banter as Foreplay

darling, so it goes (some things are meant to be) by mischiefseven

Summary: It's the night before the fight with Vorugal, and Vex has left too much unsaid for far too long. AO3 Tags: Past Character Death, Love Confessions, Life-Affirming Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Debauchery by ladyofrosefire

Summary: If one knows where to look, there is a shop in Emon where one can find all manner of delightful things. Vex lures Percy into it one afternoon while they’re in the city for business. Or: Percy gets pegged. AO3 Tags: Pegging, Sex Toys

Deifying (flew like a moth to you, sunlight) by ladyofrosefire

Summary: Percy and Vex share a lazy morning shortly after their return from Pandemonium. AO3 Tags: Episode: the Search for Bob Spoilers, Cunnilingus, sun freckles, mild blasphemy, Morning Sex

Disciple by ladyofrosefire

Summary: Vex has a new house, new boots, and a very attractive partner who wants to please her in every way he can. That's a recipe for an excellent night. AO3 Tags: BDSM, Dom/sub, light boot worship, Cunnilingus, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Domme!Vex, Riding, Praise Kink, Fellatio, Verbal Bondage, Aftercare, PWP

everyone can see (few can test by feeling) by mischiefseven

Summary: Vex needs distraction. Percy is delighted to oblige. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Inappropriate Use of 16th Century Italian Literature

everything has changed (and now it's only you that matters) by rozegold

Summary: Vex takes care of Percy after his second brush with death. AO3 Tags: Blow Jobs, Post-Chroma Conclave

The Feathers in Her Hair by pagerunner

Summary: When Vex starts making changes to the distinctive feathers she wears, Percy begins to suspect she's sending him a sign. Perc'ahlia fic, written between episodes 62 and 63, but without specific spoilers. AO3 Tags: None

A Game of Later by thereafter

Summary: An evening at the opera escalates. Some things are better left unresolved, at least for a little while. Shameless smut, in three acts. AO3 Tags: Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Dynamics, Public Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn IS the plot, Vex'ahlia is a Little Shit, Percival is also a Little Shit, they are both little shits

Get your hands dirty by umwelt

Summary: It’s not his handwriting. He hasn’t seen ink in weeks, too scrapped for coin for the luxury. The P starting at the base of his hand, affording the traitor his distinction, his name eating up the space of the pad of Percy’s left thumb. Opens his palm. Yes - on the inside of each finger, a name: Doctor Ripley. Lord Briarwood. Lady Briarwood. Sir Kerrion Stonefell. AO3 Tags: Whump, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Percival "Percy" de Rolo III Has Issues, Traumatized Percival "Percy" de Rolo III, Campaign 1, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe, Percy is the pact weapon AU, Magical Tattoos, me: so. tattoos hot. percy hot. the list hot. what if… all three??, Mild Gore, Injury Recovery, Magical Prosthetic. sort of., henna, Rated for smut in last chapter, Comfort Sex, Woman on Top, None of the angsty tags apply to the sex, Follows Campaign 1 with some extra TLOVM ~flavor~ in places

Grey by percivalium

Summary: There’s a rumble of gruff voices at the table as various other diplomats react to Daventine’s outburst. Silverware clatters, glasses and crystal goblets tink and the general hubbub of the biannual trade route summit create a very unique mashup of noises in the dining hall. And Vex’ahlia couldn’t give a single shit about any of it. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Quickie, Sneaking Away to Fuck During Dinner, Established Relationship

hard to talk (when i'm with you) by percahlia

Summary: Percy's pretty sure at this point that his wife's favorite hobby is showing up and knocking the breath out of him, one way or another. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Blow Jobs, Desk Sex, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, domestic sex, Post-Canon, Semi-Public Sex

Have some fun tonight by steelneena

Summary: Ever since that night at the lake, Percy and Vex have made a habit of getting carried away rather often. But it’s really whose house – and more importantly, whose bedroom within said house - they’re in that makes things…tenuous for Percy. It just so happens to be Vex’s dad’s house. And they just so happen to be Vex’s dad’s bed. In Percy’s defense, Vex hadn’t exactly told him until it was too little too late. AO3 Tags: Early 2000's aesthetic college halloween party, to keep with the theme, Mirror Sex, Accidental Voyeurism, brief mention of recreational drugs, Percy is relatively inexperienced still, Vex is very loving, Vaginal Sex, Biting, Dom/sub Undertones, stupid halloween jokes and passtimes, may have been lightly influenced by Scream, Playful Sex, love is best kink

How the Other Half Lives by sabinelagrande

Summary: Percy knows what he likes. He thinks so, anyway. AO3 Tags: Femdom, Dom Vex'ahlia, Dom Percy de Rolo, Sub Percy de Rolo, Under-negotiated Kink, Floor Sex, Self-Discovery, 094-e095 Timeskip, Dom/sub

If You Wanna Be Mine by ViciousRhythm

Summary: For all that Percy can sometimes be really eloquent, he's sometimes really…not. AO3 Tags: Car Sex, just barely touches on dom/sub dynamics, Modern AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Humor

I'll Shout From the Mountains (Love Looks Good on You) by Aesthetic_Pigeon

Summary: Vex is tired of Percy working late into the night and decides to set things right. AO3 Tags: Episode: c01e095 One Year Later…, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Praise Kink, Coming In Pants, Percival "Percy" de Rolo III Has a Tremor, Idiots in Love

Insight Check by percivalium

Summary: Grey Hunt patrols are long, a bit tedious and solitary. Vex'ahlia must find ways to entertain her brain while performing her Grey Hunt duties out in the Parchwood. One defiantly un-ladylike thought may have caused her some brainrot… and she needs to find a certain Lord of Whitestone to make it a reality. Hopefully he believes her when she claims otherwise. AO3 Tags: Episode: c01e095 One Year Later…, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Some Plot, Surprise Blowjob, Torn Clothing, Manual stimulation, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Desk Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Clothes-on Sex, Doggy Style, Hair-pulling, Consensual Kink, Top!Percy, Vex Hands Over the Reins, Ball Massage, Praise Kink, Implied Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Hand Jobs

I wanna make you hungry (then I want to feed you) by writerthewriter

Summary: Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III was not a religious man, yet for one so faithless, he spent an awful lot of time on his knees dedicated to worship. aka the one where percy really loves going down on his wife. AO3 Tags: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, percy likes going down on his wife, Vaginal Fingering, Masturbation, Face-Sitting, Light D/s Dynamics

Jumping the Gun by LadyOfSnakes

Summary: Percival has done something very stupid and very dangerous. Vex is not okay with this. Spoilers through episode 73. AO3 Tags: First Time, Angry Sex, Oral Sex, Explicit Consent

A Lesson in Manners by pagerunner

Summary: Vex may usually be the one to call the shots where intimate matters are concerned, but that isn't to say that Percy doesn't have his own ideas. This one might prove to be especially captivating. Spoiler warning for a couple details post-episode 94/early 100s. AO3 Tags: None

Lost in the Woods with You by Her_Madjesty

Summary: When Percy stumbles away from the group, it’s…mostly by accident. AO3 Tags: Sex Pollen, Feywild Arc, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex

Point Made by sabinelagrande

Summary: An argument is interrupted. AO3 Tags: Post-Chroma Conclave, Vaginal Fingering, Percy makes that +6 DEX work for him

Press by modal_contingency

Summary: Vex is unfailingly good at reading people, and Percy can be the easiest of reads. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Dom/sub, Dirty Talk, Begging, Breathplay

The Private Games We Play by pagerunner

Summary: After game night ends, Vex and Percy decide to delve more deeply into what went on during their explorations of a certain tavern cellar. Yes, this means pretty much what you're thinking. Set just after the post-episode-115 one-shot helmed by Grog. AO3 Tags: Post-Campaign, Grog's one-shot, the meta is strong with this one, and i should not be entrusted with such inappropriate interpretations of game mechanics

A Private Vex Tape by inheritanceofgeek

Summary: Percy has been at the International Convention for Technological Innovation for 4 days and is already going stir crazy with how much he misses his wife. Lucky for him, Vex'ahlia is an innovative woman who misses him just as much as he misses her. And hey, what are webcams for if not to record home made sex tapes? AO3 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sex Tapes, Mutual Masturbation, Sex Toys, Vibrators, Married Life, Mentions of Taryon Darrington, That 7 hour time difference hurts me too, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Fluff and Smut

Put your arms around me, baby by steelneena

Summary: He's not quite sure how he ended up here. He, Percival de Rolo, of all people, who hadn’t wanted to stay in Emon for the summer, who’d wanted to go back home after his year exchange ended, remain cooped up in his room at home with his experiments and his books, was naked in a lake at night, kissing a beautiful woman – also naked – in his lap who could, if he was quite honest, do far better that his wiry, nerdy, early-gone-white self. AO3 Tags: Skinny Dipping, First Time, Hand Jobs, Virgin Percy, Love Confessions, Modern AU, kind of a college au, slight D/s overtones, love is kink, Enthusiastic Consent

remember me love, when i'm reborn by worth_the_risk

Summary: After Elysium, before the Core Anvil, before - well, before. AO3 Tags: Campaign 1, Spoilers through C1E106: The Endless Atheneum, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Life-Affirming Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Established Relationship, Introspection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, anticipatory grief

Respite for the Restless by pagerunner

Summary: It's been a difficult, troubling day. Sometimes the best you can do is reach for each other. Percy/Vex vignette, set at the mansion after episode 106. AO3 Tags: None

Satin and sweat by umwelt

Summary: Vex bites Percy’s lip in the hopes he gets the message. His fingers slow, only movement at all because she can feel every twitch deep in her cunt. Sorry - she, the lady robbed in a magpie’s iridescent blacks and whites, hostess of the soirée, bites the lip of this bespectacled owl of a man in the hopes he gets the message. It is a masquerade, after all, and one should keep up appearances. AO3 Tags: Campaign 1, Could be an AU could be canon compliant who knows!, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Vaginal Fingering, Hand & Finger Kink, Quickies, Semi-Public Sex, Clothed Sex, Shameless Smut

scarcely can speak for my thinking (what you'd do to me tonight) by worth_the_risk

Summary: “Is it terrible that we are abandoning our best friend’s first state birthday dinner?” The airy tone of her voice suggested she had already divined precisely how she felt about it. “I think Keyleth will forgive us for the excursion, if she even notices our absence.” AO3 Tags: Secret Marriage, Quickies, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Campaign 1, Spoilers through Episode 95: One Year Later…, Spoilers for The Legend of Vox Machina, Vaginal Sex, Established Relationship, Competency Kink

Second Watch by threepwillow

Summary: Depleted spell slots and some near-death experiences leave an abridged, mansionless Vox Machina camping out under the stars; but now Vex'ahlia's husband is in a mood, and who knew gnomes were such light sleepers? AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Hand & Finger Kink, That 22 Dexterity Tho, Post-Canon

Seen by subtropicalStenella

Summary: Percy acts smooth but it's a mask over an excitable, anxious dork and we love him for it AO3 Tags: Teasing, Cock Tease, Prostate Massage, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Percy has some internalized prudishness and it's adorable, and he's an anxious dork, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, Titfuck

someone ought to corrupt you on the dance floor by blackglass

Summary: It's Senior Week and the twins' birthday and Vox Machina is headed to the club to celebrate. With only a week left until they all graduate and go their separate ways, Vex decides she's done with wondering "what if?" Percy is not prepared for what's about to hit him. AO3 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Porn with Feelings, Racebending, Everyone in Vox Machina is multiracial, except percy, Palest white boy to ever be a pale white boy, Background Vax/Gilmore, Background Kash/Keyleth, Clubbing, Grinding

Spoiled by thereafter

Summary: Percy schemes. Vex'ahlia is spoiled. AO3 Tags: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay, Porn with Feelings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Softdom Percy, Vex Gets Spoiled

Stand and Deliver by ladyofrosefire

Summary: Percy really just wants to get ravished by a famous outlaw. Vex. He means Vex. AO3 Tags: Sexual Roleplay, Gun Kink, Outdoor Sex, Consensual Kink, Consensual Non-Consent

the sweetest distractions by rozegold

Summary: Coaxing Percy out of his workshop is something Vex has become very good at over the years, but sometimes she has to fight dirty for his own good. AO3 Tags: Fluff and Smut, Domestic smut, Happily Married Banging, Several Years Post-Campaign, Vex In Percy's Coat, Unconventional Usage of Percy's Workshop

take a step that is new by Griftings

Summary: Or, the one where Vex is enthusiastic, Percy is unsure, and… well, basically there's a threesome. With Jarett. AO3 Tags: Fluff and Smut, Crack, Threesome - F/M/M, PWP, Sort Of, like there's sort of a plot but it's honestly almost entirely just sex

Taking a Break by Lycaboros

Summary: Percy is TRYING to get some work done. It's not working very well for him. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Interrupted Sex, Rough Sex, Desk Sex, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, post campaign one, Edging

a teaching moment by rozegold

Summary: Percy's eager to branch out and, well, how can Vex say no to that? AO3 Tags: Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Strap-Ons, Vex Teaches Percy About Blow Jobs, Finger Sucking, Percy's Got A Bit Of An Oral Fixation

under your moonlit gaze by seimaisin

Summary: Vex, Percy, the hot springs, and sex. With a brief interruption from Scanlan. AO3 Tags: Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Unwind already by unknownlifeform

Summary: Percy gets pegged by Vex for the first time. Things that help this activity: Percy relaxing and unclenching. Things Vex has to coax Percy into doing: AO3 Tags: Pegging, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Established Relationship, First Time Bottoming, Porn with Feelings, they are in love your honorand also they are silly!!, this is a being stupid during sex propaganda account, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

we are learning to make fire by mischiefseven

Summary: The citizens of Whitestone celebrate Winter’s Crest. Their lord and lady have a much more personal celebration of their own. AO3 Tags: Married Sex, Desk Sex, Cunnilingus, newlyweds, Fluff, Consensual Kink, Explicit Consent

whatever you do (do it for me, baby) by mischiefseven

Summary: Percy finds something that belongs to Vex. After testing, he takes it upon himself to make some improvements. AO3 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Dildos, Mutual Masturbation, Pegging

what she wants by rozegold

Summary: Vex has discovered quite a lovely thing because of her relationship with Percy: ladies get what they want. Except sometimes, they don't. AO3 Tags: Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Vex Can Dish But She Can't Take, Percy Gets Some Payback

when the wicked play by seimaisin

Summary: Vex and Percy only know each other online, through their favorite video game. They're both taken by surprise when their flirty, competitive relationship turns into a long-distance erotic game. Except, it may not be as long-distance as they think, and Percy is definitely more than Vex realizes. His family's fame leads them to a real-life collision, and suddenly everything is way more complicated than it seemed on the internet … (abandoned but fun) AO3 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Nude Photos, Online Friendship, Cybersex

you'll never know unless we go by sabinelagrande

Summary: Nothing about this goes right, but it's perfect. AO3 Tags: Rough Body Play, Rope Bondage, Resistance Play, Hair-pulling, Rough Sex, Maledom, Dom Percy de Rolo, Sub Vex'ahlia

[fdeegbffi]

Sukuna x female reader.

Summary:

Sukuna was always a cold hearted king. However meeting you revealed his vulnerable side. He loves you, he really does, but he cannot let his people know he has a soft spot for a woman so he replaces you. Heartbroken you flee. What will he do next?

Inspiration from this girlie❤️:

Really loved this idea and I wanted to recreate it with a little twist.

The Cursed King’s Regret (Pt1)

I think

In a world steeped in darkness, Ryomen Sukuna ruled as an unforgiving king. His name alone was enough to send tremors through the hearts of even the bravest souls, and his power, feared and unchallenged, was the stuff of legend. But hidden away in the shadows of his imposing castle was a secret he kept from everyone—even from the woman who unknowingly held his heart.

You were that woman, a gentle presence in the cursed king's life. Sukuna had never intended to care for anyone, let alone fall in love. His life had always been one of darkness and control, his emotions buried deep hidden from the eyes of the living. But there was something about you that slipped past his defenses, capturing his attention and, eventually, his heart. He loved you with an intensity that scared him, a possessiveness that he couldn’t fully understand. Yet he never let you see how deeply his feelings ran. He wore his cruelty like a shield, hiding his vulnerability behind harsh words and a cold demeanor. Still, you could sense his vulnerability in his gaze and how you were treated slightly different from everybody else

As the months went by, you found yourself falling for Sukuna. You began to see the man behind the mask, and you hoped that one day, he would let down his guard and show his true feelings for you like you did to him. But then, something changed. Sukuna started visiting you less often. When he did, his gaze was distant, his mind elsewhere. Eventually, you discovered the reason why: he had taken in another woman. She looked so much like you that it was almost as if she were your twin. At first, you tried to brush it off, telling yourself you were imagining things, that you were being irrational. But as time passed, the truth became impossible to ignore. He WAS replacing you.

You felt your heart shatter, and the realization that you were just a stand-in for someone else made you sink in desperation. The depression settled in slowly, until the castle that had once felt like a strange kind of home became a prison. You couldn’t bear to stay in a place where you were no longer wanted, where your presence had become invisible.

So, one night, while Sukuna was away, you made your escape. You took nothing with you except some food and the memories that haunted you. Slipping through the castle’s shadows, you disappeared into the darkened forest beyond, determined to find a life far away from the man who had unknowingly broken your heart.

You wandered for days, finding temporary refuge in the solitude of the wilderness and the anonymity of small villages where no one knew your story. You tried to rebuild your life, but the ache of what you had lost stayed with you. It was a wound that refused to heal, a scar that remained tender to the touch.

Back at the castle, Sukuna returned to find your chambers empty. At first, he dismissed your absence, thinking you were simply avoiding him. But as the days passed without a word from you, a feeling of unease began to gnaw at him. It wasn’t long before he realized with a sinking dread that you were gone.

The woman who resembled you so closely brought him no comfort. In fact, her presence only served to remind him of what he had lost. Sukuna, the feared king who had never known fear himself, felt panic rising within him for the first time. He himself searched the castle, the grounds, and the surrounding lands, but there was no trace of you.

When his own efforts failed, he sent out troops to scour the kingdom, ordering them to find you and bring you back at any cost. Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of you. The possibility that he had lost you forever began to weigh heavily on him.

He had been a fool, and now he knew it. His pride, his fear of showing vulnerability, had driven you away, and now the thought of you out there somewhere, heartbroken and alone, tormented him. Sukuna cursed himself for his arrogance, for his failure to show you what you truly meant to him. He would tear the world apart to find you, and when he did, he would do everything in his power to make things right—if you would let him. For the first time, he understood that all the power and fear in the world meant nothing if they couldn’t bring you back to his side.

In the quiet of your new life, you tried to move on, to forget the cursed king who had broken your heart. But deep down, a part of you still longed for him, still wondered if he had ever truly cared. As you lived day by day, unaware of the chaos your absence had unleashed, the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the moment when Sukuna would finally find you.

Because when he did, nothing would ever be the same.

[fraugwinska]

Hello beautiful! Not only I just discovered your writing and binds read your entire master list … could I request a part 2 from the eye of the storm?

Maybe something like where the reader is worried about Alastor at night and she goes to comfort him. He asks her to tell him a story while she lays beside him but as he falls asleep he ends cuddling? Tysm and please take all the time you need💕💕💕

Your wishes are my command - I strayed a little from your idea, but I hope you'll like it nonetheless! It's angst and fluff, and a little sweet at the end! And of course, it leaves room for a possible (Spicy) Part 3? ;> Who knows?

This is the second part of a Mini-Series. Part 1: The Eye of the Storm is right over here.

Two weeks had passed since the night Alastor's nightmare almost tore the hotel apart. Your wounds, caused by the sharp claws of the demonic form of Alastor, had healed pretty well and were barely noticeable anymore, thanks to dutiful tending of Charlie and Niffty, except for the scar on your hip, still pink and sore. You didn't mind, though. It was a physical memento of a sacrifice made for someone you deeply cared about.

In fact, you had a hard time forgetting that night, because every time you looked at the scar, the image of the Radio Demon, hunched and sobbing on his bed, flashed through your head, and you felt your heart clench. He hadn't spoken much to you since then. He hadn't spoken much to anyone in the hotel, really. You tried to approach him, but he always seemed to find an excuse to get out of a conversation, or leave the room you entered. When you asked him if he was alright, he laughed it off and waved his hand, telling you it was not worth worrying about. You knew him enough by now to know it wasn't true. You also knew him enough to know that if you tried to push him, he'd retreat further.

So, you just observed him from a distance, the way his smile looked tired when he thought no one was looking, the way his laugh seemed hollow, his eyes dim and exhausted. Sometimes you'd catch him blankly staring at the wall or ceiling or a painting on the wall for minutes, before snapping back and continuing whatever task he was supposed to do.

"I'm worried about him, too."

Charlie was sitting beside you on the lounge set in the foyer, both of you nursing a cup of hot cocoa, while Alastor was preparing dinner in the kitchen, humming some melancholic tune that traveled through the closed door. "But I don't know how to help him. He doesn't seem like he's interested in opening up to me or the others, or talk about what happened. It's as if he's just... shut off."

You sighed, sipping from the drink. "Yeah. He's been getting slimmer too, and always looks so... tired."

Charlie nodded, and you exchanged a glance. "Is there any chance that... maybe he would open up to you? You seemed to have a connection to him more than we were ever able to have with him. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but I can't help but think he'd feel more comfortable around you."

"I tried, Charlie - he just... vanishes, before I can even finish a sentence... he avoids me. It's like he's running from me."

Charlie looked into the bottom of her mug, turning the now empty dish in her hands. "...Well, in times like this, we don't want the help. Especially if our pride is involved." she smiled warmly at you, her usual determination now back in her eyes. "But I know someone who would stop at nothing to help him."

Your footsteps sounded much louder in the silence of the night as you climbed the stairs up to Alastors suite. You glanced at the lights, remembering the green sheen and how the swirling shadows in the dimness had made your skin crawl. But the staircase was dipped in the usual golden light, nothing amiss, nothing scary. There was only a faint sound, almost like a static, hanging in the air. Alastors own wards and spell protecting his space, you were sure. Which left the possibility of him already knowing you were on your way. For a moment you hesitated - was it of use to go to him when he'd possibly already fled to evade you? A few nights ago you might've retreated. But after two weeks of watching your friend suffer, your determination prevailed, and you knocked, firmly and resolutely.

A second of silence. Then another one. You raised your hand to knock again when the door swung open - And Alastor stood before you, his grin in place, yet there was a sense of exhaustion seeping through his mask. He seemed taken off guard, obviously he wasn't expecting someone to come visit him late at night, so your prediction had been proven wrong. It was very rare to see the radio demon in anything else than his usual attire. But he was standing before you now, in a scandalously casual ensemble: A crimson robe over an open collared black pajama shirt showing some of his usually hidden, taupe fur, the silk tie loosely knotted at the waist, black matching trousers and without shoes.

"It's mighty late for a visit, dear." His voice held a sharpness and rough edge. But the tired, dull expression behind the grin was already crumbling when he gazed into your face.

"I wanted to see you. I'd noticed you weren't... doing so good after what happened."

He cast his glance everywhere but to you, avoiding your concerned stare. "I've told you before, your concern is absolutely unnecessary dear, I'm fi-" "Alastor, please." you interrupted, gently taking his wrist into your palm to halt his hand from waving his way out of the conversation. You looked at him, and he tried not to look at you, but slowly, oh so slowly, his gaze slipped back to your face, and his composure visibly started to crumble, his grip on his tactical expression slipping like sand through fingers. "I'm not here to judge you. Or to berate you. I'm worried."

He chuckled bitterly, closing the distance between you as his whole stance now seemed to curl. "Worrying is not necess-" "Probably." you shrugged, your hand sliding from his wrist to his cold fingers. "But friends worry, when they see the person they care about suffer." "Friends are a bother." his eyes flickered. "That's true. And yet they care."

He let his head bow forward, and suddenly he reminded you so much of that dark, trembling creature you found on his bed two weeks ago. You never thought the powerful Radio Demon would allow himself to appear like this in front of someone consciously. But maybe you weren't just someone... to him. The thought made your pulse flutter.

"I find myself unable..." Alastor started, his eyes staring at your intertwined hands. "...to find rest these days. I don't feel the need to sleep as frequently as your fellow residents, but... the incident, the dream, what happened - it seems it has rattled me more than I care to admit. What you did for me and what I did to you in return..." He chuckled, but it sounded much weaker, lacking his usually cheerful mockery as his free hand hovered over the side of your waist where the fresh scar sat under your clothes. "The thought of it being repeated feels unbearable."

"That's why I'm here." You squeezed his hand. "I've seen you at your worst and still came back, because I wanted to tell you that I'm neither weary nor scared. And that you don't have to bear this burden alone, Alastor. Please... let me help you."

The Radio Demon stood still, and for a moment you thought he'd retreat again, but then his shoulders relaxed, and the grin melted into a small, tired smile. His hand tightened on yours and he sighed. "Well then, come inside."

As you stepped into the familiar room, you noticed the difference immediately. The curtains were drawn, the lamps were on and the record player was playing quietly, a melancholic jazz piece filling the silence. Alastor had done his best to keep the memory of that night away by repairing the walls and furniture and replacing the shredded bedding and mattress of his bed with brand new ones. So new in fact, they looked like they were never touched.

"Please, take a seat." he gestured to one of the two wing chairs by his fireplace, now burning in warm oranges and scarlets rather than the eerie green you remembered, and as you settled down he joined you in the other opposite to you. The silence hung between you for a moment, neither of you really knowing what to say next. He was intently watching the flames dancing on the scorched wood, and you studied his profile, the soft, dark fur of his ears, his thin, elegant nose and the deep crease between his eyebrows. You had never seen him lower his guard this much. Well, that wasn't quite true - once, in this very room, although under much different circumstances. You could see his hand, resting on the arm of the chair, twitch as if it were fighting an impulse.

"It's funny, isn't it?" he started, his voice a bit too light. "I'm a powerful entity in hell, able to rip and tear and destroy. A feared, powerful, dangerous overlord. And yet I seem to be rendered helpless by my own mind. Laughable, really."

"I'm not laughing." you said quietly, and his head turned towards you, a raised eyebrow and a hint of amusement in his expression.

"Indeed you are not."

"And I think you are far from helpless." You continued, a small smile appearing on your face as you watched a little flame wind itself from a knothole, gaining volume and fizzing strongly. "I've never met a demon as strong-willed and determined as you, Alastor. I think the reason it has been affecting you so badly, is because you have power over everything else. But when it comes to the things happening inside your own head - when you are asleep - you aren't in control, and that can be terrifying."

His gaze was fixed on your face, the crimson of his irises shimmering and flickering. He looked... intrigued. And, something else. Something softer, that made your heartbeat a little faster.

"You are... a fascinating thing." he hummed, and his fingers started to drum on the armrest, his other hand fidgeting, still fighting that strange, hidden urge. "You seem to... calm me. With your mere presence, it feels... soothing. The thoughts of that night don't vanish, but they lose their grip. Like the tempest in me is being tamed." "Is that a bad thing?" you asked, a bit puzzled, and a bit amused.

"Yes and No." He answered, quickly and without hesitation. "I don't depend on others. It's unreliable. Too many factors are involved, and when you care about someone, it means you leave them with the ability to hurt you." His hand was tapping faster. "That sounds like a lonely existence." "Loneliness is the most reliable thing of them all. But..." he sighs and follows your gaze back to his fireplace. The small flame grew into a strong blaze, swishing and crackling loudly now. "...It is also the most draining. And I have to admit that I'm thoroughly exhausted, dearest."

"I'll stay with you tonight." You whispered, leaning forward and reaching out to take his restless hand. The motion surprised him, his eyes snapping back to you. "If you want to." He stared at your hand on his, the fire reflecting on his ruby eyes, and slowly, the twitching and drumming subsided, and his fingers curled around yours, a small squeeze.

"I believe I'd be glad for the company." he uttered.

For the next half an hour or so, you sat with Alastor in comfortable silence, both of your eyes on the flames and hands still intertwined as the jazz faded into blues, slow, melancholic and calm until the fire died down. Sometimes, his thumb drew little circles on the side of your hand, and you took it as an encouragement. His face was back to its tired state, though he didn't seem quite as guarded and withdrawn anymore. When there was nothing more than faintly glowing logs in the ember bed, you shifted your weight and gave his hand a careful tug. "Do you think it's time?"

He swallowed audibly and his eyes closed. "I suppose so." he smiled tightly, rising and pulling you up with him, and you both walked over to his gigantic bed, draped with fresh crimson sheets and matching duvets, untouched, spotless, pristine. He stopped before the side of the bed and for a few moments - he stared down, his grip on your hand almost painfully tight now. You tilted your head, giving him a reassuring smile.

"If you're uncomfortable about sharing the bed I can pull over one of the chairs, I don't mind..."

"Absolutely not." he turned his head, and you could see how flustered his expression was now. "Ah - I mean... no, dear, that's alright."

You left his side and rounded the bed, lifting the duvet without looking at him as you shuffled out of your slippers. If you were honest, you felt just as awkward as Alastor looked, not to mention nervous and anxious and a lot of other complicated things. But you'd be damned to show that now, and risk him retreating. So you settled in, slipping your legs under the heavy covers. They felt just as comfortable as they looked.

You noticed him hesitating on his side of the bed, unmoving, his hands halted at the knot of his robe. You adamantly looked away from him, overly interested in the obscure knick-knacks that were scattered in the cupboards on the opposite wall - it was clear he was struggling to shed his clothes in front of you, even if it was only an overcoat. You heard an airy, quiet chuckle and fabric rustling, felt the duvet lifting again and then a weight dipped the mattress next to you. You could feel Alastor shifting and settling, could hear the shallow, anxious breaths and were aware that his eyes were burning on the side of your head, and you realized that he, too, was doing a valiant job at keeping his composure. You leaned back into the pillows, then he snapped his fingers and there was silence. And darkness.

At the lack of light in your vision, your senses heightened and you took everything in much more intently. His body heat close, his breathing next to you, his faint scent of smoke and herbs surrounding you. How small the space between your bodies was, the last remaining inch a gaping ravine in your mind. The mattress dipped as his body turned, facing yours and now his eyes were right there, glimmering and deep red in the pitch black darkness, following your every movement as you shifted too. You felt your heart hammering loudly and you could almost hear the blood rushing through your body. And you knew Alastor could hear that. Hear your quickened breathing. Feel the warmth of you just as you felt his.

There was a tense, terrifying moment, stretched endlessly until your eyelids fluttered shut - you heard, as much as you felt, the bed dipping under his shifting body weight, and suddenly, the ravine was filled by him and he was all around you, pulling you in sort of a protective embrace as you were surrounded by his warmth. Your head fell against the base of his throat as he tucked your face into the crook of his neck, a shaky sigh leaving him as he wrapped his limbs around you. The sudden proximity caught you entirely off-guard - you knew Alastor had a deep aversion against close physical contact. The hand holding had been a huge success for you, a sign that his trust for you went beyond the ordinary. You had been fully prepared to honor a discreet distance between you and him as to not make him feel more uncomfortable, but to pull you so close like this, voluntarily at that, initiated by him, made you go rigid in nervousness at how to react to it. You could already feel him retreat, that awkwardness from before already flooding back between you as he felt your body stiffen.

"Aah... my apologies, dear, I didn't mean to get so..."

Your reaction was instant, almost instinctively, body already knowing what your mind still was figuring out. Your hands slid around his slender waist as you pulled yourself closer to him, since you believed actions spoke louder than words to soothe the conflict he was battling. One leg came to rest between his, you felt his hips brushing against yours, and your palm came to rest in between his shoulder blades and you buried your face into the warm fur of his throat, and all tension left him, as another, heavier, long-drawn sigh rumbled through him, and he curled his form back around your smaller frame.

"If I'll return to the dreams that caused such havoc..." he mumbled quietly, his tone unusually wavering. "Then I'll get you out again and help Niffty clean up the mess." "Silly girl, absolutely ridiculous." his breath tickled against your ear, but he sounded lighter already. More like his usual self.

His leg entangled between yours, the limb as muscular as his chest and shoulders had always hinted at. His hand was tracing shapes and unknown symbols onto your back, and you wondered if it was a form of spellcasting to keep you safe while sleeping. But whether it was, or just unconscious movements, the gesture alone was making your heart flutter. The fact that it was his very real, very physical, very touchable chest and hands that were pressed onto your barely clothed skin, providing the soft massaging, and the warm, comforting sensation of his body heat against your own - it was exhilarating and overwhelmingly, absurdly, beautifully intimate.

Friends.

You wondered if that word could describe you and the radio demon. There was something... so much more, at least in your head. So much deeper. He meant something different to you than the others, Vaggie, Charlie - something special. A deep emotional pull, an urge to always seek and - absurdly, knowing he was who he was - to protect, the need to understand. To care and to comfort and to feel his presence at your side. An inevitable, chaotic and maybe even borderline obsessive attraction you couldn't and didn't want to escape. It had already become evident to you, especially in these past two weeks, that you felt something deeper for the demon everyone in the hotel was so wary about. He was special to you, yes, an anchor in a world that could throw any horrible thing at you at any given time, a world that wasn't trustworthy nor consistent. But in a weird twist of fate, he was. To you, he was calmness, security, trust, consistency... happiness.

"...Alastor?" You murmured quietly into the darkness, feeling his cheek come to a rest on the side of your head.

"Yes?" he breathed back, voice laced with drowsiness. His hand kept its rhythmic circling motions on your back, and you realized there was a good chance for you both to drift into a blissfully undisturbed slumber like this, which would make waking up in each other's arms so much easier than the alternative.

"I... You're..." But as soon as you wanted to tell him, to say it out loud, words eluded you. Every sound, every combination of syllables suddenly seemed wrong, sounded stupid, like a horrendous mistake. Your heartbeat quickened and you felt a lump in your throat, your feeble courage battling with your cowardice as the idea of giving this whole idea up, putting those dangerous feelings aside and trying to suppress and pretend they never existed for the sake of preserving your one true friendship, fought back with everything it could muster.

It was such a terrifying leap. And wouldn't it be selfish? To burden him with your feelings, to most likely ruin the bond you had with him right now, which made both your lives better with a companionship so rare. Such an utterly idiotic, thoughtless move.

"Darling..."

You could feel a finger push your chin up and his lips were suddenly a hair's breadth from your own, his nose brushing yours and his warm breath ghosted over your skin. How easy would it be to close the gap now, fill that tiny remainder of space with your mouth and he would finally know what you were about to say. The mere thought made your stomach tingle and your breath tremble, you were aching for any form of confirmation that it would be okay, okay to have feelings for him. You'd accept anything he'd give you, even if it wasn't everything you yearned for - you'd take anything he was ready to offer.

"... isn't your principle that actions speak louder than words?"

A blink in the darkness. A gasp into the silence. And then he was finally closing the space between your faces.

Lips - soft and pliable, moving against yours. Tender, soft, firm pressure. A kiss that said everything words would never manage to convey. Your fingers clawed into the silky fabric of his shirt, your nose pressed against his jaw, tears brimming and stinging behind your eyes as you sighed deeply, relief crashing over you and bliss taking hold. It could've lasted for eternity and still would've ended too soon as he gently pulled away, leaving one more short, lingering touch to the corner of your lips.

"Now let's rest. We shall continue this discussion in the morning." he murmured tiredly as his hand resumed its massaging, this time brushing underneath the hem of your shirt as he settled back into his initial embrace. You laid in his arms for minutes with your heart still racing, but now you could hear and feel his too, drumming in his chest. Two rhythms, beating in wonderful, chaotic harmony.

"Sweet dreams." you managed to whisper, sleepily and content as his breathing flattened, his static quieted and his hands came to rest unmoving at the curve of your back.

And with a long, final sigh, the Radio Demon drifted into deep, calm, undisturbed sleep.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

We all need someone.

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x afab!reader

Words count: 3919

Rating: +18, NSFW

Warnings/Tags: flour is safe in this one (LOL), smut, fluff, angst, Joel POV, Joel's thought inserts in italics, no use of y/n, reader is described having hair, breast and vagina, no other detail is given on her appearance, Soft!Joel, Older!Joel, age gap (20 years, but the age of both is not specified so it could be 20/40 as well as 30/50 and so on 😉), swearing, kissing, dirty talk, unprotected p in v (do better than these two irl, please), breeding kink (I don’t even know why this happened but here we are LOL), cream pie, cum eating, mention of Sarah and Tess (they’re both gone, I’m sorry 💔), Joel thinks about his past relationship with Tess, mention of Ellie (of course she's alive and well but doesn't speak to Joel), a lot of mixed feelings, some of them sad and kinda depressing, pet names (honey, baby, kitten), they says I love you for the first time.

This has been sitting incomplete in my folds for quite some time, I finished it these days and I hope you understand something about how deeply I love Joel, nothing ever seems enough to describe how I feel. I will continue to try anyway.

English is not my first language, I have no beta and I hope there are no mistakes but if there are please forgive me.

As always, thanks if you will take the time to read this ❤️

Joel is old. He can’t deny that no more.

Life wasn’t gentle at all with him and he can see clearly all the signs of it on his face and body.

His mirror reflects the image of someone tired, overwhelmed, just too worn out to feel an inch of youth somewhere in him.

Grey in his hair and beard, pain in his joints, hands calloused and ruined by the cold, back that gives him nightmare, weak knees, wrinkles… his entire self is failing on him.

He doesn’t even understand how he got someone like you.

Beautiful. Sweet. A body that could make world turns and the most amazing face he ever saw.

You don’t see you that way, obviously.

You don’t notice how men in Jackson look at you.

And you don’t even care because you only see him.

He can’t believe how lucky he is.

The most angelic creature set her eyes on him, barely a shell of a man.

He drop his gaze from the bathroom mirror sighing and returns to bed.

Near you.

______________________________

The day he met you for the first time he immediately felt the need to keep you safe running wild in his veins.

You were like a deer in front of flashing lights, scared, bewildered, confused.

And he was there, his hands itching with the urge to touch you, warmth radiating in his chest, his cock twitching into his pants.

You looked like a painting despite your dirty clothes and your lack of shower.

But then again, how could you deal with such things in the middle of nowhere, alone and hungry while struggling to survive.

You deserve the prettiest things.

Whatever he could find during patrol he brought it home to you. Wild flowers that he found in the wood, dresses, one time a brooch left in a drawer in an abandoned house, another time a nice scarf to keep you warm.

Nothing could match your inner beauty and your grace but seeing your bright smile is what keeps him alive right now.

“You don’t need to do that, Joel”

Sure he needs to do it, you’re a vision and he’s just an old man.

He vouched for you.

They were skeptical, you could have been a thief or a rat for some larger group.

You refused to talk about your past, which was why everyone was suspicious.

Joel knew.

He saw pain and loss in your eyes despite your stoic demeanor.

The grumpy, loner, unfriendly man that has always struggled to open up to anyone promised to keep an eye on you in front of the whole community.

And that’s why you ended staying in his house.

He got plenty of space anyway so it didn’t bother him, that’s what he said.

You scratched that little wound in him, that little scar that he thought he was keeping under control.

No matter how tough you tried to be, he could see the fear in your eyes, he could read it clearly in your emaciated face, in your frown and the involuntary twitch of your lower lip.

We all need someone.

He failed to admit that he needed you too, at first.

His battered heart had been out of order, had been crushed to pulp for Sarah, had bled for Tess, had died when Ellie stopped speaking to him.

He tried to be distant and coldly polite like he was with everyone else but you were right there, reminding him that beauty still existed in a fucked up world.

And after all, his heart was still working. It had been kicked but it was still pumping blood through his veins.

The day after you entered his house he woke up to noises coming from the kitchen and thought for a moment that the others were not mistaken. He grunted as he got up thinking he would find his supplies raided and you gone. He almost didn’t have the courage to come and check on you but then he heard a loud metallic thud and ran into the kitchen.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you said as soon as he appeared in the doorway.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making breakfast… except I dropped a pan. Sorry.”

His gaze shifted to the table where he saw pancakes and hot coffee. “I thought you wanted some bacon, so I washed the pan to prepare it and it slipped out of my hands while I was soaping it up and the handle broke”

He breathed a sigh of relief as you looked at him guilty . “It's okay, I'll find another one and anyway maple syrup is fine”

Your eyes widened as if he had told you he owned a gold nugget.

“Do you have maple syrup?!” you squeaked and he laughed “sure”

You sat down at the table and you doused your pancakes in syrup. “Hey, take it easy, we don’t have supplies for an army.” he couldn't resist teasing you. Your gaze immediately dropped "oh shit, sorry, I should have thought about it but I don't know how long it's been since I last ate it“

He burst into the loudest laugh anyone had made him utter in months. “Don't worry, help yourself“.

_______________________________

You ended up in his bed during a freezing night, snow storm raging outside, the wind howling and banging against the shutters.

You knocked on his door timidly. Just once.

He was awake, wrapped in his sheets, under a duvet, eyes wide as he begged for a way to sleep.

“Who is it?” A stupid question, there were only the two of you in that house.

“It's me…I…I can't sleep” your voice was muffled by the closed door but it ringed in his ears anyway.

He sighed and replied “Come in”

“Sorry,” you said as you entered, “did I… wake you up?”

She came to me just because I’m right here in the same house.

“No, I can't sleep." and seeing your uncertain steps on the parquet floor he gently urged you "come on, sit here" and he patted the empty side of the bed.

She'll sit here for a while and then go back to her room, he lied to himself.

You sat down, wrapped in too-small pajamas that showed too much of your ankles and wrists, the best you could find in the pile of clothes stored in Jackson's warehouse.

The buttons struggled in the front to contain your breasts.

Lying like that, he could see the outline of your tit from a gap between one buttonhole and the other.

“Why can't you sleep? Is it the storm?” He shifted his gaze to the wall in front of him, focusing on a stupid painting of a horse that someone had hung there who knows when.

“Yes, and also…I keep thinking about a nightmare I had last night, I’m afraid to dream about it again”

That night you opened up to him, you told him about how your parents died, how you managed to escape with some friends and how in the end, you were the only one still alive.

You didn't even know how, at some point you had lost hope. You dragged yourself day by day, a walking dead waiting for the end. You thought you would die in less than a week and instead you had survived another two months before he found you.

__________________________

Joel wished he had the strength to send you back to your room, close his eyes and sleep, without getting involved but everything you had said to him continued to echo in his head. You were finally vulnerable, eyes shining with tears that you were holding back. He felt it again, the need to keep you safe.

He wanted to kiss you.

He reached out to touch your hand. “You’re cold”

You shook your head “No, I’m fine”

You were lovely.

I have to stop, he thought.

“Get under the duvet if you want”

“No really, Joel, thanks but there's no need.”

Why do you have such a sweet voice?

“I don’t want you to get sick.” He immediately regretted saying it, did he sound like his grandmother now? It was tragic. And his pathetic attempt to get you into his bed was even worse.

You laughed. Your silvery laughter pierced his chest, leaving him baffled and needy.

“You know we don’t get sick from the cold, right?”

You were amused and you were teasing him.

“I know,” he replied dryly, pouting. Inside, he was a mess. “However, exposing yourself to the cold contributes to lowering your immune defenses and viruses and bacteria can have a party at your expense”

You laughed even more “Okay, okay. God, when you say these things you sound just like-”

Not your father. Please, don’t say that I sound like someone that could be your parent.

Instinctively he covered your mouth with his hand and you jumped as his big paw suddenly landed on your mouth.

“Damn Joel! Your hands are too big to do that all of a sudden,” you said to him with wide, scared eyes and he felt horribly guilty. He hadn’t thought about it, his head wasn’t thinking anything, but surprising you like that could awaken traumas in you, who knows what cruel and desperate people you had met out there.

You held his hand tightly in yours after you pulled him away from your mouth. You needed two hands to hold it. You were so small. Yet you were capable to do it, you were tougher than you thought.

He quickly apologized and tried to pull it away but you were still holding it.

“It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it”

You were blossoming in front of him, a completely different person than the one he saved in the wood, newfound lightness in your eyes, your body finally relaxed as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, the discomfort you showed at the beginning had completely disappeared.

Stop it, she’s too young, she’s 20 years younger than you.

Then you did something he didn't expect. You brought his hand back to your mouth, leaving feather kisses on his calloused fingers.

“These hands make me feel safe, you know? I don’t want that to change. They are the hands that saved me.” you added in a whisper between kisses and there…Joel’s moral code collapsed.

All his good intentions swept away by your lips.

He shouldn't have, but his body was no longer responding to his brain.

He sat on the bed, slowly taking you in his arms.

In your eyes he saw his own need. He no longer cared what others would say, he only felt the unbearable desire to have you that was throbbing in his temples.

You kissed him first. While he was still looking for a way you simply placed your mouth on his and kidnapped him in an instant.

You were so soft against him.

Your lips trembled with uncontrollable desire against his, demanding and needy.

“Joel…” you breathed on his skin “save me. Save me again”

He couldn’t say no, even though he felt overwhelmed and exhausted and he should just find a way to stay away from you so he wouldn’t drag you into a relationship that was wrong.

Maybe it’s not, he thought. If it makes me feel this good and if she wants it so much, maybe it’s right.

Maybe that's why I found her.

When you grazed his lips he just opened it letting you in.

You moved feverishly, clasping your hands behind his neck, your tits rubbing against his chest and your tongue caressing the roof of his mouth and then seeking out his as if it were a matter of life or death.

That night Joel laid down his weapons. He was the one who was defenseless before you.

______________________________

“Hey” you coo in your little bird voice “where were you?”

“I was in the bathroom”

“Mmmmm come here, I'm cold” you wrap your leg around his waist and press yourself against his chest.

Six months have passed since the night he kissed you, what you wanted had become his priority, even if you didn't ask for anything. At least not anything material. Just to have him by your side.

He lies down on the bed on his side and you press your head to his chest “you're always so warm”

Your left leg is wrapped over his thigh, your body blends so well with his, it feels like you've always belonged there.

He could spend every day of his life like this, lying in bed with you in his arms.

You’re making out for what it feels like hours, your kisses going from chaste and tender to demanding and needy, getting sloppier and deeper.

Your hips grind against his, seeking friction, asking for attention.

The lack of oxygen is starting to have the better of Joel, his mind is fuzzy and all he can think about is you whining and panting in his mouth, filling up the quiet room with your labored breath.

Your voice is a litany echoing in his ears, a prayer made of sighs and moans “Joel, please”

“I'm here, sweetie, tell me what you want” he softly urges.

“I want…I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me until I’m boneless . Please” you plead

“Such a hungry little thing” he smiles before leaving a bite where your neck and shoulder joints met.

“I still have to wrap my head around the fact that you want this wrinkled old cock so much” he mumbles

Your voice is deep and husky as you continue to rock frantically on his leg and you slap him on the shoulder protesting “It’s not old. it’s thick and hot and perfect and my pussy needs it.”

He chuckles, surprised that you still have an attitude after all the grinding and making out.

“She wants it that bad, huh?” He whispers and you purr “yeah. She needs all of you, please”

“Oh baby, she’s weeping all over my leg, how can i resist” he smiles as he kisses you again sucking gently on your lower lip and then moving on your neck, licking over your pulse point.

He makes you lie down on the bed, gently crushing you with his body.

As he continues on his path paved with kisses and little bites he growls “Spread your legs for me, honey, let me feel you”

He lowers a hand, your soaked cotton panties sticky and messy under his touch. “Mmm how did she get so wet every single time”

“It’s because of you… she feels so empty right now”

“Damn, you’re so pretty when you’re begging for my old cock”

Your voice almost sounds like a cry, eagerness all over your face, your hands fisting his bed t-shirt so tight your knuckles are pale.

He’s intoxicated with the way you desperately demand to be full of him.

“Fuck me, Joel, fuck me hard”

Nothing exists anymore except your quivering body beneath him as he keeps hovering his fingers over your cunt and tasting your skin.

He doesn't even have the patience to take off your panties, he tears it, a large hole opens up on the front.

You whine loudly, a mixture of surprise and hunger.

He pulls down his boxers and let slide his cock over your clit wetting it, shivering at the sensation of your warm juices coating his shaft.

He usually licks you first, makes sure you have at least a couple of orgasms from his mouth before he enters you but he can’t wait. Not today.

He never really felt in control with you, he let you invade every cell of his body without even thinking about it.

Between him and Tess there was something left unsaid.

She had never asked him to feel what she felt, and he had no intention of bringing up the subject.

Tess was like him, bold because no one had to notice how deeply wounded she was, a woman of few words, she inspired respect and fear in others even more than he did.

They had bonded out of necessity and then discovered they were more similar than they thought.

He loved Tess but couldn't put it into words, he followed her around like a guard dog barking at anyone who threatened her.

It was the only way for him to show how much he cared, he couldn't make a relationship official when he was still trying to heal from losing Sarah.

When you stepped into his life he was even more hurt but he was still someone born to protect and the quiet coexistence with you had unleashed something in him that he couldn't oppose.

Before he could realize it, you were already beating hard in the center of his heart and it was as if the words were elbowing their way out of his chest.

He has to do it now, sink into you before it's too late, before time passes inexorably without leaving him anything to hold in his hands.

He puts the tip in.

Your glassy eyes are locked in his, overflowing with lust.

He slides another inch into you, your muscles clench around his cock and another moan escape your lips.

He has to hold on to all the willpower he has left not to shoot a load inside you right away.

He's slamming into you, trying to keep his mouth in check for once but yours is running wildly, he's never heard you like this.

“Holy fuck it’s so good just- fuck - just split me in two”

“God, baby, that dirty mouth of yours is going to drive me crazy”

“I can’t stop - nnnngh - the way you make me feel - fuck - it’s unreal”

When he reaches your soft spot you’re a bundle of whines “oh God oh fuck it feels so good”

He feels sweat beading on his forehead, his breath short, his strength faltering, it’s like fighting against his own body and it’s a fight he’s not willing to lose.

His lips latch onto your nipple, he tries to breathe deeply through his nose, so maybe you won't hear the rattle that crackles in his throat.

“Fuck. Yes, suck it, Joel. God, your mouth is so damn perfect” He doesn’t have a clue why you’re so wild today but he feels like drunk on you.

And he feels vulnerable, even with your nipple gently trapped between his teeth.

He sinks more, his balls slamming against your ass, so deep into you.

He hasn't shed a tear since he lost Sarah, he thought he had cried them all, but he looks at you like this now, disheveled, raw and longing beneath his body and he feels them stinging at the corners of his eyes for a totally different reason.

Happiness.

He is like snow, hard, cold, inhospitable and you are like the sun that melts him, inviting, comforting, warm.

His love for you is undeniable. Indisputable. It boils in his veins, it cracks his breath and makes his bones weaker. He never felt so much painful need of belonging to someone before in a romantic way.

His old body is aching but at the same time he feels like he has just gained a new sense of being alive in this wrecked world.

You're like a little beast writhing beneath him, clinging to his back, your nails scratching him and your mouth drinking from his skin, his neck, while your pussy sucks him in, taking everything he has.

Your hair is plastered to your forehead, scattered on the pillow beneath you, his hypnotized eyes don't miss a change in expression on your face transfigured by desire.

He has never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

His cock pulses inside you, wrapped in your hot, tight, dripping pussy. “God, you’re always so perfect for me,” he sighs. His chest grinds against you, his heartbeat now in his throat.

Your skin is salty, smells like the rose shower gel he brought you last week. He smelled it and your face came alive before his eyes as if you were there. Tommy had to shake him by the shoulder to try to wake him from the trance he had fallen into.

You're always too much for his old, broken heart.

“Come inside me, Joel,” you beg.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, dazed.

“YES. Please Joel, I want you to fill me up, I want to feel every drop of you, I want—fuck—I want your seed all the way inside my cunt, I want to feel it dripping on my skin”

You've never let him cum inside you before, he's marked your tits, your tummy, your back, once your face by mistake while you were milking him with your hand.

Never your cunt.

Your legs wrapped around his waist push him against you.

“Please, my pussy is yours only, yours only, feed her” your strangled sobs and your begging send him over the edge, he can’t hold back any longer.

Your clouded eyes are locked on his, sending shivers all over his body.

He does what you ask, exploding inside you in long spurts of sperm, painting your walls that tighten around his length as if they wanted to nestle him inside you forever.

His hand moves down to your clit, rubbing it frantically "come baby, come for me" and you cry out your orgasm almost instantly, your hips rolling against his, your breasts bouncing with your ragged breathing.

He pulls out of you and smiles, looking down, long white, slimy streaks sliding lazily out of you. You smile back, bringing a hand between your thighs.

You bring a finger to your mouth, as if you had never tasted it before, you spread it on your lower lip and then lick your finger clean “what does it taste like?” he asks without even thinking.

“Try it” you suggest offering your finger to him “lick”.

Joel sticks out his tongue uncertainly, darting it slightly, he pauses for a moment and then gives a more decisive lick “It’s salty. It tastes like…moss?” “Yes. It’s good” you tell him softly.

Good is not the word he would use but you seem convinced, so he doesn't comment further.

He takes you in his arms as you calm down, you bury your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

He kisses your hair, then your forehead and thinks that if you didn't exist he would have already given up everything, his entire life.

"Kitten" he drawl and you hum in response “Yes, Joel?”

The words had been jostling in his throat for a week but he'd kept pushing them back.

Having these feelings at his age, with everything he had been through, is terrifying.

Yet he could no longer lie to himself.

You crawled into his soul so easily.

He belongs to you. For all the days he has left. He wants nothing more from life.

“I love you”

It's the first time he's said it to you.

You look up, your doe eyes surprised and sparkling in the morning dawn that faintly enters through the window.

You are speechless for a moment, joy radiating across your face. Your mouth curves into the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.

“I love you too”

Your fingers tickle the nape of his neck and bury themselves in his hair as he kisses you.

“I love you, Joel” you repeat through the dance of your lips “I love you”

[arisveah]

thought about life series scott, and how infuriating yet so relatable his character can be (especially in relation to double life), and ended up using his and pearls relationship as a metaphor for chronic pain, which not even i know how happened. anyway its below the cut if you want 6 paragraphs of character study :)

life series scott is honestly such an intriguing and infuriating character. he is honorable, but in the same way he is petty and bitter. he pushes aside his wants and values for the better, more agreeable thing so much that he often ends up pushing the burden of emotional health onto his allies, and makes their choices for them. he's so parentified older sibling that becomes over controlling and emotionally repressed coded, yk?

in his never-ending attempts to do good, he saves the short term pain and leaves longer lasting scars and aftershocks. and scott does this a lot with his characters- think season 1 empires scott and his comparison to elsa. when something bad happens, he scrambles to take it on himself and inevitably creates rifts between himself and others in his plight to be a "hero". hes not evil, or even self centered- he cares so deeply about keeping his friends safe that he smothers them with jagged shards of glass, and when it hurts them he tries to deflect the blame. every person he sees is another he feels responsible for.

as a double life pearl apologist, it was kinda hard for me to see scott in a positive light. but if you think about it, all his decisions make sense for his character. in the last life finale, scotts final move is to kill ren as revenge for him killing pearl. they had been close the whole season, and scott lived to the end BECAUSE pearl was there for him to fall back on. for the first time on screen, scott relied on someone else- and then he saw her die and leave him alone. in the next season, its revealed that he will be tied to someone else again, and they'll need to share EVERYTHING if they want to win. and in this position, scott is most comfortable being the breadwinner. but it starts to seem like his soulmate doesn't need him, and he starts to panic, because the death of pearl (the last person who didnt need him) hit him hard and she might’ve lived if she wasnt giving him lives. he worries he will be a leech in their partnership, but he cant quite bring himself to terms with that. so when pearl and martyn step back into the overworld and take initiative on finding the soulmates at last, scott worries. he's never alone, never been alone, so he subconsciously goes to the closest source of non-painful comfort he can: cleo, his long(er)-dead ally from a previous life. he starts making allies, because scott is nothing if not diplomatic. and then he finds out that he is tied to pearl by life and death, again. that every time he dies, she will also lose a life, again. its a scathing reminder of the previous season, so scott pulls away. he cant do that to her, not again, and maybe if he pulls back she won't pity him when he fails to protect her. hell, maybe he wont even need to protect her.

but then pearl starts getting upset. and scott feels like he owes her, deep down, but he also feels like he's paying his debt and she just keeps hurting them, and he can't handle the blame from both sides anymore. he gets bitter, and decides that pearls death mustve been her own fault, that she's too emotional and that will get them BOTH killed- and he thinks of cleo and how much they need an ally and he cant just leave her- he needs to control the situation.

this whole post was inspired by the interaction during pearls video where hes digging at her tendency to hold grudges, and has her make the team diamond swords. it felt awful to watch, and kinda instilled a dread in me about how they are going to interact for the rest of the season. but i'm going to make a crazy analogy here so buckle up. as someone with chronic pain and joint issues in the american health/school system, the best metaphor i can come up with is when you go to a trusted adult for advisory, health interventions, or pain meds, but the system doesn't allow for them to help you. and its not their fault, but it starts to feel less and less like you should be saying thank you for trying and more like they just dont care. and you start to get bitter, and you start to pretend that you dont even care if they can or cant help you anymore, but you do. scott and pearls relationship feels a lot like putting your trust in someone for the first time, but they fall through by external means, and when they show back up you feel bitter and unwilling to let your walls back down. your fine, you can and have handled it alone your whole life. but everyone keeps offering to take responsibility and it just makes you sick that it took so long and now you dont even want their help.

basically, what im saying is pearl and scott could be besties again if they just talked over what they feel they owe eachother. but ALSO what im saying is yeah, life series scott kinda sucks- but he sucks because he tries so to be honorable that it circles back around to unfair and prejudiced. he just needs a bit of therapy and some anti anxiety meds <3 this somehow became a whole thing about disability and child neglect but like whatever

[written-in-flowers]

The one shot where you did Aegon having sex qith his pregnant wife, could be do a part where he's so hungover in the moring he's like 'do what ever you want' to his kids because they keep begging him for something. I like dad aegon

A/N: Prepare for chaos and (hopefully) hilarity...

***

Someone shoved his arm lightly. A dull ache clouded his mind the moment he started waking up. His body might as well have been weighed down by rocks. The light shoving and tapping continued, and he swatted it away weakly. His head throbbed at the temples and around his forehead; he thought it might split open if he opened his eyes. The faint scent of violets reached his nose, and he smiled. Your scent always remained on the pillows long after you'd left the bed. He could feel a hand continuing to shake him.

"Give me a few minutes, love," he grumbled, rolling onto his side. "Then we can go another round before the children wake up."

"Another round of what, Father?"

His eyes flew open. Inches from his face was one that looked like his own, except the eyes were your shade. Baelon stood already dressed in his green and black attire for the day. He wore a leather coat over his clothes, and a pair of leather riding gloves. 

"N-N-Nothing, Baelon," he groaned, laying on his back. "What are you doing here?"

"We're breaking fast with Mother in the hall," he said, "And then we're going to go flying."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Me and you!" he smiled, "You said yesterday you'd come riding with me and Endrys. Saera says she wants to come too, and Daella. Vaelen doesn't want to go, though. He says he's 'busy'," he rolled his eyes.

He rubbed his eyes with his palms. Yes, he'd forgotten his promise to Baelon yesterday afternoon. Baelon, one-and-ten, proved to be a strong dragonrider. His dragon, the emerald beast called Endrys, bonded with him within his egg, which the Dragonkeepers called ‘extremely rare’. Baelon loved the dragons. He read every book and scroll he could find about them; he visited the dragon pit every day to see them. He rode Endrys as long as possible. Aegon knew he'd give up his crown and join the Dragonkeepers in a heartbeat if given the choice. Opening his eyes, blinking despite how much it hurt, he saw the burn mark that crept from his son’s collar. The maester said the burn won't scar entirely, since the hatchling Baelon carried couldn't blow real fire yet, but he'd have a mark or two. Aegon guessed it'd be the first of many throughout his life. Petting his son's mane of silver hair, he smiled sleepily.

"We'll go riding soon," he said. "You run off and eat. You'll need your strength."

Baelon beamed at him, his smile reminded Aegon of yours, and rushed out of the room. He waited for the boy to leave before rolling to your side of the bed. You must've left a while ago, since he couldn't catch a wisp of your warmth. A small part of him hoped you’d be there for him again; he liked the idea of waking up in your arms, your wetness inches from his touch. Aegon took your pillow in his arms to inhale the scent you left behind. A blend of violet oil and natural musk filled his nose and exhaled deeply. He imagined you’d woken ages before him, most likely due to one of the children sneaking in to get you, and then set about dressing quietly. Due to his rough night, you’d naturally let him sleep in. 

For as long as the children let him. 

Without you, he had no reason to stay in bed. Aegon willed himself to sit up. The grogginess and his aching head made it hard for him to take in his surroundings for a moment. That was the last time he drank Dornish strongwine. He dragged himself out of bed, and searched around for clothes to wear. Seeing some already picked out, he guessed you'd ordered a maid to put them out for him. He saw his riding leathers placed alongside it: a long coat, boots, and gloves fit for riding Sunfyre. Aegon didn't care. He only cared about nursing his hangover. The first few minutes in his room went by in the blur. He didn't recall dressing himself until he left. He prepared himself for the storm he'd be walking into when he reached the dining hall.

"-Mother, Baelon keeps throwing bread at me!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Boys, boys, stop it," he heard you say. "Baelon, stop wasting your food and eat it. Vaelen, darling, just ignore him and finish your eggs."

"Raaawwwr!!"

"Saera, sit down and eat."

"I'm not Saera! I'm Rhaenys!"

"Well, Princess Rhaenys, please come sit and eat."

Aegon stood in the doorway watching them. Saera, her blond hair in a tangled braided mess, ran around the table holding up a wooden dragon puppet in flight. Baelon had stopped pelting Vaelen with bread and started stacking pieces of bacon into a square on his plate. Vaelen ate his breakfast quietly, reading a book propped up against a vase. You sat at the head of the table, talking to your eldest, Daella. You’d worn one of your looser gowns today to give your swollen belly room. Aegon smiled softly for a moment. This was them; his little family. It blew him away some mornings. He never considered himself the domesticated type before. He’d grown up a spoiled, selfish prince who liked gambling, wine, and women; the only person he loved was his sister-wife, you. But then one hot morning, you delivered a baby girl, who suddenly became his entire world. Everything spiraled from there.

"Morning, Husband," you smirked at him knowingly. "How did you sleep?"

Aegon walked forward, doing his best to stay upright and not slouch, "Like a babe." He plucked the wooden toy from Saera mid-run.

"Father!"

"Even dragonriders need to eat," he put her on the chair beside you and handed one of the maids the toy. "Including you," he told Baelon, as he handed him a fork and sat down, “Eat your bacon.” 

The maid served him brown ale, two sausages, bacon, three fried eggs, and a chunk of bread. He began eating when someone placed a small wooden cup beside him. Aegon turned to see Vaelen standing there, blond hair tied back from his face and sage look in his eyes. He picked up the cup to see a faintly green liquid that smelled thickly of grass. 

“Vaelen, what is this?”

“It’s tea,” he smiled, “It helps with overindulgence.”

“Who gave this to you?”

“Nobody. I made it this morning. Mother said you might feel sick, so I used Maester Bole’s special tea for overindulgence,” he said proudly. “Drink it. It’s good for you.”

Aegon highly doubted that. Vaelen, eight-years-old and the youngest of his four, enjoyed recreating medicines and teas he read about in old Citadel scrolls and books. Unfortunately, his family members ended up being the test subjects. Seeing his son’s expectant face, and seeing the laugh you tried hiding, he shrugged and knocked back to “tea”. Watery, it tasted sharply of pine needles and leaves, and he forced himself to hold back a gag. He’d drunk Maester Bole’s elixirs before, and it never tasted like this. Still, he swallowed and nodded. 

“Very good, son,” he coughed, patting the boy’s shoulder and giving him the cup, “I appreciate your concern. Go eat before your food gets cold.”

He waited until Vaelen left to return to his food. The greasy meal will drown the taste left in his mouth. 

“How was it?” you asked, smiling at him. 

“Delightful,” he replied sarcastically, “You should try it.”

“If only I could ‘overindulge’ as much as you do.”

“You can once he” he pointed to your belly, “Comes out.” 

“He? What makes you think it’s a ‘he’?” you bantered back. “Our next child could easily be a girl.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “It’s a boy, this time. I can feel it.”

“You can feel it? Ah, I didn’t realize you were the one carrying the child.”

“I can sense these things, Y/N,” he said, chewing on a sausage. “I can tell.” 

“I hope it’s a boy,” Baelon said, finally eating a piece of bacon. “I can have a little brother who’ll ride with me. He’ll have a big dragon like me, and we’ll go riding together all the time.”

“Or, he’ll hate dragons and want to read in the library with me,” Vaelen added. 

“I hope it’s a girl,” Daella smiled. “That way, during sewing circles, there will be someone whose stitches are as bad as mine.” 

A girl of one-and-three, she was a spitting image of you. Daella Targaryen, Aegon often boasted, was one of the most comely girls at court. Sadly for Aegon, thirteen is marrying age. He didn’t know any boy who’d want to marry a girl who can outshoot them on an archery range. 

“I don’t care whether it is a boy or girl,” you mused, nibbling on a piece of bread and honey, “Only that it comes.” 

He touched your hand again, seeing the sorrow flash across your eyes. Your last pregnancy didn’t go as you’d both hoped. Daella, old enough to understand, touched your other hand, which made you smile at her. Aegon went back to eating, listening to the conversation change, when he noticed a silver tray at the end of the table. On it, he saw several crushed up herbs, chopped plants, a mortar and pestle, and a glass of a clear liquid. One of Vaelen's experiments, no doubt. Aegon did not have the energy to say anything about experimental works on the table, and went back to eating.

But, nothing gets passed you. "Vaelen, what have we told you? No experiments on the table."

“It’s only my medicinal plants.”

“No experiments.”

Vaelen grumbled, picked up the tray, and put it on a chair. Aegon continued eating slowly, his head feeling heavier than rocks and pounding his temples. He listened to the buzz of his family around him. Aegon could rarely recall a time his own father broke fast with him and his siblings. King Viserys usually remained in his chambers, slowly rotting away due to leprosy and infections. When their family started growing, Aegon made it a point to eat every meal with his children; he’d talk to them about their day, their lessons, and their troubles and answer odd questions. So, despite his throbbing headache and fatigue, he sat with them. 

"What are you all planning for today?" You asked him, taking a sip from your cup.

"These three want to go riding," he nodded to Saera, Baelon, and Daella.

"Are you fit for riding today, love?" You rubbed his arm and gave it a small squeeze. “You had quite a night.”

"I’m always fit for riding,” he insisted. “Sunfyre hasn’t flown in a while. He’ll be eager to get up in the sky.” He looked over at you, “You and Vaelen should join us. Vaelen can ride Daemar, and you can see Moonfyre. The Dragonkeepers say she’s been weeping in her cave.”

“It’s not me she misses,” you noted. “They’ve been keeping her and Sunfyre apart since she had her eggs.” A small smile graced your face, “It seems the dragon has his rider’s appetite.” 

“Clearly.” He chewed at his bacon, then said, “Still, I’d like you and Vaelen to come…all of us together as a family.”

The look you both shared said much. Growing up, your family only attended formal events, celebrations and tourneys together; even then, you never truly bonded. Being the betrothed ones, you and Aegon often stuck together during events because everyone else’s company paled in comparison. Neither of you ever felt a sense of family, even if his mother demanded they uphold the image. The day Daella was born, he’d told you he wanted things to be different, and different they were. You took his free hand and kissed it, then he did the same to yours. 

“Father,” Daella called to him, “Can I bring my bow?"

"That’s fine, dove.” 

"Aegon," you narrowed your eyes at him for a moment. "What do you want to bring your bow for?" 

"I want to see if I can shoot from dragonback."

"You can't shoot from dragonback," Baelon scoffed. "You have to hold the reins!"

"Not if I'm strapped onto Starlight."

"You need to pull the reins to guide her, darling," you said to her. "You're not taking the bow. You'll fall off."

"But Mother!"

"No."

"Father, can I bring it? Please."

"Your mother said 'no'."

Daella sucked her teeth and stopped eating. Aegon can already see her mind working ways to smuggle her bow onto her dragon. Archery on dragonback can be extremely dangerous; only a truly experienced dragonrider could do it well. But Aegon knew it’d be pointless to say anything to her. If she tried, he'd stop her, but for now, he wanted to eat his hangover away. The family broke fast together until Baelon became impatient, and asked if he may go ahead without them.

"No," you told him as everyone stood together, "You go with your father or not at all. I don't want you running around the city alone. It's dangerous out there."

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, soaking up the breakfast drippings with his bread and washing it down. “We’re going now. I’ll have a wheelhouse prepared for you.” 

“I don’t want to go,” Vaelen protested, picking up his experiment, “I want to show Maester Bole my soothing salve!”

“You can show it to him later,” Aegon told him, ushering him towards the doors. “I’m not leaving you here so you can set your curtains on fire.”

“I only set them on fire that one time.”

“No fire.” 

Aegon knew once Vaelen saw Daemar, he’d change his tune. He looked over to see you slowly standing from your chair. He offered you his arm to walk while the children skipped along ahead of you. He ordered his Kingsguard knight, Ser Arryck, to get a carriage ready for the family to set out to the dragon pit. Watching his children all walk ahead of him, chatting about riding and their dragons, Aegon felt something he never felt growing up: Love. He tried so hard to be what his parents wanted, and whenever he acted out of line, they punished him for it. He vowed he’d never be like that with his own children. He’d never make them question whether he loved them, or make them feel less than who they were. 

“Is your head any better?” you asked him as you walked down the corridor. 

“It’s not as terrible as before, but it’ll pass.”

“Or maybe your son’s special tea actually worked this time.”

“I hope so,” he snorted. “It tasted terrible enough to make me forget about my head.”

You laughed together and walked out into the courtyard where stablehands brought out a large wheelhouse. Baelon and Vaelen began pushing one another to get into the wheelhouse first, while Daella scolded them from a distance. Aegon normally would pull them apart, but…he couldn’t find the energy. He watched his boys wrestle for a good minute before Baelon finally won and jumped into the carriage first. He’d enjoy his ‘good seat’ for another minute before Aegon comes to kick him out, and give the comfortable seat to you. When he managed to pile them all into the carriage, he took his seat beside you and the carriage began moving. Aegon looked around the comfortable wheelhouse, recognizing the dragons molded into the borders and the embroidered cushions you sat on. He took your hand in his again, smiling softly. 

“This was the carriage we rode away in on our wedding day,” he whispered in your ear. “You remember our wedding day, don’t you?”

You smiled widely, “I do…I also remember you couldn’t keep your hands off me the whole way home.”

“I didn’t keep my hands to myself even before the wedding. How could you expect me to contain myself when we were finally married and I had you alone?” 

“I didn’t expect you to,” you whispered back, “I was hoping you would.” 

Children all distracted, only one of them noticed you two whispering and the soft peck he gave you. “You were hoping Father did ‘what’, Mother?” Saera, who had ears like a bat, sat right beside you.

“I hoped your father would be a good husband and a good father,” you immediately lied. “So stop being nosey,” you pinched her nose softly, a playful tone in your voice. 

Daella stifled a giggle as she stared out the window, her cheeks a soft pink. She’d heard it all. He’d usually tell her not to listen in on conversations either, but…well, she’d be married soon. She'll be married and have her own children. He preferred not to think of that right now. 

He wanted to have his family for a little bit longer.

[ladyxskywalker]

In Exile, ch. iv

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

anakin opens himself up to the possibility of new love, trust, & honesty

part one | part two | part three

** this part contains soft smut, & implied moments of intimacy **

Falling

He held her for a long time by the mountain, completely lost in listening to the cascade of waterfalls from behind them... 

The water lightly crashing as he kissed her - a bit more patiently, taking his time calmly as they slotted their lips together in tandem with the very sound.

Anakin felt as though he could breathe again, after holding onto so much power for so long - so much pent up emotion. It was a sudden release that for some reason, he knew inside that he could handle a bit better now.

He’d been there before with Padme, going against all of his past values and principles in order just to give in to the deeply rooted love that he felt.

How could that ever be so wrong? To want a real connection with someone; to build a life together based on a foundation of trust.

I could be myself with her.

He could sense her worry in the closing space between them. Maybe she knew something intuitively based on him. The palms of her hands were still slightly shaken from the nervousness of it all - finding him there, hoping that he’d just see her and wouldn’t be upset about the simple act of looking for him…

But he wasn’t. He never was. If only she knew that he’d truly seen her all along. 

And that’s all they both ever really wanted - despite all of his hiding, Anakin just wanted someone to truly know him for the person that he was. Not for all of the bad things he’s done.

she would understand.

If I could just…

let go…

For a moment, she pulls apart from him, eyes full of curiosity, comfort, and care. Brushing the side of his face when his sight falls downward. His shoulders tense. Her hands, doing terribly at relaxing them. 

“If this is all too much we don’t have to…” she begins, taking a step back from everything, just in case he might have been having second thoughts.

“I like…kissing you.” He whispers, before moving closer again. Tracing her cheek almost delicately, which by now had been new for him. 

His touch moves around her face, then finding the back of her ear - settling with resting his palm at the back of her neck all so that he can show her that all of this was more than alright with him.

That, more importantly, she didn’t need to be afraid. 

Not of him.

And her response?

A beautiful smile against the safe haven of his mouth, as if to let him know that he didn’t need to be afraid of anyone either. 

Her head tilts into taking their kiss further, all while their hips follow the others’ into pressing. Everything feels so new, and wonderful. Like the world around them is empty - spinning. Dancing. 

And so, Anakin can’t help himself when he brings both hands up into cradling her jaw - only able to feel her skin with one of them, while the other transmits tiny sparks all throughout his nervous system. A strange, technological receptor that at times he forgets he has, and doesn’t even recognize so much.

But she can feel him there, that certain chill of metal that she seems to know so well now. He can tell she likes it from the way her feet stumble lovingly toward him, almost falling into his chest where he keeps her safest there. Her lovely features pebbling through the veil of clothes, where, in her affectionate imagination, she wishes for his to be gone also. 

Can he read her thoughts? Or, pick up on every mesmerizing emotion?

Their hands entangle, then untangle again - criss crossing before a more wild unwinding happens. He fumbles with his robes before they begin to slip away from his frame; falling - just like they both have, from their special place within the clouds.

There’s an overwhelming sense of courage held in the space between them - a second when Anakin takes a deep breath, as if expecting her not to want him like this, battle scars and all. The ones seen all across his skin, and beneath it. 

But doesn’t he realize that she’s already accepted him? 

In her heart; in her waiting arms?

“You’re so handsome…” she whispers, not realizing that she’s said the words aloud.

It makes him smile softly, when her hands begin her own kind of silent exploration. Enjoying the way his strong shoulders curve; how his breath hitches when the flat of her palms slide across his chest. Feeling as the air within her also starts to catch when he tugs on her clothings’ hems.

So, he takes it as a sign of stopping for a moment. To make sure that she wants this just as much as he does. That when she gives him a wordless nod of yes, even mouthing the word please to him, there’s nothing left to question now. 

Everything slips away, one thing at a time, left in a scattered trail along the river banks. Blades of grass, carrying the wind on either side of them; showing them the way towards tranquility and solace. A quiet place where there is sure to be no disturbances, and they could just be themselves.

“This is better…” he tells her, eyes lidded with a gentle anticipation. Finding peace in the moments where they both are and how they’ve ended up here together. Her thighs settling into a loving embrace on top of him; his kiss becoming more pressing and eager than before. Strong hands, palming adoringly all over her flesh, tweaking the sensitive parts that bud & pebble so beautifully into his mouth.

With a breathy moan, her hips roll against him where they have joined; wanting him - sensing what she’s done to him in the tightened space between, before leaning down to kiss him more. Fingertips, threading themselves throughout all the unruly waves of his hair. His eyes, staring up at her in welcome shades of blue, before getting more comfortable; slotting their limbs together again, and letting themselves go…

He clings to the back of her neck with one hand, while the cool feel of another grasps at her thighs, moving with her in a perfect rhythm that satisfies a certain need for both of them. A feeling that they are unable to fully express.

Is it a kind of loneliness that goes away eventually with healing and time…

Or a foundation of trust that happens suddenly, through touch, and the protection of ones’ hands?

It is almost as if they had wished for this; for the universe to put them in each others’ paths.

And now that they are both here, kissing one another in time with things more heavy and impassioned, they can't even begin to imagine things happening in real time.

That the only possible way this could have ever been, was if it had all happened inside a dream…

Her eyes, never once leaving his when her peak has been so amazingly reached, where all they can do now is rest - foreheads touching, and silhouettes glowing within a golden hour of light…

…

If Anakin could blame anything for his impromptu napping, it most definitely would have been the flowing sound of a nearby creek, or even the warmth of a passing Summer wind…

Yet, this time, there’d only been one reason for allowing himself to tire out and rest. 

It had been the loving presence of her head relaxing calmly on his chest, curling into his side where a protective arm of his wraps itself around her. 

He noticed how in between measured breaths, her body would jump lightly out of her sleep, or how her hands would wind themselves into small fists without even knowing. At that point, he would watch her, rubbing her back soothingly, before unwinding her hands out of their own kind of silent fighting.

There was more to her than he ever realized, finding himself wondering what she could possibly be dealing with all on her own inside her mind. That, he wasn’t alone in his emotions - that if he wanted now, he could most likely be honest with her if he absolutely had to.

I can’t lie to her…

I don’t want to.

Cradling her closer to him, she begins to stir, smiling against his bare skin; eyes gently opening where she’s found herself happy just to have woken up to him. 

“Hi…” she says, almost faintly, waiting for him to kiss her. 

And he does - the first, pressed to her forehead, helping her adjust to sitting up again. The next, coming soon after, a softened brush of lips passing over each of their mouths’ corners…

Then, Anakin pulls apart from her, eyes now the slightest bit more serious.

“If this…is what I think this is, us…you, me… then I need to tell you who I really am.”

A moment of pause passes, while she does her best to listen.

“What do you mean?” she asks, her head tilting, looking up at him.

“My name is Anakin.”

there it is…

please,

say something…

“Anakin…” 

She whispers to herself against a hopeful wave of quiet, wondering if her breath will hitch again…

Yet, somehow, this new name is spoken rather easily - she likes it very much now that she's been able to say it … 

And surprisingly, so does he.

… 💐

thanks so much for reading ! 💌 we’ve made it to the final part of this choose your own outcome story - I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I had fun writing ! thank you again for all the love on this mini series. I would love to know what you think. xoxo 

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

I Love You, But More Importantly, I Trust You (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers, Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Word Count: 2911 Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Bucky isn't sure what to give you that will adequately express how he really feels. Finally, he decides to give you the one piece of himself he's been hiding all this time... TW: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Past Trauma, Emotional & Physical Scars, Description of Past Injuries, Undressing, Kissing Note: Happy Valentine's Day!!! I thought our favorite traumatized soldier needed some loving today (even if it involves some emotional vulnerability first)

“Hey, Buck. Are you all ready for tonight?”

Bucky glanced up from the television screen, one eyebrow raised slightly, to stare at his best friend as he walked into the room followed closely by Sam. “What’s tonight?”

“Umm, Valentine’s Day?” Sam said. “Damn, I know you’ve been on ice for the last 70 or so of them, but wasn’t that a thing back in the 40’s?”

Steve chuckled. “It was but back then Bucky…well, let’s just say he didn’t usually keep the same girl around for more than a few dates.”

Sinking into the couch cushion, Bucky muttered, “Steve was the romantic one. I was young and cocky and just looking for a good time, not something serious.”

Sam plopped down on the arm of the couch. “You better not let your girlfriend hear you say that or Tony’ll have to build you a new right arm to match that shiny left one.”

“What I have with her is nothing like those girls in the past!” Bucky snapped, but then his tone softened as he stared down at his hands. “I…I love her.” 

He had first whispered those words to you a few months ago when he asked you to share his quarters in the Tower with him, but it was still strange saying them in front of his friends. Neither of you were big on public displays of affection or grand romantic gestures so Bucky doubted either Steve or Sam realized how deeply he truly cared about you. To them, this might just seem like another fling or someone to keep his bed warm, but in reality, nothing could be farther from the truth.

As if reading his mind, Steve placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. “Well, today’s the day you’re supposed to prove that to her. Why don’t you buy her some flowers, a box of chocolate, a stuffed animal or two, and then take her out for a nice dinner? That’s what most people do. Just show her a good time and then let her know what she means to you. She’ll love it.”

Bucky nodded though he wasn’t so sure. That stuff might be fine for most girls, but you weren’t most girls. Far from it. You were unlike anyone he had ever met before and while he did want to do something special to show you how he felt, he knew fancy food and generic trinkets weren’t the way. He would have to find something else, something you would value more than the crap they were selling at all the local stores. 

And as much as the idea terrified him, he thought he knew just the thing.

Dragging yourself into your quarters as soon as the Quinjet landed, you flopped back onto the bed and draped your arm across your eyes. You loved your job and couldn’t imagine being anything other than a SHIELD agent, but weeks like this left you considering an early retirement. Globetrotting and tracking down rogue agents on less than a few hours of sleep had been the dream a few years ago. However, as you got older–and now actually had someone waiting for you when you came home–that life was losing some of its appeal.

You had just started to slip into unconsciousness when you heard a shuffling come to a stop at the edge of the room. Without moving your arm from its place over your eyes, you mumbled, “Hey, baby. Sorry I didn’t come find you but you weren’t around when I came in so I thought you might be out. However–” you said with a tired chuckle “–it would seem as though we’re both home.”

“How was it?”

Noting a slight tension in Bucky’s voice, you began to answer his question. “Ugh, just the same old, same old. Fury is all over my ass about this latest intel. I told him I can’t do anything else until he gives me–” 

You fell silent as you raised your head and got your first glimpse of your boyfriend. He was wearing your ratty, faded pink bathrobe that was stretched taut across his muscular shoulders and arms. The bottoms of the robe hung open and loose–revealing a glimpse of his boxers underneath–but at the top across his bare chest, he clutched the robe closed securely as if his life depended on it. His teeth were clenched tightly, his long hair grazing his pronounced jawline as it fell over his face. And even though his eyes were partially obscured and he was avoiding your gaze, it was impossible not to recognize the fear within them.

Sitting up, you softly asked, “Hey, Buck… what’s going on?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he muttered bluntly as if that explained everything. 

Quietly, you cursed to yourself. You had never given a damn about Valentine’s Day, even as a little kid in school when you were supposed to pass out the cheap cards all the parents bought for everyone in class. And now as an adult, things haven't changed. In fact, until he mentioned it, the significance of the day had completely slipped your mind. But even now that you had been reminded, it didn’t explain why Bucky was wearing your robe.

“I guess it is. Did we…did we have plans? I can’t for the life of me remember us talking about it but you know how I tend to lose track of everything while I’m gone on a mission. I could–Well, it’s kind of late to get a reservation, but we could try to order in?” 

Bucky didn’t respond. Instead, he just continued to stand in the bedroom doorway, the knuckles on his right hand starting to turn white with how tightly he was clutching the sides of the robe shut. 

Afraid he might be having some sort of flashback and unsure of what to do, you slid to the edge of the bed until your feet rested on the floor. “Bucky? Baby, did something happen? Why are you wearing that?”

Taking a long, deep breath, Bucky muttered, “Steve and Sam said on Valentine’s Day people are supposed to give each other flowers and chocolates and crappy stuffed animals to show how much they care about each other. I started to go to the store to get you those things, but thinking about it, nothing felt right. I’m sure you would act like you loved it, but we both know you don’t care about that kind of shit. Plus, none of that would show you how I really feel about you. So, instead, I decided to give you me…All of me.”

As his grip on the robe slowly started to loosen, you inhaled sharply as it hit you what he was planning. Jumping from the bed, you crossed the room in three long strides and placed your hands over his, stopping the robe from falling open. “No, Buck, you don’t have to do that. I mean, it’s incredible that you thought to offer, but I don’t want you doing anything you’re not comfortable with just because of the date on the calendar.”

For the first time since you came home, Bucky lifted his head to look you straight in the eye. Fear still radiated from him–causing his blue eyes to seem even brighter than usual–but beyond that was a steely determination that you had only seen in the heat of battle. Gently, he removed your hands from his as he said in a strong, clear voice, “I want to. I love you, doll. And more importantly, I trust you.”

Tears began to blur your vision but you quickly blinked them away. Some people might have been slightly annoyed to hear him put trust over love, but you knew that to Bucky, trust was the most important thing in the world. He had been used, lied to, and betrayed so many times that he hadn’t been sure he could ever fully trust someone again.

He had told you as much just before the two of you had slept together for the first time. However, that night had just seemed like a one-time hook-up after an intense mission so as long as he gave you what you needed, you couldn’t give a fuck whether he trusted you or not. But when one time turned into two which turned into three which eventually turned into feelings developing on both sides, it became more of an issue. And while you knew at this point he trusted you more than almost anyone else, there was still one part of himself he hid from you. 

No one but a select few SHIELD doctors had ever seen the place where Bucky’s shoulder met his metal arm. In the locker rooms before missions, he would disappear into the bathroom stall to change into his uniform. He would join everyone at the pool or the beach but refused to go in the water or get wet enough to cause his shirt to cling tightly to his body. And when the two of you were alone and got intimate, he always left his shirt or jacket on the entire time. 

The only few times he had made an exception to this was after he bought a set of triple-layer blackout curtains for the bedroom, and even then it was a rare occurrence he would strip down completely. When he did, out of respect for him, you tried your best not to let your fingers brush against his shoulder in the darkness, but it had occasionally happened. Even without being able to see it, the feeling of the tough ridge of scar tissue abruptly shifting into cold, smooth metal painted enough of a mental image for you to have a vague idea of what it must be like. 

And you understood why he wanted to keep it hidden from view.

But now Bucky was standing before you in the middle of a fully lit room prepared to bare all. All he had to do was drop the robe.

Taking a step back, you nodded. “If this is what you want—if you think you’re ready to show me— then I’m ready. But, baby, don’t do this unless you are positive you’re not going to regret it.”

The smallest flicker of a smile flashed across Bucky’s face as his fingers tightened around the edges of the robe. “I told you…I trust you.”

And he let your robe drop to the floor.

It took everything in you not to react or burst into tears as you gazed at where his scarred, raised flesh melded into shiny metal. The way the arm was fused into his mangled skin made your stomach churn and bile burn in the back of your throat. But it wasn’t its appearance that made you on the edge of breaking down. No. It was the thought of how much pain and torture HYDRA had put Bucky through to do this. How these visible scars were just the beginning of the damage they inflicted on him and how even though he had broken free of their control, there were just as many scars left behind that you couldn’t see as there were on display before you right now.

Bucky’s eyes were laser-focused on your face, seemingly scanning it for any clue as to what you were thinking. Stepping closer to him once more, you wet your lips before asking, “Can… Can I touch it?” 

He nodded slightly but just before your fingers brushed against the metal, you drew your fingers back. “It won’t hurt you, will it?”

“Sometimes it still hurts,” he admitted, “but not when it’s touched. There’s just some leftover nerve damage that flares up from time to time. Hurts like hell, but even that’s nothing compared to how it was at first.”

He had never mentioned still having pain, but even more than that, he had never talked about the transition period from Bucky Barnes into the Winter Soldier, at least not to you. There was a file somewhere that contained all the information SHIELD had collected on him from various HYDRA bases they had raided as well as a SHIELD interview that had been conducted when Bucky first joined, but out of respect for Bucky, you had never sought it out. 

“You remember that? Wha–what they did to you?”

“I remember every second of it.” The venom in Bucky’s words caught you momentarily off guard, but you understood it wasn’t you that hatred was directed at. “They might have wiped most of my conscious memory, but the process never erased the pain. They didn’t want it to. It was left as a reminder of what they could do and as a promise of what would happen again if I didn’t follow their orders.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Looking at his shoulder again, your own rage bubbled in your chest. “All those bastards who did this to you better be glad they’re dead because if I ever got my hands on them–”

Bucky chuckled softly. “If I remember correctly, you did get your hands on a few of them.”

“Yeah, but that was before I knew what they had done to you. If I had, I would have made them regret every scar and mark they left on your body.” 

But as disgusted as you were at what HYDRA had made Bucky endure, you knew your hatred wasn’t what he needed right now. So, placing one hand on the side of his face, you turned your thoughts to the gift he had given you instead. “But, hey, I know I can’t fix what they did. However, I hope you know seeing this doesn’t change how I feel about you. If anything, it makes me love you more.”

Taking his metal hand, you gently placed a kiss on his cold fingertips. Then you placed another on his knuckles. Then the back of his hand. Then his wrist. 

Slowly, you moved up his arm, peppering soft, feather-like kisses along the way. You knew despite its hard, steely appearance, the vibranium prosthetic was sensitive enough to detect the slightest changes in temperature or the lightest of pressures. And judging by the way Bucky’s eyes flickered closed as he leaned his head back with a peaceful sigh, he could feel each and every one of your kisses. 

You had done this many times before, especially on those nights he was wrestling with his past or consumed with feelings of guilt and remorse. It was always the same: you started at his fingertips and continued until you reached the red star on his shoulder. Each kiss was to remind him you loved him—all of him. 

However, this time, after you kissed the star, you didn’t stop. Bucky’s eyes flew open and his body went rigid as you placed a kiss on the top of his shoulder…one on the silver metal covering his chest…one on the place where skin and metal met. 

You could feel him shaking slightly and you peered up through your lashes to make sure he was still alright. When he caught you staring, he gave you the smallest of nods. With this reassurance, you placed another kiss on his scars and another. You moved diligently from the top of his shoulder down to the very bottom of the metal plating. Once there, you worked your way back up the same path. When you reached the top of his shoulder, you began moving up his neck and then across his jaw.

You only stopped when your lips were hovering a breath above his. Tears were glistening in both of your eyes as you whispered, “I know you thought this would change things or make me feel different about you, and it has.” Bucky’s face crumpled slightly and he tried to pull away, but you held his face firmly in your hand. As you smiled, you continued, “I thought I loved you this morning. But seeing how much I mean to you, how much you truly trust me…I’ve never loved anyone or felt as loved by them as I do right now. This is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you, baby.”

You leaned forward slightly, pressing your lips against his as you tried to put all of your love and gratitude into the kiss so he knew what he meant to you. For just a second, he froze. But then Bucky melted into you as you felt the last of his walls crumble around you. He was standing before you as raw and as vulnerable as a person could be, it was the most breathtaking thing you had ever experienced.

Without breaking the kiss, you took his cold, hard hand in your warm, soft one and blindly began leading him to the bed. Once there, you turned so his back was to the mattress and you pressed forward, forcing him down onto his back. 

Finally breaking the kiss, you climbed onto the bed too, straddling his waist as you placed your hand over the damaged part of his arm he had shared with you. Rolling your hips slightly against his, you purred, “It’s still Valentine’s Day and though I don’t have anything half as special as the gift you gave me, I plan on spending the rest of the night showing you how much I love you.”

In one fluid motion, you removed your shirt and tossed it behind you where it landed on top of the discarded robe. 

Taglist:  @tavners, @sunshineflowerchild789, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @merlehs, @princessmisery666, @ohtobeleah, @musings-of-a-rose, @blue-aconite

[rogueabs]

Under the Gun - Abby Anderson x Reader

Are you living for love? When the road gets too tough, is your love strong enough?

-under the gun by The Sisters of Mercy

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

SUMMARY: You’ve been running from your reality, you had to leave your home in Oregon, it couldn't get worse after all, you had lost it all. Arriving in Seattle you hear yelling and grunting from afar, when you see a muscular blonde woman being beaten and dragged you freeze, you wouldn't be able to rescue her. Stealthy you follow the people with a scar on their face, a feature that relates them to another to what it seemed like their camp, you hide waiting for the moment to take the blonde girl from the rope restraining her up in the air incapacitating her.

You and Abby’s story begins when she saw the end of hers.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut (further along you perverts!) angst, desciptions of weapons and violence.

next chapter

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Chapter 1: What if it was you

Growing up in Oregon was a gift and a curse, the peace that came with it also brought loneliness. Growing up you only had your mother by your side, your father passed away before you were born trying to protect your family farm from the undead creatures that roamed earth alongside surviving humans. It was you and your mom, against the world as it was always proclaimed by the both of you. She was THE wonder woman in the flesh, raising you, teaching you how to survive and how to take care and keep the farm alive.

When you were nineteen she passed away peacefully when you went on a hunting trip on your own. You found a letter she left and you carried it with you in your leather jacket pocket.

She had been sick for a while, never telling you of the symptoms, you always saw her complain about pain and went on scavenges trying find medicine to take it away but you never thought you would find your mothers lifeless corpse, she didn’t want you to kill her like she had done to the love of her life.

“Your dad and I got engaged on the infamous space needle in Seattle, my wish was to take you there for your birthday but this illness took me way too soon. I never wanted you to see me fade. One day I hope you can see how beautiful the view is from there;”

So you packed your backpack angrily, never wanting to see that house again after burying your mother it would never be a home again. 

With tears in your eyes you grabbed the old notebook your mom got you in a scavenge six years ago, you remember it like it was yesterday, it was her way of giving me privacy and I cherished every word I’ve ever written on it all these years.

"Dear diary, it's weird picking you up, it's been a while since i’ve talked with you. We are grown and alone, I've never been so afraid.

I remembered the old pick-up truck that belonged to the neighbours that once lived by our side, I have no memories of them, only that they were kind according to mom. I’ve been running like a mad woman trying to get gasoline for the last 2 days. It's a quick ride to Seattle. I just really need something good to happen to me."

When you finally got enough gasoline you swear you could believe in god for finally having your prayers answered. Walking back to the fields you knew like the back of your hand, you searched your neighbours house for a tool box, you needed a screwdriver badly. 

“Finally!” you yelled so loudly and regretted it, hoping nothing heard you.

“Okay” you said to yourself “How do I hotwire this fucking car…” rubbing your hands on your head you tried to recall how your mom did it flawlessly for you, how if it went to go sideways she would be the one getting shocked, protecting you was her greatest accomplishment and you lived by loving and caring for someone that deeply.

Shoving the screwdriver in the ignition system and moving it around, you manifest it working since this car was older than you and your mother too probably, a couple minutes of turning it and jiggling it around you heard the motor start.

Beating your legs using them like a drum, you cried of happiness, you could finally escape, a fresh start.

The farthest you could drive too was still far from your destination, you spent one week on foot, you could barely remember what sleep was like when you heard a commotion, it was gunshots.

 Instinctively you held your gun in the palm of your hand, you had to be sure that if needed it was on its holster ready to protect yourself no matter what it took. Scoping far from the building you understood it was one person who did the job, it made you curious of what may have happened, and whatever it was, you didn’t want to get on their bad side. 

Getting closer to the building, being careful not to draw attention to yourself you saw a muscular blonde woman starting to leave the building, sliding on the dirt ramp when out of nowhere someone with an enormous sledgehammer got on top of her. You were panicking deciding if you should or not get closer, to rescue her but you saw her handle herself biting the woman's ear but in a blink of an eye, two men came closer and someone knocked the blonde woman out.

Whoever they were, they started dragging the unconscious girl and you couldn't bear the sight of it. This wasn’t part of the plan but you needed to help her, something inside of you told you to do it, it could have been you.

You were light on your feet, stealth was your best friend and the people in the long jackets didn’t hear or see you, but from afar you noticed it all. Wherever they were bringing her too was bad, it made you sick, were they cannibals? Was it a cult? The only thing that made them related to another was the scars they had on all their faces.

They tied with rough ropes the ankles and wrists of the woman they called “wolf”, it was soothing due to her frame, they dragged her to a place where people were gutted and hung by their neck, you had to save her. 

The people with scars tied the rope on her neck and pulled her up, you got ready to aim and shoot the woman that was pointing a knife to her abdomen when suddenly a young woman was brought to the camp violently. 

The woman that was prepared to kill the blonde woman flipped instantly at the tumult created by two strong men grabbing the girl.

From what you could gather the girl was named Yara, and the sight was too violent, you had never experienced such cruel humans in your life. One of the men that was holding her down obeyed the orders of the woman who told them to “clip her wings”, they ended up smashing her arm with a hammer.

It was now or never and you decided to make your moves to help the woman down, arrows were shot out of nowhere, taking one of the men out and Yara took out the other with the same hammer that was being used violently on her. Quickly you started making your way to get behind the blonde woman to get her down. She was able to catch the tall woman who threatened her before who now was confused at the attack, the blonde trapped her with her strong legs, starting to choke her out but you showed up and stabbed her with a screwdriver in the neck, letting her choke on her blood falling to her death.

Taking the blonde woman out of her restraints you gave her a hand helping her down.

 A young boy came in desperately running towards the Yara girl who now had her arm broken and all you could feel was anger at what she had been put through, hearing them talk you were able to pick up that the boy's name was Lev and you heard her say that “Demons are coming.” Whatever that meant, it sounded like it was going to be hell on earth.

Gazing back at the blonde woman, she rubbed her neck trying to regain her breath and thoughts into place, getting her stability back she grabbed the hammer the girl had thrown across.

“Watch your backs,” the woman said.

You grabbed the gun out of your holster getting yourself ready in position, you were all gonna leave this place alive, even if it meant dying for the safety of these strangers.

It was a bloodbath fighting against all the clickers and runners that came across your escape out of the woods. You and the woman realised the kids were with us, helping us leave even if they were related to the people with scars in their faces and that made you filled with hope in escaping to safety.

After running and crouching underneath a fence, you believed you had left the thrill of the rush to a temporary safe haven in this mess and introduced yourself to the woman. 

“I know this isn't good timing but I’m (Y/N)” giving your hand for the woman to shake.

Shaking your hand the woman said “I’m Abby.”

In the blink of an eye the woman you had seen before, the one with the sledgehammer that knocked the woman down prior to this was attacking the kids, Abby got up instantly to fight without any weapons. You fumbled with your hands trying to search for more ammo to shoot her down but Abby got around just fine with her bare fists, the last thing you recall is hearing her question the tall woman if she was wearing her backpack and before you could recollect your thoughts on what you were witnessing, Abby had smashed the skull of the scared woman with the sledgehammer.

You made your way down trying to open the rusted auto-shop door and heard Abby talk to Lev and Yara but you couldn't hear it over the door you were trying to pry open.

“Through here c’mon” You said to the people you were stuck with for the moment.

When everyone got inside you let go of the door, you were searching your backpack for your flashlight when you felt someone’s presence getting closer.

“(Y/N)? Is that right? Abby asked.

“It is.”  you confirmed looking at her eyes, even if you never crossed her path again after this, you wanted to remember the strange womans features.

“Thanks for you know, helping me down. Do you need anything, anything at all?” She asked with her blue eyes never breaking your gaze.

“Don’t thank me Abby, I’m sure you would’ve done the same.” You replied wiping your sweat away from your forehead, “Right now I just need us to get out of this shit hole.”

Abby respectfully nodded and left you to search while moving  towards the struggling kids who were trying to pry  open a door. You desperately needed ammo so you wouldn't rely on your screwdriver as your weapon of choice but this was odd, you wouldn't admit it to yourself or out loud that the only thing stealing your attention from a completely focused supply search like you had done millions of times was Abby's piercing blue eyes that were stuck in your mind, what had you gotten yourself into.

[dinarosie]

Hey there,

I just wanted to say I appreciate what you have been writing about Snape and the leveled approach you have towards his character. It’s given many different perspectives I haven’t considered, and thank you for the care you have taken in writing out your points. I look forward to reading more :).

I wanted to add some thoughts to the convo. I think he is, and has always been difficult to appreciate for people because of his more reprehensible behavior and his more frequent appearance/impact on the plot of the story. His poor qualities are more present and readily accessible— while also being limited to the narrative perspective of the story giving glimpses of him. It’s an uncanny valley of incomplete presence.

Personally, I find it sad when his character isn’t considered humanely because his incredibly flawed nature makes him one of the most realistic characters in the series (imo)— and even as a kid I appreciated that. His bitterness and shortcomings in the way he would react to certain situations is something we can all be guilty of through out our lives, no one’s a saint, but he still tried to correct the error how he was capable of doing so with where he was in his life. That messy journey to doing better or correcting a wrong is real. Being a hot mess while you try to do it over time is real. I think the reality of how awful our behavior and flawed our choices can be, in various stages of life and in times of good intentions, is uncomfortable to recognize. As a result, it’s easier to aggrandize his entire character to awful rather than be confronted with how we have very much faulted and erred through out our lives— at times egregiously— and be able to appreciate the journey to redemption and betterment, no matter how messy.

That may be off base, but wanted to share.

Again. Thank you so much for sharing all of your thoughts. 💕

🐦‍⬛

Thank you so much for your thoughtful message! 💖

It’s incredibly rewarding to hear that the effort I put into exploring Snape’s character resonates and brings new perspectives to the table. I really appreciate that you took the time to reflect on his complexity in such a nuanced way.

Your points remind me of Laurie Kim’s analysis of Snape, which perfectly captures why his character has such a lasting impact. She describes Snape as “painfully human,” noting how he is neither purely good nor purely evil but rather someone who navigates life’s challenges with a mix of failures and successes. In her book Snape: A Definitive Reading, she writes, “Snape’s journey is compelling precisely because it is so raw and imperfect. He stumbles, holds grudges, and carries deep scars—yet ultimately strives to overcome his worst qualities. His story shows that redemption isn’t a clean process; it’s messy, uncomfortable, and incomplete.” This nuanced view really resonates with why many fans, myself included, find him relatable despite (and even because of) his flaws.

Thank you again for sharing your thoughts! It’s these kinds of reflections that make discussing Snape’s character so meaningful, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to explore it more deeply.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Always There - Chapter Three: S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, mentions of death and murder, mentions of Azkaban, shittyly written angst, mutual pining, Wormtail, Remus is kinda a dick but redeems himself

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

I am starting a taglist so leave either a comment or something in my asks if you would like to be tagged in any of my works or just this series!

Author's Note: Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 2968

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

gif not mine

To say that Y/N was deeply hurt by her nephew was putting it nicely. It was quickly approaching Christmas, the Potters usually opting to stay at Hogwarts, this year that was still the case, however the aunt and nephew were not on speaking terms. During the holiday, Y/N spent her day in her room, laid up in bed staring into the fire crackling inside the room. She hadn’t even left the room for breakfast, or lunch and now it was close to dinner.

She heard a knock on the door but ignored it, knowing it was probably Severus or Minerva trying to get her to eat again, the two had been switching off checking on her since her argument with Harry. She knew that they were just trying to help but she couldn’t be bothered. The knocking came again, Y/N opening the door with the wave of her hand. She hadn’t turned to look at whoever it was, she didn’t even say a word. Too much was running through her mind, she always tried to run from her thoughts but sometimes she just couldn’t help it.

“Darling, I brought you something to eat. And someone would like to talk to you if you’re up to it,” Severus spoke gently. She still hadn’t acknowledged the man nor the other visitor that joined him. “I don’t think she’s up to it. Maybe another day.” Instead of hearing footsteps leaving, she heard footsteps getting closer, stopping at the edge of her bed. Remus’ scarred face came into view as he sat on the floor next to her bed. 

“C’mon dove, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.” Remus was met with no answer, it was like she was in a catatonic state. She wasn’t reacting to anything, everyone was getting so worried that they were about to get madam Pomphrey. “You really think James would want you to act like this?! No, he would want you to talk some sense into Harry! He would want you to get off your ass and do something about it!” Remus was yelling at her at this point.

“Don’t yell at her like that!” Severus snapped at him. 

“Don’t you dare talk about James like that ever again! Don’t tell me how to parent Harry, you lost that privilege when you left!” Y/N screamed at him, shooting up in her bed so she was sitting up. Remus had a smirk on his face, he knew just how to break her when she needed to be broken.

“My work here is done, see you later Snivellus,” Remus said before getting up to leave the room. However, the door slammed shut when he opened it. He turned to see Y/N standing up and stalking her way towards him.

“Don’t you dare talk to him like that ever again or I swear to Merlin your furry little problem will seem miniscule,” Her voice was threatening as was her stance. 

“Okay now dove, relax. It was harmless.”

“I don’t care, I hear that cruel name come out of your mouth ever again, it will be that last thing you ever say.” Severus’ face felt hot, his heart picking up speed, nobody had ever defended him so fiercely in his entire life.

“Let’s go take a walk to calm down a bit, darling. You haven’t been out of bed in a couple days,’ Severus chimed in, it was his attempt to diffuse the situation which seemed to work because she backed away, finding her robe and a pair of slippers and putting them on. Remus had taken this opportunity to leave the room, the pair being left alone like they enjoyed being. The two professors were the kinds of people that tended to like being alone, however, when the two were together they were happy as could be, they enjoyed each other’s company.

Severus escorted her out of her room and led her to the gardens. The air outside was cold but welcoming, snow coating the ground, snowflakes falling sporadically around them. Severus had wanted to know what was going on in her mind so he asked, Y/N answering him truthfully. “The whole thing with Harry was kind of a kickstarter to it. The holidays make it worse though, I know James was a complete ass to you but he was my brother. He was my best friend and it still hurts a lot to not have him around during the holidays, y’know? Christmas was the best time of year for my family when we were kids, everyone would be at the house, Sirius, Peter, Remus, mum and dad would be home and me and James would have a blast. Getting into the firewhiskey and playing stupid muggle games. I miss it,” She rambled.

“You are allowed to miss your brother, you knew the best parts of him whereas I knew the worst parts of him. I want you to know that you can come talk to me whenever, don’t let these things pile up to the point where you don’t get out of bed. I care about you Y/N, quite a lot so I want you to talk to me when you need me, when you just want to say something that comes to your mind, come to me,” Severus replied, his voice had changed, it was almost softer when he was speaking to her. It was almost like if he spoke too loud or too harsh, she would break.

“Did the coldest professor of Hogwarts just admit he cared about me? Who are you and what have you done to my Severus?” She joked, his heart skipping a beat when she said ‘my Severus’. Merlin, did he want to be hers and her his. She took note of the silence and the hint of red on his cheeks, a smirk coming to her face, “Did I just make you blush? Severus Snape can blush?”

“You’re a pest, you know that?”

“Only to you, but that doesn’t answer my question, Severus. Don’t avoid it.”

“No, it’s from the cold, are you happy with that?” Severus asked her, he knew that she knew he was lying. She could read the man like a book but she decided to let it go. The two of them continued their walk, Y/N shivering slightly when a particularly bitter gust of wind blew through them. Without even thinking, Severus took off his cloak and put it around her shoulders. Her heart picking up speed at the action, now it was her turn for her face to get hot.

“Won’t you be cold?” She asked him, concerned, about to take off the cloak. Severus placed his hand on her shoulder stopping her movements, her heart skipping a beat once again at the slightest touch.

“Don’t worry about me darling. I’m okay,” He smiled at her, his heart was warm with the care and concern she showed for him. She was one of the most selfless people he had ever interacted with. As they walked, the pair seemed to get closer and closer together, talking about anything and everything, their hands brushing often, their feet moving in sync. Before their hands could smack into each other again, Severus took her hand in his, gripping her hand firmly but not too tight, she could easily pull her hand away if she wanted. However that was the last thing she wanted to do, instead she squeezed his hand and gripped it just as firmly, much to his enjoyment. 

As they made their way back inside in a comfortable silence, Y/N heard squeaking by her feet, so she looked down. It was Scabbers, Ron Weasley’s pet rat. She stopped in her tracks to avoid stepping on the old rat, bending down and picking him up in her free hand. She got a closer look at the rat and almost dropped him in realization. “Oh my Godric! Peter Pettigrew! Severus, it’s Peter! His animagus was a rat and he looked exactly like this when he transformed!” She exclaimed, holding the rat close to her body no matter how much he wiggled and tried to get free. 

“Are you sure? He’s supposed to be dead and this looks like Weasley’s rat,” Severus replied, trying to talk her off a ledge even though she wasn’t on one. She was sure, 100% sure it was Peter. She gave Severus a look before dragging him to the headmaster’s office, knowing he’d be there. Once they had made it into his office, she presented Dumbledore with the rat.

“Why are you giving me a rat Y/N?” He asked the Potter woman in confusion.

“It’s Peter Pettigrew! Severus, get some veritaserum, please. I need answers,” She replied, her voice filled with desperation. Severus gave Albus a look telling him to go along with it before getting a vial of the truth serum.Although Severus had complete trust in Y/N, she had been through a lot as of late so he was a little unsure, however when, the woman pulled out her wand and gave it a wave at the rat who quickly turned into a man, he was shocked. Him and Dumbledore had a look of surprise on their faces, the potion master’s quickly turning into pride because Y/N stuck to her gut and trusted her instinct.

“Y/N, little Potter, dove, how are you?” Peter rambled as Dumbledore sent an urgent notice to the Minister of Magic. Peter was put into a chair, hands and feet tied to the chair so he couldn’t flee. Remus bursted into the office with the Minister in tow.

“Give him the serum Severus, we have some questions that are needing answers,” Dumbledore spoke. The black haired man walked toward the former rat and forced some of the serum into his mouth and down his throat. They asked a few baseline questions, asking his name, where he had been for the past 12 years.

“Who was the secret keeper for my brother and Lily?” Y/N demanded.

“It was me. Sirius was never secret keeper, James thought it would be too obvious.”

“You sold them out! You were the one who got James and Lily killed! I’m gonna fucking kill you!” She screamed at the man, a pair of arms grabbing her and pulling her away from him.

“Calm down, love, please. We need to get your answers, right? You need to keep calm so you get them,” Severus told her gently, her lips brushing her ear as he spoke, the action making her shiver slightly. She listened to his gentle breathing which acted as a soothing agent to her, keeping her as calm as she could although her heart was racing and being weighed heavy with guilt and betrayal. She felt guilty because for all of these years, she had believed that Sirius had sold out James and Lily when it was really Peter, who was right in front of her for the last three years. She felt betrayed because she had trusted Peter and believed the man to be dead but it turned out that she was wrong about that one. 

“Did Sirius kill those muggles?” Remus asked him.

“No, that was me. I framed him,” Peter admitted. With his answers, the minister deemed Peter Pettigrew a criminal with the sentencing of a dementor’s kiss. He was set to get the kiss in three days' time, for the wait he was to be  put into Azkaban. 

She felt dizzy, as if she couldn’t keep herself on her feet once she saw Peter get taken away, Remus and Albus following behind. The slytherin noticed this and grabbed her at the waist before she could fall. “Love, stay awake, open your eyes, come on,” She heard his voice but he sounded like he was underwater. She looked up at Severus, panicked.

“What’s happening to me? Sev, I’m scared,” She whimpered, Severus's heart breaking at the sound.

“It’s okay love, you’ll be okay. I’ll take you to Poppy, she’ll make you better.” After hearing his voice, she succumbed to the darkness, falling limp in his arms, causing the professor to panic. He picked her up and rushed to the hospital wing, he knew she would be okay. She would be okay.

****

Y/N hadn’t woken up until the day before New Year’s Eve, she was unconscious for 5 days. Severus, Harry, and Remus refused to leave her side. Severus had a serious chat with the Potter boy about the way he had treated his aunt as they were waiting for the herbalist to wake up.

“I hope you realize the amount of stress your aunt was under and the distress this childish argument caused her. She cares about you quite a lot Potter, you are the most important person in her life and you hurt her quite deeply. When she wakes, I expect you to fix it, if you don’t you’ll have to deal with me,” Severus explained to the boy he got to watch grow up.

“Yes uncle Sev. I’m sorry,” Harry replied rather guiltily.

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to. And it’s professor Snape when we are on school grounds. Only uncle Sev outside of school.” Harry just nodded and returned to his aunt’s side.

Whilst she was out, they had found Sirius Black and deemed him a free man. Double checking when he agreed to take truth serum in front of a courtroom before he was actually set free. He had yet to visit Y/N, Harry and Remus, unsure of how the two would feel about him after being away from them for 12 years.

When Y/N began stirring, the three wizards got excited, all of them straightening their posture and watching her intently, waiting to see her eyes open. When they finally did, Harry practically threw himself onto his aunt, apologizing profusely, refusing to let go of her. “My boy, I forgive you. You felt betrayed, I understand that. I should’ve told you about Siri to begin with instead of hiding it,” Y/N explained tiredly. She gave her nephew a kiss on the cheek before he sat back on his chair and gave his uncles a chance to say hello to her. Remus was next. “Moony, I’m sorry for acting like such a bitch. You’re still my brother, you always will be.”

“Don’t you dare apologize dove, I deserved it. I left and it wasn’t fair to you, you lost James, Lily, Sirius and me within a few days. I shouldn’t have left and I’m so sorry I didn’t realize it sooner,” Remus explained. She opened her arms wanting a hug from the man which he gladly gave her. Once the two friends released each other, it was time for Severus. Remus and Harry decided to give them a little bit of privacy, leaving the room but peeking into the hospital wing to spy on them. Severus using the muffliato spell he had created so the two couldn’t hear what they were talking about.

“Sev, are you okay? I bet that was a lot for you to witness, huh?” She asked the long haired man.

“I should be asking you that, love. How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” He asked.

“I just need you, can you lay with me so we can talk?” Instead of verbally answering, he did as she asked, laying himself down next to her on the small bed. Because the bed was so small, she had turned on her side, scooting herself closer to him until she could lay her head on his chest, his arm closest to her holding her body close against his side, his fingers tracing absent-minded shapes on her back.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Severus said, “You gave me quite a scare.”

“I’m sorry, I honestly don’t know how it happened, did Poppy say why I passed out?”

“She said your body was too tired and malnourished to handle that amount of stress so once your adrenaline wore off, you collapsed.” She hummed in response, nuzzling her head into his chest a little more, listening to his heartbeat, it was soothing her and putting her back to sleep. “Still tired love?”

“When did you make that switch?” She questioned out of the blue.

“What switch are you talking about?”

“The switch from darling to love. When did that start?”

“I don’t know, I hadn’t even noticed. Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I quite like it. Now I need a new thing to call you. Maybe handsome? No, how about honey? I like that one, what do you think honey?” She thought out loud. As soon as the term passed her lips, his heart sped up which made her smile at the sound. “Sounds like you like that one,” She teased although her heart, too, sped up when he called her love or if he looked at her a certain way. Instead of him replying to her teasing, he tilted her head up by grasping her chin gently and guiding her to look at him. The two of them hadn’t noticed but they were leaning closer together. As soon as their lips touched, all thoughts and ailments felt like they had melted away. They were just focused on each other, how their lips felt together after pining after one another for so long.

They got interrupted by a black dog jumping onto the bed, growling at Severus and showing its teeth to intimidate him. Because the two were startled apart, Y/N didn’t get a good look at the dog until her heart had stopped racing and the blissful feeling started to fade. She looked into the eyes of the dog before realizing who it was.

“Sirius Orion Black.”

taglist

@acupnoodle @chxelsxaa @fluffyrat365 @fanficwriter5

[sweetmage]

Panam feels kinda BPD coded to me and I mean this in the most loving/appreciative way possible. A good, caring person who loves deeply, is terrified of abandonment, and processes difficult emotions through anger and avoidance. She has been hurt and let down and it's deeply scarred her but she finds a way for let V in and make ammends with her family despite all this and I just think it's lovely.

I see so often people saying she is a fake friend, selfish, stuck up, etc. because she's hot headed and impulsive. God forbid she doesn't have the perfect, player-coddling reaction to everything and instead acts like a real, complex human would.

I think she's a lovely and caring friend and incredibly well-written. Yes, even in the Tower ending where I firmly believe she would come around considering that's what her entire in game character arc is all about, she just needs time! And yes, even in the suicide ending where she so clearly is torn up about it and is channeling her grief into misdirected anger. This is someone who would take a call at 3am and drive out to Night City and put her life on the line to save V's.

Her bouts of anger/avoidance and the pain she feels at perceived abandonment don't change that fact or make her a fake friend. She has one of my favorite video game friendships ever because of how supportive, caring, and intimate she is when it comes to V even though getting close scares her.

Hate to see her repeatedly written off as a bitch because people didn't even try to understand her, her themes, or her story.

[justthinkinboutbooks]

The development of Elriel (so far)

This is my (rather long) breakdown of what I believe to be the timeline of their relationship so far. I don't believe they love each other at this point in the books, but I definitely think they're on that path, and this is how we got there:

ACOMAF

This is when they first meet, but there are no romantic feelings between them.

During this book, Elain is in love and engaged and Azriel is still very much in love with Mor. However, when they meet, it is clear that they feel comfortable around each other.

Feyre points out that she thinks Elain would cling to Azriel for peace and quiet if she came to Velaris. That gives us the image of them together but, again, there are no romantically coded interactions between them.

At the end of the book, Elain is turned and learns that her mate is Lucien.

ACOWAR

This is where things start to get interesting.

In this book, Elain is still in love with Graysen and Azriel is still in love with Mor, but we start to see a shift as they spend time together.

From Azriel's perspective, I think he finds it easy to be around her, and finds her presence comforting, which is why he takes her out to the garden not once, but twice. He takes notice of her when others are writing her off as crazy and discovers what, specifically, has been plaguing her since she was turned fae. Not even Nesta really made that effort.

Not to mention, she calls his scars beautiful, which is something he is deeply insecure about.

He grows to care for her, but not yet romantically, as evidenced by his continued feelings for Mor. He probably didn't consider it given his feelings, her struggles, her mating bond, and her engagement.

But then he was the first to think of her when something mysterious went through the war camp. He was the first to volunteer to get her out, and he didn't want to let her go even when he was injured.

I think the rescue is when he first starts to realize that he cares for Elain more than normal. In fact, he cared for her enough that when the final battle came, he gave her Truth-Teller, something he never let another person touch before. Not even Mor, the person he's loved for 500 years.

From Elain's perspective, she's never been lower. She's lost her whole future she was excited for, she lost her mortality, and now she's seeing things others can't and is doing her best to communicate it but people aren't understanding her.

Then, someone listens. Someone figures it out. The very person who had taken her out to the garden and was content to sit quietly with her. The very person who had made her feel comfortable the first time the big scary fae came into her home when she was still human.

He pulled her out of that murky realm because he listened to her. Because he saw her when even her mate couldn't.

Of course, Elain still held out hope that she could marry Graysen. She wasn't about to jump into a relationship with anyone else. She wasn't interested.

But then he rejected her and she was clearly upset about it. While she was wallowing in her tent, the Cauldron kidnaps her and takes her right into the middle of the enemy's camp, which must have been horrifically terrifying. When she was chained and gagged and waiting for her captors to decide what to do with her, her rescuers arrive, and the first face she saw was the very same one that rescued her from her own mind.

"You came for me."

After helping her twice, she is now not only comfortable around him, but trusts him completely. So when he offers her his knife, she takes it, trusting what he offers her more than Cassian.

Then, of course, she was actually able to use TT, but that doesn't really affect the development of their relationship, so I'm gonna ignore it for now.

ACOFAS

This is where it starts to pick up.

Coming into this book, we now know that Elain and Azriel care for each other, but it's too early for either of them to jump into a relationship.

Elain is still mourning her relationship with Graysen.

Azriel still clearly has some residual feelings for Mor. There are some longing glances at her, a blush on his cheeks when she gives him a shitty present. But it's important to note that this is the last time we see that from him. We never see it again after the headache powder.

The other moments between Elain and Az in this book are great. The potatoes, his approaching her to wish her a happy solstice, they show us that these two characters have some budding feelings for each other, but the headache powder is by far the most significant moment because it changes everything.

Not only did it make him laugh in a way that took Feyre completely by surprise, but after centuries of receiving the most half-assed, mediocre gifts from the woman he loved, someone came along (someone who he already had some feelings for) and gave him a personal gift. A gift to show that she saw him, that she cared for him.

And then the two of them stayed up to the middle of the night talking about gardening. Azriel engages with Elain's interests and is trying to see her the way she clearly saw him.

ACOSF

We get less time with the two of them in this book, but that makes sense given that Nesta needed space from her sisters to heal.

But this is the book where it's pointed out to us through Cassian's POV that Az no longer seemed interested in Mor.

We see Az and Elain share a shy smile across the dinner table.

We see Az following the sound of Elain's laughter and "something charged" between them.

We see Nesta understand why Az keeps a distance at Solstice and she gives us "his secret to tell never hers"

All of this is meant to show us that they have feelings for each other. I don't believe it is yet love, but there is something there. Their feelings for others no longer seem to be an issue, the issue now is the mating bond. Which leads me to...

The bonus chapter

This BC is the final confirmation of Elain and Azriel's feelings.

They exchange thoughtful gifts, they nearly share a kiss, and they clearly have a mutual sexual attraction as well.

I'm sorry but you cannot tell me it's only lust on Az's part because of the headache powder, the thing that he's kept next to his bed and started at for a year.

He's not the type of person to lose so much sleep over being horny. It's been made clear to us on numerous occasions that he has no problem getting laid.

He wouldn't be willing to fight and possibly kill someone just for sex, either.

In the same way that the Nessian bonus chapter showed us that the barrier for their relationship was Nesta herself, I believe Az's bonus chapter is meant to show us that his barrier for a relationship with Elain would be the mating bond.

And that's it, really! That's how I think Elriel has developed throughout the books. Their development hasn't been loud and in your face because that's not who they are as people. They are quiet and keep their feelings to themselves, and that's reflected in how their romance has started.

[galaxiasgreen]

🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 10.3k words]

You made him smile that day, and you made him laugh. Though you were strange and he didn't always understand you, he did trust you, and care for you, even when you tried to hide your pain from the world. Just as he knew you'd do the same for him.

In which, after his best friend steals away a Dark relic, Ominis and you try to stop him one last time.

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, pure-blood culture, canon rewrite, book!canon compliant, He Comforts You when You're Sad, Valentine’s, the Feldcroft goblin invasion quest, Solomon's Murder.

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4. Cursed

In the depths of the Feldcroft Catacombs, you held him for a long time.

He didn't realise how deeply he had been scarred by the experience, of his friend slowly and surely falling prey to the Dark Arts. Day by day, a petal would fall, plucked from Sebastian's stem until there was nothing left but the withered head.

And Ominis had let it happen, helpless.

Your touch was making it more bearable though, and now that his dam had broken, he felt freer, lighter than he had in weeks. There was something about the way you held him that offered the gift of peace – now, so long into your friendship, your hugs were legendary, known to bring comfort and serenity to any lucky enough to find themselves in your arms.

Your love language was always touch. He, by way of nature, or perhaps upbringing, was not the same – ironic, for someone who interacted frequently with the world by its physical feel.

Yet here he was, moored in the closeness of you.

The first time you hugged him properly, he wasn't expecting it. In third year, when spring was lolling across the Highlands and the sun was hinting at a warmer reprieve, he'd made it to Charms class early only to find you standing at the window opposite the door, sniffling.

"What's the matter?" he asked, heading over to you, combing through all that he'd done the day before.

"I've been really stupid," you said in an injured voice.

"What else is new?"

That got a sad laugh from you.

"I broke my wand."

He sighed. "How in Merlin's name did you manage that?"

"I must've whacked it off my bedside table when I was asleep. Then this morning I stepped on it..."

You pressed the two halves to his palms. Your strange wand, as strange as you were, bisected into two wooden pieces. No magic hummed beneath his fingers anymore – in typical you way, you'd well and truly destroyed it by total accident.

"Am I going to get expelled?" you asked timidly.

"Wizards break wands all the time," he said gently, handing the pieces back to you. "Remember Anne disarmed Sebastian last year, and his wand snapped when it hit the wall?"

"I remember. But..."

"But?"

You hesitated. "It's nothing. I guess I am being stupid."

And though Professor Ronen gave you a pass in Charms, you were melancholic for the rest of the day.

When the weekend came, Ominis, you, Sebastian, Anne, and your Hufflepuff best friend Adelaide Oakes piled into one carriage together bound for Hogsmeade. Sebastian and Anne did most of the talking, arguing about something menial, the properties of bat spleen, with Adelaide's occasional input, who was joining to buy new parchment.

You, on the other hand, were strangely quiet, disconcerting him for the entire ride over. Quiet contemplation was his job. On you, it was a cloak that did not fit.

When they alighted at the Hogsmeade entrance, Adelaide squeezed your arm. "Remember, I have the teashop booked for midday! I'll go get my parchment and quills and meet you in the square in an hour. Don't be late, okay?"

"Okay," you said, wooden.

"That... will give you plenty of time to peruse Honeydukes, won't it?" she said, frowning.

"Yes," you said, brighter now, but Ominis detected a whiff of a lie. "Yes, you're right."

"I have to get more Flobberworm mucus and Dittany stem," said Sebastian, when Adelaide left. "Which one of you will join me?"

"And miss Gibby getting a new wand?" said Anne. "As if."

"Come on, please?" he begged. "I hate the Magic Neep. It's so far away, and the bloke who runs it will blow my ears off when he discovers I donated my Mallowsweet stash to Garreth's latest experiments."

Anne shoved her brother. "Better work on your apologies now."

"Ominis? Best friend?"

"Nice try," said Ominis coolly.

Sebastian blew a raspberry. "Capeflappers, you lot are. I hope all your pillows are warm on both sides tonight."

He must've made a rude gesture as Anne swore when he hightailed away, and you headed to Ollivanders.

He liked the cute ring of the bell when the door opened, and the floorboards creaked when they stepped inside. It reminded him of the first time he'd stepped into the shop in Diagon Alley, frightened but fascinated. The place was strongly scented of wood and polish, and he loved it instantly.

Gerbold came around to the front. "Ah, good morning, you three. It's nice to see familiar faces. How can I help you?"

Ominis and Anne waited for you to say the words: I need a new wand. Instead, you opened your bag.

"Can you fix wands?"

Ominis' brow knitted together. Why would you want it fixed, when a new one was better? You knew wands could not be mended once broken.

"Ah." Gerbold's voice was sad, but he inspected the parts nonetheless. "Cosmetic issues and little damages, yes, but I'm afraid a repair of this scale would require most powerful magic, magic that I'm unfortunately not capable of." The halves clacked together as he returned them to you. "I can, however, get you a new wand."

"How..." you shuffled, "how much is it?"

"Seven Galleons, as always."

"Right."

But you seemed unsteady, reserved.

Strange.

"She'll have a new wand," said Anne, nudging your arm. "You're going to need one for class."

"Yes," you said, but disappointment ribboned through you. "Yes, please."

"Very well. Your old wand was a fun, quirky design," he noted. "Eight inches, unicorn hair core, dogwood. Your new wand will be different. It will see you have matured, and your needs matured with it. Bear with me. I will find you some wands I think might fit you."

When he went around the back, Anne stepped closer to whisper. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter."

"I'm blind, Gibby," said Ominis, "and even I can see something is the matter."

"Everything's fine," you insisted.

He didn't believe you, and had a feeling Anne didn't either. Gerbold returned with boxes rattling, opening them each, letting you swing them. The first erupted in sparks, crackling like fireworks above – he ducked under the counter with you until Gerbold dispersed them. The second turned Anne's robes into feathers, and the third caused a dust cloud to smack his face.

"Sorry!" you squeaked when he choked.

Nothing a spell from Gerbold couldn't clean. It wasn't until your sixth wand that the pairing happened, causing a warmth on Ominis' skin, and a delighted clap from Anne.

"An excellent choice," said Gerbold graciously. "Rowan wood, dragon heartstring, ten inches. This wand, I sense, will protect you when you need it most."

"Dragon heartstring?"

"A powerful core. I'm sure both Miss Sallow and Mr Gaunt could tell you about it."

His entire family had dragon heartstring core wands – all from the same dragon. He didn't know what to think now that you were the same.

"Is it... bad? That I don't have a unicorn hair core anymore?"

"Not at all. The wand chooses the witch. It will match you, body and spirit. I think you'll find much to enjoy of your new wand."

Still, you didn't seem particularly thrilled. As Gerbold tidied the other wands away, Ominis sensed your gloom like bad weather, preparing to downpour.

"It's a lovely wand," said Anne, and it was clear by her high inflection that she was troubled by your mood as well. "Take care of it, will you?"

"I— I'll be less much less clumsy with it. I will."

There was a strange sort of determination in you.

"May I feel it?" Ominis asked.

You gave it to him, and he smiled once he curled his fingers around it. It wasn't unlike your old one – longer, of course, but also engraved with swirling designs, the shaft a unique undulation, albeit not as crooked as before.

"It... has a handle," he said at last. "I trust you know which way to hold this one?"

But you said nothing when he gave it back. Instead, you packed the box away and tucked your new wand into your pocket, then went to the counter to pay.

"Seven Galleons..." you mumbled.

He presumed you were simply counting – three years and your grasp on wizard currency wasn't great. Perhaps you were mixing them up with shillings. Anne inhaled a shaky gasp as you paid, but said nothing even when they were outside.

"So, to Honeydukes?" he asked.

"I— I think it's too late," you said. "I have to meet Adelaide at the teashop, remember?"

His brow furrowed. "It's not yet midday. You have half an hour—"

"No," you said. "I'm not going today. I'll see you both back at school, all right?"

And you hurried away without another word.

"Not going?" Ominis turned to Anne. "All right, what's wrong with her?"

"You couldn't tell?" She blew from her nose. "Sorry, I guess you couldn't see her facial expressions. It was pretty obvious to me once she paid. I think she had to choose between the wand and sweets. She doesn't have enough money for both."

It stunned him to silence, and he turned to your direction, as if he could still sense the ghost of you there. Though his mother was a notorious spendthrift, pouring Galleons into expensive clothes and jewellery and holidays around the globe, and his father sank his shares into business ventures, political campaigns and land, money had been no object to him, ever. It was a wonder how the Gaunts had anything to their name at all, since Ominis was certain his brothers and sisters, buoyed by their lofty status as Slytherin's descendants, had no well-paying jobs and were about as frugal as a pack of drunken Leprechauns.

He'd never been left wanting for food and clothing, and often had enough to spend on the odd luxury. But Anne – she understood poverty. It was the reason the other pure-bloods disdained her. She'd known your troubles implicitly; Ominis had not, and shame washed over him. He hadn't comprehended such a problem existed until it was happening before him. Until it was happening to you.

He stuck his hands in his pockets. Galleons tinkled within – not much, but enough. He flurried his wand to grasp his bearings.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Honeydukes."

They didn't spend long in there – Ominis knew exactly what you liked. He bought Fizzing Whizzbees and toffee nougat and as many Chocolate Frogs as he could stuff into the paper bag, making Anne peek inside to see whether the cards could be added to your collection. Red liquorice he bought too, though the strands were thicker than the ones you got from home. He paid for it all with the Galleons in his pocket and didn't think twice about how frivolous it felt to spend all this money on sweets.

For him, it was wasteful. For you, however, it was a pleasure.

There were five minutes to go before you were to meet Adelaide. Anne spotted you loitering by the teashop, hands wringing.

"What's this?" you asked, when he offered you the bag.

"It's for you."

You took it gingerly.

"It— my favourites! Ominis, Anne, did you...?"

"His idea," said Anne.

You whispered to him, "These... are all for me?"

Heat crept to his cheeks then. It was quite flustering to hear the awe in your voice.

"Just... don't eat them all at once. You'll get toothache."

That's when it happened. When he almost stumbled off his feet as your arms wrapped around him and your face buried into his shoulder and your knees bumped his thighs.

"Thank you."

Muffled against his clothes, you said it so earnestly, so full of joy... he wasn't a hugger, anyone could attest, but this... he enjoyed the fierceness with which you held him, embraced him. How nice it was to feel you in return, your happiness made physical.

"I promise I'll pay you back," you mumbled into him.

"You won't. It's a gift."

You squeezed him tighter. A smile overrode his surprise, and he was grinning suddenly, his own mood triumphing. He couldn't tell if it was for the good deed itself, or for its reward.

You extracted yourself as a great drumbeat sounded across the square. The timbre was shortly followed by the energetic string of a lute.

"Is that— it is! Ernie Lark!"

You took his hand in his and dragged him across the square.

"Hey, what—?"

"Let's dance!"

"What?"

Anne was laughing as she ran to catch up. "Yes!"

The violin thrilled the bass notes as you and Ominis neared. "Don't you have to be at the teashop—?"

"I have time for one song." You stopped him next to the band, and took his hands. "Come on!"

He flustered again. "I-I don't dance!"

"Everyone dances!"

It was so absurd that he let himself get swung around with you, your shoes a symphony, your laughter high and wild, your upbeat mood replenished. A small act of kindness from him, and it was like he'd moved the clouds from the sun. His own mood was luminous too – your hug had that effect on him. Soon Anne was laughing, and when she couldn't stop, neither could he – then you were all a giggling mess.

"What are you lot doing?"

Sebastian and Adelaide had come over, paper bags crinkling.

"Dancing!" said Anne.

"You look ridiculous!" Sebastian said, but he was laughing too.

"Join us!" you said.

All of you danced together, a batty group of students, linking arms, amused for no reason at all. Ernie Lark finished the song, rasping for tips, and you dropped two coins into his hat – later he would find out they were Knuts, the last of your pocket change – and hurried off with Adelaide to the teashop.

You made him smile that day, and you made him laugh. Though you were strange and he didn't always understand you, he did trust you, and care for you, even when you tried to hide your pain from the world.

Just as he knew you'd do the same for him.

He didn't feel much better about Sebastian stealing away a Dark Magic relic when he finally stopped crying on your shoulder. You held him, your fingers digging into his arms for support. Though shorter than him now, by quite a lot, you were his support, a column of impenetrable stone in the raging storm – the eye, its calming centre. You smelt of death and decay and blood and dust.

And, peeking through it all, strawberry laces.

"We'll figure this out," you mumbled to him.

"Will we?"

"Be optimistic, Ominis."

"You know that's not who I am. Positivity cannot save everything."

"Neither will relentless cynicism. We have to believe we can help Sebastian, otherwise we'll never be able to." Your grip shuddered. "And we have to trust that Missy will help him too."

He scoffed, though it came out wet and watery. "I trust Missy about as far as I can throw her."

"That's not right." There was teasing in your voice. "Your Depulso could chuck her quite far away."

It was so absurd a mental image he guffawed.

"Come on," you said, snaking your arm around his. "Let's get out of here. Assuming Sebastian doesn't know how to work the relic, we have some time to figure out a game plan."

That was a large assumption, though he didn't think such artefacts often came with an instruction manual.

It took some time to navigate out of the catacombs. As natural light stole the need for Lighting charms, something wrinkled Ominis' nose – the smell of burning that he'd detected when they landed by the entrance. It was stronger now, and strengthened still as you finally broke to the surface world. Night was coming through a swathe of evening breeze and a flutter of nocturnal wildlife, coming awake.

"What is that?" he asked, turning his nose to the air. "Can you smell that too?"

"Like burnt toast, yes," you confirmed. "I don't— oh."

"What?"

"There smoke on the horizon. Coming up north-west..."

You seemed to realise at the same time he did. Suddenly you were both running, eating the ground in great strides until the hillock was beneath you, and the air was stale with smoke.

"Feldcroft," you said, stunned. "I-It's— burning."

But— Sebastian. Solomon. Anne.

"We have to go. Now."

You didn't hesitate. You grabbed the broom and yanked him on. Lust be damned, he held onto you like nothing else mattered, a small comfort in the fear that ran circles in his head. Was it simply arson, Ashwinders that had grown too bold? Or worse? Was it Ranrok's grunts, coming down from Rookwood Castle for a second taste of wrath? What if Sebastian and Anne were hurt?

Or killed?

"Oh, gosh, Ominis—" you called.

"What is it?"

"There's— so many dead bodies." A short pause. "Goblin! Mostly goblin!"

The goblins attacked?

Though you steadied the momentum quicker, you landed the broom hard again, but he was more prepared for it, bending his knees on impact. He'd broken into a run in seconds.

"Sebastian?" he called into the chaotic din. "Anne?"

No answer.

"This way," you said, pulling him.

He was disorientated when you led him to the Sallow house. The smell was all wrong, the feel. Feldcroft was his true home, and yet all he could taste was Dark Magic and bloodied steel and the bitter stench of death. You summoned water as you went, quenching the worst of the flames.

"Sebastian!" you yelled as you banged on the front door. "Anne! Mr Sallow—"

The door swung open – relief filled Ominis at Solomon's voice.

"You two!"

But it wasn't friendly. It was gruff and growling, like a wolf over newly-whelped pups.

"Stay outside!" he commanded. "Don't you dare set a foot—"

"Is Anne all right?" Ominis asked desperately.

"She's fine—"

"And Sebastian?" you asked.

But up reared that disgust. Ominis had never heard anything like it, even when they'd argued during the summer holidays.

"Sebastian and that girl have been barred from coming into this house, into this village! You two better not have been encouraging him and his Dark Magic!"

Dark Magic? Had he showed Solomon the relic? He had confessed to using the Cruciatus Curse on you?

You were confused too. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"We don't know where he is, or Missy," Ominis said. "Please, may we see Anne?"

Solomon seemed to consider this.

"You can see Anne, Ominis. You," he said to you, "stay outside."

Hurt crossed you. "But, Mr Sallow—"

"That's final."

Ominis faced Solomon. "Please, I implore you—"

"No," you said, letting him go. "No, it's... it's okay. Give Anne my love. I'll— see if there's anything I can do for the villagers."

So Ominis stepped into the Sallow residence. Alone.

It was warm – unbearably so. The hearth burnt, the wood cracking and breaking, but it could not disguise the smell of Dark Magic that rippled like flies over the dead. The house was once familiar, but though the furniture had not moved and the place seemed unharmed in the attack, the alien, hostile aura was unsettling. Solomon shut the door and sank into the chair.

"It's a mess, Ominis."

"How, sir?"

"Sebastian," was all he said. "Anne is in the other room. I'll ask if she's up to seeing you."

He stepped out. Ominis paced, as he was wont to do when he was nervous – a terrible habit he'd never been able to break. The memories of the Feldcroft Catacombs lay fresh in his mind like new bedsheets – what more could Sebastian have possibly done in such a short amount of time?

Solomon returned. "She'll see you."

"Thank you."

"You have a good head on your shoulders." Displeasure curled through his tone. "I hope my nephew hasn't led you astray."

He let him pass.

For years, Anne had shared this space with Sebastian, two beds shunted to opposite sides of the wall, with Ominis on a makeshift one on the floor. They'd eaten sweets and played Gobstones and gossiped until the early hours of morning, sometimes about things that mattered, what they wanted to do in future, or the difficulties of family, and sometimes about the silly things, what they could eat every day forever, or which teacher they fancied the most. Every time, they enjoyed each other's company. In more recent years, Anne had taken to freshening the place with incense and flowers – to scrub away 'eau de Teenage Boy', as she'd snarkily put it.

Today, however, it reeked of mud and dirt, and tears drying on leather. It was heated, but not warm. He didn't feel welcome here. He didn't feel like this was his home.

She shifted in her bed, and Ominis closed the door. "Anne—"

"Ominis," she said, breathless. "I— I can't... Sebastian..."

His pulse quickened. "What happened? I know goblins attacked. Sebastian—"

"Came to stop them, him and Missy both. Ranrok's loyalists were ransacking the place out of retaliation."

"Against him?"

"Against her."

Missy? "But... but why—?"

"It doesn't matter!" A new sob wormed its way up her throat, and Ominis came to her bedside, held her trembling hand. Her wrists were so thin and delicate, atrophying from the curse. "Sebastian— he and Missy got here when the goblins were destroying the marketplace. We— Uncle Solomon and I— we were doing our best to fend them off. Missy helped clear out the majority of them, but when they surrounded me, Sebastian—" She choked. "He used the Imperius Curse."

The wind left his lungs.

"On a goblin?"

Anne let out a tremulous breath.

"On all the goblins, Ominis. It... it was a massacre."

He couldn't even fathom something so awful.

"He killed them all?"

"Every last one. Like puppets." She gripped his arm then, buried her face into his neck, tears streaming. "Some of them— they screamed when he made them kill themselves. They begged for mercy."

How did he know the Imperius Curse? How was he proficient enough to use it on so many, all at once? Far be it from him to feel pity for Ranrok's stooges, but even this garnered a strong surge of sympathy, and a stronger surge of disturbance. They killed themselves because of him.

How, how, how?

Is it my fault? The thought crossed him at once, even though he had been vehemently against the Dark Arts for so long, fighting Sebastian in naught but this. Did he see the successes of my family name, of my ancestor, and think he could do the same?

"What am I to do?" she whispered into his shoulder. "Why, when I beg him to stop, does he not listen?"

"I— I don't know."

She leant back. "I forgive and forgive and forgive his search for a cure— but where do I draw the line? At what point is it madness, to let him continue? What happens next, when he thinks it's okay to use the Killing Curse?"

"It won't come to that," Ominis said, stronger now. "I will make sure."

"Swear to me, Ominis."

It was a faint echo of a broken promise.

But unlike Sebastian, he intended to keep his word.

"I swear."

It didn't seem to reassure her much. At all, actually. It was beyond the point of comfort, when evidence to the contrary was just past the wall.

"Gibby is outside," he pivoted quietly, hoping to raise her spirits. "She's hoping to see you."

She sniffled. "Solomon doesn't trust her, not like he does you."

"I know, but I can talk him down."

"I... I'm sorry." She swallowed. "I want to be alone."

He nodded, going to leave, but her grip strengthened suddenly – a moment of the old Anne flaming back to life.

"And I want you to hold tightly to her goodness," she said, "and never let her go."

Outside, decay festered. The villagers were slower returning from their hiding places, taking stock of the bodies, the hamlet besmirched once more by the terrible coming of a war no one wanted any part of. All the fires had been put out, and he heard you by the fountain, helping to shovel debris away – almost comical in the moment, that you'd forgotten you had a wand to help you with physical labour.

You panted and set the shovel down when he reached you. "How is she?"

"Terrible," he admitted.

"It— I don't blame her. The villagers mostly hid during the attack. I think they were relying on Mr Sallow to keep them safe, retired Auror and all. Of course Anne felt compelled to help... Ominis, every single one of these bodies has been stabbed with their own swords."

He didn't need to explain. You seemed to have figured out the truth already. Solomon's accusations and the evidence before you were enough to piece together the truth.

"Any news on Sebastian?" he asked.

"None."

He was no doubt somewhere licking his wounds after being banished. "And Missy?"

"Someone saw her running east. I can try to track her again like at the catacombs?"

It was an idea, though you were aware it might not work. Missy, after all, could've flown straight out of here. Still, you cast Revelio, and set off after a set of footprints going east out of the hamlet and up the incline.

It was him that caught a thread of something that didn't belong to nature. A voice on the wind. As he quietened you and headed closer, the voice clarified into great, wracking sobs, enough to lurch his chest. A strange noise, coming from someone so used to conquering, to firmness and strength.

You headed up the hill, determined to find her, and he followed, less certain.

Missy was sitting on the crest of the hill, heaving with sorrow. You went up to her at once, causing her to startle and draw coarse sleeves across her face.

"Gibby, Ominis—"

"Oh, Missy."

You gave her a mythic hug. You didn't ask. You didn't need to. Missy seemed to calm, and when you withdrew, she inhaled sharply again.

"Please excuse me, I—"

"Don't be daft. There's nothing to excuse."

"You know, then? You know what—" Another sharp intake of breath. "You know what happened."

"We know."

Missy settled. You sat down. He sat next to you, chilled as the wind cut through them. Strange that, though smoke lay waste to his senses, he could smell your soap and the dye in Missy's hair, an unruly concoction.

"Stupid, imprudent Sebastian," she said. "I'm not afraid of the Dark Arts, but I know the boundaries of its use. Sebastian— doesn't."

"I could've told you that," said Ominis. Probably not helpful, but it was truth. "You saw him, then? He used the Imperius Curse?"

"On all of the goblins, yes."

It was still unthinkable.

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. No doubt gone to figure out how to work the thing."

And the sacrifice it would feed upon, too.

You all lapsed into silence. You and Missy were watching the hamlet in the distance, he assumed. Watching the sun set on a tainted day. He bowed his head, shut his eyes. Fatigue had overcome him suddenly, from battling spiders to arguing with his best friend to this – and he wondered how this was all going to end, how Sebastian's obsession would ultimately come to head.

Expulsion?

Death?

The loss of his best friend, either way?

"Anne told me the goblins attacked in retaliation," he said, changing the subject before his emotions wrangled him. "They were retaliating against you."

Missy didn't answer immediately. "It's true."

"What did you do?"

"I stormed Rookwood Castle with Professor Fig not so long ago."

"What?" you bellowed. "Missy, are you off your rocker? They're the ones that cursed Anne!"

"I know. It's not what you think. I didn't do it for fun."

"Then why?"

But she didn't answer. Always cryptic.

"Am I to presume," said Ominis, "that you killed many of them?"

Another long pause. "Yes, I did."

"Missy..." you mumbled.

"I will not have your judgement," she snapped. "If I could've walked in there without bloodshed, I would've. I had a very good reason."

"Let me guess," Ominis muttered. "Redemption?"

He thought that would dig under her skin, like it had done in the catacombs, but she was simply silent. Infuriating. There were many things about Missy he didn't understand – the aura surrounding her, her tendency to keep dangerous secrets. Even the way she wielded magic was baffling, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. He'd never sympathise with the creatures that cursed Anne and murdered countless others, but Missy made it very difficult to feel anything other than animosity either.

"You don't agree with Sebastian taking the relic," he said. "So why help him at all? And don't lie, it's more than helping Anne at this point."

You were soft and sweet. "It's because you like like him, isn't it?"

She spluttered. "I-I don't know what you—"

"Come off it. If Ominis figured it out—"

"I resent that."

"— then it must be really obvious."

Grass rustled.

"His intentions are noble," she said, voice garbled in a way that meant she'd buried her head between her knees. "And he's— charming."

That he could agree with. Sebastian could talk his way through most situations, even those where he was in trouble, a skill he never learnt but had a unique penchant for, in a way Ominis would never understand.

All throughout their school years their peers had thrown themselves at his feet – near Valentine's Day in fourth year, Ominis caught him with Penelope Prendleghast, a then fifth-year, in the greenhouses.

He heard that soggy peeling as their lips parted. "O-Ominis—" spluttered Sebastian.

With as much grace as a troll, Ominis swung around. "No! No. I'm leaving now."

It was moments like those that he was grateful he didn't have sight.

"You two seemed... rather intertwined," Ominis said to him later that day, when they were back in the greenhouse doing what they were supposed to be doing – potting Venomous Tentacular. "A fifth-year too? Did you pay her?"

Sebastian laughed. "Only in charm and good looks."

"Then perhaps she was desperate? Or blind? Though as a blind person I can tell you which one I think."

"You're a true comedian, Ominis." He let out a sheepish noise then. "Actually, I'm glad you interrupted. It was really gross."

"Oh?"

"I didn't expect it to be so... wet."

Ominis choked up a laugh. "You're doing something wrong if it's wet."

"How many girls have you snogged to reach that conclusion?"

"A gentleman never tells."

"So none."

It was none, but Ominis wasn't too fussed.

"If you had to snog someone," said Sebastian, egging him on, "who would you choose?"

You popped into his head then. He fought to push you down.

"I don't know, Professor Garlick?"

"You devil! You're lucky she's in the other greenhouse right now." Then a sly laugh – Sebastian had seen right through his faux answer. "It's Gibby though, right?"

Ominis rammed soil into the pot. This was long after your argument in the Undercroft.

"Don't be crass, Sebastian. We're no longer friends."

"That wasn't a no."

It wasn't, but he didn't need to know that. "And what if I said Anne?"

"Contrary to the laws of older brothers, I would support you, but I don't have to think about my sister and my best friend kissing, because I know she's not the one you dream about at night. Gibby has nice lips, you know."

Ominis decided not to grace that with a response. But it was true – you did have nice lips. All the times he felt your face told him so. He just couldn't imagine them on his.

Smiling, sweet, addictive...

"You're blushing," Sebastian noted. "Thinking about taking her pretty face in your hands, are you? Pulling her close and smooching her, tasting all those sweets on her tongue—"

Ominis chucked soil at him.

Valentine's was one of your favourite times of year though. No one celebrated it much – not like you did. You made cards and gifts, insisting on sharing the love with everyone you knew. Very often you stole into the kitchens to make truffles and share them out with your friends. Ominis got a whole box of them, along with Sebastian and Anne.

Not this year though. This year, he would get none.

Sebastian was tossing candied pineapple into his mouth before Transfiguration on the day itself. Ominis was practicing his wandwork when the owl shot through the window, tumbled around in air, squawking, and dropped something on Sebastian's desk with a clatter.

"It's... a hair-crimping potion? And a love letter. From Sacharissa Tugwood... Says that I'm fetching and if I'd like to go to Hogsmeade."

"I suppose I'll have to take your word on that," Ominis mused. "So? Will you accept?"

"No." He crumpled the letter. "She's obsessed with her looks. Bit of a turn-off."

"Pot calling the kettle black?"

Sebastian shoved him. "Where's all your love letters then?"

Ominis never got any. He suspected, because he hung around with Sebastian, his much more amiable, and supposedly handsome, companion, all considerations went to him. It was fine, really, and Ominis didn't want the hassle. That is, until a much more concerning thought crossed him – he was the blind, runt son of the austere House of Gaunt. And inbred, at that. It was no secret his grandparents had been related, and his parents cousins once-removed. Why him and his siblings were... different.

What would he do, if it were true? If his very nature was... off-putting? He couldn't change it. He was himself, forever more.

Still, he gave off an air of nonchalance. "My love letters are all lost in the post, I imagine."

"All none of them," said Sebastian, putting on that ridiculous air again. "You know, if you made up with Gibby—"

"Not happening."

"— then you'd be getting a swell box of truffles today—"

"Unless you plan to Transfigure your pineapple into a goblet, Mr Sallow," Professor Weasley's office door shut behind her, "I suggest you put those away before I confiscate them."

Sebastian swerved so easily, laughed so genially. Charm. It was natural. "Sorry, Professor. Would you like one? It's Valentine's Day, and even teachers deserve some appreciation once in a while."

She barked a laugh. "Nice try, young man, but no. Away."

He tucked them into his bag as you burst into the classroom.

"Sorry! Sorry, Professor. I know I'm a little late."

"That you are. Care to explain why?"

Your brilliance was like a dawn chorus. "Making Valentine's gifts."

Weasley seemed endeared by this, despite her admonishment. "You can make as many gifts as you like... after class. Quickly now, to your seat."

You hurried to your place, and over the course of the lesson, whilst they were turning butterflies into bells, you were sneakily handing out cards and truffles to all your friends. Adelaide and Evangeline and Arthur, and Natsai and Cressida and Garreth.

And Leander.

"Wow, thank you, Gibs," he said to you, probably grinning a fool. "I-I didn't get you anything."

"You don't have to. It's for fun!"

Leander Prewett. How that annoying simpleton had earnt your attention, Ominis would never know. The boy was singing your praises, thick as marzipan. Best truffles he'd ever tasted, he claimed to all who could hear. Which earnt you both reprimand for eating during class.

When the lesson finished and Weasley dismissed everyone, you approached Sebastian as Ominis was packing away his satchel.

"For you!" you said cheerfully.

"Why, thank you, Gibby," he said airily. "I'll add them to my hoard of Valentine's chocolates I've got from all my admirers. I'll get back to you in – two weeks? Rough estimate, might be longer."

"Don't be a hornswoggler," you said, whatever that meant. "You know mine will be the best."

"If this is your way of confessing your undying love for me, you'll have to get in line."

You scoffed. "Your own reflection wouldn't have you, Sebastian Sallow."

Then you passed Ominis' desk, and didn't say a word.

The rejection stung.

It still did, a year later, even after he'd made up with you and Valentine's Day was coming in a few months' time. Secretly he looked forward to your truffles again.

But Christmas was before. Your second favourite holiday. And it was a rare one indeed, when you, he, Sebastian and Missy all agreed to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. Ominis to avoid his family, like every year, Sebastian because he was banished from his home, and you and Missy to keep watch on him. Sheer luck had sent all the other pure-blood families home – not a single Malfoy, Fawley, Black or Ellingboe, which meant less pressure to hide your friendship. You wore long tweed skirts and woollen jumpers, and he shirts with the top buttons undone, and loose trousers meant for riding. With Missy you played Exploding Snap and ate food and tried to search for Sebastian, often in vain. Even on the day itself, he wasn't there. The castle was too large to find him, and he never stayed in the Slytherin dungeons anymore.

The owl, however, appeared when you were with him, in the Quad Courtyard.

Please can we talk? Usual place, 9pm. Come alone.

It had been some weeks after the Feldcroft debacle. Anne had told Ominis she was receiving letters from her brother daily, trying every moment to convince him to meet. Term was restarting in two days and he didn't know how long Anne could put him off – he knew Sebastian to be stubborn, and Anne to be forgiving of even the most fatal flaws where her brother was concerned.

His face must've shown his displeasure, as you took the letter from his hands and rubbed your thumb across a few times.

"He's— asking to talk? Tonight, I think?"

"Yes." You gave the letter back, but he simply tore it. "I shouldn't go."

"He might be remorseful."

"When have you ever known Sebastian to show remorse?"

"Fair point." You hesitated. "I can come if you want? I know it says alone, but..."

"No." He rubbed his temple. "I'll go alone. I'll see what he wants."

So at nine o'clock on the dot, you watched Ominis climb into the lift shaft by himself, promising to wait for him on the stairs. On his descent, back erupting with gooseflesh, Ominis resolved not to argue with his friend anymore. He was tired of it, drinking more and more hatred from the well that remained permanently full within him.

When the grille lifted, Sebastian was there, pacing. Each boot step stoked Ominis' nerves.

"Hello," he greeted stiffly.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "Hello. Thank you for coming."

"What do you want then?"

"Don't start like that. Please. I... don't like to fight with you, Ominis."

"You do make it spectacularly easy."

No response to that.

Instead, Ominis came further inside, until Sebastian was before him.

"You summoned me, and here I am. So I'll ask again," softer now, "what do you want?"

"I've figured out how to use the relic."

He might as well have drawn the rug from beneath his feet.

"You're really going to risk it, aren't you?"

"I am. Anne and I— we've come to an agreement."

There was too much to unpack in that statement.

"You saw Anne? When?"

"A few days ago. She— Solomon wants to leave Feldcroft, move somewhere else." His breathing became aggravated. "It's our home. The goblins can't chase us out of there."

"I think it has more to do with you than them, Sebastian."

"I asked her to stall, and then I— told her about the relic. She's agreed to try it on two conditions. The first, that this be the last thing I try. If this doesn't work, then... then I give up." He seemed to push the words through clenched teeth. "The second is that you're there."

Ominis was surprised at that, and a little touched.

"She trusts you, is why," Sebastian said. "So... will you come?"

"And what did you find out about the relic?" Ominis asked, because he'd be damned to get into more of this mess without a thorough explanation. "What is the Dark sacrifice required to make it work?"

"It summons Inferi. It controls them."

"That's all?" Ominis scoffed. "It's an artefact of Salazar Slytherin, and you think prodding around some Inferi will be the only price? Remember the Scriptorium, when Gibby ended up getting badly hurt?"

"It predates Slytherin, actually. I've researched it."

"Perhaps not hard enough."

"Hate your ancestor however much you want, fine. But what about me?" His voice became a whisper. "Do you trust me?"

That was a long, complicated answer, and he knew, when he didn't answer right away, he'd hurt Sebastian where it mattered.

"I... I know I'm rash, and I'm single-minded when it comes to Anne. But this matters to me. I need you to understand that, Ominis. This matters more than anything else – more than my own life. I'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you, or her, or Gibby and Missy, or anyone. I just— I just want my sister to live the life she deserves."

Missy had said it, Ominis knew it, yet here it was on full display – Sebastian and his silver tongue, his perfectly timed inflections and vigour. He did believe what he was saying, and for many years that was enough for Ominis – he would immediately cave. But now it came with doses of scepticism large enough to paralyse a man.

"I cried, you know. After you left the catacombs."

"Ominis—"

"You left with a trail of broken promises behind you. Time and time again, I've been taken for a fool. I struggle to trust you, Sebastian, that's the reality of this. How do I know you're telling the truth? How do I know this is the last thing you'll do?"

"Because there will be nothing left for me to do. If this doesn't work, then— then I have nothing. Anne will have closure, and that will be peace enough for me. Please." A faint grip on his shoulders. "You're my best friend. You're the last person I want to argue with. If anything goes wrong, I— I want you there."

His hands promptly dropped at Ominis' expression. Everything coursed through him then – frustration, anger, a sorrow so deeply sown it was impossible to dig up. He thought of Sebastian, all those years ago at Malfoy Manor, unseated by his parents' death, but still noble, defending his honour, defending Ominis' honour. He thought of the first day of school, whispering to one another in the dorms when Anne had gone to bed, their friendship new and budding, and he thought of the mischief they'd got up to since. Sebastian had comforted him after the Cruciatus Curse, and all his family woes since. There was you, too, and your shenanigans. Could he let it all disappear, dissolve like ash on the wind?

I will not stop fighting for him. He'd said that, in the catacombs. It would be easy to let go, to turn away. The harder choice was to stay and fight, as he promised he would. Sebastian was action, Ominis was reason – a balance perfectly maintained.

But how far would he chase after his friend for the sake of nostalgia? To the ends of the earth? Off a steep cliff?

Into the loving embrace of Dark Magic?

"All right," he said at last. "I will be there."

Relief spilt from Sebastian. "Thank you."

"But this is the last chance I give you. There will be no more begging after this, Sebastian, and I swear," Ominis flashed his teeth, "if you do anything that could put anyone in harm's way, including yourself, I will stop you. I don't care how, and I don't care if it makes you angry. I don't care. Do you understand?"

"I understand. For real, this time." Sebastian took a step back. "I have some things to prepare, but with Solomon threatening to leave we'll have to do it soon. Tomorrow, maybe. I'll let you know."

"And Gibby?" he asked, only because there was no way you wouldn't get involved. "She's waiting upstairs."

But Sebastian was forthright. "No. She can't come. Nor Missy."

"Why not?"

"They just— can't. I don't want to involve more people than I have to. Missy's going through her own... stuff... and I think it's best if Gibby stays away. You... care about her, I think you'll agree."

But you were part of this now, as much as he was. "They care about you. After everything, you'd cast them out? Missy has fought at your side every step of the way!"

"She has enough on her plate. Gibby, you said it yourself: anything Slytherin-related is risky around a Muggle-born. And, well," a tired amusement, "if something happened to her, you'd kill me."

"I would, but you said something yourself too, long ago. She's tenacious, and too loyal to us." And you could take care of yourself.

He wasn't entirely won over, but did agree that, if kept at a safe distance, you and Missy could be backup in case of dire need. So when they both left the Undercroft, and Sebastian fielded your questions, hurrying back to the common room, you waited as he told you everything.

"This is madness," you spluttered. "I can't believe you agreed!"

"Anne agreed," he said, "and if she agreed—"

"If she told you to slap your thighs and do the Polka, would you?"

"That's not fair, Gibby."

"What's not fair," you insisted, "is Sebastian getting second, third, a billion chances. It's not fair on you, nor Anne, nor me nor Missy. That thing will control the Inferi, right? How many? Does it summon them, too? How big is its range? There's too many questions—"

"What do you expect me to do?" You flinched – he heard you. "I agree, Sebastian uses the relic. I say no, Sebastian uses the relic without me there anyway."

You chafed, because you knew it was true. It was better to keep watch than to let him play by himself.

"Then— this is a stupid idea."

"I know."

"And something's very wrong when I'm the one saying that."

"Oh, how the tables turn." His smile was tired, wan. "You will come, won't you? It would... comfort me, to know you're there."

You squeezed his hand, touch brief. "Of course I'll be there."

Sebastian's plea came through later that evening, his prediction correct. They'd do it the next night.

Ominis struggled to sleep.

By the following evening, his nerves had been shot, his wand hand restless enough to drum it against his thighs. Sebastian claimed to have prepared everything. Missy didn't like the idea, but she was more willing to try it than you. She wasn't afraid of the darkness like you were.

Sebastian picked a spot outside the Feldcroft Catacombs, the night sky their witness, the trees their guard. It was cold, even beneath layers of robes and a scarf. You were shivering the entire flight over, no matter how tightly he held you – Sebastian's choice of area was empty and relatively flat, the ideal spot to test the artefact for the first time.

So it went. Ominis, Sebastian and Anne, and you and Missy, waiting a polite distance away.

The five of you, together at last.

Anne, however, was having second thoughts.

"I— I really don't think we should do this."

"We've come this far," Sebastian was saying, working that inexplicable verbal magic as he prepared Slytherin's spellbook, open at his feet. "You said you would. One last shot."

"I— I know what I said, but—"

"Your curse can be reversed, Anne. You can walk around outside without having to think about the nearest resting place. You can stay up all night and eat bad food and run around. You can come back to school with me – with Ominis and Gibby, and you can get to know Missy better. You won't have to feel helpless every time the pain comes, and worry about the next when it doesn't." His voice was parched. "You can be normal again."

Anne hesitated – and perhaps, all this time, Ominis had underestimated how much she wanted it, how much she craved that sense of normalcy she'd been forced to abandon. Maybe that was why she forgave so much, why she bequeathed Sebastian chance after chance. Because it was never about Sebastian saving his sister – sometimes it was Anne saving herself.

Once, she had been just a girl, with her boisterous brother and silly friends. Now the future she dreamt of had been stolen.

"I promised, didn't I?" he said quietly. "This was my last chance."

"It is," she whispered. "I swear it, Sebastian—"

"I know."

They hugged. Ominis waited. Someone sniffled – and they sounded too alike for him to decipher who.

"Let's start."

Ominis took several steps back, clenching his wand, as Anne did the same, leaving Sebastian in the middle. It reassured him to know you were behind him, vigilant. Sebastian began to mutter, and the change was subtle at first, like lake water to river, or a slight dip in temperature. Ominis detected it, raising the hairs on his neck, shortly following the smell – thick, not necessarily bad, but tangy. He wet his lips with it, uncertain.

That's when he heard the first cry. Far, far in the distance.

He swung around. It wasn't a human scream – more the first rasping from a long slumber. Something dashed by his feet. A sharp fork of lightning.

"Watch out!" Sebastian cried, but he sounded confident. "This thing— it's volatile!"

Ominis raised his wand, honing his senses. He'd have to be careful.

That noise again in the distance. Then again. Only until he heard it a fourth time, closer now, did he realise, this was it.

The Inferi were rising.

"Don't worry, they're under my command!" Sebastian still oozed confidence. "Hang tight, Anne! We can do this!"

"Wait—" Missy cried, and Ominis inclined his ear towards her, far back. "Wait, something— something's not right."

He heard footsteps then, sprinting away. Yours.

Where the hell were you running off to?

The relic droned, and the ground shook suddenly – Ominis almost lost his footing. It seemed to happen at once. The fields of rolling green and patchwork dirt quaked suddenly, disturbed by a great upheaval of charged magic – Dark Magic. It ricocheted in Ominis' bones. Another branch of lightning struck by his feet.

Then there you were – at his side.

"Sebastian!" you screamed. "Stop!"

"What?" Ominis asked, at the same time Sebastian said, "Why? We've only just—"

"You must stop!" you cried. "The Inferi— they're going to Feldcroft!"

All too late did Ominis sense it. Those cries in the distance. They were near the settlement.

"No—" Sebastian gave a laugh. "No, the Inferi are being controlled by me. They're coming here—"

"They're not. I can see the hamlet from the perch!"

"Sebastian—" said Anne, unsure.

"We've only just started! The relic hasn't even reached its full—"

Boom. Ominis was knocked off his feet – wand flying clean from his grasp. He sucked in a breath, but the air was a gale around him. Sebastian was yelping, struggling to stay upright.

"It— it's working!"

Ominis braced his hands and knees. Somehow the relic was broadcasting a heartbeat, Anne's heartbeat. Like a drumbeat on his skin, weak but steady and getting stronger by the moment. It was impossible. He wouldn't have believed it if all his senses weren't offering this truth.

Something punched through the ground in front of him – an Inferi, escaping the tombs far below. My wand. Without it he was helpless to defend himself.

You were screaming. "Sebastian, please!"

"It's working, Gibby! Anne is being—"

"They're going to attack the hamlet! They're going to kill defenceless people!"

This time Anne's voice was a keening croak. "I-I feel— strange."

You were okay – a small victory in the panic slowly overcoming Ominis' anticipation. If Sebastian was controlling the Inferi, why were they going to Feldcroft? He wobbled towards Anne through the chaos, making to avoid an Inferi until it swung a clean blow to his jaw. Pain smacked him at once, and he staggered backwards, tasting blood.

"Hey!" Sebastian was shouting at them. "Don't attack them!"

But the Inferi were screeching now, their taste for death unquenchable. Someone blasted his attacker to pieces.

"Ominis!" yelled Missy. "Your wand!"

He scrabbled for it in the grass, wasting precious seconds, before struggling towards Anne, taking her by the arm.

"Anne—!"

"No—" Her voice was slippery and strange. "No— the hamlet—" She gripped him back, stronger than he'd ever felt her. "You must stop him."

"But— your health—"

"Is not worth our home!" she said. "You swore to me, Ominis. Remember?"

And she was right. This wasn't what he agreed to. The realisation sank through him like cold mud. The Inferi weren't under control. They'd endangered all their lives.

"Sebastian!" he cried, turning towards his friend. "You cannot condemn Feldcroft like this!"

"They have Solomon!" Sebastian grunted. "They have—"

"One Auror against hundreds!" Missy shrilled too. "You have to stop!"

Droves of Inferi tore through the grass now, desperate for breath and night sky. Missy summoned his wand and battled towards him, blasting and blasting, felling them one by one until they were ash. Was this the sacrifice, then? Hordes of the uncontrollable undead, for Anne? Was this satisfactory payment for her health?

"Then go!" Sebastian cried. "You and Gibby— protect them!"

"I've lost my wand!" you cried. Then, "I'm coming to you!"

"No, don't!"

But you struggled towards him nonetheless. Because of your Muggle heritage, you were always practical. You wanted to give your support, or snatch the thing away – Ominis never found out which.

"Gibby, wait!" This wasn't supposed to happen; you were meant to stay away. "Accio wand!"

Your quirky wand flew into his hands, the designs swirling, the shaft a unique undulation. Besides him, Anne gave a great lurch, and her heartbeat throbbed. Painfully.

"No— it's stopped working!" Sebastian yelled over the maelstrom – finally, a note of confusion. "Why isn't it—?"

Your voice was nearly next to his. "Let me help you!"

"No, don't touch—!"

The relic gave another thundering roar, this time deafening, loud enough that it forced Ominis to clap hands over ears. You screamed suddenly, blown back by the force.

"No!" Missy cried.

Wind sheared around him, and he had to crouch, claw a hand into the grass to support himself, make sense of his surroundings. Anne gasped; her heartbeat strengthened.

"It— it's working again!" Sebastian was dizzy with elation. "Anne, you're being cured!"

But something wasn't right. The relic seethed like a thousand insect wings, and the Inferi were still coming up en masse. As Missy reached him, supporting Anne's weight, Ominis cracked bolt after bolt, causing the grass to singe and crisp.

Nothing about this made sense. The Inferi at Feldcroft, the Inferi attacking when they were supposed to be under control... He pointed his wand skywards, about to summon the relic from Sebastian's hands.

Then you choked.

Panic seized Ominis in a vice grip as he turned back towards you. You keened again, making a noise that would haunt his nightmares, and your knees hit the ground with a squelch, your gasp watery with blood.

He pivoted despite the hell around him. "No, no!"

"Stay with Anne!" Missy commanded. Only, when she reached you, all but panic remained. "Gibby, come on— stay with us—"

"The relic!" Anne shrieked. "Sebastian, it's killing her! Stop!"

It hit Ominis then. The relic was no longer content with the Inferi.

It sought to have you as well.

Sebastian hacked out in realisation. "Get her out of here, Ominis! It's nearly done! Anne is nearly—"

"Accio relic!"

The relic zoomed over his head... right into Solomon's hand.

"What have you done, boy?"

The storming chaos ceased, letting Ominis scramble towards you. With no master, not even a poor one, an Inferi shambled into his path, lifting its arm to swing, shrieking. Ominis reduced it to dust in one go. Terror had amplified his senses, his affinity for magic, and when the Inferi surrounded you, lying defenceless, he spewed the flames in a continuous, angry stream.

"Give that back!" Sebastian was screaming at his uncle. "I had it! I nearly had it! I—"

"You nearly killed the girl!" Solomon snarled. "You nearly killed yourselves!"

"It was curing Anne! It was working!"

Ominis landed at your side. You were shaking, struggling to breathe, your hands clenching and unclenching, your teeth chattering, heartbeat erratic.

"Gibby— listen to me, wake up—"

"There's some dark energy around her," Missy said, frantic. "It— she doesn't look good—"

"Don't say that!" He couldn't bear the thought. "Help her!"

"I-I don't know how!"

"Leave— leave me alone," you were mumbling, gasping, clammy and cold yet feverish as he palmed your sweat-ridden hair away. "N-No, please! D-Don't!"

"Gibby—" Anne was gasping, heaving between cries of pain. "Wait, please, Uncle Solomon—"

Solomon muttered something then. A hiss sounded – the relic, dissolving into nothing.

"No!" Sebastian's cry was like a fatal blow.

"You summoned the Inferi to the hamlet, Sebastian! You put innocent lives in danger!"

"It was working! If you hadn't— she might've— Anne could've—"

"Stop!" Anne begged. "Stop, both of you, please!"

Neither listened.

"You are foolish, boy! You know nothing!"

"You would let her die!"

"She cannot be healed. You. Must. Stop!"

Sebastian's throat screamed raw.

"You never cared! You never wanted us! I—I won't let her suffer like you have!"

And he let out a great, anguished cry.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Ominis swung around, but it was too late. The spell connected.

There was a slump as a body hit the ground.

"No—" Missy murmured.

The air seemed to thin as the horror of what had happened dawned on Ominis. Something splattered into the mud. Sebastian's wand.

"N-No, what... what have I—"

But nothing pierced so deeply as the howl of agony from Anne.

Ominis could no longer feel her heartbeat, but by her uneven footsteps, her heavy breathing, the curse was still in full effect. She expelled a long breath and screamed.

"Incendio!"

Inferi burnt beneath her wrath. Paper crackled – the spellbook, too.

"No!" Sebastian said. "Anne—"

"Depulso!"

He was flung to the ground. It was happening too fast – Ominis didn't know what to do.

A sob worked its way from her. She stumbled to Solomon's body as Sebastian braced himself on his elbows, grunting in pain.

"Wait, Anne, please—"

"I gave you a chance!" she screamed. "Again and again, I offered you grace! I forgave you and forgave you and forgave you, convinced you would prove you cared more about me than my condition! You would prove to me that before all else, I was your sister, your best friend, that you wouldn't choose the darkness over me! But you never listened. You never cared about what I wanted! And now?" She fell upon Solomon's body, wrung clean. "Now... you've made your choice."

Crack. She Disapparated, her uncle leaden in her arms.

"No! Anne!"

You mumbled again. Ominis turned back to you, tears sliding down his cheeks. He couldn't fathom what was happening. Anne, gone. Solomon – dead. You... suffering.

After he'd promised long ago to keep you safe from it.

"Sebastian, please... Anne..." Your gasp impaled him. "Ominis, I'm begging you..."

"She— she's been cursed." Missy trembled with despair. "Ominis, I—"

One truth lay louder than the rest. Sebastian's stupidity and reckless abandon may have landed you in this situation, but he'd warned Ominis not to bring you. Ominis had, in fact, argued in your favour, convinced you were necessary. Solomon was dead, the Inferi were running rampant... you were straddling between life and death...

All because he let Sebastian manipulate him. Again and again and again.

"Oh, please, please let her be all right."

Sebastian was on his feet, coming closer.

Ominis clenched his wand. He didn't even feel rage. This was something more acute.

"Stay away."

There was true pain and remorse rolling from Sebastian in waves. He stalled about five paces away.

"Ominis, please— I-I'm sorry—"

His wand shot out. The basic cast connected against Sebastian, causing him to stumble back in surprise.

"Stay. Away!" he bellowed, shaking. "I told you! I told you that there would be a cost for your obsession!"

"I'm sorry," Sebastian said – pleaded. "I-I didn't think she'd try to stop me—"

"For your sake! For Feldcroft's sake!"

"I know. Please, please... I... I need you."

"Need me? Look at what you've done! Gibby is cursed! Your uncle is dead!"

It seemed to be the word that unravelled him. "I— I made a mistake! I didn't mean to— for him to die—"

"You killed him!" He flung the accusation like barbs. "You murdered him!"

A step back. "I— I didn't— mean—" Another step. "He would've— he didn't—" He was gasping then, choking on his own tears. "Please—"

Ominis stood then, kept his wand trained on his friend.

Enemy, now.

"Come closer," he snarled. "This time I won't step aside."

Squelch. Another step back. Squelch. Another. Suddenly he was stumbling into a run, away from Ominis, away from you.

"No, wait—" Missy said. She didn't wait for Ominis' permission. She snatched up Sebastian's wand and sprinted after him, screaming his name.

Ominis sank back to the ground. His anger fled him at once, and when he dropped his wand, and yours, he took you in his arms and cradled you close.

A hug with no warmth.

He might as well have been the loneliest boy in the world.

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