#what was cedric's reaction... what was the look on both of their faces in that moment...

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Hehehehe okay so what if you like wrote a fic about remus lupin x reader. The reader is a teacher (preferably like astronomy) and they're sneaking around together. students are making bets and stuff to see if they'll end up together, some girls just ship them really hard.

They're trying so hard to keep it a secret but they are so bad at it.

Me @ every guy who isn't a fictional wizard from the 70s ^^

An: This fluff attempt goes out to you, rip

Rumors

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

cw: A lot of kisses and cursing, stapler mishandling

Masterlist

WC:4181

The halls of Hogwarts were filled with hushed whispers and mindless patter of gossip. The newest topic of the year? 

Professor {L/N}, the newest astronomy hire. An Alchemist who perfected her work through star charting. Lupin had recommended you for the post to assist Sinistra. Mostly, however, you were hired on to assist with the newest project under Dumbledore. With your studies in the North Pole, you were tasked with on and off communications with the centaur herd within the Forbidden Forest. Specifically, their astronomy masters. It was easy, given your track record with magical creatures. Creating a bridge of mutual understanding between the professors and the herd. Dumbledore also saw you valuable to both potions and alchemy class; meaning you met a lot of students very fast.

So almost everyone knew you, you ran a tight ship in class, playful and respectful to the students paired with a charming personality, no one could bring themselves to even hate you.

That's probably how the rumors began, truthfully. Who doesn't want their two favorite teachers to end up together?

Much like Lupin, the students adored you. Hermione especially, after learning of your academic achievements of the past, while being a muggleborn witch. 

Your first reaction to seeing him probably don't help. First few steps into your new place of employment and you hurry over to the only face you cared to recognize, and give him a hug and a thank you for the recommendation. 

It wasn't anything big and it wasn't anything of a spectacle, but Merlin, was Hogwarts boring. The thrill of gossip seemed to have every student in a choke hold. Some said you were both childhood friends turned lovers, some said you were married and it was a scandalous affair, most of the rumors were just students talking about how perfect you both fit together. 

Your caring, funny, and nurturing behavior, to his stern more rugged form of bonding, you were affectionately dubbed ‘mum and dad.’ 

Never to your face however, and mostly by the first and seventh years. Something about growing shame and losing it in your final days of Hogwarts, remarkable.

~~~

“I'm telling you! He looks at her like she is the very stars she teaches us about!” A seventh year sighed dreamily with her friends. She had her chin in her palms and was staring up at the front of class while a few of their classmates took the practical exam. “I wish someone would look at me like that.”

“Really! I haven't seen so much tension between two faculty before! I wouldn't be surprised to find them snogging in the halls!” One of them joked and the other girls laughed.

“Truly, but I saw Professor {L/N} wearing a wedding ring. She took it off and put it in her pocket before class started. I wonder if they are, you know~ Never have I seen Professor Lupin wear one.” She wiggled her eyebrows and the original girl spoke up with a gasp.

“Oh don't you say that! Professor Lupin and Professor {L/N} would never!” She tutted and another voice chimed in, a boy from a seat behind them, making the three turn.

“I heard that they spent Christmas at school together.” Cedric cheeked and the three girls gasped and began to murmur among themselves about it, before Lupin clapped his hands.

He found it a bit amusing, he had let them continue that far. This is what his classes have become, listening to the students muttering about him and you, seeing how close they could possibly get to the truth. Remus, at a fault, was a gossip. He learned to love the thrill of rumors from Sirius and James, but what was better than rumors about you and a colleague? Rumors about you and a colleague that were so close to the truth.

“Right now! Who's next?”

The rest of the class went smoothly, everyone finished their exams and the classroom began to file out. As Lupin got comfortable in his seat, his door peaked open.

“If you are here for tutoring, please note my hours are posted on the door, this first hour has been reserved already.” Lupin called out from his chair, head leaned back. 

“Tutoring, hm?” A song-like voice rang out from the door. He slowly smirked and leaned forward, eyes locking onto yours. You were holding a box of Merlin knows what, walking straight up to his desk with that beautiful smile. 

“Is that so unbelievable?” He teased, voice lower as he stood up and walked around his desk. Looking over your shoulder to peek into the box, seeing several random objects, including a stapler, a retractable ruler, a metal pointing stick, and other random muggle things.

“Oh, totally. I think I remember you almost lost it when Peter asked for your notes.” You teased him and he chuckled, his breath brushing against your neck. He admired the way you seemed to not flinch, but melt into his proximity. 

“Peter was a terrible student.” He mumbled and you laughed, his hand slipping around your waist and leaning down to kiss the side of your neck. You laughed harder and squirmed away. 

“Hands to yourself. Now, show me where I can hide this contraband.” You lifted the box and shook it a bit. “The things they allow in muggle schools! Hmph!” You mused and he laughed, walking you up to his office and to the far back near a storage closet. He opened the door for you and you set the box down, looking around curiously.

The room was small, but big enough for four people to stand in it comfortably. The walls were covered in shelves filled with items from all over the school years, you ran your finger along one of the shelves and let the dust collect.

“What's on your mind, hm?” Lupin mused and you turned to smirk at him.

“Just wondering where they are hiding the really bad stuff. Still in Filtch’s closet?” You hummed as he stepped into the small room with you. His eyes looked you over and you gave him a look.

“Why's that, darling?”

“Just curious, out of all the things in that closet,” You hummed as Remus wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you against him. Your fingers dancing along his shirt collar. “Wonder how many of them were from you and that little gang of yours.” You hummed and he laughed.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to yours. It was chaste and sweet. He loved moments like this, away from everyone, where he could love you properly. He gave a hum as you got on your toes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down as he pulled you closer.

~~~

“I truly don't  think they have something going on. It's maddening really! The whole school seems to see it but me!” Ron groaned as he walked down the hall with Harry and Hermione, seemingly offended at the idea that the new Astronomy teacher was dating or even had interest in Lupin.

"I wouldn't put too much stock in rumors about someone's love life, Ronald," Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, sorry Ron, but you're kind of…” Harry rolled his wrists and Ron narrowed his eyes.

“Kind of what?” 

“Kind of..” Harry trailed off.

“Kind of a complete idiot when it comes to love.” Hermione finally snapped, hugging her books to her chest. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to meet Professor Lupin.” She huffed and stomped off.

Ron was left standing there like an idiot, looking over at Harry. 

“What did I do?”

Harry tried to hide his smile and patted Ron's shoulder to urge him along and out of the halls.

~~~

The kiss had grown a bit heated, Remus pushed you deeper into the closet as he muttered about how badly he needed to have you in his arms. How much he loved you, how he wanted you closer, so impossibly close.

You, of course, returned the sentiment. He was made for your hands it seemed, every moment he wasn't between them made you yearn for just another hour of listless cuddles or moments like this. Sneaking away from responsibilities to show your love and devotion to one another. 

If only it could last longer-

“Professor Lupin?” Hermione's voice called out into his office. Remus cursed and you quickly stumbled back. He cleared his throat, shuffling through the confiscated objects, to find anything he could snag. 

“I'll be out in a moment!” He called back as you fixed his tie and ruffled shirt, he grabbed the first thing he spotted and stole another quick kiss from you before leaving the room.

You leaned against a shelf and watched from the crack of the door in amusement as Lupin hurried to his desk.

“Ms. Granger, I am terribly sorry, is it possible for us to reschedule?” Remus pressed and looked at what he had in his hand.

A stapler.

Why on earth did he grab a stapler?

Quickly he sat at his desk and pulled out a few assignments. Grabbing some he had already graded and began to staple them together. 

Hermione was no fool and he knew that, she stared at him in bewilderment, slowly putting her hands on her books tighter. “Uhm, Professor? Isn't that the stapler Professor {L/N} confiscated from Creevey?” 

Lupin began to staple things a bit quicker, waving her off. 

“Yes, Ms. Granger, I think it would be, but I did borrow it from the confiscated,” He weaned on, collected and poised, a bit too good at putting up a face. Everytime you two have almost been caught, he's shown this side. 

“Why would you possibly need a stapler?” He asked in disbelief.

“To.. staple?” He lifted his eyebrow at her. “I do appreciate your curiosity, but I assure you this is none of your concern.” He spoke idley, having opened the stapler and pressed the top down against the pages and his table. Hermione seemed appalled at the misuse. 

“Now, if you'll please allow me to pick another time-” Before he could finish his statement, he attempted to raise his hand, only for his wrist to be locked in place. He looked down, just to see he had stapled his own sleeve to the desk under a few pages of paper. 

You had to cover your mouth and so did Hermione.

“Uhm, on second thought, sir, I think I'll spend my study hour in the library.” She slowly smirked, turning to briskly walk away.

Remus slowly sunk his face into his hands, the second his classroom door was closed he waved his hand to shut his office door. Only for the room to be filled with your laughter.

You walked out of the room, holding your sides as Lupin lost his front and stared at you with flushed cheeks.

“Not a word-”

“No! No please!” You wheezed out. “Several! Several words must be had!” You doubled over his desk, struggling to get the staple from his sleeves, when you finally managed, you were throwing your head back absolutely lost in boisterous laughter.

Remus wasn't even mad. How could he be? You looked so damn happy. So giddy with joy at the embarrassing show he put on. Quickly, he stood, walking around his desk with a purpose and grabbed your cheeks. You were still struggling to catch your breath as he playfully scoffed at you.

“Not very polite, Professor {L/N}.” He taunted and you grabbed his biceps and clung to him to try and clam down. It didn't help when he leaned down and began to pepper kisses all over your hot face. 

“Mercy!” You wheezed and he shook his head.

“What happened to all those words, Professor?” He teased and you shook your head, giggling as he absolutely mawled you with his lips.

~~~

The Grandhall was lively with the buzz of Sirius Black’s attacks. Managing to get into the Gryffindors’ common room was a feat that bewildered everyone.

However, what everyone was truly talking about was how he broke into the astronomy tower and Professor {L/N}’s office. It had managed to get out that Sirius Black himself left you a note that Dumbledore promptly confiscated. More accurately, the conversation was about how unbothered you were about the news.

That, and how a certain professor reacted to that news. 

He had gone down to the commons with McGonagall to check on Harry and the other students. Only when Flitwick came up in a rush and announced the break in and how you were nowhere to be found, the students watched in horror and shock as Lupin pulled his wand and ran from the towers at a speed they couldn't determine was truly human.

He found you soon after, running down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower, also looking for Harry. He stopped and pulled you into a tight hold no one could see. You were confused at first, but you eventually melted into him. You two were spied on by none other than Colin Creevey, who snapped a photo and was showing it around the lunch table. 

“See! I knew it! What a romantic! Ran straight to her in the face of danger?” One of the seventh years swooned and Ron scoffed.

“I don't get it, it's just two people hugging.” He mumbled and began to poke at his food, the twins giving each other a look before they rushed to tease Ron.

“Two people hugging,” Fred started.

“Hands below the waist!” George chimed in, holding up the photo as if to emphasize his point, gesturing to where Lupin's hands were holding you so tight your heels were slightly off the ground.

“Oh, how scandalous.” Fred concurred and Ron rolled his eyes.

“I hug Hermione, does that make us secretly married?” Ron pushed and Hermione quickly looked down at her book in a slight flush. 

“You wish.” George snickered and Fred clapped his hand on Ron's back, making him cough on his potatoes.

“Really, Ronald dearest, you wouldn't know the difference. You hardly know how to hold a girl now.” He teased and George nodded along.

“You'll get there one day, brother. For now you'll have to trust us.”

“This,” They both pointed this time.

“Is not a normal hug.” Both of them spoke at the same time.

Angelica finally spoke up. “Given the context, that man is whipped. Even if nothing is happening now, he is so in love it's humbling.” She got up and gathered her Quidditch gear.

“Come on boys.”

“Right behind you.” Fred purred and earned himself a look from her over her shoulder, George laughed as the three of them hurried off. Leaving the photo for Ginny to pick up.

“Oh yeah, there is absolutely no platonic explanation for this.” She hummed and tossed it to the center of the table, Neville shrugged, no wanting to contribute. 

“I think that whatever is happening between those two, it's clear they care about each other.” Hermione hummed and Harry finally agreed. Suddenly, he looked at his friends with a look of absolute mischief.

“Do you know how we can find out?” He mused and Hermione gave a groan and Ron shot up in his seat.

“How?”

Harry smirked and pulled out the map the twins had gifted him, showing it off to his friends with a cocky smirk. You had caught him with it days ago, and simply zipped your lips and walked away.

“If they are meeting anywhere, it's likely the astronomy tower.”

~~~

Now.. the plan didn't go exactly as planned.

“And I simply can not comprehend how all three of you continue to be the only Gryffindors I've had to reprimand this year!” Lupin’s voice filled the otherwise silent and empty Defense Against The Dark Arts classroom. Unfortunately for the trio, who were out far past curfew, Lupin just so happened to be on his way to the Astronomy tower when he spotted them seemingly just on time for his arrival.

“What about my brothers?” Ron muttered before Hermione shot him a look, elbow jabbing his side.

“Ronald.” She hissed.

The entirety of Hogwarts Valley had been buzzing with the news of Sirius Black’s newest escapade into the castle and Lupin could not comprehend why the three thought it was a good idea to do everything but what they were told. 

“Safety comes first and for me to find you lot outside of your dorms with a murder on the loose? With this bloody-” Lupin began to lift the map before his eyes snapped up at the sound of his door opening. He quickly shut his mouth when he saw you peak into the dark space.

“Remus?” You called out, before you paused and stared at the four infront of you. Your mind firing off a million excuses in quick succession. “Oh, I was unaware you had company.”

Lupin sighed and rubbed his face, seeming to untangle himself from the thralls of his anger. It wasn't uncommon for you two to find eachother late at night like this, but was certainly not the greatest idea of his yet- reprimanding the trio when he knew you'd be coming. As you always did when he didn't meet you at the Astronomy tower as promised. His favorite part of the end of a stressful day was a night full of whispers, stories and playful remarks. Reminiscing on your school years while recreating some memories long forgotten after the war. This time, not in his dorm, but his office or your room. “It's quite alright. I can still review your lesson plans.”

He was a terrifyingly good liar. That should not be attractive.

“Right. I will be in your office, Lupin.” You remarked and began to walk past the group of three who looked at you like you might save them. Sorry kiddos- he was grumpy enough as it was. 

You gave them a grimace, glancing at the map before quickly looking away with wide eyes and hurrying over to the office. Lupin caught the look and held up his hand. “Stop.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and slowly turned to face him. Giving him your adorable nervous look that you knew didn't work on him- well, you tried.

He made a come hither motion and you walked over, ready to be lectured like the kids beside you. He held up the map and you gave a nervous smile. 

“What? However, did you find this, Harry? This is supposed to be in Flinch’s office!” You gave the worst and most unbelievable fake disappointed tone, hands on your hips and frowning down at the three. You struggled not to smile as Harry gave a small one, before laughing a bit. Hermione covered her face in a mix of fluster and secondhand embarrassment. Ron was grinning ear to ear. 

“{L/N}...” Lupin warned and you huffed.

“You got me in trouble with the big boss here, Harry.” You teased and he finally cracked his lips into a brighter smile. You looked back at Remus and slowly interlocked your fingers in front of your lips, as if it did anything to hide your face. “In my defense-”

“You three are dismissed.” He mused quickly and slammed the paper on the table beside him. You tried your best to hide your smile. It was hard to take him seriously when you have seen him panic and staple his sleeve to a desk. The trio hurried to shuffle out, Harry sent you a greatful look and you simply winked at him. Something Remus rolled his eyes at.

“Did you see Harry with the map?” He asked in a stern tone when the kids left. You looked away and tried to look a little regretful. 

“It's very possible.” 

“And you didn't think to take it?” He asked in an incredulous tone.

“I mean, it certainly crossed my mind.” You slowly stopped hiding your smile and looked back to the taller man who was taking a few steps into your space.

“And you didn't?” He pushed.

“Well, in all fairness, Rem. It is technically his.” You snarked back finally and Remus gave a bitter laugh. 

“Professor {L/N}, did you think that maybe if this map fell into the wrong hands it could cause a serious danger to Harry?” He pushed and you clicked your tongue. You knew who he was talking about. A conversation you've had a million times, well, more an argument. It got worse when he heard of the note.

He was so willing to believe Sirius Black to be a killer, while you believed Sirius could bring himself to the point of ending someone's life, James Potter was more than a human to him. Even with his plea of guilty, you couldn't believe it. James, Lily, and Harry? You would stake your life on it. He was innocent.

It was what you were looking for, an explanation, hopefully that was what the note was for. But unlike your communications with the magical creatures of the forest, Dumbledore was not so willing to give up information when he had it. The old prick-

“I hate when we talk about this.” You huffed in honesty and leaned back on one of the desks of the room. He sighed through his nose and pinched the bridge that connected it to his forehead. “Honey-”

“Ah ah ah! Honey is for marriage.” You mused and he did his best to fight the smile growing on his face. Easily letting you steer the conversation from his own negative thoughts, he hated being upset around you. “That so?”

“It's very so. More so than most so’s.” You hummed and he blinked a few times at you before he couldn't help but smirk. 

“Give me my mother's ring back then.” He mused and held out his hand. You have a faux gasp. 

“Excuse you, sir. I seem to remember your mother telling you this belonged to me.” 

“When we were 18!” He challenged, letting himself fall victim to your antics. Like school children. “And last I checked, your reaction was less then pleasant.”

“We had been dating for a year and I was going to the North Pole in my defense, tart boy.” You scoffed and cringed at the memory. How you practically fall out of your chair when Hope made a comment about her ring. 

“Tart boy?”

“Tart boy.”

“I'll show you a tart boy.” He scoffed and took your cheeks. You giggled like a goofball, grabbing his lapels and trying to pull him closer. He smirked at you and kept his distance.

“Remus-” You huffed and glared at him a bit. His smirk only grew as he reached into your pocket, pulling out the modest gem. You rolled your eyes fondly and held out your hand for him, he slipped the ring back in its rightful place.

“Sorry, call me old fashioned. But I'd like to kiss my fiancé, not my coworker.” He teased and you couldn't help but laugh. 

“You absolute sap.”

“Hard not to be.” He mumbled and leaned in, finally kissing you. Both your eyelids lowered but he held eye contact. So much affection bumbling in your chests, it was too much to look away. Eventually, you gave into your shyness, closing your eyes. He slowly pushed your knees apart and slipped between them, making your face grow hot.

He pulled away at this and you huffed, he smirked at you when you looked back up at him. “Hey, sir, your lips on mine again. It's a marital duty and all that jazz.”

“Thought we had to be married for marital privileges, honey?” 

“Oh don't use anything I say around you against me, I can hardly think.”

He bellowed out a laugh at your mischievous look up at him. Slowly biting your lip as you struggled to keep your confident act up.

“Whatever will I do with you, {L/N}?”

“Well, I have a few ideas.” You hummed and began to fiddle with his tie. He curled an eyebrow and you looked forward, looking up at his hazel eyes with a playful pout. “Kiss me again. I promise, you keep my lips occupied, no more bad behavior.”

“Because you won't be able to talk?” 

“Precisely.”

“What in the world!?” You suddenly heard from the far corner of the room. Your face filled with shock and snapped over to see an empty corner, you could of sworn you heard Ronald just a moment ago.

 Remus quickly moved from between your legs and waved his wand, yanking off the invisibility cloak to reveal an appalled Ron, a delighted Harry, and a flustered Hermione.

“Bloody hell!” Remus boomed and you covered your mouth and looked away. Doing your best not to laugh.

“Yes, mum and dad do kiss when the kids are away.” You cheeked and Remus looked at you like you had just made some grand offense to his ears.

Hermione giggled and Harry’s smile grew ten fold.

Ron, however, seemed very displeased.

“I owe the twins so much money.”

[iris-qt]

𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗

"Dancing, dancing... Oh, with you, with you"

ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

✧ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ | 2.1ᴋ

✧ ᴀ/ɴ: ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ...might do a pt. 2 idk..

✧ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ʜᴇʟʟ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴜʟᴇ ʙᴀʟʟ? ʜᴏᴡ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇ ꜰɪx ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ..

“I wish he’d just choke on his cigarette ashes,” you mutter as you kick rocks across the gravel road, walking as far from the Great Hall as possible. The hems of your gown were catching mud and sticks, but you could hardly care. You kick off your heels leaving them behind as you storm off into the dark night.

What did you expect?

That Mattheo Riddle would just let you be happy for once?

No.

His sole purpose in life seemed to be agitating you beyond compare, whether it was "accidentally" brushing past your desk and knocking over your books, or starting some embarrassing rumor about a nonexistent rash you had in unlikely places.

Perhaps it was your fault for retaliating and giving him the reactions he so loved to coax from you. Unfortunately, you could never stop yourself from firing back at him, fueling the sick pleasure he found in his annoying deeds.

This time, he had gone too far. 

You had been asked to the Yule Ball by none other than the swoon-worthy Cedric Diggory. The thing is, you’d been so caught up with the stress of school and your constant scheming in order to get back at Mattheo, that you hadn’t even noticed Cedric’s advances. Looking back, it seemed quite obvious.

He had constantly been popping up to study with you in the library, not to mention buying you a book you had been prattling on about with a sweet note inside telling you he hoped you’d enjoy it.

It was all coming together and life was sweet roses.

Until Mattheo Riddle happened.

As soon as you stepped into the ballroom, he “accidentally” tripped over your dress, spilling his bright red drink on your pale coloured dress.

He grinned wickedly, eyeing you up and down as if relishing in your body shaking with anger.

“Oops! Didn’t see you there, love.”

“Mattheo fucking Riddle you better start walking before I stab my stiletto into your leg until you’re stained red too,” you grit your teeth, fighting the urge to punch that smirk off his face. 

“Matching stains? How romantic,” he leans close, smug smile on full display.

It takes every shred of maturity in you to take a deep breath and walk away, trying to focus on the fun night ahead of you. Casting a quick scourgify on the stain, you walk off, spotting Cedric strolling up to you with two drinks in hand and a shy smile on his face.

You both spent the night laughing and chatting. Yes, you usually never went for the sweet boys, but you thought that was silly after spending time with Cedric. He was so genuine…it was refreshing. You never had to second guess the things he said. 

Ok, maybeee it was slightly boring…but no matter. At least he’d treat you right.

A slow song comes on, and Cedric grins at you sheepishly, holding out his hand. You happily take it as he leads you onto the dance floor, his hands on your waist and yours around his neck, side-stepping to the slow melody. You'd been anticipating a slow dance, even practicing for it beforehand.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mattheo creeping up to the DJ and whispering something in his ear. You narrow your eyes as you observe him...and then the DJ suddenly switches the song to some random Metallica-esque heavy-metal song that leaves Cedric surprised and you seething.

The final straw occurred when Riddle slipped a joke candy from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes into your tart, and as you went to eat it, it made your whole face swell up like a balloon as Cedric gasped, wide-eyed.

You abruptly stood up from the table, everyone eyeing you in surprise and amusement, and started striding out of the hall, tears welling in your eyes. The swelling immediately started going down, but the damage was done. When you reach the exit, Mattheo is leaning against the wall, arms folded and face smug.

“Looking a little bloated there, y/l/n.”

Your eyes flash with anger and you walk straight up to him, noses almost touching, as you spit your words out to him with the strongest venom.

“Drop dead.”

And with that you storm out.

So here you are, striding down to the Black Lake, feet bare and eyes red from your tears of anger.

You ponder drowning yourself in it rather than being condemned to facing Cedric after that disaster.

The full moon is bright as it reflects on the lake, the reflection blinding you with its brilliance.

“Even the moon wants to annoy me tonight,” you mutter, sitting down on the grass, knees to your chest. “Nature itself is after me.”

“Nah, it’s just me.”

You swivel your head and see Riddle, standing behind you with a look of pure guilt. He seems to be holding your stiletto heels that you’d kicked off in your rage several yards back. The same rage that comes roaring back at the sight of him.

You swiftly stand up, whipping out your wand and pointing it straight at him.

“Dumb move, Riddle. No witnesses here to stop me,” you glower at him, rage blinding you as blatantly as the moon’s reflection.

He simply sighs in return, holding up his hands, heels dangling in the air.

“I come in peace.”

“You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

“Please? Look..” he holds up your favorite chocolate you hadn’t gotten the chance to nab from the snack table. “I come bearing gifts,” he grins sheepishly.

You’re too distracted by anger and disappointment in the night to wonder how Mattheo even knew your favorite candy. Nonetheless, you lower your wand, eyeing him suspiciously.

“How do I know you didn’t spike the chocolate or something.”

“I solemnly swear,” he puts up a hand as if pledging himself.

“Your word is worth as much as dirt,” you scoff, but take a seat on the grass again after snatching the candy from Riddle’s hand.

A fond smile forms on his face as he sits down next to you, keeping a respectable distance as you start stress-eating the chocolate.

“Listen, I know I went too far with the whole sabotage thing..”

“Oh, do you now?” you glare at him, furiously chewing your chocolate.

“It’s just that…seeing you with Cedric, it-”

“It made you jealous,” you put down the wrapper turning your body to face him, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

Mattheo looks baffled, and internally you feel quite surprised as well. You’d never suspected Mattheo actually harbored any feelings towards you, but tonight after your deep thinking, this seemed to be the only reasonable answer to the question of why he made your life a living hell. 

He just wanted your attention.

Mattheo hides his face in his hands groaning from embarrassment.

“Was it that obvious..”

“Yeah, Riddle. You consistently trying to ruin my life definitely made it obvious you were obsessed with me,” your voice drips with sarcasm as you roll your eyes. “No. It’s just the only explanation for you neglecting everything to ruin my date.”

You guys sit in silence as Mattheo attempts to recollect his thoughts, guilt still gnawing away at his heart. The soft sound of music swirls around them, wafting in from the Yule Ball. He had never meant to take his teasing this far. After several minutes, he speaks.

“Do you like him?”

You sigh, aware that question was coming eventually. You had assumed it would be from your friends after the ball during your nightly gossip session, matching spa face masks and burning candles making it seem like a satanic summoning.

And you had your honest answer already prepared. You were nothing if not blunt and honest.

“No.”

Mattheo glances at you, eyes flashing with surprise and hope.

You continue, “He was kinda boring.”

Mattheo lets out a breathy laugh at that; almost sounding like a sigh of relief.

“Guess you just need someone more interesting in your life, “ he grinned like an idiot, pointing his fingers at himself as you snorted, shaking your head in disbelief.

“If by interesting you mean Satan himself then yes, that would be you,” you scoff, “but I’d rather not have a bloody git as a partner.”

“Oh c’mon.”

“You do realize you haven’t even apologized.”

“I’m not good at apologies..”

“And I’m not good at goodbyes, but I’d be happy to give you one if you don’t apologize.”

He shakes his hand, mind reeling from your words. You were the only one who could leave him speechless. Whether it was your biting wit, or the way you looked like a goddess as he watched you walk down the stairs in that gorgeous gown of yours just a few hours ago.

“I’m sorry for taking my teasing too far. And I’m especially sorry about tonight. I know you were so excited for this ball,” he averts his gaze, picking at the verdant grass near his fingers.

“And how did you know that?”

“Oh gee, it’s not like you talked about it incessantly the past few weeks,” he scoffs fondly.

You laugh at that, not aware he was paying attention.

“Yeah, I took ballroom dance lessons with my friends,” your laugh turns into a sigh, “not like they came in handy.”

Mattheo feels a pang of guilt hearing that. He wishes he could rewind time to make sure he asked you to the ball first. To make sure he would be the one you would have that slow dance with.

A mournful violin tune floats through the wind, and, looking through the tall Great Hall windows, Mattheo could see couples slowly dancing to the music, ballroom skirts flowing in unison.

And he got an idea. 

Leaping up and brushing some grass from his suit, Mattheo stretches out a hand to you, a shy smile on his usually sardonic face. 

It’s too late to take back what he did, but not too late to try to make things right.

“May I have this dance, princess?”

You just stare at him from your spot on the ground, wide-eyed, knees still to your chest, not being able to comprehend what was going on. Nonetheless, you hesitatingly give him your hand as he kisses it gently, lips lingering on your ring-clad knuckles. With that, Mattheo pulls you up with great care, unraveling you from your depressed, cocoon-like position on the ground.

Your feet still bare against the soft grass, he wraps an arm around your waist and you place one around his shoulder; the other free mirrored hands meeting as you clasp them together. He begins spinning you around on the grass, and you recall your ballroom dancing lessons as you step to the sounds of the soft classical music floating in from the Great Hall in the backdrop. He spins you with grace, and you’re both lost in this magical moment, lost in the reflection of the moon in his reflective onyx eyes. Despite your few weeks of lessons, you get lost at some points in which Mattheo expertly guides you. You simply follow in his lead as he religiously fulfills every step.

“I never thought the Slytherin tough guy Mattheo Riddle would be an expert dancer,” you whisper, smirking slightly.

He rolls his eyes fondly as he twirls you, reeling you back in with the utmost care. As if you were a porcelain artifact he had managed to procure. “I grew up in a rich, pure-blood household. Of course I know how to ballroom dance.”

You laugh softly, and then the magical moment comes to an end. The gentle sounds of the violin are replaced with upbeat dance music, and you break apart from Mattheo.

“Well, I suppose I got the dance I wished for,” you say, a bright smile on your face, forgetting all of Mattheo’s wrongdoings towards you for a moment.

He smiles at you achingly, missing your proximity. “I hope you’ll forgive me someday.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” you scoff, still stubborn as reality hits you.

“Y/n...give me a chance? Would you?” His puppy-like eyes do little to help you maintain your pride and composure, but you’re not about to forget his indecent treatment of you. Treatment you had to endure for years.

You eye him skeptically.

“Go on a date with me. I promise you won’t regret it,” he whispers, involuntarily reaching out for your hands. You shake your head. You don’t know what for. Whether it’s a response to his request or a way to ward off the alluring thoughts of being able to call Mattheo Riddle yours.

“You’ll have to do more than that to convince me,” you glare, not willing to be a pushover. “I can’t forget everything you did.”

Mattheo sees it coming, and, frankly, finds it endearing that you’re sticking by your pride. It's insanely attractive. Mattheo Riddle loves a challenge. And he loves you. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to be able to call you his. Whatever it takes.

[emeritusemeritus]

Since never. [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Title: Since Never.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Gryffindor!Reader (background George Weasley x Angelina)

Timeline: GOF, McGonagall’s dance class.

Summary: George meddles and Fred finally finds the courage to ask you to the Ball, not liking the idea of anyone else taking you. Inspired by TikTok, based on movie canon.

Warnings: Friends to lovers, minor kissing, harmless pranks. A load of fluff. Fred has a crush.

I’m thinking of writing a part two to this, but it would most likely just be self indulgent fluff 🤍

"You know," George whispers into his twin's ear, trying to get Fred's attention whilst also trying to stay under McGonagall's radar as she addresses the Gryffindor students all huddled into one large classroom. The Triwizard Tournament and the associated Yule Ball had been announced the day before and as head of house, Mcgonagall had been tasked with teaching her students the traditional Waltz. The girls were seated on the left side of the room whilst the boys were seated on the right, kept separate for now as they listened to her explaining the ins and out of the tournament and the ball.

George leans forward to whisper once again to Fred who stands with his arms folded, watching in amusement as Filch hopelessly fiddles with an archaic megaphone, trying to get it to work. "Lee told me this morning that y/n's going to the ball with Cedric Diggory."

Fred's head immediately whips round with a face of utter horror as he turns to his brother, before briefly diverting his eyes over to you on the other side of the room and then returning his gaze to George.

"What, since when?"

"Since never," George smirks dangerously as he takes in Fred's rather apparent distaste to his words, his dismay and disappointment etched right across his face. "But your reaction just told me everything I needed to know."

Fred huffs and slinks back onto the windowsill where he'd been leaning feeling a little embarrassed at being caught out so easily by his twin. His crush on you was one of the only secrets he'd ever hidden from his twin, though apparently rather unsuccessfully, never wanting to be teased about it. You'd all been friends for so long that he never wanted to make things awkward by admitting his feelings and so he'd kept quiet for nearly two years of loving you secretly and silently.

"You should ask her," George says, leaning in once again. Fred doesn't reply, at least not verbally, but instead shoots his brother a fierce look that tells him to back off.

"Something may be about to burst out of Eloise Midgen, but I don't think it's a swan," Fred hears Ron mumble to his surrounding classmates, their eyes all sneakily turning to look at the girl in question, who shifts uncomfortably where she stands, unaware that half the boys of Gryffindor are looking at her. Fred's gaze doesn't linger long, instead finding you in the crowd, whispering with Angelica seated beside you as Hermione shoots you both a chastising look from the other side, clearly trying to listen intently to Mcgonagall.

Your hair is down now, not tied up in a high ponytail like it had been at breakfast. Your legs are neatly crossed in your seat, your school skirt revealing an appropriate but delicious amount of leg that Fred can hardly look away from. You're effortlessly beautiful, or at least you are to him, never looking better than when you are laughing and joking with your friends like right now. Sat surrounded by only the girls, Fred thinks it seems to to enhance your beauty, the prettiest face in a sea of girls.

"Mr Weasley."

Fred immediately looks up upon hearing his title called out as it so frequently is, though he's mightily relieved when it appears McGonagall was addressing his younger brother Ron, no doubt hearing him muttering.

"Will you join me please?" She asks, moving towards where he sits with an outstretched hand. The tone of her voice leaves no space for refusal as she tentatively reached out for his jumper and pulls him up of the chair, moving to stand in the middle of the room. The boys all make teasing noises as he stands, dragging his body over to Mcgonagall, feet hardly shuffling on the floor.

"Place your right hand on my waist," she says, opening her arms for him.

"Where?" He asks utterly horrified. Everyone looking on watches with sadistic amusement at his predicament. Fred can barely contain his delight at the scene before him, watching with utter glee, just like his twin beside him.

"My waist!" Mcgonagall replies, grabbing Ron by the sleeve and firmly placing his arm on her waist.

Fred heard a wolf whistle from the other side of the room and looks at you just in time to see your hand pull away from your mouth, clearly having been the perpetrator. The looking of delight on your face mirrors his own as you each catch each others gaze and he thinks just for a second that if he didn't love you already, it was firmly cemented now.

Ron turns and shoots you a look but you simply wink at him with a dung-eating grin before he is dragged back to focus on the professor.

"Mr Filch, if you please," Mcgonagall commands, prompting the caretaker to drop the needle on the record player, flinching only moments later as the speaker begins to crackle, before a signature waltz pours out.

"One two three, one two three," Mcgonagall starts counting as she leads Ron into a waltz, showing the steps that were specific to the champion's waltz.

Fred and George had been goofily dancing along with the music, hardly taking their eyes off of their embarrassed brother when Harry calls over to them.

"Oi!" Harry says, gesturing for Fred and George to come closer. They move in perfect unison and never take their eyes off Ron as they listen to Harry.

"You're never going to let him forget this are you?"

"Never," the twins say in synchronised perfection with identical smirks before leaning back slinking away to lean on the window as they had before.

"Everyone, come together!" Mcgonagall says from the centre of the room, finally pulling away from a bright red Ron to gesture everyone forward. The boys make no effort to move forward, clearly not wanting to participate whereas nearly all of the girls leap forward in excitement, waiting in a line to be picked.

Fred watches as Angelina drags you up, noticing that you had not leapt forward with the rest of the girls and he has to hide a snicker at seeing your disgruntled face, evidently not as keen to dance as your female classmates.

"Boys! On your feet!" Mcgonagall claps, getting the boys to also move forward. Neville stands first, followed by a few stragglers but no one moves forward until Fred steps out of line and whilst ignoring the looks from his twin and fellow Gryffindors, marches straight over to you.

"May I have this dance mi'lady?" He says dramatically with a bow of his head, extending his right hand to you.

"You may mi'lord," you laugh, placing your hand in his. He drags you over to the dance floor and places his hand on your waist just as he'd seen in the demonstration and with surprising precision, pulled you further away as he began spinning you. Your laugh echoed through the classroom even over the music as Fred span you around and around, completely ignoring the choreography until Mcgonagall shouted over and warned you both.

He seemed, for once, to heed the warning and pulled you closer into his chest then, placing his hand back onto your waist as he held you close, managing to quickly pick up the footwork that was needed for the waltz.

It was so intimate and romantic that you had to remind yourself frequently that this was Fred you were dancing with, knowing that he was out of bounds on account of your friendship with him and his siblings.You had to resist the urge to rest your head on his chest as you danced, enjoying the closeness as you half watched the rest of your house dancing around you.

"Do you have a date to the ball yet?" You hear Fred ask as he dances with you, hand resting on your lower back after lifting you in perfectly sync with the music.

"Not yet," you say, looking up to see him watching you with an intensity you couldn't place. "You?" You ask, temporarily breaking your eye contact as he clutched your waist, lifting you again and then taking your waist and your hand to spin you, just as the champions waltz demanded. He didn't verbally reply but instead shook his head with a frown before pulling you in closer and spinning you with more intensity which had you laughing again.

"Y/n," Fred says as he looks down at you, pausing his movements to speak but he's interrupted by Mcgonagall calling time on the dance class. She begins addressing the room of students on details of the ball and you all listen intently until she dismisses the class. When you turn back to Fred you notice he'd joined George and was already walking out the door, bag slung over his right shoulder. Angelina joined you, bringing you your bag as you said goodbye to Ginny and Hermione before walking to your next class together.

"You and Fred looked rather close," Angelina says as you place your bag onto your shoulder.

"He's my best friend Ange," you say, nudging her shoulder and rolling your eyes, pretending that you hadn't enjoyed it quite as much as you did.

"Has he asked you to the ball?" She says, not even flinching.

"No and I doubt he will," you say with a forced huff of a self-deprecating laugh.

"I hope George asks me," she says longingly as you turn the corner towards the charms classroom, instantly falling silent as you see the two brothers you'd been discussing already standing in the doorway to the classroom.

George looks over and smiles at you both, mainly Angelina as he beckons you over and you don't hesitate wiggling your eyebrows at her once he looked away, causing her to nudge you forcefully right back. You momentarily loose your balance from the unexpected nudge and as if on instinct, Fred's arms reach out to catch you.

"Falling for me princess?" He smirks, causing you to roll your eyes.

"You'd love that Weasley," you counter once you'd steadied yourself, seeing that George and Ange had already taken their seats.

"Ladies first," Fred says, opening his arms to gesture for you to go through the doorway first and you send him a sarcastic smile of gratitude before taking your seat next to Ang, in front of Fred.

Throughout the class you were desperately distracted, barely even listening or taking notes. thinking of your dance with Fred earlier and how he'd marched directly over to you ahead of all the other boys. You hoped that he was going to ask you to the ball, though you knew it would just be a pipe dream. Hopefully someone would ask you, even just as friends.

A piece of scrunched up parchment hits you square in the head, making you look round with a glare. Fred immediately smiles widely at you, if not a little sarcastically before he sends another note over to you with his wand, a little origami bird flying over your shoulder and onto the desk in front of you. Your eyebrows knit together in questioning as you look up at him again but he simply raises his eyebrows as if to say 'read it' and you turn and unfold the note delicately, shooting a quick look towards the professor to check that they weren't watching you.

'Black lake 7pm?"

You turned around, still looking confused but when you saw Fred watching you eagerly, you nodded with a little smile. He smiled back, winking at you before dropping his gaze back down to his work.

You secretly nudged Ang beside you and gestured with your eyes down to the little note, seeing her eyes bulge comically as she let out a little silent squeal of delight once she reads the note. She looks at you excitedly and wordlessly nods, as if thinking the same thing.

It's 6:50pm and you hadn't seen Fred or George at dinner which was unusual to say the least. Angelina and Harry had been there so it wasn't a Quidditch thing, which only confused you more. You made your way out of the castle utilising one of the secret passageways that you'd taken multiple times with the twins to avoid being seen, climbing around the statue of Gregory the smarmy and slipped down into the passage, walking the length of the little corridor until you could hear water rippling. You climbed up the little rocky steps and found yourself looking out at the Great Lake, beside the rocky cliffs that hid you from sight.

"Evening," you a voice called out from behind you, making you turn and frown. It was hard to see in just the moonlight with the shadows of the cliffs creating even more darkness, but you immediately sensed that something wasn't right. The person jumped down from where they had been perched on the rock and as they moved closer their long red hair and wooden jumper emblazoned with an 'F' came into focus.

"Hi, Fred," you said unconvincingly, looking at the bloke in front of you.

"Glad you could come gorgeous," he says, shifting to stand next to you. You couldn't help but observe him, looking at his features with subtle glances and questioning eyes.

"It's pretty out here tonight don't you think," he says with a shy smirk, though his eyes focus entirely on you as he speaks.

"Uh yeah, really pretty." He seems to briefly notice your lack of reply and casts a glance up at your eyes before looking away, focusing his attention on something to the right for just a moment.

"I've been thinking a lot about our dance earlier," he says shyly and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes now that it's all added up in your mind.

You gesture for him to move in closer, placing your hand on his shoulder as he leans down so that you could whisper in his ear.

"We didn't dance earlier," you say bluntly though with humour behind it, picking up a rock and trying to skim it on the water.

"Eh?" He asks, turning quickly to look up at your face in surprise, taken aback by his words.

"I danced with Fred earlier. Where is he anyway?" You ask quietly, raising your eyebrow at him, foiling his plan. He barks out a loud laugh at your discovery and you immediately see the performance drop from his body as he slinks down to his regular stance, once again being himself. He subtly nods his head to the right and your eyes light up in glee as you lean back over to him.

"Want to mess with him?" You ask with a suggestive wiggle of your eyebrows. George's eyes immediately light up as he nods, a smile tugging at his lips already.

"You know I've been thinking about our dance a lot too," you say flirtily and a little louder now, ensuring that whenever Fred was, he would hear you. You even lean over to touch George on the arm as you speak, your body language changing as you play heavily on the flirting.

"Oh really?" He says, playing along with a concealed smirk.

"Mmm," you hum, tracing your fingers up his arm with exaggerated movements so you knew that Fred would see them if he was watching. "I spent the whole dance really hoping you were going to kiss me," you said innocently and you immediately have to bite your lip as you and George share a little silent laugh.

"What a coincidence," he says, trying to sound like Fred, "I was thinking the same thing."

"Are you thinking about it now?" You ask, reaching to play with his collar, your voice seductive and airy as you pull out all the stops. "Maybe you could give me a demonstration of exactly what you were thinking about."

All of a sudden you hear a few loud shouts and a shuffle as another figure comes into view, quickly making their way down the rocky cliffs and running comically with waving arms, straight over to stand between you and George, who are both now in hysterics. Fred immediately notices the two of you laughing and freezes in confusion before realising that he'd been played.

"When did you figure it out?" He says, sounding aghast at you seeing through their little scheme.

"The second George said 'evening'," you chuckled, straightening back up and laughing again as Fred and George begin to squabble about who's fault it was.

"Anyway, have fun you two," George says with a wiggle of his eyebrows before walking down the steps to the concealed passage, leaving you and the real Fred alone.

"You know that doesn't work with me," you say, turning to him with a smirk on your face, seeing him already looking at you and shrugging with a playful grin. "Why did you swap?"

"Needed to know you could tell us apart," he says with a cheeky grin that makes you frown, silently questioning him. "Gonna need to know which one's your date to the ball aren't you. Can't have you dancing with the wrong bloke."

Your eyes immediately widen and a smile beams across your face as his words register with you. He chuckles, seeing your reaction before dramatically getting down on one knee as if he was proposing.

"Y/n, would you do me the honour of being my date to the Yule ball?" He asks seriously, holding out his hands as if he was presenting you with a ring. You giggle and let out a little squeal before lunging at him, knocking you both to the floor.

"I might be wrong but I think that was a yes," he chuckles.

"Yes! Yes you great oaf," you reply with a smile, feeling completely elated. His smile matches yours as he pulls you down onto him and suddenly there's a tension that falls between you both at the intimacy of the moment.

"Still thinking about that kiss?" He asks, a nervousness falling across his features that you had so rarely seen. You don't reply, at least not verbally and give a small, shy nod as you look at his lips in anticipation, thinking of nothing else.

Not a moment passes before he leans up, gently pulling you down until your lips meet, his soft lips pressing gently against yours. After just a few seconds, his hands hover over your waist before he seems to find the courage to hold you, placing his hands on your waist and hip as the kiss deepens, lips working completely in sync as you sink deeper and deeper into eachother.

You pull apart a little while later and both giggle shyly at what had just happened. Fred never takes his hands away from your waist, even as he gently manoeuvres you until you're lying down on him, head on his shoulder as you both look up at the star filled sky, a comfortable silence falling between you as you both replay the moment in your heads over and over again.

[strawberrytoki]

Closer than anticipated

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: You and Spencer visit the unsub's suspected place of hiding to investigate, but his unexpected return forces the both of you into a cramped closet. The forced proximity then leads to an...accident.

Content: mentions of arousal, descriptions of murder

Word count: 1,247

a/n: I heavily imagined early seasons Reid for this one (specifically s2) Also this is heavily inspired from that one scene in teen wolf.

The clock's slender hands couldn't have been moving any slower, and the BAU's members couldn't have been more stiff with tension and anxiety.

The team had decided to send you and Spencer to Cedric Marlin's hideout, since you were both the BAU's most observant members, and the team needed every last bit of evidence to finally catch the criminal. He was the prolific eye-gouging unsub that the BAU was finally able to zero-in on after months of meticulous investigation. The team didn't want to make any arrests just yet, since they wanted a solid case, so you and Spencer were in charge of gathering as much evidence as you can.

The parameter was under surveillance by your fellow team members, and you and Spencer were treading lightly, slowly preparing yourself for whatever was inside this man's place.

You entered the premises, Spencer cautiously following suit. You immediately noticed that the house was dingy and damp, suiting its inhabitant. The stench of what you could only assume was rotting human flesh wafted throughout the house, causing both you and Spencer to physically recoil.

"We'll definitely find all the incriminating evidence we need in here." Spencer started making his way down the hallway, following the increasingly strong stench. He stopped at the entrance of the last room on the left and adjusted his glasses, mouth agape with a mixture of curiosity and shock.

You caught up to him, only to eventually mimic his reaction yourself.

"This must be where he keeps all his souvenirs." He inched closer to the stacked mason jars, filled with a preserving liquid and what you both concluded were the eyeballs of his unfortunate victims.

"unmatched depravity..." Spencer walked around the room in an attempt to find more evidence.

"Anything catch your eye?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ha Ha." He sarcastically chuckled, a playful smile sneaking up on his face afterwards.

The investigation felt like a twisted game, each time one of you found a piece of evidence, the other would somehow find something to one-up the previous discovery in terms of depravity.

After what seemed to be hours of probing into this psychopath's lair, you and Spencer figured that you'd gotten everything you needed, and were about to head out. Just then, the sound of a cacophonous creak in the door sent a quick chill through both your spines. You knew it wasn't any of your teammates, since they wouldn't break protocol like that, and they didn't need to.

If there's anything this line of work has taught you, it's to always assume the worst case scenario. You were a realist, this was no gust of wind. It was him, and you both knew it.

You slowly craned your neck to Spencer, who appeared just as perplexed as you were. His mouth was agape and by the calculative look on his face, his mind was probably running at about a thousand thoughts per minute, trying to figure out a way to get both of you out of this mess unscathed.

You stealthily maneuvered around the room to get a proper perspective on the unsub, and Spencer was right behind you, his calm breath landing near your ear.

He slinged his plastic bag, that you did not want to know the contents of, on the kitchen counter. He had a leather eyepatch covering his left eye, and his clothes were covered in grime and reeked of filth.

Much to your horror, the unsub started making his way towards your location, and you needed to think fast if you didn't want your eye sockets to be what remains in your casket.

"We need to find somewhere to hide before he gets any closer." You faced spencer and slowly started backing away, a worrisome expression on your face. Spencer nodded and carefully followed suit.

You frantically looked around, knowing that the time you had to spare was decreasing by the millisecond. Finally, your eyes landed on a small closet near the corner of the room. The door looked like it was on it's last leg, but beggars can't be choosers. You quickly held Spencer by the wrist, yanking him forward. Both of you then squeezed into the cramped closet, and were facing each other. Neither of you dared let out a sound.

Spencer didn't seem all that uncomfortable, but you still tried to maintain as much space between the two of you, since you knew how he felt about physical touch.

Through the cracks of the closet door, Spencer saw the unsub pack a larger ice pick than what he usually used to disfigure his victims, and a bunch of other weapons. "This is a drastic change in MO, he's either evolving or this is his endgame..." you tried to fully process what he just said as you nodded in agreement, but the proximity was simply too distracting. However, you admired how observant he was even in times of stress.

A few minutes passed as the two of you were observing the unsub, just then, you felt something relatively hard poking you, and as the realization that Spencer had an erection dawned upon you, you felt the color leave your face.

You slowly lifted your face to face Spencer, and it looked like he'd rather be anywhere on earth but here. Even though the confined space was dark, you could tell his flustered face was as red as a tomato, and he was bent on avoiding eye contact.

"I'm...so sorry-" he blurted out.

"It's alright." you interrupted him. You tried to ease the tension by reminding yourself that he had no control over it, but that only did so much. "I'll just turn around." You then shuffled around the very limited space to face the front, with your back to him. At least then, you wouldn't have to face him.

"Uh...that's not helping." You both scratched your heads in frustration and confusion. This was clearly not the time and place for such a bodily reaction and you both knew it, but you couldn't help but get flustered over it as well.

You then realize that the unsub must've been hard of hearing, as there's no way he would've heard all the shuffling and not done a thing if he wasn't.

Just then, you felt your radio device turn on and couldn't be more relieved. It was Hotch trying to get an update, and you readily filled him in. It was only a matter of time before they entered the premises with the S.W.A.T team.

You then heard the door being broken off its rusty hinges, probably courtesy to Morgan, and judging by the altercation near the door, you concluded that the arrest has been made. You then felt yourself letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and pushed open the closet's door, feeling a welcoming, slight breeze of air.

Spencer then reluctantly faced you, his cheeks stained with an adorable shade of pink.

You decided to help him out a bit and break the ice.

"This wasn't how I imagined this investigation would go..." you awkwardly chuckled as you both made your way outside.

"No...me neither." He looked up to the sky, his eyes slightly squinting. He was probably just glad this was all over, for more reasons than one.

You, on the other hand, weren't planning on letting this go that easily, and were definitely planning on taunting him by bringing this incident up in case he ever got smug with you.

[metorea]

Receiving Oral w/ HP Boys

smut below the cut!!! all characters aged up

Harry

♡ More than anything, Harry is nervous. Nervous to mess up, nervous to do poorly- just nervous. 

♡ But this doesn't stop him from trying. Quite contrary, actually, he tries very hard. 

♡ He has never gone down on anyone before, but he has …. done his research. 

♡ He's gentle and cautious at first, but the sounds you're making spur him on like nothing else 

♡ “So good, so so good. You can give me another right?” 

♡ He finds himself quickly drunk with lust, addicted to the reactions he's pulling from you 

♡ You will have to pull him off, because he's not stopping until his jaw locks up. 

Ron 

♡ Weasley's man, I'm telling you. 

♡ This is probably one of the first sexual things you guys do together, period. Just going down on each other. No risk, high reward- what could be better?

♡ He's ever done it before you, but unlike Harry, he is not nervous in the slightest. In fact he is glaringly confident 

♡ For good reason, too. 

♡ Ron is, in a word, ravenous. 

♡ He may be oblivious most of the time, but in this arena, he is not. Quite contrary, he is incredibly in tune with you. Every move you make, every sound that leaves your pretty lips, he's listening and adjusting accordingly 

♡ “Fucking hell,” Is all you'd get from him, once or twice. His mouth is too full for him to say much else. Not that you're complaining. 

Cedric 

♡ Cedric is not a huge fan of oral. He prefers to get to the main event, where you're both feeling good. But seeing how interested you are in it, he's willing to try it. 

♡ And God, is he glad that he did. 

♡ He has you lay down on your back for him while he explores slowly, moving at an agonizing pace

♡ The first time you cum, he's shocked. He'd hardly done anything at all and here you were, a mess. 

♡ It opens up a whole new world of possibilities. 

♡ He watches and enjoys as feather light touches elicit the most extreme reactions from you, taking unbelievable pleasure in the way you're so desperate for him

♡ Yeah, oral becomes a staple of your foreplay from therein. 

George 

♡ He wants this. He wants it an incredible amount. 

♡ You never have to ask. He is ready to go, constantly. 

♡ Under the desk. In a closet. On his bed. On your bed. On Fred's bed. Everywhere. 

♡ George Weasley is absolutely nothing in this world if not a munch. 

♡ And God, is he good at it. Entirely too good at it. It's almost too much, the way he devours you without inhibition. 

♡ You have to push him off when you've finally cum too much for you to handle, and simply can't keep going. Even then he'll try to persuade you to just let him help you clean up, resulting in an eventual round 10. 

♡ “Come on baby, you're okay. Hush pretty girl/boy, one more.” 

Fred

♡ Fred isn't a munch per se. He is, however, a freak. 

♡ He's always looking to try something new, something experimental. 

♡ One day, an idea occurs to him. What if he combined his two favorite things? You on top, and him making you feel good. 

♡ This lands you here, on his face 

♡ Fred LOVES it. He loves the way that he's drowning in you while you rut against him, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he pulls you down against him. 

♡ He's looking up at you with greedy eyes while you use his mouth to get off, and he could not be more thrilled.

♡ “Y/N, I told you to sit, not hover. So fucking sit.” 

Draco 

♡ 69 sorry not sorry. 

♡ Draco is a very greedy man. He takes and gives nothing back, as has always been the case. 

♡ Luckily for you, this does not apply to sex … most of the time 

♡ He loves to have you sat on his face while you go down on him so he can feel you struggling to focus, choking on him while you shake against him. 

♡ He makes a game of it, trying to get you to finish before he does. More often than not, he wins 

♡ “Merlin, Y/N. Already? Tsk.” 

Blaise 

♡ He does it to think. I'm not kidding. 

♡ He's stressed out? You're crushing his head between your thighs. He's confused about something? You're sat on his face. 

♡ He uses you as a reassurance, taking pride in the way he can make you feel so, so good. 

♡ If he can control nothing in this world he can control how hard you're cumming on his tongue, amen.

♡ “Lay back.” He'd say, bursting into the room from what you can only assume was a long night, loosening his tie just enough for it to hang on his neck. “You know what I want prince(ss). Help me out, won't you?” 

Tom Riddle 

♡ Like most things with him, it is a ploy. A plot, to make you weak, make you pliable. 

♡ To Tom, there is no position more powerful for him than between your legs, staring up at you while you struggle to create any thoughts whatsoever. And that's exactly how he likes you; totally brainless. 

♡ Unlike the others, though, this is not about your pleasure. He is mean about it, always. More often than not, he goes down on you as a punishment, not a reward 

♡ He withholds orgasms for so long you're crying, shaking against him 

♡ And when he does let you cum, he refuses to let you stop- overstimulating you into a puddle

♡ He's a powerful wizard, he can go all night. And he does. 

♡ “What, it's too much?” Tom asks, raising an eyebrow with a sneer. “That's too bad. You aren't moving until I'm done with you.”

-

Requested by: @irissfoot

[archivesofthevoid]

how the hp boys would react to trans reader suggesting pegging ? xx

Trans FtM!Reader x HP boys + their reaction to pegging

Shaking over this request /pos because ABSOLUTELY

Also I only did the main ones!! If you'd like me to do a part 2 with Seamus, Dean, Oliver, and Cedric just lmk!!

NSFW warning!! Well slightly. Nothing too explicit but it's implied. Also for ALL intents and purposes, ALL HP CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR ARE 18+! Though I would assume that's obvious by now. Just wanted to place a reminder.

Harry: We all know this man is so obviously bisexual. So really if you ask him, he might seem a bit shocked at first but ultimately he like "well,,,," and then he proceeds to think about it for like the next week. Dear Lord please save this man because his classes will be SUFFERING. No one knows what he's thinking about but his brain is obviously not in the room with him. Once he actually TRIES it though? He's into it. Maybe more than he realized-

When you ask: You're both sitting in the Gryffindor common room, probably just doing some assignments to catch up in the week when you just casually pop out the question. This causes him to mess up what he was writing and also spill his bottle of ink on his paper as he looks up at you in shock. "Uh- I'm sorry what did you say?" Oh he heard you. He just didn't think you'd ask such a thing. Que him flushing and trying to come up with the words as you just grin at him fumbling.

Ron: Viktor Krum gave him some kind of awakening, let's be real. SO with that being said, he's definitely thought about it once or twice. Once you suggest it? He's protesting left and right as if he doesn't want to do it but once again, he finds himself thinking about it a bit too much. If he tries it, he'll like it but it's not his favorite in the world per say. He'd rather give than receive yk

When you ask: You're eating breakfast of course. What a classic thing right? Let's say you have a dream about it and just,,, decide to quietly bring it up to Ron who's shoving eggs into his mouth and once you ask there's suddenly VERY loud coughing in the Great Hall. Even Harry and Hermione next to you guys are just like "Bloody hell Ron what is the matter with you??" And the KNOWING SMILE YOU HAVE ON YOUR FACE??? IT'S NOT HELPING HIS CASE HERE-

Fred: oh he's so down. Do you even have to ask? He's definitely thought about it a LOT. Come on this is Fred we're talking about here. Plus I mean he's most likely dated a few guys himself so it wouldn't exactly be foreign to him. So he's naturally nonchalant about it and agrees with it. Though after you ask him he thinks about it to the point he's just like "so are we going to or…" because come on you can't just ask him that and not expect to give him something out of it!! Don't leave our boy hanging here :((

When you ask: He's working on his latest prank in his dorm room while you and him are just chilling together. You're actually behind him, running your hands through his hair and massaging his back but your thoughts were wandering while you were behind him. So you ask if he'd be into pegging. Glancing behind you he watches your face before just going "yeah of course I've thought about it. Why? You offering, love?" And just laughs when you playfully shove him

George: This man goes awfully silent when you ask. But yes he would probably do it in a heartbeat. Whether it's because he wants to please you or because he's curious? That's up for debate. To be fair though he's probably has kissed Lee like once or twice out of curiosity, or at least dated a guy but never really like went anywhere with it. Just be gentle with this man please or else he might explode lmao

When you ask: You're at the library with George, honestly just goofing off and you're supposed to be studying but since when did you guys ever actually do that? So instead you guys decide to just chat around. Though you however get the idea to ask George this whenever you guys start talking about your dating lives and how George says he's been with a guy but not BEEN with a guy. He goes oddly silent. BUT it's kinda clear by the way his face heats up that he's into the idea. You just of course smile sweetly and reassure him that it's okay and you'd be more than happy to help him in to which he gets even FURTHER FLUSTERED but y'know it's a win win

Draco: never in his life has ever even thought about it. Probably doesn't ever consider it. You'd honestly have to beg him for it?? But after enough persuasion and such, he'd give in. He just doesn't want to bottom like that y'know? After living in a toxic masculinity household for his whole life he finds it weird to bottom. HOWEVER if he does, it's a sight to see fr. He's just gotta ease into it but luckily he trusts his lovely boyfriend aka you <33

When you ask: You're sitting on one of the couches in the Slytherin common room and it's oddly quiet because it's the weekend so there's not really anyone there (thankfully bc Draco would kill you if anyone heard you ask him this) when you're looking out the window to the Black Lake and just straight up ask. He full on STOPS reading his book and snaps his head up to you like "w h a t" before you repeat your question but louder. "No no I heard you but why the hell-" and insert you guys kind of arguing over it? But not really. It's just him being in denial and you begging him playfully.

Neville: sighhhh. You're going to have to revive him first because good job man you killed him. Gave him a heart attack right then and there. But to say the least he probably would hesitate to agree as well just because he'd be so self conscious and shy?? But after TONS of reassurance and kisses then yeah he'd agree. Just promise you will keep it between you guys because he does NOT want his friends finding out. He knows the others would tease him for it and he'd actually want to crawl away for a thousand years.

When you ask: You asked when you guys were in your dorm!! You were just cuddling after classes right before dinner, enjoying the time with each other before you had to go be with everyone else (ew gross /j) and you popped the question. When I told you this man almost let out a scream just at your question alone because IT WAS SO SUDDEN?? He then proceeded to hide away in your chest as his whole face and ears turned bright red. He looked like he had the worst sunburn oh my god. You meanwhile were just CACKLING as he was trying to stumble over his words! What even could he say though? Yes?? Maybe?? He didn't even KNOW- eventually he just gave up and waited until he calmed down to try to speak. Though you reassured him over and over the whole time <33 good luck explaining why he's going to be a nervous wreck at dinner though :))

[sleepyfan-blog]

Questions

Author’s Note: This is the next fic in Cedric’s Adventures. First. Previous. Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: angst, 30k typical anti-religious sentiment, beating as punishment, unreliable narrator, ask me to tag if something bothers you!

Summary: Cedric asks captain Ash’val when morning prayers are. 

"Captain Ash'val... I... I've got some questions, if you have the time, sir." Cedric asked, having managed to pluck up the courage to go to the usually warm and kind Salamander Scout Captain. While there were many things he deeply missed about the time period he had been sent to, most of those things - and people - were wholly outside of his grasp. But there were a small handful of things that Cedric was hopeful that he could have in this time period, that he'd had in the time that he had come from. He was very deliberately not fidgeting with his hands, standing at attention as he waited for the older marine to acknowledge his presence in the other's office. 

The Salamander hummed, looking up from the machine that Cedric had been taught functioned similarly to a data-slate and gestured to one of the chairs on Cedric's side of the desk. "I've got time to talk with you, Cedric. Please, sit down. There's no need to be so formal, young one."

"If you say so, sir." Cedric responded, unable to keep direct eye contact with one of his superior officers, having been taught by both the Mechanicum and the Black Templars that doing so was both rude and a sign of defiance or challenge. He obediently sat in the chair Ash'val indicated that he sit in. He took in a deep breath, willing the anxiety welling in his hearts to not still his tongue as he asked "Where are the morning devotionals being held, sir? Or are they being held at a different time of the day, sir?”

".... The what?" The older marine asked, a frown appearing on his face. 

"Morning prayers? Part of the morning meditation exercises that every marine is supposed to take in? Or at least, the beginning of shift prayers and meditation that each marine is supposed to complete when not in immediate life threatening danger, should he be overheard, sir?" Cedric clarified, genuinely confused by the other's reaction, and doing his best to explain himself. Not every marine had the same work schedule, after all. 

"... Prayers to whom?" Ash'val asked, the frown on his face deepening, his voice shifting strangely.

"The... The God-Emperor of Mankind? The being on who's divine mandate we were all created to serve and protect humanity on?" Cedric answered, deeply confused by the other's question. Who else would Loyal Marines be worshiping? The Living Saints were more for mortals, though he supposed that some marines probably would send prayers to the nine holy Primarchs during their devotionals as well, depending on what they were doing for that day. 

"You... You believe that the Emperor of Mankind is a god?" Ash'val inquired, his face having frozen in a carefully neutral expression, though there was tension in his voice that confused Cedric tremendously.

"Yes sir. I was first taught by the Mechanicum to worship him in his aspect as the Omnisiah, but that was corrected by my Black Templar older brothers, after I was sent to them, sir. He is the Lord Commander of the imperium, the shining golden light in the darkness, sir. Without His protection we - and the rest of humanity - would be lost. Killed or enslaved by Xenos and Chaos." Cedric answered earnestly, repeating what he's been told over and over again in his home time. 

"... I see. This base does not have a morning devotional, nor would you find such things at four of the other bases in this city. The fifth is run by... Hmm. The fifth is a primarily Chaos base and their worship is of gods opposed to yours. I can tell that you genuinely believe in what you say, but I would suggest not speaking of the... The Emperor as a god in this base much. Most of us who live in this base are from a time before and during the Horus Heresy, and shortly after... And-" Ash'val paused, looking Cedric over carefully.

The young apothecary couldn't look at Ash'val directly. He could hear the recrimination and judgment in the older marine's voice. Guilt and confusion hit him harder than Tau ordinance and it took all of his self-control to resist the temptation to slowly ooze out of the chair and onto the floor. Cedric was keenly aware of how uncomfortable he'd made the Salamander, which hadn't been his intention at all. He... He'd just missed going to morning prayers with his Templar brothers. The sense of community, camaraderie and togetherness that the morning hymns and group meditation at the beginning of his shifts aboard the Sigismund, and in the mornings on whichever Monastery he ended up on occasionally had been wonderful. He'd hoped to participate in that again on ancient Terra. "I... I wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable, sir... and I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, sir. I... I'll leave now." He got up to his feet and retreated from the room as fast as he could, the hurt and confusion making his hearts ache and his eyes sting with tears that he refused to let fall. He was keenly aware of the fact that he was likely to face more punishment for the questions that had clearly made the well-liked and well-respected Scout Captain uncomfortable, and he heard the other call his name, but Cedric desperately needed out of that room.

Cedric threw himself into the chores that he'd been assigned to do that morning, frantically scrubbing the floors of the main entrance hall, watering the plants growing in the internal open spaces of the base and completing the handful of minor repair requests that had come in during the night. The fact that he did that while hyper-aware of his surroundings and avoiding every older brother he possibly could - especially Ash'val, who's steps and hearts'-beats he could hear coming from far enough away with his enhanced hearing to (hide from) avoid in order to not upset further - was just a bonus of his primaris physique. He would report to one of the chaplains to pay for his sins later. For now he needed to calm down.

~

There was only so long that Cedric could evade all of the older brothers and cousins who lived in this base - especially as he couldn't bring himself to disobey the order to stay on base. There was also the terrible misfortune he suffered of being larger than most first-born marines, and there were only so many places he could be without an older marine finding him at some point. Cedric had also not been created and trained for stealth missions either. He had managed to evade them for several days with his concerted efforts, though he was careful to complete each and every one of the punishment chores he had been assigned to, not wanting to make things even worse for himself. 

So the young Primaris marine wasn't terribly surprised when one of the chaplains who lived on base - a stern-faced Imperial Fist with steely blue eyes and greying hair - entered the room that Cedric was currently in. The young black templar was kneeling on the ground, scrubbing furiously at a stain on the stone floor with the scrubbing sponge that he'd grabbed after fleeing from captain Ash'val and beginning his punishment-chores for the day. He was acutely aware of the older marine as the other made his way across the anxiety-cleaned and meticulously cleaned floor. He'd stopped running when he'd known that Chaplain Feldarim was searching for him. While his older brothers likely thought otherwise, he wasn't stupid. He knew that running from a chaplain was a bad idea - and running from the highest ranking chaplain in the base was catastrophically worse. His breathing hitched a little, though he desperately tried to keep himself from visibly tensing or flinching at the older marine's approach. He continued to scrub on his knees, struggling to keep his breathing even and normal, hoping that the other wouldn't notice the way his fingers trembled around the sponge in his hand.

Chaplain Feldarim walked carefully across the room, coming to stand in front of Cedric, his ceramite boots within the younger marine's line of sight as Cedric continued to scrub and clean. 

Every time Cedric finished a one foot segment of floor and shifted over to the next tile, Chaplain Feldarim would side-step to keep within the young apothecary's line of sight. 

Cedric continued to scrub until each tile in this room was not only clean, but shined and polished to a mirror finish. His fingers ached faintly from the amount of strength he had used, and the hours it had taken to get this room's floor properly clean. He placed the sponge back in the bucket he'd periodically been dipping it into, to get more cleaning solution, letting it go. He sat back on his knees, placing his hands down on the floor in front of his knees, head still bowed. There was no way he was going to break the silence by speaking first and waited patiently, penitently.

Eventually chaplain Feldarim sighed. It was a heavy thing, filled with wordless condemnation.

Cedric fought the urge to curl in on himself, to hunch his shoulders to his ears. To cringe away from whatever just punishment he was about to receive from the chaplain, bracing for pain. Physical, emotional, or likely both. He did, to his eternal shame, close his eyes tightly and turn his head to one side, flinching a little as Feldarim began to speak.

"I've heard that you have some questions, lad. You brought them to Ash'val and then ran off. Considering what he told me those questions were, you'd have been better served going to one of the Chaplains, as you had questions about faith." Feldarim chided Cedric. His voice was surprisingly gentle, but Cedric suspected that the other was just getting started.

Cedric said nothing in response, unsure if he was allowed to, or if this was going to be a one-sided lecture. He erred on the side of caution and stayed silent on his knees, gaze firmly on the other's boots. 

The Imperial Fist Chaplain sighed again, and an armored hand briefly entered Cedric's line of sight, the gauntlet the gold and black of the older Marine's chapter.

To Cedric's eternal shame, he flinched backward when one of Feldarim's armored hands touched his face and chin. Shame burned his cheeks and he forced himself to still, waiting for the expected for his outward show of hesitation and fear to follow.

The silence stretched, heavy and expectant uncomfortably before the Chaplain spoke again "... Were you expecting me to hurt you, Cedric?"

Fuck. He was clearly expected to answer. He swallowed around the lump in the back of his throat that threatened to choke him "I... I apologize for flinching, chaplain. I will do my best not to do so again." Because what else was he supposed to say? Of course the other was going to hurt him. Pain was a common enough punishment inflicted upon misbehaving aspirants and battle brothers alike. Among Black Templars, Chaplains were most often in charge of the administration and execution of punishments. Cedric found himself intensely grateful that none of his squad had come with him. As an Apothecary, depending on what he had done wrong and the situation he and his squad were in, he did not always receive the physical punishments he had earned. Instead one or more of his squad brothers would be punished in his stead, and he would be the one to patch them up, while apologizing to them for being the reason why they were bloodied and healing.

"That is an answer, but not to the question I asked of you, Cedric." Feldarim pointed out, irritation seeping into his voice. One of the older marine's armored hands was still holding onto his chin and he was desperately trying to keep his breathing even and steady. 

He was trying to shove the shameful and un-Astartes-like emotions that were threatening to have him cry in front of a Chaplain about to administer punishment. It would only make what was about to come more agonizing. "It.. Is only be in service of making me a better marine, sir." He forced himself to say, hating the way that his treacherous body was starting to shake from the intensity of the fear and nervous anticipation running through him. As he had been taught before, during and after such punishments. 

"I want you to look at me, Cedric. Look me in the eyes, as I tell you something. So you know that I mean what I say." Chaplain Feldarim ordered, the grip on his chin tightening a little. Enough to be noticeable, but not painful.

Not yet.

Cedric let out a shaky breath as he complied, forcing himself to look up into the older marine's face. His eyes darted up to look into the Chaplain's before they slid down to the other's nose - a little crooked, looking as though it'd gotten broken and healed slightly off of center at some point. Probably multiple times, given the bloody and dangerous work of a Space Marine. No matter how he tried, he couldn't keep his gaze focused on the older marine's eyes, though he desperately tried to obey the other's orders.

"I. Am not. Going to beat you. None of the Chaplains in this base are going to beat you. None of the chaplains on any of the bases on Ancient Terra should ever raise a hand to you like that in punishment, no matter if they're Loyalist, Chaos or Renegade. You should never have been beaten, much less beaten as often and harshly as to make you flinch automatically at the touch of an allied chaplain. Has anyone on Ancient Terra beaten you and called it a punishment?" Feldarim asked, his voice shaking with rage and concern.

His words made no sense, but his fury was at least familiar. While Cedric did his best to behave himself, he'd been on the wrong side of a chaplains' wrath more than a couple of times. Some of the first-born older brothers really resented the fact that Cedric and his younger brothers existed. Sure, they had been gifted to the Black Templars by The Imperial Regent to strengthen their fleet... But some of the older brothers were incredibly strict and harsh on them, finding fault in everything they did, and culling brothers who did not conform quickly enough. "No sir." He answered earnestly. No one had lifted a hand to him in punishment on Ancient Terra. 

Some of the rage and worry left the chaplain, and he sighed again, eyes softening a little "There's that, at least. And stand up, lad. You've been on your knees for hours. Your knees are going to be complaining at you for a while for being on them for so long. Up you get, there's a good lad." The hand on his chin shifted down to one of Cedric's elbows as the older Marine helped him up to his feet. 

Cedric silently stood up, reeling from both the bit of underserved praise he'd gotten, and the fact that the older marine believed that he shouldn't be beaten as part of his punishments. If that held true for Imperial Fists, how then did they keep discipline? Was that why he had been restricted to base and given chores to complete? Was... Was that the extent of his punishment for being "rude" to two allied chaos space marines? 

Ancient Terra continued to confuse him on a soul-deep level. 

"Follow me, lad. While you've been quite dutiful in doing your chores, I know that you haven't eaten anything since your conversation with captain Ash'val. Missing meals isn't good for anyone, and I'm going to make sure you eat, lad." Chaplain Feldarim ordered, still holding Cedric by the elbow as he guided the primaris marine to the cafeteria, voice gently chiding.

"Yes sir..." Cedric mumbled, ducking his head a little, feeling intensely foolish for how he'd reacted, as he obediently followed after the first born marine.

[karahofthedawn]

Thinking about Fred and George’s reaction to overhearing someone from Hufflepuff quidditch team talking about Y/N and just the boys jealous reactions they would have hearing someone talk about their girl like that……and then that causing them to play extra hard and rough during the game and when they get off the pitch the poor reader is confused and innocent, but they just want to make sure she knows that she is theirs and only for them and img I can’t pls feel free to use this idea I need it

Here you go! ☺️

A cool February breeze brushes your shoulders as you climb the stands that surround the quidditch field. It was the first time since last year that you’ve been to a game. The Triwizard Tournament did take over all of the school events, but that didn’t stop the house teams from wanting to play against each other. After a discussion with Dumbledore, he gave the OK for there to be unofficial matches that anyone could attend.

You wrap your wooly black and gold scarf around your neck tightly and lean over the edge to try and catch a glimpse of the teams. It was Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor, which means you finally get to witness the Weasley brothers back in action. Slowly the crowd trickles in around you, murmurs of conversations that are immediately pushed to the back of your mind as you scan the field.

Your heart leaps to your throat as the pair of fiery haired twins come into sight. They were chatting with the other Gryffindor players with big smiles across their faces. The Hufflepuffs follow behind Cedric, who you are surprised to see. You had expected him to opt out, considering all that the Tournament put him through thus far. Yet he looks in high spirits, as always, with his head held high and strutting forward.

They pause at the edge of the field, their brooms in hand and standing proud.

—-------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure he won’t show?” Angelina Johnson asks Fred for the third time today.

“I’m sure,” he responds hastily.

They can hear the low murmur of the crowd from above as they reach the edge of the field. Clear skies with a slight breeze - a perfect day for quidditch, even if Harry didn’t want to join.

After the brothers hounded him for hours over the past week, they finally gave in once Hermoine lectured them. They knew he had his hands full with the tournament, but so did Cedric Diggory and he decided to play. He was their best chance at getting the snitch, and having Katie Bell replace him was not exactly increasing that percentage.

Angelina sighs and rubs her creased forehead. “I just thought he’d have a change of heart.”

“We tried to wear him down,” Fred says with a shrug. “Asked him about a million times.”

“Maybe even a million and one times,” George adds, then nudges his brother’s shoulder with his.

Once making eye contact, George gestures to the stands with a quick nod. Fred follows his gaze and catches a glimpse of you leaning over the stone barrier. A mixture of excitement and happiness swells in their chest as they both look at you. Your hair and scarf blowing in the wind, your arms tight against your torso. You never liked the cold, yet here you were, out to support them both. It meant more than they could ever say.

A few of the Hufflepuff players began snickering. Anthony Rickett and Michael McManus hold their brooms out, slowly rubbing the tips of them suggestively. “What I wouldn’t give to -,” the rest of the words were washed away as the crowd gave an encouraging cheer.

“Merlin’s beard, I’d give my last Galleon,” Michael laughs.

This was a background noise for the brothers, until the keyword of ‘Y/N’ is said. Both of their heads turn in automatic unison towards the conversation.

“As if you even have a Galleon,” Rickett retorts and shoots another hungry look your way. “I bet you Y/N would pay me after I’d have my way with her.”

Fred and George are both scowling, looking directly at the boys who continue laughing amongst themselves.

“She wouldn’t even look at you,” Michael taunts and swishes his hair from his forehead. “I bet you my last Knut that I could easily have her before you.”

Fred clenches his jaw, George mirrors him with closed fists. The rush of anger was beginning to rush through their veins the longer they eavesdropped. The excitement and happiness they felt just moments ago was melting away and being replaced by something else - something that made them want to run forward and smash Michael and Rickett’s head full force with their brooms.

“You really want to make that bet? I’ll try after the game,” Rickett says with a cocky smile.

Michael shakes his head. “You can try, but I’ll be sure to have her screaming my name behind the greenhouses before then.”

George’s breath catches in his throat as the imagery of you and Michael hits him. This boy’s greedy hands all over your delicate curves. Him tasting you. Him knowing how you sound when you’re trying to hold back moans. This was sacred. You were sacred to them, and he only ever wanted him and his brother to know these intimate things.

“You’re on,” Rickett snorts. “But who knows, if she’s as easy as I think, maybe she will take on both of us.” This time they both erupt with laughter, which almost sends Fred forward but George promptly stops him with a stiff arm.

Fred curses under his breath and digs his toe into the ground like an angry bull. Anger travels through his veins, his face a shade of red not too far from his hair. His pupils are tiny and fully focusing on the two who dare to speak about Y/N like that. He knew they couldn’t have you. That was never a question. But to stand there and make bets on who gets to capture you. Who gets to have you.

The twins look at each other, an understanding between them at once.

They’re going to pay.

—----------------------------------------------

The players are lining up now. You rub your hands together, breathing into them to try and bring back some warmth. Two of the boys from the Hufflepuff team kept periodically staring up your way. Surely there’s for someone in the crowd that they’re waiting for. It’s odd though, you could swear they’re looking directly at you.

Your mind drifts off as you focus back on the Weasley twins, both standing tall with an expression of determination across their faces. You take notice that they seem more serious than normal, but their competitive nature always brought out that side of them.

With a call from the announcer, both teams scatter off into the sky. The golden snitch is released and the game has begun. Rocking from the balls of your feet to the tips of your toes, you watch with a slack jaw as both brothers go rocketing across the field with their bats held with whitening knuckles.

Not too long after it starts, George hits a bludger off of a post and misses Michael McManus’s head by inches. Still trying to comprehend the close call, Michael was almost thrown off his broom by Fred who slams into the side of him.

“Watch it!” Michael yells shakily, then takes off to prevent Angelina from scoring.

The bludger finds Rickett this time as Fred hits it directly at him, making contact with his ribs. There is a loud thump and the announcer audibly groans with the crowd.

The ball wasn’t even on that side of the field, yet he was chasing down this now injured player who was desperately trying to flee.

George on the other hand was with Angelina, safely allowing her to score a point. The students around you burst out with a mixture of applause and booing. You clap and jump up and down with the fellow Gryffindors, leaving the Hufflepuffs eyeing you with judgment.

George zooms by so close that your hair blows like mad and curtains over your face. You quickly shake the knotting strands out of your sight just in time to see him practically kick Michael off his broom. Your attention is then immediately brought back to Fred, who was red faced and charging at a screaming Rickett. In the middle of the field was a dumbfounded Angelina, who was watching this unfold with wide eyes.

For the rest of the match, the players were just merely blurs. The Weasley twins are smacking bludgers left and right at the Hufflepuff players, leaving them very little time to plan. From the short period of times the messy haired gingers go stationary, you could see their eyes narrow and focused.

You hold your breath as Katie Bell dives and grabs the snitch in one quick swoop from right under the nose from Cedric. The Gryffindor student erupts into cheers. You join in, clapping and calling out to Fred and George who ceased chasing the Hufflepuff beaters.

They were getting closer. You assume they probably want to take in the applause, they earned it after all.

It isn’t until their brooms were only a few feet away, you realize that they were staring directly at you. Your chest blooms with excitement as they dismount their brooms and push past the crowd to meet you. With their arms outstretched, you run to them and fall into their warm arms.

“You were great!” You exclaim while smiling up at them.

Fred’s eyes dart to your lips and he dives in for a kiss. His soft hair brushes your face as he tilts you back, deepening his hungry kiss. The students around you holler and clap, making your cheeks turn scarlet red.

Once he pulls back, George takes you by the hips and replaces his brother’s mouth with his. You gasp from surprise, and he responds by rolling his tongue gently against yours. You fall into him completely, not caring what anyone else thinks.

Fred makes eye contact with Rickett and Michael and tilts his head with a devilish grin. Their jaws drop and they quickly fly off to the other side of the field.

You ask once George breaks the kiss, “what’s all this for?”

“Because we wanted to,” he says sweetly, placing a kiss on her forehead.

“And we wanted to thank our good luck charm,” Fred adds.

You rub your flushed cheek as you look between them. “Oh,” you say simply, falling short of any words that would cover how much you love hearing that.

“And,” Fred says, taking your hand in his shaking grasp. “Now everyone knows that you’re ours.”

Your mouth runs dry. Your heart pounding in your chest almost deafens the loud chattering around you. “Yours?”

“If you’ll have us, that is,” George says with a snicker. You take him by the collar of his shirt and stand on your tippy toes to kiss him. His lips are inviting and intoxicating, forget that there’s an audience until he stops you. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You roll your eyes and look between the two of them. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“Perfect,” Fred beams, giving you one last kiss before walking to his broomstick with George following behind. “We will catch up to you soon.”

“There’s something to attend to, and I believe it will leave us with a few extra Sickles.” George explains with a wink.

They take off in the same direction as Rickett and Michael, leaving you confused but with your heart filled to the brim with happiness.

[bettathanyou]

okokok how abt some good ol' angst to fluff cedric and reader where she tries to suprise him with sumn but ends up breaking something of his and he lashes out at her?? Makes her very sad and all and he slowly comes to his senses and comforts her?? Happy endinggg! Thamksss!

Come To My Senses

A Cedric The Sorcerer x Reader Angst/Fluff Fic requested by @acupnoodle

I'm listening to Mitski while writing this so uh if this ends up being more sad than you planned... that's why 😭 also credit to @natbat331 on Instagram for giving me this pic of Cedric that goes so well with the fic!! Anyways enjoy :3

Finishing the ribbon on the gift box, you hum to yourself in glee once again as you picture the look on Cedric's face once he receives your gift. The way his jaw would curve into a smile, warm mahogany eyes sparkling with intrigue- the thought alone filled your stomach with swarms of butterflies.

Inside the box was a piece of neatly folded cloth, its purpose used for making bowties- similar to what Cedric usually wears. However, unlike the simple yellow silk Cedric usually wears, this fabric was much more special.

The silk was a deep black in color, with hand embroidered constellations stitched with precision in real gold thread.

You grab the scissors next to you, cutting off the excess ribbon to make it more presentable. Once you're satisfied with your work, you nod to yourself with an excited smile.

"Done!" You exclaimed, flinging yourself up from your chair. Turning to head out from your room, you tuck the box within your pocket to conceal the surprise.

Strutting down the long castle corridors, you have to bite your lip and glance away at passing servants to conceal the grin that stays stuck to your face. In all honesty though, it wasn't really working that well. Your relationship with Cedric was far from being a secret, and most of the castle inhabitants knew where to find you when you weren't working or in your room.

You turn into that familiar corridor leading toward the staircase to Cedric's door. Heart thumping, your footfalls grow slightly faster, echoing from the stone floor.

Cedric is going to love this, I just know it! His face will be priceless, you think to yourself, biting back a cheeky laugh. Reaching your next destination of the stairs, you ascend without any hesitation.

In your love sick stupor, imagining the different ways Cedric could potentially react- you burst through Cedric's door, waltzing right into his workshop.

You open your mouth to greet your favorite sorcerer and partner, but before a syllable can leave your lips, the man is already cursing.

"Dammit!" The lanky sorcerer roars, and the shrill tinny of glass shattering echoes in your ears. Your first response is to freeze, your wide eyes boring into Cedric's back. Purple silk quickly turns into fiery golden eyes, glinting with anger and disdain.

The sorcerer faces you now, his mouth twisted into a scowl, deep trenches of annoyance across his forehead as he frowns.

"How many times do I have to tell you people-...!" Cedric's usual posh accent is gone now; torn to shreds by the gruff Cockney accent that sometimes peeked out, when he was pissed enough.

And Cedric was certainly pissed.

As his eyes finally processed that this wasn't just anyone, it was you- his guard dropped, slightly, reeling as his mind caught up with the fact.

You, on the other hand, had the opposite reaction. Upon hearing and seeing the rage Cedric emanated off his person, it sent shockwaves through you. Your muscles contracted at the new inflection of his words, that true accent from Cedric's lips always a warning signal for both of you.

You both stood in tense silence, your eyes screaming for any explanation as you search Cedric's face. Your eyes flit over the facial features you've long since memorized, looking for a hint of the Cedric you knew.

Cedric, however, couldn't stomach that look on your face, much less the truth that he was responsible for it- that hurt, the way your eyes shimmered with tears that reflected that temper of his.

Cedric clicks his tongue in annoyance, turning away from your form in one swift motion.

Back to the broken glass, and drip drip drip of a tedious potion that he has slaved away at for almost three days straight. He groaned, the image of King Roland's familiar look of disappointment already coming to mind.

"I'm sorry..." Your voice cuts through the thick haze of Cedric's thoughts. Cautiously, your footfalls come closer as you inspect the damage.

Cedric, however, didn't want another pair of eyes on this failure- he could hardly stand looking at the mess himself.

"No- don't. Just-..." Cedric huffs in frustration, cutting off his sentence abruptly. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turns to face you once more.

The rage you saw at first had faded, but even worse, you decided, was the deep seeded annoyance on the raven haired man's face.

"Why didn't you knock-?" Cedric asks you, exasperated.

"I.." You stuttered, feeling at a loss yourself. Why didn't you knock? You knew-

"You know you can't just barge in my workshop like that!" Cedric chides you, his voice rising slightly. You turn your eyes away from Cedric, mumbling "I know, I'm sorry," under your breath.

You feel Cedric's eyes burning into you for a moment, before turning his head sharply back to the mess on his table.

Your eyes quickly glance at all the scattered papers around his desk, now soaked through from the liquid, and ink smeared beyond recognition.

"There's good reasons why I have that rule. It's a simple one, yet-..." The sorcerer mumbles to himself, snickering as his nose scrunches with the rest of his frown.

"I'm so sorry I didn't knock, Cedric- I know it's a lame excuse, but it really did just slip my mind! I..." You pause, unsure if it's even worth to elaborate further. The small box in your pocket now feels like a brick, the guilt weighing it down heavy.

"I was just excited to surprise you, and-" You babble on, and the man's warm brown eyes have since grown cold.

"Well, consider me surprised." He snips back in a sarcastic voice, beginning to magically move all the items off his work table to clean up.

The rest of your words have since died on your tongue, and you knew that Cedric was beyond talking until he calmed down. You couldn't blame him though- you messed up, big time it seems, if Cedric's mood soured so quickly due to one accident.

The sting of oncoming tears, along with the frustration you feel towards Cedric's cold demeanor, has kept you silent as Cedric stiffly begins to clean the space around him.

You stood, still as a statue, even though your mind was screaming at you to do something, say something! To fix this. But it was like you were frozen, glued to the spot next to the mess you created. You felt fear- that if you moved again, something else bad would happen.

Cedric, who had been in the middle of sorting through what magical ingredients could be salvaged from the spill, glanced over to where you stood. His face was stony, no discerning emotion left within any line of his face.

"Did you- need any help? I mean, this is my mess, you shouldn't be cleaning it up for me." The words manifested on your tongue in an instant, with you slightly tripping up over your words. Your eyes were hopeful, and somewhat pleading- but Cedric only replied with a long sigh.

"... It's fine. It's best I clean it up anyways- potions require a specific procedure when it comes to spills." Cedric replies in a monotonous voice, not sparing you a second glance as he continues his work.

Feeling dismissed, you hang your head and walk towards his door in shame. As you approach the door, you're hoping for Cedric to say "stop", "wait", or anything really that indicated changing his mind.

However, there was no such thing. Only the scuff of Cedric's feet against the stone flooring as a send off. You glance back, vision blurring slightly as the tears welled up.

Fishing in your pocket, you retrieve the black box that previously was the source of your excitement.

Now, it was nothing more bitter reminder- and you couldn't stand to look at it anymore. You set it down, softly, on another table nearest to the door.

Whatever Cedric does with it, it's out of your hands now. A part of you hopes he'd just toss it in the trash, along with the rest of the things you ruined today.

Without a word, you opened the door- a soft, final, "I'm sorry," leaving your lips.

You close the door, without waiting to hear a reply.

__________________

Cedric finally finished clearing away the rest of the accident, a final flick of his wand gathering the rest of the trash into the rubbish bin.

In the midst of all his clean up, he had forgotten that the bin was already overflowing- yet another mess to clean up.

The disruption crashes Cedric's motivation, the weight of your... argument? Conversation? He wasn't sure- it felt like he did most of the talking, now that the sorcerer thought about it.

Recalling it now made his heart sink, along with the weight of your last words now settling on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry."

Cedric winces as your voice echoes in his memory; that signature wobble in your cadence when you were upset, that usually was accompanied by tears.

Remorse clawed at his chest, and his stomach tightened into knots. The sorcerer runs his hands through his hair, his fingers tracing his scalp as he thought of what to do next.

Clearly, you both couldn't just pretend this didn't happen- no matter how much Cedric wanted to forget about it. Bygone are the days where he avoids confrontation- he knew that he also had to take responsibility for his own actions as well.

His hand reaches for something to fiddle with as he rehearses what to inevitably say to you- his gloved fingertips brushing up against a black satin box.

"What's this...?" Cedric's cat-like curiosity gets the better of him, as his hand curls around the object.

A soft rattle of metal came from inside- yet the box was very light, barely covering his own palm. His mind digs through the vast collection of his personal items to place a name to what was inside- but no dice.

Cedric shrugged, deciding to lift the snug lid upwards to look at the contents hidden within the box.

Casting aside the lid, his caramel colored irises land on the unfamiliar yet gorgeous fabric- the gold thread of stars and constellations winking back at him in the evening sun.

"This... Is-" Cedric's eyes widen, staring down at the fabric for a moment. His jaw hands slack as he cautiously lifts up the tie to inspect it further, taking instant note of the craftsmanship and quality.

It was beautiful, no doubt about it- but it certainly didn't belong to him; he would remember having such a tie in his collection.

"I just wanted to surprise you, and-"

Your voice pops into his mind again as he recalls what you had said earlier, which shoots down his wonderment for a moment. Guilt and anxiety wrack his frame once more, realizing where this tie had came from, and why.

"This was (y/n)'s surprise..." Cedric whispers to himself, bringing a hand over his lip as he gasps.

"Oh, God, I'm such a..." Cedric groans, leaning his face into the palm of his head.

I have to make this right- I... I have to apologize, Cedric thought hurriedly, already reaching for his door handle.

"Hopefully, it's already not too late..." Cedric mumbles to himself, his gaze fixed ahead as he makes his way to your room.

____________

You sigh, tossing your book haphazardly aside on your bed once more. You've been trying to find any kind of distraction to keep your mind off of Cedric, but the silence of your room was only filling your head with more thoughts of the sorcerer.

You and Cedric rarely had spats like that, and the way his face warped into annoyance and anger at your mistake kept haunting the back of your eyelids. You rub at your eyes, trying once again in vain to just stop thinking about it, for even a moment.

We both just need some time to cool off, it's fine, you're fine; keep it together.

You repeat the phrase inside your head like a mantra, until the words begin to lose meaning; sounding like gibberish on your tongue.

In the middle of your chanting, you almost miss the subtle knock on your door- making your body flinch from the sudden noise.

"...Can I come in, dear?" That familiar voice cuts through the wood, seeing two feet shadowing the light peeking through the bottom of the door.

You pause for a moment, deciding if this timing was really good, or you were somehow hallucinating Cedric being there as a cruel trick of your psyche.

"(Y/n)?" Cedric calls out, his tone softer, laced with somewhat disappointment. Hearing your name being called snapped you back to the current moment. Scrambling from your bed, you tip over to unlock the door that stood between you and the man you love.

Creaking the door fully open, you're met with the comforting sight of deep purple robes, tired, yet soft brown eyes, and silver bangs framing the face of your dear Cedric. Your heart sang when you looked at him, but your body still remained stiff- still unsure whether it was acceptable to approach Cedric, given what happened today.

"I... It came to my attention, a little too late late, I might add, that I didn't apologize, either." Cedric fumbled through his words, his fingers fidgeting with his robe sleeve.

"Well... I didn't knock, either-" you offered, but Cedric is quick to cut you off.

"No, you didn't, but-... I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. It wasn't fair, or right, and I'm sorry. I should've come to my senses sooner." Cedric confessed, his eyes glued to yours as his voice grew hoarse from guilt. His shoulder dropped, even more so than normal, and Cedric's tall lanky frame appeared to fold in on itself as the words left his mouth.

"...Did you manage to clean everything up?" You ask, nimbly avoiding the apology for now.

"Huh? Oh- yes, yes, I did." Cedric cocks his head in confusion, wondering why you had avoided his apology. Were you still upset with him? Should he have waited longer to approach you? Should he just leave?

No. No, he can't just leave now- he can't, not until he can relieve you of that sad glint in your eyes, the sadness that he knew was his fault.

"A-actually, I managed to find something interesting, in the midst of my cleaning..." The sorcerer pulled out something from the depths of his sleeve, extending his palm out.

Revealing a small black box, the very same that you possessed.

Instinctively, you smile, your eyes lighting up. You raise your head to look at Cedric, who also bore a knowing smile of his own.

"I was hoping you could do the honor of helping me put it on...?" Cedric asks you, unsure but still hopeful- extending you an offer, as well as an olive branch.

Feeling your walls finally crumble, your smile widens and your eyes crinkle in the way that makes Cedric's heart flutter.

Grabbing Cedric's wrist, you lightly tug him into your room, his eyes widening in equal parts surprise and happiness. You glance up, chuckling to yourself slightly.

It was the face you imagined the sorcerer would make, upon seeing your gift- except, it looked even better in person.

You take the tie from the box, gently looping the fabric around his neck.

"It would be my pleasure, Cedric."

[dereliction-if]

Ros & mc are running from something and decide to hide in a small closet, now they’re stuck very close to each other 🤭, reactions?

Dear Anon, this might disappoint you but...

Neither Cedric (The Commander) nor Havu (The Mercenary) would get into the closet with you. They would push you in and fight off whatever is outside to keep you safe. Cedric relying on skills and Havu playing dirty if necessary... Once danger is over, Havu will open the closet door with a smirk... "Isn't it much cozier without a monster lurking outside?" They ask, leaning against the frame for a short moment, before they step inside... Cedric would hesitate before opening the closet, taking several deep breaths. That was close. He takes a moment to collect himself before he opens the door to see which state you are in. He seems tense when your eyes meet but he doesn't say a single word before he grabs your arm and pulls you out, his jaw clenched and his eyes piercing into yours.

Regarding the rest... Solas / Sonea (The Heir) - You'd both quickly jump into the closet, silently closing the door. You're breathless, panic written all over your face, clearly visible for S. Without any hesitation they draw closer, pulling you into a tight hug, their arm around your shoulders, with their hand pressing your head against their body. You both close your eyes and your breathing slowly calms down. It seems time is standing still and neither of you knows how long you have been inside when S suddenly lifts your chin up so you can meet their gaze. The sweetest smile gracing their lips before they move closer to place a delicate kiss on yours, your both hearts suddenly starting to beat fast again, when the kiss turns into a desperate fight of tongues - just then, the closet door opens...

Jia (The Mage) - You experience Jia in an unusual serious state. When you are about to open your mouth to say something, their finger is already on your lips, their focus remaining on what's outside. They listen carefully to any sounds outside the closet, their ear against the closet door. You two stay like this for a moment and when Jia turns to you, they notice their finger is still on your mouth, your lips slightly parted. When their gaze falls on them, they swallow, their eyes fixed on the building smile on your face. Suddenly they look up to see your eyes are already on them and they apologize, quickly withdrawing their finger. Jia ain't sure why exactly that felt... strange... strange?

Darius / Daria (The Knight) - Is a bit confused why you pulled them into the closet because they would've faced whatever was outside. But you looked scared and they didn't dare to let even an arms length of danger between you and them, so they had to follow you into the closet. And now they are here, with you.... the proximity overwhelming. They have never been so close to you before and right now, being almost pressed against you, they aren't sure whether their heart is racing because of what's outside or inside the closet. One thing is for sure, all they can focus on right now is you while their eyes are glued to yours.

Regarding Amara (The Sovereign)...

She ain't running and she would definitely not get into a closet. You will be send to safety with her companions while she takes care of whatever dared to attack you. But don't worry, she will be back soon. Very soon... and make sure you are alright... distracting you from any tension if necessary... and even if not necessary, because she feels like she needs it herself.

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 48

Chapter 47

Masterlist

Geralt and Aemma approach the mist, ready to jump in at Phillipa's signal.

Aemma reached out towards the mist, extending her arm, remembering the sorceress's warning about mixing her magic with the magic that was used to create the mist. She wanted to be certain that she could step in without much effort, with the risk of a reaction.

So far, nothing happened, but Aemma still kept a tight grip on the list of incantations, having spent much of the trek memorizing them should she be in need of them. She sucked in a couple deep breaths, something that didn't go unnoticed by Geralt. "Are you alright?" "I'm fine," Aemma assures, "I'm just not sure what to expect when we step in. We get the blood..." "...we find Triss..." "We save Saskia...and maybe somewhere along the line...somehow, we save my mother."

"Is that what Cedric told you before he passed?" the witcher asked, "he...he may have said something to me when I spoke to him last." "He said I had to go to Vergen," Aemma tells him, "it was the only way I would know my destiny...and how I would rescue my mother who is being held captive by the Wild Hunt."

In that moment, Geralt felt himself start to daze into space as he experienced another vision from his fractured memories.

----------------flashback-----------

The Wild Hunt.

The Wraiths who strike in the aftermath of war...or in the case of Geralt of Rivia and the Lady of Larks it was in the aftermath of the Rivian pogrom, when the witcher and the troubaritz were badly injured, resulting in Ciri taking the both of them to a island in a place somewhere in space in time where they could rest and recover.

It was a peaceful- a paradise consisting of a house and an orchard where the two of them could forget the harsh world they escaped from, where they could forget the strife and trauma they have endured for as long as they had...

For the Lady of Larks, it was a chance for her to forget her past- the harm she faced at the hands of the Rogue Prince...and a chance to forget the pain of losing her daughter.

Until the Wild Hunt came to the Island, first coming for (y/n), abducting her in their sleep, but not after burning the house and trampling the island.

Geralt ran after the Hunt, losing sight of them- the witcher knew he was going to have to return to the world of the living in order to track down the Hunt and save the Lady of Larks. The witcher spent the better part of a year traveling the Continent, going wherever the Wild Hunt was last sighted.

Until he finally found tracked the Wild Hunt...who offered him a choice. The witcher's soul for that of....

--------end of flashback-----------

"Geralt?" Aemma tries to snap the witcher out of his trance. Geralt shook his head, clearing his mind, looking to Aemma, almost like he had some kind of revelation.

"The Lady of Larks...your mother...she was in Rivia, during the pogrom." "I already know that," Aemma huffs, "she supposedly died during that massacre." "She was badly injured," Geralt corrects her, "I...the villagers were attacking the non-humans, I tried to defend them...before taking a pitchfork to the chest. A sorceress by the name of Yennefer, she ran out to heal me when I was bleeding out, but the villagers tried to attack her, but before that could happen...your mother...she stepped in, sacrificing herself. It was all for naught."

"Do you remember what happened next?" Aemma inquires. "(y/n) and myself, we were taken to this island in a place beyond this world. It was her- Ciri- she was the one who saved us that day. She was the one who took us there." "Ciri..."

"That's all I remember...I'm sorry there wasn't more," Geralt says remorseful. "...when we find Triss- when we rescue my mother- I know there were be more," Aemma says hopeful.

The two walk into the mist, prepared for what was to come.

-------------------time skip----------------

So far everything was going well as witcher and princess crossed the mist. Looking up, the two could see a snowy white owl above them. Recognizing the owl was Phillipa, they ran after her, while also doing their best to keep quiet as a nearby battle raged on.

Once past the mist, Geralt and Aemma, waiting for the owl meet up with them. Phillipa transfigured from her owl form and approached.

"Are you going to be leading us the rest of the way in?" Aemma inquires. "No, I can go no further," the sorceress informs, "a mage by the name of Dethmold is nearby. I cannot risk him sensing my presence." "Will this Dethmold sense my magic then?" Aemma asks. "Unlikely so long as you keep your gift hidden," Phillipa answers, "you still have the list of incantations in hand?" Aemma nods in response.

"How are we supposed to make it back to Vergen then?" Geralt crosses his arms, giving Phillipa a certain look. "I'll wait nearby. Now hurry, the both of you."

Aemma and Geralt continue their trek, still keeping stealth as the area they were in was still technically a battlefield.

Sometime in the middle of the trek, Geralt stopped- well more like slowing down- Aemma took note of the way the witcher rubbed his side, almost as if he was in pain. "Are you alright? Were you injured?" Aemma asks with concern (something that kinda surprised Aemma that she was actually concerned for the witcher's well being). "I'm fine," the witcher assures, "this happens sometimes. An odd pain that comes and goes every now and then. It's an old injury from many years ago." "Do you remember how it happened?" Geralt shook his head in response. "...maybe we should take break," Aemma suggests. "I'll be fine," Geralt assures, taking another step, only to feel that pain shoot up again. He looks over to Aemma with a certain look, "maybe for a minute or two."

Aemma nods, looking ahead of the path before them, "maybe I...could go on ahead, locate the king and convince him to take some of his blood?"

Before Geralt could refute that suggestion a gruff voice caught their attention, "I knew it...Damn I knew it was you!" Roche says as he approaches, "When the mist started, I told the boys- it's Geralt of Rivia, or my name isn't Vernon Roche...and the Targaryen princess well," Roche narrows his gaze onto Aemma, "the same princess who freed that Scoia'tel whoreson and took off with the prison barge with the rest of his ilk."

Aemma kept a hand on the hilt on her sword in case she needed to defend herself, "forgive me, Vernon Roche, it was never my intention to cause more chaos back on Flotsam." "Then why go through the trouble of doing what you did?!" "...I had my reasons," Aemma says in a low tone, "reasons that are my own." "What is your business here then?" Roche demands. "We're looking for Triss," Geralt answers for the both of them. "Still looking for your sorceress then?" Roche scoffs, "if she were here I'd know about it." "Roche, please, it's really important," Geralt insists, masking his pain for the time being, so as not to show Roche he was vulnerable at the moment, "Only you can help us." "Oh so now you want MY help," Roche scoffs once more in disbelief, "I'll gladly return the favor...oh wait, that's right. You did nothing for me!"

"Roche-" "Shut your mouth, girl!" Roche sneers, "you made your choice. You freed a war criminal and fled with the elves while Ves almost died at that whoreson Laredo's house. Were it not for your own bloodkin, princess, and the knight Sir Cole, that would have been the case." "Ves? Wait, Aemond and Ser Criston saved her? How did that even happen?" "Is Ves alright?" Geralt asks with genuine concern. "Like you care about her," Roche sneers, "We could've all died while you both played at being Squirrels! Not just the Blue Stripes, but the dragon prince and Criston as well."

"We're not any of your men, Roche," Geralt reasons, "neither of us betrayed you." "I didn't say that," Roche huffs. "But you thought it," Geralt huffs back, "you and your men against the whole world. Those not on your side are against you."

"Don't you care about Foltest's death anymore?" Roche brings up.

"Are they unharmed?" Aemma changes the subject, concern taking over for Aemond. "...they are," Roche reluctantly nods, "but they still search for you, princess. Your cousin especially, he's adamant on bringing you home, more so since we arrived at the Kaedwen camp and the mist started to form."

Aemma became speechless, realizing Phillipa's sources were right about Aemond following her all the way to Upper Aedirn. She began to think about when Aemond tried to stop her from jumping into that burning building back in Flotsam when she was intent on rescuing the elven women, how her cousin proclaimed he still cared about her. Aemma initially was shocked, more in disbelief, as this was the same person who once told her to leave and do as she wished (granted in more crude and rude terms). Now, here she learns Aemond was still going after her, wanting to bring her home and ensure she was safe and unharmed.

It all confused her...Aemond was confusing her with his actions.

"Where are Prince Aemond and Ser Criston now?" she finally asks. "Back at the camp," Roche tells her. "And Triss?" Geralt asks, "in case you don't know the assassin kidnapped her. Help me find her, and I promise I'll keep the word I gave you in the dungeons at La Valette Castle."

Roche stood there silent, looking like he was actually contemplating if he should accept Geralt's offer. "Ugh, I don't know why I'm doing this," he grumbles, "right, if Triss is anywhere in the area, it can only be one place. At the rear, near the riverbank. The Nilfgaardians have set up their camp. Nobody can enter it. You can get in via some caves or by sneaking in through the main camp. I'd forget the gates...believe it or not, the whorehouse is where you need to go to enter the caves. The ladies thought they'd use that passage to service knights and nobles, but some monsters have their lairs there. If you've had your fill of whores and monsters, to the east there's a path that leads along the riverbank. That'll get you near the canteen. You'll have to sneak in the rest of the way there."

"Thanks Roche," Geralt nods. "Hey! I'll hold you to your promise," Roche warns before walking away with his men.

Aemma looked to Geralt, "What about Saskia? We still need to Henselt's blood for the antidote?" Geralt thinks on this, looking to Aemma, "can you handle it?" Aemma thinks about it before nodding confidently, "I'll get his blood, you go find Triss." "We'll meet up with Phillipa before we head back," Geralt says.

The two part ways.

Aemma made her way to the Kaedwen camp. The place appeared to be fairly guarded, even though most of the soldiers had gone off to battle. Aemma saw a couple soldiers standing guard at one tent. That must be where Henselt is, she surmises.

She needed to find a way in.

Aemma find a hand sized rock on the ground close by her. She had an idea of what to do. The guards looked a little on edge, which made sense considering the mist that threatened to envelope the camp. Taking the stone, Aemma threw it at the other side of the tent, far away, causing the soldiers to run off in the opposite direction like cowards.

Aemma then snuck closer to the tent. She took a peak underneath. Much to her confusion she did not see the Kaedweni king inside. This confused her. She crawled into the tent, with hopes that maybe she could find clues to Henselt's whereabouts.

At that moment, she felt swirls of magical energy begin to surround her. Not having to time react or recite the incantations, the energy begin to form magical bonds that wrapped around and immobilized her. Aemma grunted as she struggled to pull the bonds off her, which only caused them to tighten around her and threaten to constrict her breathing.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a male voice catches her attention. Aemma looks up to see an odd looking man approach, "this spell was designed to de-motivate one to escape. The more you thrash and struggle, the tighter your bonds will become, even past the point it crushes your rib-cage." "You're a sorcerer," Aemma realized, "Dethmold I presume." "Ah, so you've heard of me," Dethmold says, almost like he was flattered. "Phillipa Eilhart said a sorcerer by your name was nearby," Aemma told him, "she dared not approach lest you sensed her presence."

"Smart woman, I'll grant her that," Dethmold says, "but not smart enough to outwit me. I could sense Eilhart a league away even before she entered the mist. I could sense your magical energy as well, significantly stronger and a greater power than the bitch could ever hope to achieve. She was foolish to send you into the mist with what you possess...Princess Aemma Silverlark of House Targaryen." 

 Aemma's eyes widen at the mention of her name, "have you been expecting me then?" "Not quite, I must admit, your arrival here was rather unexpected," Dethmold confesses, "but a pleasant surprise nonetheless. And here, I thought we would not see the likes of you until after Loc Muinne, where Saskia would supposedly declare Upper Aedirn as independent, and you were named her heir. How ironic, a dragon slayer forming an alliance with a dragon rider. Ironic and quite interesting." 

 "Where is the king?" Aemma demands. "Not here, I'm afraid," Dethmold tells her, "he's currently hiding behind some runes that are meant to protect him. The mist is, after all, connected to him, given that the sorceress who cast the curse that caused in the first place was tied to him." "Sorceress?" "By the name of Sabrina Glevssig. She has been long dead three years past, after Henselt had her bond to a wagon wheel and burned at the stake, but not before she uttered a curse upon him. Unfortunately, as much time and research I have put into this curse, I do not have the power to lift it...but you, Silverlark just might."

"I don't understand," Aemma mutters, scared for what the sorcerer might have in store for her. "The curse is a powerful one, one that very few mages could ever enact," the mage explains, "by that logic and reasoning, it would take magic of equal or even greater power to lift it. And you, little princess, might just have what it takes. I sensed that power coming out of you not too long ago, all the way back in Vergen. It was unlike anything I ever felt before. I knew then and there, you might just be the key we need to end this."

Aemma thought back to earlier in Vergen, when Phillipa tried to help her access and channel her gift in a way she could control it, how it backfired and caused her to hit the wall. The energy that came out of her that time must have been stronger than either she or Phillipa could have ever anticipated.

"If you do me a kindness and free me from these bonds, I will be more than happy to cooperate and help you lift the curse," Aemma offers as a bargain. "I free you and then you proceed to locate Henselt and drain him of his blood," Dethmold surmises, "a risk I cannot take as I am at His Majesty's service, and that includes protecting him. No, the bonds must remain."

Aemma fought the urge to struggle, remembering Dethmold's warning about how the bonds will constrict if she tried to fight them.

"So what now?" Aemma sneers, "you cast spells and recite incantations to access my power? Is that how this will work?" "More or less," Dethmold confirms, "not to worry, my dear, I assure you it will be quick and...relatively painless, at least I'm certain it will be."

"You really think this will work?" Aemma sneers as Dethmold drags to her to the middle of the floor, "if I really have this level of power, what makes you think you can even control it? I can barely control it, and if it mixes with the curse that created this mist, it will very well cause a volatile reaction neither of may survive." "I'll take those chances if it means undoing the curse," Dethmold assures, "and you forget, dear princess, I have many more years of experience controlling chaos compared to the likes of you. I think I can manage it."

Aemma wasn't sure how she was going to get out of this mess she was in. This was supposed to be a relatively simple mission to go in and extract a little bit of a king's blood to save Saskia. She wasn't supposed to get trapped in a sorcerer's trap...she wasn't supposed to be put in a position where she was supposed to lift a curse against her will.

Dethmold began to draw symbols on the ground, standing up afterwards and began reciting incantations.

The tent entrance rustled and the sound of a steel sword was heard as it was drawn from its sheathe.

"AEMMA!"

Aemma and Dethmold look to see who it was that dared to intrude on this ritual. Aemond and Criston stood there, both had drawn their swords. "Aemond!" Aemma calls out.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Aemond demands. "Young prince," Dethmold addresses, "I know how this looks, but you need not worry, I am taking good care of your princess." "If that is the case, than you will unbound her this instant," Criston demands. "In a moment, not before we finish the ritual, the princess has agreed to assist in lifting the curse."

"This was not our agreement," Aemond sneers, "you swore you would help find the princess and bring her to us unharmed." "That was before the girl came to this place willingly," Dethmold says in a low tone, "that was before her power became known to me."

"Don't listen to him!" Aemma exclaims, "Aemond, I didn't agree to anything, I don't want to be here!"

That was all Aemond needed to hear. "Let. Her. Go," he warns in a low tone.

Seeing the way his tone changed, Dethmold gave the prince a certain look, "my my, we sure are protective, aren't we? Over someone you once disdained, much so to the point where you drove away with such cruel words." "How did-" "I am a sorcerer, I know how to read minds," the sorcerer explains, "it seems you have much regret over that. Why is this so? Unless...you are still in love with the princess?"

"Shut up!"

Aemond charged at Dethmold, Criston following suit. Dethmold pushed them back with his magic.

The two men groaned as they laid on the ground, in a dazed state. Aemma fought back the urge to thrash and struggle, trying to remain calm and recite the incantations Phillipa wrote for her, the ones she could remember anyway.

"Those spells won't do you any good," Dethmold tells her smugly, "now hold still. It will be over before you know it."

"Dethmold, I'm begging you right now, if you do this, the consequences will be severe," Aemma warns, "this power can't be controlled no matter what you do, I have tried, others have tried it can't-" "Shut up," Dethmold scolds her and continues where he left off with the ritual.

Aemma felt the energy start to swirl both within and around her. She felt something akin to pain. She clenched her teeth, starting to whimper as the pain became more unbearable. "You're hurting me," she manages to say, though the sorcerer ignored her statement.

Aemond felt himself come out of his daze at the sound of Aemma starting to cry out in pain. "Stop...please," Aemma cries out, "it hurts." Aemond picked up his sword, ready to charge at Dethmold once again.

"LET HER GO!"

Aemond felt himself hit something, forcing him back against the tent; he realized the mage had cast a shield around himself and Aemma. "AEMMA!"

Aemma couldn't bear the pain anymore and she screamed like she never had before. "STOP!"

At once, her bonds were broken. The magic coming out of her burst forth, consuming and breaking the shield. It pushed Dethmold back, practically forcing him out of the tent. The power inside Aemma began to feel herself be levitated from the ground, her vision turning white, her hands stretched out as she felt the power slipped out through her fingers.

Aemond got to his feet, reaching out for Aemma once again. He grabbed Aemma by the arm, attempting to pull her into his arms with hopes that he could shake her out of whatever was going on with her. The magical energy swirling inside Aemma burst forth once again, forcing Aemond to fall the ground, with Aemma following, her body landing on top of his.

As Aemond sat up, holding Aemma in his arms, he could see how still she was in her unconscious state.

"Aemma? Aemma! Please wake up!"

-------------------somewhere in time and space-----------

Aemma opened her eyes, a gasp coming forth from her lips. She quickly looked around to see she was in a similar setting that Ciri was before, when she confronted Eredin who had her mother in his grasp.

Aemma ran out, not sure where she was going. It felt like forever, and she wasn't going anywhere fast.

"What am I doing?" She huffs, "I don't even know where I am. Where am I supposed to go?"

Right on cue, an orb of light shows up from seemingly nowhere and stopped right in front of her. Curious, Aemma reaches out in an attempt to touch. The light orb sparked at the touch and moved away, right when Aemma pulled away as well. The orb of light moved away in the opposite direction.

"Wait!" Aemma calls out, running after the orb.

Aemma kept running after the orb, until she felt the ground disappear beneath her, resulting in her falling through. It was surprisingly not a long fall, and Aemma found herself landing on her feet painlessly.

Looking around, getting a better sense of her surroundings, Aemma spotted an invisible looking table with the figure of an older woman with a magic shield surrounding her. The woman was laying flat on her back on the table, her eyes closed as if she were in some kind of coma. Aemma saw right away who the woman was.

"MOTHER!"

Aemma ran towards the Lady of Larks, a look of hope in her eyes.

Before she could even touch the shield, she felt the force of an armored hand slap her away, with such force that she felt back, stumbling as she laid on the ground. "Ow..."

She looked up to see the elf she saw before in her visions, on his left side was another elf, the same one Aemma recognized from a vision she saw prior to the Driftmark incident- the blonde haired elf who kept his hair parted in a way to conceal his scars. "Well, well, well," the raven haired elf spoke, an evil grin on his face, "we finally meet, little lark." Aemma heard her father's voice speak with that same tone right after, a brief vision going back to when he used to call her mother that pet name, "Little Lark."

"You..." Aemma says once she recognized that elf, "I know you. You're him...the king of the Wild Hunt. Eredin." "So, it's true then," Eredin in a low tone, "what Avallac'h said was true. There was another- one who was gifted with the Elder Blood in part thanks to the descendant of Lara Dorren."

Eredin approached Aemma, kneeling over as he were inspecting a piece of meat, "interesting. I didn't believe it at first, that Lara's gift could be corrupted in such a manner. Now I see it, I still have trouble believing it."

"Forget about it!" the blonde elf, Caranthir sneers, "We should do away with her and be done with it." "Patience, Caranthir," Eredin insists, "she has the Elder Blood. And if Zirael will not give us what we want, perhaps this...inbred mutant will." "I won't give you anything," Aemma sneers, "I know what you are. I've seen what you have done. To others, and to my mother. I've come to save her. Let her go, she's suffered enough already."

Eredin only gave an amused smile in response, "you are quite a bold one, I will give you that, d'hoine. But the Lady of Larks belongs to me now. We struck a deal with the witcher, he broke the agreement the moment we made. She stays with me."

Aemma draws her sword, ready to fight Eredin to the death if it meant freeing her mother, but her sword was pushed from her hands by Caranthir who used magic to disarm her.

"Now, now, Little lark," Eredin tuts, and again Aemma heard her father's voice in a brief flash of vision repeating Eredin's words. "Now, now, Little Lark..."

"There is no need to be hasty," the elf king continues, "we can handle this in a civilized manner." "Go fuck yourself," Aemma spits at him, "I've waited ten years for my mother to come back for me, and then I spent six more looking for her. I have come so far, I will not let you keep her away from me any longer. And I won't let you continue to torture her."

"...is this what you think I have been doing, little lark?" Eredin scoffs (Aemma's father's voice ringing through once again), "Me? Torture the Lady of Larks? Hardly. We've been keeping her safe in Tir na Lia. It was the White Wolf who put her in harms way when he broke his part of our agreement." "I don't understand. What agreement?"

Before Eredin or Caranthir could answer her question, the two elves turned their attention towards another individual calling out to them. "EREDIN!"

A young woman with ashen hair ran towards them, sword in hand. "Zireal," Eredin greets, almost as if this woman wasn't here to threaten him. "Let the Lady of Larks go!" the woman demands.

"Ciri..." Aemma says in recognition, then tries to get her attention, "Ciri! It's me!" "...Aemma?" Ciri said as she recognized the girl before her, "you...how did you get here? You have really grown up."

"How sweet," Eredin mocks, "a reunion if there ever was one. The child of the Elder Blood...and her accidental child." "Ciri..." "It's true then," Ciri realizes, "what happened in Kaer Morhen- Triss' spell- it passed my gift to you."

"Ciri, I need to know how this all happened, what happened to me? What happened to my mother back in Kaer Morhen?"

"Silence!" Eredin threatens as Caranthir apprehends and restrains Aemma. "Let her go!" Ciri demands. "Join me with the Red Riders and I will let the girl go...as will I release the Lady of Larks." "Ciri, don't!" Aemma insists, "If we have the same gift, we can take them together, we don't have to give into their demands!"

"Shut up, bitch!" Caranthir shakes Aemma silent. Ciri runs to her, but Eredin stops her, drawing his own sword, "join the Red Riders, and I will release the both of them, Cirilla. I won't ask again." "Ciri!" "I said shut up!" Caranthir then smacks Aemma upside the head.

"Do you really wish for the girl to suffer anymore?" Eredin changes tactics, "do you wish to keep her away from her mother any longer?"

Ciri wanted to fight, but she remembered the promise she made a long time ago, when she vowed to protect Aemma, even from her own father. Sighing in defeat, she sheathed her sword. "I'm sorry."

Eredin made a smug, evil grin in response. "Ciri, no! Don't do this!" Aemma begs. "I have to," Ciri insists. "Ciri...no....no! NOOOOOOO!"

Aemma's screams resulted in her magical energy shaking the ground beneath them, forcing Caranthir to release the princess from his grasp. Aemma landed her knees, and she quickly got up and ran to Ciri, who held her for dear life in one arm and drew her sword once again in the other. The invisible magic shield lifted from the Lady of Larks, "Aemma, grab your mother and get out of here!" "But what about you?" "I'll keep the Wild Hunt occupied while you escape," Ciri tells her, "I made a promise years ago- when you were still a baby- to protect, and that's what I intend to do. Go now, Aemma, take (y/n) from this place. Have that reunion you've been dreaming of the last sixteen years!" "But Ciri-"

"DO IT NOW!"

Right then, a dragon's roar reverberated, and a she-dragon of black and gold materialized in the sky as she flew down towards her rider. "Cirillia!" Aemma calls out. The dragon roared back in response, almost in excitement to see her rider once again.

Aemma then faced Eredin and Caranthir, who were distracted by the dragon's presence. Aemma took the opportunity to strike, "DRACARYS, CIRILLIA! DRACARYS!"

At command Cirillia rained fire down on the two elves. Caranthis cast a shield around Eredin and himself for protection. Cirillia continued her attack, which gave Aemma and Ciri a chance to rush over to (y/n). The two princesses pick up the Lady of Larks and carry her to the dragon. Ciri helps Aemma get her mother onto the saddle.

Aemma was about to mount the dragon herself, but then her vision suddenly went white- the landscape disappearing before her, along with Ciri, the Aen Elle, Cirillia, and her mother.

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

"MOTHER!"

Aemma jolts upright from Aemond's arms. She was wide eyed, quickly taking in her surroundings. She was not in that place in space and time...nor was she in the Kaedwen camp.

She was on the road back to Flotsam, she realized. Aemond and Criston were attempting to return to Westeros...and Aemond had been carrying her during the trek. "Aemma, it's okay," her cousin tries to assure, "you're safe now."

"Aemond, what...what happened to the camp?" Aemma demands of him.

"We left as soon as the mist lifted, princess," Criston answers for the prince, "whatever that sorcerer had done, it appears to have work. That so called curse was lifted. We can return home now."

Aemma growls and pulls away from the two men, "Aemond, I told you before, I can't leave yet. Not when I was so close." "...to finding your mother, you mean." "She was there, I saw her," Aemma insists, "I was physically there, she was in the clutches of the Wild Hunt. Ciri was there, and so was Cirillia. I rescued her from the Hunt, I was able to get her to my dragon, I-"

Before Aemma could finish, a portal appeared before the trio. The sorceress Phillipa walked through, "there you are," she states to Aemma, "we've been worried sick, Silverlark, everyone is waiting for you. Saskia's life is still at stake." "Phillipa." "Silverlark?" Criston frowns a bit at that name.

"No time to explain, we need to get going," Phillipa takes Aemma by the arm and escorts her through the portal. "Not again!" Aemond groans and runs after the women, managing to jump through the portal before it closed.

Criston, unfortunately was left behind.

------------Vergen---------

Aemma and Phillipa made it back to Vergen, to the house Saskia was staying in. "Wait, what about Henselt's blood?" Aemma points out, "I wasn't able to obtain it."

"The witcher, it seems, was able to handle that in your stead," Phillipa assures, "and funny enough, as soon as you lifted the cursed mist...his memory had miraculously returned. He is very worried about you."

"His...his memory?"

"Aemma!" Geralt's gruff voice cut through as he rushed towards the young woman, "are you unharmed?" "I am," Aemma nods, "you got your memory back?" "I have," Geralt confirms, "I...I remember everything now. Your mother, yourself, I remember it all now. I know who you are. I know what you were told by your father was a lie."

"Geralt..."

"Aemma!" Aemond calls out, getting the group's attention.

Recognizing the long silver blonde hair, Geralt growled a bit, and drew his sword, pointing it at the prince.

"Stay back!" he warns.

Chapter 49

[xknivesandpensx]

Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Chapter 2

Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only extra student called upon to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Far from the most popular candidate, Draco not only has to take on the trials but also deal with his unexpected feelings for Hermione. Will he be able to face the challenges as well as follow his heart?

Chapter length will vary. I'll be referencing both the books and movie versions. Some things from what I've previously written will be mentioned, all of which you can find here.

And for those who asked to be tagged: @dayane245love

The Triwizard Tournament was about the only thing anyone talked about for the rest of the evening. An overabundance of excitement filled the common room, many in awe of the competition. The age limit held scattered complaints, most loudly by Fred and George, but the rest of the students entertained themselves by attempting to guess the student likely to be chosen from Hogwarts.

Any remarks concerning their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher rose every so often, seeming to float in the background, wondering if he’d manage to stick around longer than one year.

Hermione bypassed the discussions and sat on one of the large red armchairs nearest to the fire. The flickering flames warmed her up some. Eyes filled with tiredness, she debated on heading straight to bed, like the majority had done, yet no matter the temptation of being tucked away under her covers, she insisted on remaining awake.

During the feast, she purposely prevented even the smallest glance in Draco’s direction, which proved to be difficult because he sat in her peripheral vision. The temptation faded a degree after finding out house-elves worked in the kitchens.

The very idea of them forced into labor without proper wages or vacation time through her into a minor outrage. The wonderful array of food before her suddenly lost its appeal and Hermione refused to eat another bite.

Her stomach felt empty, nevertheless the knowledge of the injustice kept any complaints from leaving her lips. If just to distract herself she turned her attention to the conversation happening a few steps from where she sat.

“Cedric, probably,” Harry mentioned, answering Seamus after he tossed the question out of who he thought would enter. “I heard him saying he’s going to put his name in the cup. I think he holds a pretty good chance.”

“If grades come into the equation, he’s a rather good student and a prefect,” Hermione added in agreement. Of course, other possibilities remained, seeing as no explanation of how or why the goblet chose certain people became part of Dumbledore’s speech.

“Plus, he’s handsome.” Lavender practically giggled as she and Parvati passed by. “And tall too. The way his eyes glisten in the sunlight, I can stare at him for hours.”

Ron missed the slight glance she made in his direction, oblivious to her attempt to get a reaction, seeing as his focus never left Hermione. “Probably why you think he’ll be picked, isn’t it?”

Slightly taken aback from the insinuation, she gave him a pointed look. As if she’d be so shallow. Hermione couldn’t deny Cedric held an attractive air about himself as well as a good heart. Last year during the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Quidditch match he immediately offered to replay the game after realizing Harry fell off his broom thanks to the Dementors showing up.

But no one seemed to reel in her attention quite as promptly as Draco, the single person she had trouble keeping her thoughts away from.

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with it,” Hermione replied, noticing the silence, as if everyone stood awaiting her reply. “Besides, I don’t like people simply based on their looks.”

“Then I must have been imagining you swooning over Lockhart. You even knew his favorite color.” Ron scrunched his nose upon the memory, not overly fond of the professor from the start.

She felt the slightest touch of a blush, the whole ordeal somewhat embarrassing. Reflecting on her minor crush by herself differed from being called out on it. His claim filled her with a thin layer of indignation. “That was ages ago and I certainly didn’t swoon.”

“Are you kidding, all the girls had a thing for him.” Fred came over, arms crossing over the top of Hermione’s chair. “What a mess of a year. Couldn’t teach us anything useful either.”

“Even our own mother went all red in the face around him. Humiliating, really.” George added, head shaking in the process. “Who cares about him in a time like this anyway? We’ve got to figure out how to get past the barrier.”

“I think it’s a good thing they raised the age limit.” Hermione knew otherwise many of her classmates wouldn’t think twice about entering, heedlessly ignoring the stated dangers. “What do you think you’ll possibly come up with that Dumbledore hasn’t already thought of?”

“Oh, Hermione, you have such little faith in our creativity.” Fred patted her lightly on the shoulder, unaffected by her brow raised in skepticism. “He may be smart but mark my words, by the time people start putting their names in, a foolproof plan will be in motion.”

“I’m sure it’ll be brilliant,” Harry said, his sarcasm vaguely detectable, despite his curiosity. “I’m rather happy sitting in the crowd watching the excitement for a change.” Of course, the matter of his scar burning and his dreams still left a haunting concern.

If only Sirius would get back to him quicker. Both Ron and Hermione were anxious about the contents of the letter as well, yet no sign of Hedwig.

“It’s all rubbish. Why shouldn’t Fred and I get a fair opportunity,” George complained before taking note of his sister approaching. “You’re on our side, aren’t’ you, Ginny? I know Ron is. Now if Percy was still here, we’d never get any peace and quiet about it.”

“I actually agree with Hermione,” she replied, trying to avoid catching Harry’s gaze, if merely to ensure she didn’t lose her ability to speak. “You’d both get yourselves killed. If Mom ever found out what you’re trying to do, she’d probably send a dozen Howlers.”

“So much for family encouragement. Come on, George, we have work to do.” The twins walked off, heading up the flight of stairs to the boy’s dormitory, already whispering back and forth to one another.

Hermione turned her observation back to the fire, feeling out of sorts again. The moment on the train kept coming to mind. To Draco. He was prideful in the most infuriating way. But as he so thoroughly voiced his arrogance, he revealed himself to fall rapidly into anger, however, ready to run at the smallest sight of endangerment.

A few snowballs cutting across the air seemingly from nowhere would scare anyone off and he did run away swiftly after she hit him in the face. Though if Lucius indeed abused him, a part of her felt bad over the whole ordeal, not that she forgave him for being the reason Buckbeak nearly got beheaded.

He held some favorable traits, though none of which even he’d concede to. Instead, he preferred to echo his father’s views, taking them on as his own. Or maybe he truly believed in the hierarchy of bloodlines. Hermione couldn’t pretend to know more than he allowed.

Yet she liked him, her heart too vulnerable to forgo the tempting awareness of her emotions, which became irritating as they appeared to intensify rather than diminish over the years.

“Is something the matter?” Harry asked, the first to notice she stopped participating in their banter. “You’re spacing out again.”

“You did the same at the feast too. Don’t tell me you’re thinking about those house-elves again.” Ron’s face took on a slightly annoyed grimace, tired of the topic already.

Hermione let out a breath, allowing herself to go along per that specific focal point, unable to admit the real reason. “And why shouldn’t I? Honestly, I’m surprised neither of you are on my side about this. Eating food by those forced into employment. What they’re put through, it’s absolutely vile.”

“For the last time. They enjoy working,” Ron loudly announced, ears turning pink after he noticed a few people glancing in his direction.

“I’m sure they’re treated loads better at Hogwarts than Dobby with the Malfoy family. Besides, you can’t starve yourself in protest, that won’t do them any good.” Harry knew what it felt like to be deprived of food, he couldn’t imagine choosing to do so.

“I’ve got some leftover corned beef sandwiches if you want them,” Ginny offered, having eaten one of the three Molly packed for her. After Hermione nodded in eagerness, she took off to get them.

“You’ve got to be hungry if you’re willing to eat those,” Ron said, looking put off. Despite repeating his dislike of them, his mother still handed them off before heading to the station.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the comment, much preferring to take the leftovers. She’d care about breakfast in the morning and so forth. No matter her swirling thoughts of Draco, something had to be done for the house-elves. They deserved proper compensation, just as anyone who worked.

Her worry also extended to Harry.

The urge to ask if he was okay quickly died upon her lips, realizing within placing the question put too much at risk. Simply talking openly about his troubles rather defeated the purpose of keeping it a secret. So, she watched instead, as he rubbed his eyes, glasses momentarily sent askew.

He felt her silent inspecion, able to surmise her train of thought. And while his mind continued to circle Voldemort, his exhaustion started to win out. A yawn escaped, providing ample reason to fall onto a soft, inviting mattress, hopefully drifting into a dreamless sleep. “I think I’m going to head to bed. See you in the morning.”

Hermione gave a short wave. Ron soon followed in after him, passing Ginny on the way. She graciously took the sandwiches, enjoying the salty taste of the meat. Finally, her stomach started to feel a level of satisfaction, no longer growling in want of food.

Ginny tarried for a few minutes as her friend ate, waiting until they were the only two remaining in the common room. She sat near the dying embers. A single log remained aflame, able to provide a blaze of heat.

“Did you happen to notice if Harry was watching Cho during the feast?” Ginny asked in a small voice, after taking a moment to further reflect, hoping maybe she misread his interest.

Hermione swallowed her last bite before sitting on the ground next to Ginny. “He never said anything to me about her. But it’s not really something we talk about. Ron might know, then again perhaps not.”

After all, she remained taciturn, disinclined to talk about her fondness towards a certain blond.

Cho Chang stood out, making her hard not to notice. She was an exceptionally pretty Ravenclaw girl with long, shiny dark hair and a beautiful smile. She came off a tad shy regardless of being surrounded by many friends. There were evident justifications why Harry may find his attention drawn to her.

Hermione knew she had a crush on Harry for quite a while now, they’ve spoke about it at length. Yet because she was Ron’s younger sister, Ginny assumed he thought of her as the same.

“It’s okay,” Ginny finally said, attempting to put a bit of mirth in her light smile. She lifted her hands and outstretched her palms towards the fire. “I mean it’s not really okay, but I get it… Is it silly to hope someday he’ll look at me differently?”

“No, of course not. It’s hardly your fault he can’t see how wonderful you are.” Hermione squeezed her arm in a reassuring matter prior to bringing her knees to her chest. “Boys are stupid that way. Unable to comprehend what’s right in front of them. Or in some cases, so brash it’s almost senseless to think they deserve your consideration at all, especially when they make it evident loathing one another is the only thing you can share.”

Although Ginny’s heart lingered in a worn sort of pain, she tilted her head at the last sentence she spoke. Wondering, if not for the first time, as they never really got into the topic in regards to Hermione (perhaps she even avoided in means of listening rather than indulging her own feelings), if she liked anyone.

“That’s oddly specific.” Ginny turned to fully face her, seeing no more than Hermione’s profile as she kept her eyes forward. “Are you talking about anybody in particular?”

Hermione felt her words get stuck in her throat. She considered disclosing the information to Ginny in the past. Nonetheless, a spare moment never really seemed to make itself available and in the off chance it had, her resolve to do as such vanished in an instant.

Telling Ron and Harry barely registered as an option. Neither held the capability of understanding given their shared animosity. What a shock she’d conjure. They’ve both turned on her for trivial reasons in the past, telling McGonagall about the Firebolt in case of jinxes being one. She feared the degree would be much worse if the truth of her emotions were to be known.

A little more guarded this time (in spite the attempt to loosen her reserve), Hermione gave a minor nod. She expected it possible to console herself if met with derision, not as if she suspected Ginny to be of that nature. Maybe she sought no more than an understanding. Some empathy in a matter not many fathomed a possibility.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone. No one can know.” Apprehension clung to her voice, but Hermione forced herself to press on after Ginny promised. “It’s Draco.”

The two words came out in a hushed whisper, Ginny almost didn’t hear it. “Draco Malfoy?” she repeated in question, all the while trying to absorb the information. “The person who calls you horrible names and constantly goes out of his way to make things difficult for everyone? Why?”

A fair thing to ask. Why indeed.

“It’s hard to explain. Probably because I don’t quite get it myself. It’s so pointless too.” Hermione got to her feet, suddenly struck by nervous energy. “There’s just something about him. Something beyond the surface. You know how it is when you’re around Harry. The jolt you feel, how it somehow turns your brain off. A single moment and you’re ready to fall apart… It’s horribly painful yet at the same time it fills you with a warmth like no other, constantly tossing you between wanting to run away as fast as you can and letting every sensation wash over you.”

Ginny got up as well, taking Hermione’s hands in hers. “Trust me, I know it all too well, but listen. If it were anyone else, I’d be right by your side. He’s still a Malfoy no matter which way you look at it, but I don’t suppose you have any idea if he feels the same?”

“No, I can’t imagine it’s possible.” She blinked away the tears forming, giving her head a shake before pulling away. “I hold no expectations, nor should I. But I can’t turn off my feelings. It doesn’t work quite that easily. What am I supposed to do?”

Although aware of her parents and siblings’ hostility in regards to the Malfoy family, not unjustly placed, as well as her own strife, Ginny pondered a few options, coming to a single conclusion in means of helping themselves. “You and I are going to make a deal. If someone else comes along, provided we deem them worthy, we give them a chance. Even if we like other people, there’s no harm in it.”

“As if anyone would notice me.” No one had in the past. Her classmates thought her to be a know-it-all and she certainly didn’t believe herself to be very pretty. Hermione knew her persistence grated others, even the two she considered the closest.

The mere idea of another boy maintaining a romantic interest once getting to know her, seemed outlandishly unrealistic.

“You do know Cormac McLaggen has a thing for you, right?” The clueless expression appearing hardly surprised her. “Not that you should give him a moment’s thought. He’s rather unpleasant to be around.”

“I’ve noticed as much, not that we’ve really spoken,” Hermione replied. “I’d prefer if he keep it to himself.” She mulled over the suggestion, honestly doubting Draco could be pushed aside for another. “I suppose there’s no harm in trying. If it were to happen. But I won’t make any promises on this idea of yours working.”

“We won’t know until we try.” Ginny shrugged and they shook on it regardless. Only in her third year, her hope went out for Hermione more, wishing to aid in dispelling her troubles.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.” She headed for the stairs, Ginny trailing behind. It felt as if an immeasurable weight lifted from her shoulders, finally breaking her silence on her long-held secret.

And there was a kind of compassion and relief in such a friendship. Ginny hadn’t berated or chastised her admission. The bewilderment came off expectedly. However, concern pooled in her blue eyes, the yearn to be of some use evident.

Still, hesitation lingered, tugging at her chest. Draco practically stole her affections the moment they met one another and by no means was he releasing them, no matter how unaware he may be of it. If someone came along, she knew, try as she might, her heart wouldn’t fully let them in.

[hellmouth-manor]

Laughing In The Face Of Death || Kamiya || Trial 1.8 || Re: Hisashi, Cedric

Kamiya had been focused on the case a little bit since the... Well, Monopoly situation. Yet there was always one thing he noticed every time a certain someone's name was brought up... Whenever Hisashi was even remotely suggested, people would jump to his defense. Where Kamiya struggled to process evidence, he was good about reading others reactions... He noticed how nervous Cedric had been earlier, and, for that matter how innocent the rest of the group seemed.

They all seemed innocent... Except for one person who Kamiya himself couldn't get a clear read on, there was no way he could read the vibes of someone like Hisashi... Opening his mouth to say something, he was interrupted by the laughter of the suspect, then... The confession? Everything that was being said was starting to finally process.

"...So yer sayin' that you did all this and... This is a confession...? Ya were gettin' the upper-hand, though... Don't this feel weird...? I-I mean I was gonna accuse ya anyway, but..."

Kamiya was clearly trying to process all of this, it was hard for someone like him to really grasp things like this, especially when looking at a killer directly in the eyes. It was clear Kamiya was trying to force a bit of a brave front, now, seeing as the final statement was one that would absolutely shake up a lot of the people there.

Then came Cedric, who, clearly was having a harder time with this than the rest of the group... Listening quietly to him as he spoke, Kamiya offered the other an apologetic look... It sucked to accuse people like that earlier, but, based off everything that had been said... It was clear he was angry, or, upset? Maybe a little of both? In a way Kamiya could understand, but, in another way he didn't.

There was clearly some connection going on, but, at Hisashi's own last comment Kamiya knew what he needed to do. At times like this when everyone was scared and panicking, there was one thing he really could do to help the group. To really help himself in that case too. He laughed, offering a grin and a carefree smile in return. Judging by the fact he was shaking like a chihuahua, however, it was clear he was masking a bit of his own fear and anxiety as well.

"Gyhahaha! Bro, fuck off with that shit! Yer the only one talkin' out yer ass sayin' it's gonna happen again! Newsflash, dumbass, yer the only one who took the demons bait on this shit, we ain't stupid like you, man! Ya got the upper hand now, really impressive an' all that, but, come on dude! Ya really think any'a us are gonna take the bait again? Shove that thought up yer ass, bro."

As positive as he sounded, it was clear he was terrified about speaking to Hisashi, looking more and more anxious by the second, but, deciding to turn his gaze over to Cedric to distract his own thoughts, nodding to him in response.

"...Ya had a reason fer helpin' 'em, right? Ya... Clearly ain't handlin' this okay, so, fer now you ain't pissin' me off man, it's the asshole over there who's gettin' on my nerves... Take a second t' cool down, okay? Ya deserve it man."

[fromspringandfire]

laena had spent most of the evening feeling out of place, the heavy weight of being both seen and unseen pressing against her chest. the murmurs of conversation sounded as if they were coming from a distance, muffled by a quiet isolation she couldn't shake. she was seated at a table far removed from the familiar faces. she had tried to engage—offering polite smiles, small gestures of interest in their words—but it all felt hollow. laena didn’t fit into their world. not fully. when cedric finally came to her, tapping behind her chair with that familiar aura of warmth, it felt like a lifeline thrown to someone adrift.

she laughed softly at his quip, her shoulders finally easing after the long, stifling night at court. the wine was rich on her tongue as she took a small sip from the goblet offered to her, and the momentary humor had drawn her out of her thoughts, leaving her temporarily unburdened. the flicker of the firelight made the room feel smaller, more intimate, and she welcomed the rare quiet, something she realized she hadn't had the privilege of enjoying in quite some time.

but then, something shifted. a silence fell between them, not the comfortable quiet of shared company, but a pause laced with purpose. she glanced at cedric and saw it immediately—the subtle way his smile had faded, the way his hand hovered just a moment too long over his goblet.

the revelation struck her like a physical blow, and for a moment, the warmth of the hearth couldn’t touch the cold spreading through her chest. how could it be? she had been so certain, as had the rest of the world, that alicent’s story had ended long ago. to learn now that she lived it made her heart ache, strangely enough, considering what she had learned of what the woman she shared blood with had just done.

"alicent." she echoed, tone monotone as her fingers trembled slightly as they gripped the goblet, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of the fire. memories she didn’t possess but had long imagined flashed through her mind. tales whispered by wet nurses and courtiers—the pious queen mother, proud and formidable, standing against dragons and flame. and yet, those stories felt like echoes of a stranger. alicent had been distant, a figure of legend, not the frail, broken woman cedric described.

laena stood up, the sudden motion causing a splash of wine from her goblet to spill upon the floor, and hems of her gown. she set the cup down upon the table, pacing a moment before settling near the fireplace, though not entirely still. her arms crossed over her chest, and twinkling of the hearth light shining in teary, lilac hues. "he kept her locked away?" she breathed, the ire laced in her words. "like some animal, and then was surely surprised to see for himself one day she should behave as one." she shook her head, long silver-blonde tresses shifting along her back as she wiped away at her face, cursing her emotions in this moment.

she looked to cedric again. "jaehaerys doesn't know." she realized. "he was always soft for her, despite this horrific act i do not imagine he would not welcome her back. i fear his reaction to knowing what i know now." laena sniffled, taking a moment to breathe, steady her beating heart. "will you speak to him of it? of her?"

♠

it had not been until they had been able to retire into the wind that consisted of a large variety of chambers which ultimately made up her apartments did cedric tyrell truly begin to contemplate on how the night had been for laena; whilst their gaze had met multiple times throughout the night whilst he remained on the head table sat beside the queen, the constant change of the room and the conversations meant he had hardly been able to give her attention.

that was, until during his departure, he all but walked up before her in front of the entirety of the court and tapped behind her chair - a familiar warm, but amused smile crossing his features when finally seeing how much she had been wanting to leave. "you, on your best behaviour? you sure about that?" his jest was one in which he cracked over his shoulder as her figure moved closer to the hearth, his moved closer to the bottles of arbor wine which remained to be poured.

he knew that this would be a silver lining, a moment of light heartedness before he uttered news which would change everything in her mind. "don't think the high septon would agree with that judgement." he crossed over now, offering her a glass of wine wordlessly as he took a slight sip of his own. he knew how often she struggled with walking the line of being on the outskirts of the world of new valyria, knowing nothing of the intricacies considering she had been raised as a girl of the reach; and yet, her valyrian features were what defined her. what people knew her as, rather than anything else.

"your hightower grandmother."

and the way he took another sip of his drink made it obvious he were about to say something confounding. his chocolate curls seemed to momentarily moved over his vivid florent blue hues as he put the goblet down, remaining on his spot as she looked at him with a tilted head. there was no going about this in other ways, he would simply say it.

"alicent hightower descended from the upper levels of the hightower, where she apparently had been kept by none other than garland. according to servants walking outside, they heard her repeating how she needed to return to aegon and jaehaerys, until she saw simonetta redwyne and lost whatever was left of her sanity." he paused, his mind briefly moving back to that time. when the arbor had it's first ever sole ruling lady, and her first move was to surrender and preserve the fleet. the greens would never forgive it, not entirely.

"the rest is hazy, but from what we can gather garland stepped in to try and save his mother, and after turning the end of a shattered bottle on him, she managed to flee. right now, we have no idea how - that will change as as of this moment, the hightower guards on the gates are all being interrogated."

he paused as he looked at her. there was the crackling of the flame. "the question is, would your brother welcome her back?"

[dereliction-if]

How would the RO's react when mc picks a leaf off their head and smiles softly as they remove it and saying that "You got a leaf over your head"

Ok that is super cute, and I am on the train so I have a few moments to type the answer. Did I say cute already?? Below it is, as it is long ^^

>> The Heir (Prince Solas / Princess Sonea): Crushing Stage: A cheeky smile on their lips is the first reaction „Oh, well …thank you.“ in a lighthearted tone leaving them. They’d look you deep into your eyes and you could see the wheels turning, a million different thoughts crossing their mind. What are they thinking? Relationship Stage: „Huh? Where did this come from? Are you trying to find reasons to get close…again?“ snapping the leaf from your hand, they’d tickle your nose. A flirty wink thrown at you before placing a soft kiss on your lips. 

>> The Commander (Cedric Mallory): Crushing Stage: „I swear if you ever touch me again…!“ *clenching his jaw and blushing hard before slapping your hand away* Relationship Stage: He tenses up a bit, a barely noticeable smile on his lips. He doesn’t say a word but something in his expression changes. A moment passes as you both lock eyes before he seems to awake out of the mesmerized state, turns around and leaves.

>> The Sovereign (Amara Dougal): Crushing Stage: Grabbing your wrist and looking into your eyes, with a raised eyebrow she responds „My my, what an attentive kitten you are.“ She takes the leaf out of your hand, her eyes following the movement as she lets it gently touch your cheek, running it down your jaw, neck and further down to your sternum, before she lets it fall to the ground.  Relationship Stage: „You‘re a touchy little thing, aren‘t you?“ She takes the leaf out of your hand, a moment later it begins to glimmer and turn to ash, their eyes showing a slight red glow, a smirk on their lips. - Did you have plans for today? Cause they have some for you.

>> The Mage (Jia):  Crushing Stage: They look surprised for a second before an honest smile appears on their lips. „May I?“ they ask before taking the leaf and whispering something into their hand - letting the leaf fly away like a butterfly. Relationship Stage: They grin from ear to ear and place a kiss on your cheek. „I hope you don’t mind…“ gently placing a hand over the leaf between your fingers, they hush some words turning the leaf into a flower, then watch your reaction with genuine affection as they place it behind your ear. „Thank you *the name they got for you, just you 🤐* “

>> The Mercenary (Havu Guillame): Crushing Stage: „W-what… what are you doing?“ You can see their confusion on their face as they tense up. They don’t dare to move before they are sure you won’t touch them again. Relationship Stage: same *lol* - Ok, no, they would hold their breath and the tension would leave their body once their brain processed the smile on your face. An awkward silence following, they would blush before thanking you in a volume so low you barely hear it.

>> The Knight (Darius Baran / Daria Baran): Crushing Stage: //same gender: You never saw them so stiff before. They tense up, eyes open wide, their face full red. „Eh.. t-thank..you…“ clearing their throat they would throw another glance at you before turning away and leaving. //opposite gender: With furrowed brows you’d get a sober „Thank you…“, brushing their hand over their own head again to make sure there is nothing else you could possibly want to remove. You can see the tips of their ears turning red. Relationship Stage: //same gender: - no spoiler here - //opposite gender: They’d take hold of your hand, smile at you and place a gentle kiss on your forehead before they stroke your cheek with the back of their hand, not letting go of the one they are holding already - no words are needed as their smile says all there is to say.

[visxionaries]

♠

"i'll take your word on that. may whoever is pulling the strings above us do so too." there was the usual sense of scepticism in the voice of cedric tyrell when it came to the concept of the gods, though it never came as disrespectful. those around him had come from majority religious households, as he was supposed to; and perhaps due to his constant moving from banner to banner, he found himself unable to truly grasp a connection with either way. that did not mean he needed to be openly inflammatory or scathing; he did not seek for reactions.

there had not been a time where cedric tyrell had found himself actively preferring the taste of brightwater whiskey to the usual wines that stemmed from their fertile fields, and yet somewhere along the line that had slowly taken shape - not even realised until he found himself pouring a glass for himself, before mathis had uttered his preference. silently moving over to the man who had taken a seat on the chair to pass him the drink, there was a genuine grin that crept over the features of the once golden boy of highgarden.

"look at his face, the git. he definitely knows it's you." cedric asked, glancing over towards his fox; no doubt, those who knew cedric the best would know it was not unusual to see a flash of a bright orange, bushy tail in his vicinity. "c'mere. c'mere kit." the fox made no movement at all, remaining sat in the doorway, dark orbs seemingly glancing towards cedric, then mathis, then cedric again, before simply lowering himself into a comfortable position by the hearth. as though neither of them were even there. "prick." it caused a genuine chuckle to slip from cedric tyrell as he sunk into the chair opposite him; his posture relaxed, leaning back into the chair.

at the mention of his wedding to the lady of old oak, cedric's striking ocean hues met with the warmth of his closest companion's from the time they were boys, letting out a low exhale. the smile on the other's face said enough about what he no doubt expected to hear from the events; they were cousins, the queen and the rowans. she had been utterly relieved to hear of his return to them, safe, alive. he remembered seeing her facial expression change as he broke the news quietly.

"it was eventful; mix of ceremonies from both backgrounds. the entirety of westeros was there, and we were wedded by the high septon. all entirely official and legitimate following the last one." his voice hardened slightly at the mention of the high septon. that was a novel in itself. and the mention of florence hightower, whom he had wedded quietly in a sept in oldtown. there was no denying the fact that mathis knew cedric would have put on the facade he usually did in such events; able to walk in circles from table to table effortlessly, casually. the gift of a silver tongue and a golden face, with nothing really of substance behind any of the conversation had.

"speaking of the glass crowned king, the high septon is causing issues." cedric spoke, taking a sip of the brightwater whiskey that burned down his throat; he continued to hold it in his hand, swirling the amber contents around in the glass. "understatement on my behalf. garland wants him dead."

this was the first moment of normalcy since mathis’ return to the reach, and yet he felt entirely strange sitting upon a comfortable chair, about to take to a drink with the king of the reach. there was a strange sense of impending guilt within his gut as he was not there to see the rest of the war through, though it was certainly no fault of his own, at least he hoped no one thought as much. mathis wasn’t sure what to think anymore. trust had been broken, families had been wiped out, and it gave him an overwhelming sense of mortality.

“i think it’s safe to say you’re stuck with me for a while yet.” mathis replied, there was a familiar friendly jest to his tone, though the tension hung in the air, ready to cut through them at any moment, the second son of goldengrove hung onto the familiar feeling of simply being in the presence of his friend, not just his king.

the lord leaned back in his seat, dark hues looking towards the orange that flashed in his peripheral, a small grin coming over his features as he hung a hand down for the fox to examine him more closely, if it so chose. “yes, kit, it’s me.” he stated. “i’m no ghost yet.” mathis added, pulling his hand back up after a moment of the creature simply observing him. it was not a look he was unfamiliar with at this point, but he awaited the day where both creature and human would not look at him as if he his existence were a shock, though he understood why.

“whiskey, please.” he answered, though mathis knew he need be careful not to drown out the memories and nightmares of what he had endured by finding the bottom of a bottle, he yearned to enjoy a drink with a friend, to have a conversation with someone who, while shocked and grateful to find him alive, did not treat him so fragily.

on the other hand, he was certain cedric had his own nightmares he may wish to drown out, but knowing the other as he did, he would not let himself get to that point. he found some solace in the fact that he was back here, in this room, at this table, and while they certainly made it out of the war, he could be there for the other once again for the aftermath.

at the prospect of asking more questions, mathis leaned forward now, resting his elbows upon the table, and chin in hand. he wasn’t quite sure what else to possibly ask, what else he wanted to know.

“well, how as the wedding then?” he asked, a cheeky smile on his face.