#whatever tags are here for my organisation

[dailyosc]

day #4 THE FUNNY NUMBER NO WAY i wouldve done this for two if i had thought of it

i nearly forgor again so erm just a wb doodle today

[cuddlytogas]

an incomplete list of terrible but extremely popular Our Flag Means Death takes that I would like to never see again please

(and I do mean popular, as in, lots of people seem to think they're canon, to the point where I feel slightly insane and like I was watching a different show to everyone else)

1. Ed's mum was loving and nice and supportive, if hampered by her bad situation

this comes up more in fic than analysis, to be fair, but good god, what show were some of you watching? this isn't to vilify her, because yeah, she's clearly a product of colonialism, white christian supremacy, and domestic abuse, but like. that doesn't make how she raised Ed good. clearly she was trying to keep him safe, but "we don't deserve nice things", and especially "it's not up to us, it's up to god", speaks to me of someone who squashes down any ambition on her son's part, has fully bought into the lies of christian colonialism, and tries to pass them down to her son.

as does happen in colonised communities, particularly among older generations. I know us white people like to think that every indigenous person is a perfect left-wing anti-imperial activist, but that's simply not the case, and Ed's mum is so clearly an example of an older conservative christian indigenous parent who had to believe the lies told by their coloniser in order to survive, but is now passing on that trauma to their children. and I just...

if I read one more fic where Ed's mum is a perfect loving supportive angel who always believed in her kid and always supported and protected him, I'm gonna scream. yes, it's sweet, and it's fun to sometimes veer from canon and give your blorbo nice things, but it's still veering from canon. and yet, I see very few people acknowledge that, or actually talk about the nuances of Ed's mother, and how she definitely tried to protect him, but was far from sweet, doting, and unconditionally supportive.

2. Ed's loving look when Stede is picking food from his beard in 1x07

like most of these things, I enjoyed it as a joke or exaggeration at first, until I realised that people were actually being serious. but every time I watch that scene, I see Ed looking absently-mindedly over Stede's shoulder, because a) that's what you do when someone leans in to pick something off you, and b) surely the point of the scene is that they're so comfortable and easy together that they don't notice the intimacy of what they're doing, but Lucius, an outside observer, thinks it's obvious. right?? I can't be the only one seeing it???

[sigh]

anyway. finally, the really really big one:

3. Ed is a soft uwu babygirl princess femme bottom sub who loves her cat collar and is teaching Stede how to dom him in the "say you're the captain" scene

I mean, there's not much to say except to link to duke's absolutely phenomenal twitter thread about "how the 'babygirlfication' and infantilization of ofmd ed teach is an extension of racist perceptions of indigenous men being inherently violent and thus needing to be emasculated to be considered sympathetic"

but especially That One Fucking Scene, good lord. talk about taking shit out of context. everyone looked at a slowed-down gif of one shot in the trailer and cried "babygirl!! he's such a simp, he just wants to be dommed!!", when actually that scene is about how a) Stede is cringefail and terrible at being a typical harsh, commanding pirate, and b) Ed is lovingly embarrassed by this. he encourages Stede to assert himself (and give Ed something to do during his probation/help him make amends with the crew), but like. normally. he's acting perfectly normal in that scene, and mostly annoyed by the outfit and embarrassed by how badly Stede fails. but just because he's sitting down while Stede is standing, and he happens to take a breath in that one shot (because, you know, people breathe sometimes), everyone's doubled down on their "submissive babygirl" bullshit, and I can't get the fuck away from it.

which - listen, it's fun for me, too! it's fun to explore exaggerated aspects of a character, it's fun to read/write/draw that angle in smut, I get it! but I keep seeing people keep claim it's literally canon, and I cannot stress enough that that is Straight Up False. for the love of god, please just watch the show without your (potentially kinda racist) bias glasses on, and remember to treat the characters with respect instead of projecting onto their every interaction a shallow dom/sub binary just because you find it hot.

Our Flag is a show very specifically about masculinity, and what it means to be a man; how assumptions about that can harm and restrict men; and how men can grow beyond them. it's a nuanced and sympathetic examination of this. the whole point is that Ed is allowed to like nice fabrics and be tired of violent piracy and still be a man. the point is that two men fall in love - equal, honest, sincere love - and are still men, still exactly who they are.

(on that note, insisting that Ed is canonically trans or femme because of these things often ends up just leaning into gendered stereotypes: men are harsh and active and dominant, and women are soft and passive and submissive, and if Ed's not the former, he must be the latter, right? it also tends to hetero-ify the central relationship, casting Stede as "the boy" and Ed as "the girl", needing one to be masc and one femme. not always, and again, I understand and have enjoyed transformative works that take those elements and run with them, and explore what the story could be like if Ed were trans/nb/etc - but it's still a transformative interpretation. it's not canon.)

relatedly: those fucking wedding toppers! it seemed blatantly obvious to me that half the point of those scenes was that Ed is distraught and blaming himself for Stede leaving because he wasn't the ideal partner. it's his entire arc for the first half of season 2! Ed hates himself and believes there's something wrong about him that makes him unlovable. so he keeps and then discards the wedding toppers, painting himself onto one of them, because he's projecting himself onto an image of ideal/successful romantic love that he thinks Stede wants, and in which he doesn't fit. he's trying to mould himself into someone else to make himself lovable, not realising that Stede already loves him for himself.

like, it's important that the groom figure isn't actually like Stede, either. yes, it's blond and has a nice, peach-coloured suit, but a) Stede was very specifically unhappy in the posh, heterosexual, married state the figures represent, and b) Stede by this point looks nothing like that figurine. it's directly contrasted with the image of him in the rowboat, scruffy and plain and earnestly in love, rather than fancy, cold ceramic.

so it's important to the whole narrative that Ed's yearning for/projection onto the wedding toppers is false, and born from his insecurity. he gets drunk, and play-acts a stereotypical image of romantic happiness into which he doesn't fit, but real love looks nothing like that, because real love isn't found in stifling hegemonic cultural structures, but honest, emotional connections between people allowed to be their whole, vulnerable selves. Stede is not like the groom, and Ed is not like the bride, because they shouldn't have to be. Ed should not (and does not) have to warp himself into a demure bride in order to be worthy of love: he's already lovable and loved exactly as he is! that's the point!! of the scene!!!!!!

but no, I have to wade through swathes of art and fic and meta about how badly Ed wants to be a sweet little demure kitty princess, how he wants a wedding night and a ring to prove he's Stede's property, and acting as if this is somehow canon, because people on the internet have zero reading comprehension and are scared of brown men.

the whole point of Our Flag is that you don't need to compress yourself into prescribed social roles, and in fact, doing so will only make you miserable; and that racist, patriarchal, colonial institutions should be resisted and dismantled at every opportunity.

so tell me again why the ultimate message is that Ed and Stede should get married under an arch in front of an altar and their lined-up friends, with flowers and rice falling around them, all dressed in white, one in a suit and one in a dress, with rings and a kiss and a honeymoon after, before they move into a detached house with a yard and a fence and re-adopt the kids that Stede abandoned? and this isn't about promises, fidelity, or even monogamy - I'm specifically talking about everyone in this fandom who seems to think that the ultimate goal is the most stereotypical 20th century cisheteropatriarchal christian wedding, but with the name "matelotage" slapped on top, as if that takes away all of the underlying baggage.

just - I know we're all meant to hate men and masculinity and yadda yadda yadda, but actually, to be earnest for a second, men deserve respect too, because all people and all genders do. and two men are allowed to be in a relationship and still both be men - complex men, with their own, layered relationships to their gender - without having to fall into neatly-arranged dom/sub masc/femme roles, or seal the deal with a hegemonically-approved ceremony.

so please, stop reducing an indigenous lead character to a caricature of a femme uwu princess bottom just because he has long hair, wore a robe once, and you're too scared of brown men to imagine him with proper agency. and then please, for the love of god, stop claiming that that interpretation is canon.

[e-klair]

Writing Habits Tag

I was tagged by @serenanymph thank you so much!! :)

RULES: Bold or color the things that you relate to and then tag some people to play.

I write: daily | most days | a few times a week | a few times a month | random

I write most often: when I first get up | later in the morning | afternoon | evening | the wee hours of the night | whenever

In one sitting, I tend to write: a few sentences at a time | a few hundred words | a few thousand words | a complete chapter/ section no matter how long | an outline | whatever comes

I tend to write scenes: in chronological order with no skipping | mostly in order but with some filler/skipping | whatever scene I feel like | who knows what’s gonna come out

The things that comes easiest to me are: dialogue | description of senses | description of action | description of characters | exposition | other

I tend to write: on a phone | on a laptop | in a notebook | on whatever paper I can find | with speech to text | in the blood of my enemies | it doesn’t really matter to me | on paper first and then typed up | old school typewriter | on a computer

When I take a break from writing, it usually lasts: a few days | a few weeks | a few months | it’s kind of random

My favorite thing to do when I’m on a writing break is: recharge with other creative hobbies | read/consume other media | do something physical | catch up with old friends | work on my WIP in other ways like with playlists or art | other

In general, I think my writing habits are: pretty much what I need them to be | okay, but I’m working on making them better | non-existent | not great | i’m excited to develop them further | totally random | perfect for me

I tag @akindofmagictoo @thatndginger and @elshells

[woonderfullie]

Quasi-Kuro related ramblings about the demons under the cut

(most of it is in the tags)

Demons as catalysts for change and upheaval, or at least ardent advocates for it, using their presence to tip the scales

Could demons be summoned with less for less, through sacrifices that don't involve bloodshed but still have the power to drastically alter the course of one's life?

[actual-changeling]

A small 'this is how you use tumblr' for the people that haven't been here very long. These are in no particular order, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask them!

Since I probably did not mention a lot of things, you are welcome to add to this post with your own advice.

a) Reblog posts. if you like it, reblog it. even if you have zero followers and ESPECIALLY if it's art or writing of any kind. We will see the reblog in our notifications and that alone brings joy. One reblog can start a chain and push the post onto many people's dashes.

b) Tumblr is not a very functional website, if you want to survive without losing your mind, there are two things you need: xkit rewritten and dashboard unfucker. Play around with the settings until it is to your liking. Additionally, change to firefox if you haven't already and install ublock origin to get rid of ads, tracking etc.

c) If you go to your settings (account! not blog) you can find this under dashboard at the bottom. Turn off at the very least 'best stuff first' since that will fuck up your dash and not give you posts in chronological order.

The rest are a perfonal preference but it will keep your dash tidy and easy to control if you turn them off, too.

d) Apropos settings—get a profile picture, a header, write something human in your bio, anything. Otherwise people will assume you are a bot and block you on sight.

e) Blocking! Do it generously and whenever you want, this is how you keep whatever remains of your sanity. It's not a lethal offense, it is (usually) not even seen as rude or anything along those lines. You block people and they block you and everyone is happy.

f) Under account settings you will find this:

Just like with blocking, use both options to your heart's content.

g) Tumblr is not like other social media platforms, spam liking & reblogging and going three years deep into someone's account is NORMAL and encouraged. You can search a blog by post type, tags, or even go to the archive and scroll through the posts there.

h) Lastly—interaction. We already went over reblogging (I mean it, REBLOG), but there are also replies and asks. If you add something to someone else's post please behave like a kind human being and don't be an asshole; based on my experience, that's easier said than done. On top of that, the tags are ALSO used for communication, go unhinged, ramble, leave your thoughts, or simply use them for organisational purposes. Everyone loves a good insane tag wall.

An open inbox (either anonymously or with your blog attached) is to be used! Please send people asks if they have them active, use it like DMs or a comment section, use it to recommend something, ask questions, participate in an ask or prompt game—we love asks here.

(We do not like harassment in our inboxes, same rules as above.)

[salarymanwaka]

G'day everyone..! I finally made a Bluesky account~! ( ^0^ )/ so far I'm enjoying the casual vibes and I think I'd like to continue using it for sketches/wips and organising my ongoing AUs with the nice tag system! *also posting multifandom and oc works + whatever now sorry i've kinda given up on separating accounts by genre... o( ; u ; )o;;

I plan to continue archiving my stuff here on Tumblr as it accumulates too, so this is just a general update since I realised I haven't posted in long while haha. Also will be opening up online sales + group orders for leftover merch and my new sketchbook soon, that info will be shared here and on twitter once it's up! (^^)/

[rux363]

"He was, unfortunately, very handsome."

This one's a real interesting prompt because I overthink this a lil too much - but here’s what I have for this year's KaiShin One Prompt Challenge!

Please do check out how everyone has gone about with the prompt at @dcmkkaishinevents! And once again, thank you mac for organising it!

Thoughts on it under the cut!

Right. Okay. I really struggled with this one. Not only in terms of time constrains (it's been a really busy time) but also because the prompt is reaallllly interesting. Like super interesting that I just jumped onto to join the event because I wanted to challenge myself (been in a slump lately and this prompt was screaming at me) and I was latching on real hard to something here:

Shinichi and Kaito look alike. So alike that Kaito has gotten mistaken as Shinichi before, and he has used it to his advantage too.

How do I use the prompt, while also remembering that they would look the same? I thought about going the crack route, as seen below:

Kaito: He is, unfortunately, very handsome ??: ... don't you guys look exactly the same? [Narcissist much?] K: oh. Right

But I wasn't up for it. I tried thinking about the idea of one of them looking like an absolute dork (affectionately), and then the line - but it kept feeling wrong to me, because I feel like that would be attractiveness. Handsome is too much of a physical word for me.

As Faith (@indelibleme) says, "this prompt is more for the "damn he's hot" type of vibe lol" - which is absolutely true.

So it's something about the physical appearance. Or at least that's what I want to focus on. But they look the same. (Kinda. You get the idea)

And then, it hit me. What if we make it so that Kaito likes Shinichi - everything from his intelligence to his appearance, and it's not because he looks like Kaito - he doesn't feel attracted to himself duh - but it's because it's how Shinichi looks. Kaito just happens to look like him. And is pining after him in the mirror.

Like. Does that even make sense? Probably. I don't know And right after that thought, I had that image of Kaito looking at the mirror and seeing Shinichi.

AND THEN THAT ONE FIC THAT POPPED UP IN MY HEAD KEPT REVOLVING IN MY HEAD WHENEVER I THINK OF THIS BECAUSE IT IS ABSOLUTELY NAILING IT I JUST HAD TO HUNT IT DOWN AGAIN yea. Here's the link to it: the only victim of these innocent crimes (is me) by dytabytes - it's an explicit fic so 18+ only and please read the tags and summary. I guess this drawing is an ode to that fic because when I went back to reread it, the premise really hit all the right spots.

Anyways, again, Kaito and Shinichi has their similarities, and they also have differences. This is just one route I went and m quite happy with what I have.

There was going to be an exposition and conclusion that used the prompt more explicitly, featuring the crack portion, before what I have - but time and energy. I am lacking of them.

If you have read uptil here - seriously thank you and have a good day/night/whatever time is a social construct haha

[blessedwithabadomen]

in love with the mess - day thirteen

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : smut (oral (m receiving), anal sex, dirty talk, I genuinely don't remember the rest lmao help), angst, fluff

length : 7k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @blacksoul-27 @somebodyels3 @kageyasma @spikeisdaddy @broken0mens @sunsshinesunny

a/n : we're back, baby!!! hope you enjoy this one!!

•••

day thirteen

Noah called dibs on the shower first thing in the morning and neither Oli nor I minded very much as we cuddled deeper into the blanket for a little longer, wrapped up in each other, perfectly warm and comfortable. He had tucked my head under his chin, keeping me safe from the world and the cold outside of the bed, and lowly hummed a nonsensical melody that seemed to vibrate through my whole body in the nicest way. It would have suited me just fine to stay here with him forever, the noise of the shower in the background assuring me that there was another amazing man just a few feet away, waiting to join us again. Unfortunately, what did happen was that my brain caught up with the reminder that I needed to talk to Oli.

“You know I talked to Noah yesterday, right?” I mumbled against his chest, unable to resist leaving a little kiss on it. He hummed in reply, abandoning the melody he had been clinging to before. “He… he confided in me that he might want to try some things. With you.”

I’d barely registered that he had been stroking my back until he stopped. His hand remained there, large and warm, keeping me close, but just from the way the movement ceased I knew that he was deep in thought already. And I’d barely told him anything.

“Yeah? Like what?” His voice was low and scratchy after hours of not having talked at all and it made my whole body tingle. But I needed to concentrate. Choose my words wisely.

“I think he’d love if it you took charge a little. Dominate him. I think the actual words were along the lines of you doing with him whatever you pleased.”

Oli stiffened against me, his breath coming through a little heavier. This was the opposite of a rejection of the idea. I was sure I’d feel him grow in my hands if I let them wander a little lower.

“That what he said?” he asked, sounding even more husky now.

“Pretty sure he mentioned something about being on his knees for you too.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled, holding me a little tighter. “Yeah, I… I think I can do that.”

“I think it could really help him figure some things out. About how he feels about being with a man. With you. If that’s what you want too.”

“Aubrey, I can’t even begin to explain how much I want that. Fuck, I don’t think I brought the lube.”

I couldn’t stop myself from laughing out loud, purely amused at the way he was already thinking about the logistics of things. It was so much more organised than I was used to with him, but I figured the idea of getting Noah to himself was enough motivation.

“Well. You and Noah have some press stuff to do now but then you have a few hours off before you need to be back at the arena. I could… get some shopping done. If you can manage being a big boy and doing the interviews all by yourself.”

“You should know by now how much of a big boy I am,” Oli chuckled, grinding his crotch against me.

“Fucking hell,” I giggled, squirming out of his tight grip and turning onto my back, moving my head just enough to still see him out of the corner of my eye. “You’re the worst.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” I sighed, as if the truth pained me in any way whatsoever, but the smile on my face said it all. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The sound of Noah turning off the water and fumbling around in the bathroom pulled us out of our little bubble. For now. There would hopefully be more than enough time later, for us, and for the bubble to become a little bigger.

•••

I was in the middle of Boots, studying the contents of the shelf in front of me, a shopping bag from a clothing store next to my feet, when my phone rang. As expected, it was Lia, who I’d texted to let her know that I’d be free for a while if she wanted to call on her lunch break. I didn’t give her a chance to even say hello when I picked up, much less waste our time with any small talk.

“Oli told me he loved me.”

What followed was a series of shouts and screams that pierced my poor eardrums to the point where I had to hold the phone away from my face, much to the amused stare of an elderly woman who passed me by and absolutely heard the commotion my best friend was causing.

“Okay, shoot, give me all the details, because I’m dying to know.”

“I can’t, I’m in the middle of Boots.”

“So? I don’t think anyone there will care. Unless- Oh my god he confessed during sex, didn’t he! That sly dog.”

“Maybe,” I admitted and found myself blushing. “But he meant it. He’s told me about a hundred times since.”

“Aubrey, my girl, I’m genuinely so happy for you. I knew that idiot would come around and realise he couldn’t let someone like you go. Honestly, it’s more of a jackpot situation for him than you.”

I giggled quietly as I continued perusing the shelf in front of me.

“Thank you. I’m… I’m really, embarrassingly in love with him.”

I almost drifted off just thinking about it.

“Well, I don’t want to dampen the mood on your news here but I gotta ask. Noah?”

“Yeah, Noah,” I sighed. “We haven’t exactly told him yet. I don’t want to put any pressure on him by letting him know that Oli and I have said it because I already know he feels like a third wheel for other reasons. But we also can’t keep this from him for much longer, obviously. We’ll meet with him again in a bit in the hotel to- um. Yeah. I’ll talk to Oli before the show, too. Maybe we can all sit down together afterward.”

“I’d say don’t stress yourself too much but that just feels like I would belittle you so I won’t. But that boy would be stupid as hell not to want to be with both of you. And I really hope he realises that in time, because all of you truly deserve each other. It’s time for you to be happy. Like, really deliriously happy.”

“Thank you, Lia. Honestly. I’ll call you with news as soon as I get them, promise.”

I was about ready to hang up, finish my shopping and head back to the hotel, when Lia piped up once again.

“Wait, why the fuck are you in Boots anyway? Is Oli making you run unnecessary errands as part of your questionable job description?”

“Not… really. We, uh, needed some stuff. Lube, actually. We really need lube. And I’m about to have a breakdown trying to decide which one to buy.”

Lia, to my utmost respect, wasn’t fazed at all.

“Now that entirely depends on what you need it for. Water-based: Great for toys but doesn’t last as long. Silicone-based: Don’t use with toys because there’s a chance it will dissolve them. Great for anal though because it’s long-lasting. Any other main ingredients, don’t even bother. Okay, my colleague is waving me in and she’s shot me the stranges look so she probably heard. Gotta go, text or call me when you can, love you!”

The silicone-based lube wandered straight into my basket. Along with another assortment of condoms. Just in case.

•••

I was the first one back at the hotel. I’d taken the liberty to decide that we’d meet again in Oli’s room, not only but also because he simply had the biggest and fanciest one out of the three of us. Fumbling with the nightstand, I was relieved to find a drawer to deposit my shopping in. No need to freak Noah out with the sight of lube that was absolutely meant for him.

Although, if anyone was currently freaking out, it seemed to be me. Ridiculous, really. I wasn’t the one about to go further in terms of first experiences with the same gender. Far from it. But maybe I knew that this could make or break it all. This could be Noah realising that, yes, he was into this and he wanted this forever. Or it could be Noah realising that he wasn’t actually into all of this at all. And without him and Oli being… a thing, of any sort whatsoever, I didn’t see this triad going anywhere. It would simply be cause for too much inequality, jealousy, confusion. It was a terrifying thought. Losing Noah. Even if I wasn’t quite sure I’d ever had him.

I needed to get my nerves under control. I was supposed to be here to support Noah when he faltered, not make it worse. I debated what kind of clothes to change into. I didn’t want to be too sexy - this wasn’t about me. But I also didn’t want to go too casual. Because this was anything but. In the end, I decided on a nice-but-not-overly-sensual set of underwear under a short dress. Easy access in case it was needed, but not expecting anything.

I was overthinking this, I realised. Especially when the door opened, both Oli and Noah all but falling into the room, their hands and mouths all over each other in such desperate frenzy that I couldn’t help but wonder how much teasing they’d engaged in on the way here. As soon as Oli spotted me sitting on his bed, he lightly pushed Noah away, showing me the most devilish smile.

“Thought I’d get him a little warmed up,” he grinned, so self-assured and smug with himself that I had to actively stop myself from rolling my eyes. I quickly crossed the distance between us, running my hands down Noah’s back with a hum.

“Plenty warm for sure.”

Noah easily pulled me in, kissing him with just as much passion as he had Oli and I was sure I could taste both of them on his tongue. I felt myself turning to putty in his hands, on the way to forgetting what the plan was completely, but Oli took it upon himself to grab onto my hair and yank my head back, not terribly harshly, but enough to coax a moan out of me.

Another thought I’d have to shelf for later.

“How involved do you two want me?” I asked, deciding that we’d at least need to be serious for a moment. “Because I’d love to get hands on but I can also literally sit in that armchair and watch.”

Oli turned back to Noah, giving him a nod and a look that told him it was up to him alone. Noah’s eyes flew back and forth between the two of us for a moment, before he finally seemed to settle on an answer.

“You can help Oli.”

“Help?”I grinned, my hand landing on his chest. “Help him make you his bitch? I can do that.”

I enjoyed the way he gulped, obviously nervous but getting a little more aroused at my words. If it hadn’t been so hot, it would have been ridiculous how willing Noah was to submit to Oli. I could only imagine how much it turned the other man on.

“We’re going to need a safeword,” Oli threw in. “Just in case.”

Noah nodded. I was relieved he didn’t seem to be anxious at the idea that we would do something that could potentially become too much for him. We’d be watching him closely all the way, but the risk of missing something was always there.

“I know,” I giggled. “How about “Blossom”? Your Powerpuff Girl?”

Noah groaned. “I hate it.”

“Yeah? Well, unfortunately your time to have an opinion on things has just ended, pretty boy. It’s “Blossom”. Help me undress him, Aubrey.”

And just like that, with his words and the way the tone of his voice changed, he had both of us in the palm of his hand. I moved onto Noah, my fingers on the hem of his shirt, when Oli stepped behind me, body pressed to mind, and whispered in my ear, “Tease him as much as you like. He needs to know he's ours and ours alone. But make him keep his hands to himself. Here's here to receive, not to give.”

I nodded, slowly moving the fabric up his torso, fingertips trailing along so softly he would barely he able to feel it at all.

“Hear that?” Oil addressed Noah. “No touching. You be a good boy and take what we give you. If you can't behave, we'll just have to take other precautions.”

“Like wha-” Noah didn't get to finish his question as Oli pressed a finger against his lips.

“You'll find out.”

When Oli went to work on Noah's trousers, he wasn't half as gentle as my fingers were as they pried the shirt from his chest, inch by inch, until I could lift it over his head and discard it fully. Instead, the sweatpants were roughly pulled down in one go, landing at his feet and leaving Noah to struggle getting out of them by himself.

My hands were reading over Noah's tattoos, my mouth following, never missing a chance to worship his body, to let him know how incredibly perfect he was for us, to have him sighing and heating up under my treatment. Oli had moved behind him, spoiling him in a similar fashion, until he pressed his body fully against him, his hardening erection touching Noah's arse with too many layers in between still.

As if completely on their own accord, Noah's hands flew back, reaching for Oli, for anything the other man would give him. Instantly, Oli stepped back, letting Noah's hands grasp for nothing at all. One look from him was enough to make me follow suit. Noah looked back and forth between us, almost shocked at the reaction. He should have known better. Should have known that Oli Sykes didn't make empty threats.

“What did I say?”

“No touching,” Noah grumbled.

“And what did you do?”

“Tried to touch.”

I was amazed at the scene unfolding before me. Noah, broad shoulders, a little taller than Oli, so often so sure of himself, so often so dominant when it came to me, was hanging his head at being scolded, still fighting against his instincts but desperate to be good for Oli. However unnatural the idea might have seemed at first, right now it seemed perfectly correct. Oli would not necessarily give him what he wanted, but he would get exactly what he needed.

“So, what do we do with you now?” Oli ran a teasing finger along Noah's shoulders, revelling in the control he had over him. “I think you need to sit out for a while. Take a seat on that armchair and think about how to be better when it's your turn. Because I really need my dick sucked so I can concentrate but it's not gonna be you.”

I could see that Noah was about to protest, but as soon as I caught his eye, I gave him a slow but clear shake of my head. For just another moment, the fire seemed to burn in him, then he left out a dramatic sigh and walked over to the chair. My eyes were still watching him when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder slowly pushing me to my knees. I didn't resist.

Not when Oli stood in front of me and opened his trousers. Not when he pushed them down, revealing his tented underwear which quickly followed in being discarded. Not when his hand landed under my chin, making me look up, just inches from his hard cock.

“Be a good girl and take me deep, yeah? Make me come with that talented mouth of yours so we can get on with our boy.”

My enthusiastic nodding was disrupted by Oli pushing his body forward and pressing his tip against my lips. I parted them willingly, not bothering with teasing or foreplay as I wrapped a hand around his shaft and immediately swallowed him. I loved the weight on my tongue, the tight hold he had on the back of my neck, the taste of him running down my throat. Even if he hadn't asked, I would have been on a mission to take as much of him as I could.

Above me, I could make out Oli babbling praise and encouragement but my eyes were ringing with the effort of being more, being better. Once, twice, I gagged, but I wasn't deterred. Working in more and more of him, I relaxed my throat, my body, my hands now limp at my sides as I was unable to concentrate on anything else.

“Noah, I swear to god, if you touch yourself!”

I couldn't even care enough to try and take a peek. Oli's attention was back on me, words on how well I was taking him, how good he felt in my mouth, how much he wanted to shoot down my throat only encouraging me further.

“Fuck you're getting so good at this, soon you'll swallow me whole, baby.”

Not soon. Not soon.

Taking another deep breath and willing myself to become as relaxed as possible, I moved my head again, further and further and further and-

Oli exploded the second my nose bumped against his body. I greedily swallowed as much as I could, failing spectacularly as he started pulling away, leaving more in my mouth and on my lips.

“Fuck, Aubrey, where’d you learn that,” Oli chuckled but then immediately pushed my mouth close, his hand on my chin. “Don’t swallow it all. Let him have a taste, too.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. With slightly wobbly legs, a mild headrush, and a wet sensation between my legs, I made my way to Noah, straddled his lap and held my head in his hands. I waited for him to give me confirmation that this was okay, but he nodded so eagerly I really wouldn’t have had to. Grabbing his chin, I pulled his mouth open as mine descended on it, kissing him deeply and giving him everything of Oli I had left. He lapped it up, desperate for a taste, desperate to please, his hands suddenly on my hips.

“Someone just can’t behave, can they?” Oli tutted behind me. Noah’s hands flew away as if stung, suddenly remembering he’d violated the one rule that’d been put to him.

I scrambled off his lap, unsure of how Oli would deal with the situation but knowing that it wouldn't involve me staying on top of Noah. Without any words, Oli motioned for Noah to get up, then left him standing in the middle of the room while he walked over to his suitcase, shedding the rest of his clothes as he went, and rummaged through it until he found the desired piece of fabric. A thin scarf.

I watched, in awe and increasingly aroused, how Noah, so against his nature, stood still, naked and hard, willingly letting Oli take the reigns. The display of trust made my heart skip a beat. Oli moved behind his body, taking his arms until they met at his back, then skilfully tied the scarf around Noah's wrists until he was immobilised.

“Not too tight?” he asked, all traces of dominance briefly leaving his voice as he checked up on the other man, who wriggled his fingers and then shook his head. Immediately, Oli fell back into his role. “On the bed then. On your knees.”

Noah obeyed, struggling to get into the requested position without the use of his arms, almost losing his balance in between, but making no move to complain. Oli watched, proud and satisfied and already growing again.

Noah looked like a vision. On his knees, more submissive than I'd ever seen him, his head hanging low even though he hadn't been asked for it, hair tickling his face. The muscles in his back and thighs were flexing again and again, his cock already leaking. He was getting turned on by this, finally getting what he wanted from Oli, and it was nothing short of beautiful.

In fact, the sight had distracted me so much, I didn't notice that Oli had grabbed something else until a  sleeping mask slipped over Noah's eyes. He briefly became restless at the sudden removal of one more of his senses, but as Oli whispered something in his ear, he nodded again, the tension leaving his body.

“Aubrey,” Oli called out and I sat up straight, as if I’d gotten hit by lightning. This wasn’t even about me, but the tone in his voice was hard to resist. I wondered what it would be like to have all of it directed at me. “Come here.”

Just like Noah, I didn’t hesitate. He motioned to the bed, but before I could move onto it, he grabbed my arm, this time actually whispering in my ear quietly enough that Noah wouldn’t hear.

“Let’s see how many times we can get him to the edge, shall we?” As cruel as it sounded, Oli’s voice was all the more soft for it. And the idea of edging Noah until he couldn’t think straight anymore sounded more than appealing. And oh, was it a treat.

Oli and I were everywhere, switching between hands and mouths and fingers and tongues, leaving Noah a sweaty, moaning mess, blind and bound, with no clue as to what was coming next or from whom. I let my hands wander, taking the time to trace every single one of his tattoos, feeling along every muscle in his back, then letting my mouth follow the same trails, putting it on his cock for just a second before pulling back. Oli followed suit, licking up and down the other man’s body until he was moaning and sighing and twitching against his restraints.

“You’re allowed to beg, pretty boy,” Oli murmured before capturing Noah’s lips in a kiss as I took him in my mouth, deeply, getting him as close as I could before the warning signs set in and then removed myself from his body completely. Again. And again.

“Please, come on, I just- fuck- I-”

Even through his pleading, he sounded constrained, holding onto whatever control or power he thought he could still cling to in his position. Oli was behind him now, making sure that Noah wouldn’t completely lose his balance as I sucked on him again, fingers moving around his body until they came to rest on his throat, choking him ever so slightly.

“You’re still not letting go, Noah,” he scolded.”You still think this is a fight you can win. Don’t you wanna be a good boy for me? Don’t you want to please me? Do what I’m telling you? I know you want me to go further. You don’t just want my cock in your mouth, do you? You want it somewhere else. You might just get it, love. But you have to let go for me.”

I could basically see the switch flip in Noah’s mind. As if he knew he was going to be safe. That he could trust both of us to only do what was best for him. That he could tap out any time. But that if he really wanted and needed this as much as he had let on before, he needed to allow himself to submit to it.

Without any further prompting from either of us, Noah bent forward, still kneeling, until his forehead hit the mattress, beautifully submissive, giving up control and putting it in our hands.

“Please,” he whispered again, more desperate now, more whiny, more willing not to hold back.

Oli looked so smug at having succeeded it was almost annoying. I motioned toward the nightstand, hoping he’d understand I’d stashed the lube there, and then went back to my ministrations of the gorgeous man in front of me. Peppering kisses on his back as it was now so nicely presented to me, I struggled to move my hand underneath his body again, finding his dick harder than before, precum immediately spilling onto me. He shuffled, just enough to make more space, but stayed in position.

When Oli returned, kneeling on the bed behind Noah, his fingers were lubed up, the bottle dropping onto the mattress next to him.

“So gorgeous, love, so pretty and spread out,” Oli praised as he carefully started circling Noah’s hole. I removed my hand, not wanting to overwhelm Noah with the multitude of sensations he was being presented to. Instead, I laid down on my side next him, wordlessly communicating with Oli as I pointed toward the sleep mask. He nodded, allowing me to slip it away from Noah’s head.

“You good?” I asked, quietly, petting his hair, letting the soft strands run between my fingers. He turned his head toward me, cheeks reddened and eyes glossy, utterly stunning, and whispered a yes back. I pressed my lips against his, swallowing his sighs and moans, the way his breath hitched as Oli prepared him. I couldn’t get over how gorgeous he was right in this moment.

Even when Noah broke the kiss, breathing heavily, eyes shutting in an emotion that seemed to be somewhere between pleasure and overwhelming sensations, I stayed by his side. I didn’t watch what Oli was doing or how, I simply couldn’t tear my eyes from Noah. His reactions, his high-pitched noises in between and then a long, drawn-out moan that echoed through the room, told me enough.

Noah was a mess, moaning and mumbling to himself, barely holding his body up anymore on his knees, face fully smushed into the pillow, when Oli let go of him. He quickly fumbled with the scarf around Noah’s wrists, undoing his work and throwing the item on the floor. He rolled Noah, who didn’t resist at all, on his back, then grabbed his arms and placed delicate kisses on the skin where he had been tied.

“So gorgeous,” Oli praised as his kisses moved upwards until his mouth was on Noah’s again. “So pretty and ready for me, love.”

They kissed for a while, Oli keeping as much distance as he could between them as Noah was now so hard and leaking precum that I feared he’d come from the slightest touch.

“Do you think you can take me?” Oli asked and was met with such enthusiastic nodding that both of us had to bite back a chuckle. “How do you want it? It might be easiest if you tried to ride-”

“No,” Noah found his voice, husky and rough. “Like this. Please.”

“Anything for you,” Oli whispered against his lips.

My heart was bursting at the seams with love. I could have spent the rest of my life watching these two together, these men that had captivated me and made me fall so hard, looking so utterly beautiful together, like they had always been meant to be. I couldn’t put in words how much I wanted to three of us to be that. Meant to be. Forever.

Oli went to kneel between Noah’s legs, grabbing more lube that he generously lathered his own cock with, gasping slightly at the feeling, before pushing Noah’s knees back to make room. Noah’s hand reached for mine and as I held onto it, I almost allowed a confession of love to pass my lips. It didn’t matter what we were doing, what constellation was currently involved with what, who was on the sidelines - we were in it together, the three of us, always.

Oli pushed in, slowly, eyes always on Noah, pure concern masking the pleasure. Noah’s face was slightly screwed up, but he was breathing deeply, and within moments he was begging Oli for more.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Oli moaned as he slowly bottomed out. “Can’t believe no one’s done this to you before, you’re fucking made for this, so perfect.”

Noah’s low groans were increasing in volume as he squeezed my hand tightly, the other fisting the bedsheets. Oli was still moving with utmost care, changing his angles until-

Noah whailed and Oli might have just been the happiest person on the planet. With a slight increase in his tempo, he started hitting the spot, again and again, until I was worried Noah was going to start crying from the intensity.

“‘m not gonna last,” Oli mumbled, thrusting into Noah and tethering on the edge of losing control. “Touch him, Aubrey.”

Noah didn’t need much more. As soon as I wrapped my fingers around him, a single stroke pushed him over the edge. With a noise I’d never heard him make before, he arched into me, moved harder against Oli, and spilled all over my hand and his stomach. The resulting tension made Oli fall apart as well, moaning shamelessly as he pushed into Noah a few more times, until he was fully spent.

Both of them seemed overwhelmed with the experience, but the post-orgasmic pleasure was palpable. Oli had carefully pulled out and all but collapsed on the bed next to Noah so I took over aftercare duty, cleaning both of them up as much as I could, dropping words of praise and soft kisses wherever they would let me. I only stopped when Noah deftly pulled me down next to him, cuddling into me, then reached behind him to make Oli spoon him.

I listened as their breathing started to even out and the room fell quiet. Noah’s head was buried in my chest, pressed so deeply into the fabric of my dress that I wondered how he was still able to breathe, while Oli was fully attached to his back, as if attempting to fuse into one person. I didn’t think either of us could really grasp what we were feeling in that moment, but somehow, it had changed us fundamentally. The trust and love that had just been put on display between us.

I let the two of them rest for as long as I could, but I knew that people were waiting for us, a whole arena full of them, so before Noah could fully drift off, I herded both of them into the bathroom for a quick shower. Or what should have been a quick shower.

The space was much more limited than the one at Oli’s place and there was an additional person, but we still somehow squeezed into it, battling to stay under the water under soft giggles and sighs. We all did our best to clean each other, freshen up so we would be presentable, but it wasn’t until Oli’s hand travelled up the inside of my thigh that I was reminded of the lingering wetness that had nothing to do with the water raining down on us. It brough a pitiful moan to my lips.

“Feels like someone really enjoyed the show,” Oli teased, his eyes darkening as he sent a smirk my way. “I think we owe her an orgasm, Noah.”

Noah didn’t need much more invitation. Pressing himself against my back, his hand joined Oli’s between my legs, both of them feeling my arousal clearly as I almost buckled under the attention. I’d barely registered how turned on I’d been, fully focused on the two men and their enjoyment, but now that they were on me and I was finally naked, I knew it wouldn’t take much.

Oli’s lips found mine, immediately pushing his tongue into my mouth as his finger circled my clit, dragging another moan from my throat and straight into him. Noah left a kiss at the top of my hair, one arm sneaking around my waist to hold me steady as his hand rested on my stomach, the other… I couldn’t tell for sure, but the stretch was harsh enough that I assumed he’d immediately pushed two fingers into me.

My body felt like pure jelly as the two played with me, skillfully touching and teasing me and allowing me to fuck myself on their hands. I didn’t even attempt to be quiet when the euphoria rushed over me, clawing at Oli’s arms, my head dropping against his chest, riding my orgasm under praise and touches all over me until the oversensitity took hold of me. Both of them immediately noticed, withdrawing their hands but keeping me up until I could safely stand again.

I kissed Oli again, then turned around to do the same to Noah, who looked so happy, so ecstatic, that I wished I could frame this moment and keep it with me in perfect clarity forever.

And then Noah dropped his head to my shoulder and mumbled, so quietly that I wasn’t sure Oli could hear or even if I had heard correctly, “I think I could fall in love with a man.”

•••

I was floating on a cloud. So what if we hadn’t fully resolved the situation? So what if Noah still didn’t know that Oli and I had said those words to each other? So what if Noah hadn’t fully admitted to his feelings or that none of us had technically heard Oli say what was going through his mind either? None of it was enough to bring me down.

I caught up with Oli as soon as both of us had a moment free in our schedules, immediately allowing him to pull me into his lap in his dressing room, both of us desperate for the closeness.

“How are you feeling?” I mumbled into his sweatshirt as my head dropped to his shoulder. I was straddling him fully, having accepted that this was somehow a happy place for both of us, his arms holding me securely.

“So fucking good,” he laughed as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “I don’t know if I needed to fuck a man that badly or if it’s just Noah but holy shit.”

We both giggled against each other, bodies heaving with the noise, holding each other that little bit tighter as the memories appeared in both of our minds. I’d known it wanted this again and again and more the very second we had all collapsed in the bed but it was more than a relief to hear Oli felt the same. The calm and quiet returned only slowly.

“And… and everything else with Noah?” I finally asked.

Oli stayed quiet for a while. It didn’t worry me - I knew he was probably weighing his words, trying to figure out what exactly he felt and how to articulate it, and I gave him the time he needed, my fingers moving under his sweatshirt to draw soothing little circles on his skin.

“I… I want him. For everything. All the time. The way I want you. I don’t know if it’s too early to say anything else but… I think I’m in love with him.”

I almost started crying right then and there. Lifting my head, I put both of my hands to the sides of his face, needing to make sure he was here, saying these words.

“I’m in love with him too.”

“Do you think we can do this?” Oli questioned, his fingers softly combing through my hair, but his eyes never leaving mine. “The three of us?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll never forgive myself if we don’t try.”

Oli pressed a short kiss to my mouth. “That makes two of us.”

•••

About an hour later, I’d made sure Oli was where he needed to be, grabbed the biggest portion of food I could find while scarfing it down with worrying speed, then planted a kiss on Noah’s lips when I met him in the hallway and turned away to get to the sound desk quickly enough that I wouldn’t see his reaction. Nicholas gave me a thumbs up on the way out.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Becky mused as soon as I approached, opening the barrier for me and waiving me in. She leaned in, just to make sure no one else would hear when she continued. “Did you get good dick?”

“Well, technically, I didn’t, but…”

“Oh, you dirty girl, what did the three of you get up to!”

I didn’t indulge her in any details but my smile seemed to tell her everything. We had enough to do as it was - even if that didn’t stop her from throwing me knowing looks every now and then and wriggling her eyebrows suggestively.

The Bad Omens set passed by in no time at all and I was starting to enjoy how some details were already becoming something akin to a routine. Still, Becky very much ordered me around, trying to explain as much as possible when we had a moment, especially in between sets. I almost wished I could take notes, just to make sure I would really remember. Even though I wasn’t quite sure what for.

“Oh, by the way, are you going to be on the early flight out to Dublin tomorrow?” Becky asked out of nowhere, almost throwing me out of the loop. I fished the phone out of the pocket of my jeans, showing her the time I’d jotted down for the flight that most of the bands and close crew was on.

“This one? Why?”

“Perfect,” Becky grinned. “Nothing in particular. Just wanted to catch you before you get on the plane. Got something to give you tomorrow.”

“Something- what?”

“Nothing at all. Oh, look, time to start the trailer for Bring Me, no time to talk!”

I was getting sick and tired of surprises. Or, I would have been, if all of them hadn’t been so damn perfect lately. Still, I couldn’t help giving her the side-eye for the next hour, impossibly curious but knowing just as well she probably wouldn’t spill. And with Oli on stage, my brain was fried anyway as I watched him, utterly happy and ecstatic, easily giving one of the best shows of his life.

Becky didn’t even reimprand me when I completely lost focus when it was time for Antivist. In fact, all duties forgotten, my eyes were solely glued on the two men currently on stage. The one I was already able to call my boyfriend and the one he had just introduced as a very special person. Both of them were. Very special people. My heart was so absolutely irredeemably lost to them that, no matter how deliriously happy I was about being able to call Oli mine, I also knew fully well that we wouldn’t be complete without Noah.

My whole body ached to have him too. And I was sure Oli’s did as well. Time didn’t matter. Distance didn’t matter. Societal expectations didn’t matter. All I needed to be happy now, truly, fully happy, was for Noah to be honest with us and, hopefully, so hopefully, become ours as much as we were already his.

I barely noticed the next two songs passing, entirely too caught up in my thoughts and the way Oli looked so ridiculously gorgeous on screen and how stupidly lucky I’d gotten with him already.

“Go.”

I turned back to Becky, confused and unsure if she’d spoken to me at all. The band was off stage, waiting for the montage to come on before performing their encore, so the room was marginally quieter. She nodded, confirming my question, and motioned randomly toward the left.

“There’s some reserved seating in 101, left to the stage. Go. Enjoy the last songs. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you-?”

She didn’t let me finish, almost violently pushing me against the barrier which didn’t open quite in time to let me out. I didn’t ask for more encouragement, sprinting through the venue via as many shortcuts as I could remember, flashing my pass and moving down the rows of seats where a few select friends and family had gathered just as Doomed started playing.

It had been a while since I’d gotten to watch Oli perform from such close proximity but it never failed to stun me wholly. The way he threw his entire being into performance with absolute disregard for his own wellbeing, driven my nothing but pure emotions, memories, whatever energetic currents were running through the arena, was easily one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. I loved him. Irrevocably.

He spotted me during Lost. An almost undetectable skip in his actions. A stare right in my direction. Pointing toward me. A kiss thrown my way. I couldn’t help but send one back, watching as he caught it and put it in his pocket, face never changing, but I knew he meant it. He meant it all.

And I knew we needed to talk to Noah. Tonight.

•••

I was already waiting backstage, right where the band would come off stage but safely out of view from the audience, when the show ended. The others passed me by first on their way to their dressing rooms, Mat throwing me a smile and giving me a pat on the shoulder as if I needed any sort of encouragement. And then Oli appeared, stunning, sweaty, happy and all I could do was run straight into the arms that were opening just for me and press a kiss to his mouth. He pulled me closer to his body, completely ignorant of the way I stuck to him in the heat his skin emitted and who was I to complain. I would have him anyway I got him, freshly showered or or completely sweaty alike.

“I love you,” Oli said, freely and confidently and my heart wanted to leap, still so incredibly enamoured and overwhelmed any time he said those words and never wanting him to stop.

“I-”

The words didn’t even manage to leave my mouth before I saw him.

Noah.

Standing behind Oli, his eyes locked with mine, his posture tense, his face unreadable, then crestfallen, then… resigned.

We hadn’t told him yet. We hadn’t told him and now he knew. He knew we hadn’t told him. That we’d kept it from him. That we’d spent who knows how long basking in our own happiness. Without him. And suddenly he looked like all fears he’d ever had combined.

[loganwritesprobably]

Law with the 3° genre, prompt (y.)

Since there's no specification, I'm pairing Law up with a gender neutral reader

Find the prompt list here

Content/Warnings: Law/GN!Reader, hurt/no comfort, break up, reader decides to leave the crew

If you had to hear one more stupid word from his stupid mouth, you were going to lose your mind. Breaking up with Law while underwater in the Polar Tang, still days away from your next island, may have been a bit of a mistake but you just couldn't do it anymore. You couldn't keep pretending. It had to end. Everything was tense, and uncomfortable, if he entered the room you immediately left, and the other crew members were struggling with the discomfort. Not one of them tried to criticise you though, they sympathised.

Law did not seem to understand how serious you were, though.

He went out of his way to seek you out, searching for you when you had downtime to try to speak to you. You avoided him at all costs, often walking away while he followed you, ignoring every word that he said. If he did it again, you were going to develop a serious violence issue.

You were sitting quietly in the kitchen, reading a book, and enjoying just being alone for a while. There was a lot you needed to organise, and you needed silence to do it. Feelings to sort through, things to plan, and decisions to be made. You'd already moved all your things from Law's room back into the crew's room, and you were sleeping in your old bed again - still alone, but at least now it was by choice.

That was why you'd split up with Law, you couldn't deal with the way he treated you anymore.

He was never around, always prioritising work over you and even yourself. It was one thing for him to put the crew before you, because you understood that - he was a Captain, that was his job - but to even neglect himself to the point where he was snapping at you and other crew members; making poor decisions; missing all his time with the people he claimed were his friends.. you weren't willing to put up with it anymore. You couldn't date a man who had all these responsibilities when he couldn't take care of himself.

Did you even want him as your Captain?

Hence, things to think about.

Law walked into the room, and for the first time in several days, you didn't leave. You were capable of ignoring him while he puttered around to finally feed himself, you were reading a good book. Instead of doing that though, he sat in the chair beside yours, and just stared at you. It was hard to concentrate on you book when he was staring at you so intently but you kept your eyes on the page, refusing to bend to whatever he was trying to do.

"Since you're finally done running, I want to talk about us." He said eventually, and you sighed, slamming your book closed. "There is no us Law, get that into your thick skull." You hissed, standing up from your chair to leave again, retreating to another quiet room to gather your thoughts. "Why aren't you even willing to hear me out? You'd think I'd hit you!" He yelled, and you froze. "Why? Because you act like you have no interest in yourself, never mind me! We barely spent any time together, and when we did half of it was me forcing you to look after yourself and the other half was you being grumpy or mean because you can't do that for yourself! I'm done with it Law! Grow up a little - then come back and talk to me." You'd turned back to face him, eyes wild, chest rising and falling rapidly with your anger. Law stared back at you, mouth hanging slightly open, understanding finally dawning on him.

"I'm not getting back on the Polar Tang after this island. I'll find my own way - I don't want you as my Captain anymore."

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | WIPs | Recommendations

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

[ayyyez]

"Extra fandom options" she says, as if she means anything other than haikyuu 😂 Heheh of course you may do whatever you want always but you know what I'm here for, gotta be on brand.

SO if you have any thoughts of Tanaka and Ennoshita in a romantic relationship headcannons, either solo or in a poly relationship, I'd love to read them! Fluff and/or spicy, you know I'll happily read and gush over what you write. Thanks and you look good today!

Also first.

a/n: not these sitting in my inbox forever. But hey look I’ve finally gotten around to them bc I wanna think about hq while my sinuses hate me 😂 but im doing these first for you 🫡

Tags: relationship headcanons, fluff, kissing, spooning, confessing, poly (at the end)

Characters: Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Ennoshita Chikara (with x reader and poly [seperated])

Tanaka

God this guy is the most in love sap you would ever encounter but he’s so endearing.

After the whole ‘marry me’ Kiyoko situation he decides to hold back a little when he has a crush. But this is by Tanakas standards. His holding back is he very obviously has a crush on you but isn’t asking you out (or to marry you) right away.

Being near you and gestures are his go to. It’s canon. And how he reacts depends on how you are.

If you’re the type to go out of your way to talk to him then he’s like doki doki BEST DAY EVER! but also isn’t 10/10 intense every time you talk to him. He chills a little. BUT STILL DEDICATED TO YOU.

If you’re more naive or the shy type then just a small smile from you is enough to get him through the day. Very much oh boy they looked at me I’m the best wing spiker in the world.

To get into a relationship with him one of two things need to happen.

One: you gotta give him a sign that you are into him. Flirt-Tease him about his antics (particularly the taking shirt of woo) or just give him a compliment saying you’re into him. Give him smiles more than anyone else. Then he’s just ‘go out with me PLEASE.’

Two: ask him out. He will combust and Tanaka.exe will stop working for a moment. But then he’s like OKAY. (Doesn’t wanna fuck it up and over do it. It’s steered him wrong before)

Dating this guy means waking up the luckiest person ever. You are SPOILED with attention, gestures and affection.

Man is a personal heater. Big spoon, little spoon, doesn’t matter longs you be spooning.

A bit of a restless sleeper and sleep talker. It’s kinda funny the silly things he says. One time yelled ‘LEFFFFT’ in his sleep.

The only way to stop the wriggling is spooning him harder than you’ve spooned before. Still has a stray leg flicking every now and again but it’s better.

His first kiss has him sweating the details. Wants to make it perfect like in those manga he reads but overthinks it. He takes ages to do it if you want him to initiate.

Just kiss him honestly. The reaction is worth it. The reddest blush. Once again stops working.

Once he’s done it though his smooches are so good. Passionate boy starts soft then HES HUNGRY FOR MORE. Very intense. Kinda awkward with his tongue at first but he gets it.

He’s big on physical touch but it doesn’t have to be big. A hand held is gold to him. Cuddling is just something he lives for.

Cannot handle alcohol so you’re carrying (or organising others to) carry his ass home. Super sappy and happy drunk. ‘I love… youuuuuu’. A crier too. He just feels extra hard.

Get a couple into him though and he dances like no one’s watching. Actually not half bad until he starts stripping. Only you can stop him. He’s too obsessed with you to care about anything else he was doing.

Makeouts on the couch are BIG with him. Won’t take it further until you ask. Gotta be a gentleman. Yes even when his hands are squeezing your ass.

Ennoshita Chikara

The type to silently indulge in his crush every now and again while FIGHTING and PUSHING those feelings down.

At least, that’s how it is at first. He will be your friend first so he doesn’t want to compromise that. Just let’s pretend we don’t feel that for now shall we?

As if he could hold that back. It takes a while but it’s not long before something pushes him (he’s afraid of losing you) and he’s spilling his feelings.

He may be spilling but he’s seems like he’s confident with the monologue that comes out of his mouth. When he finishes his eyes are just wide and staring at your shoes. Evidently he was not so confident.

Grab one of this clenched fists. Pull his chin up to face you. Tell him you feel (maybe not in as many words as he did) the same way.

‘Are you sure!?’ ENNOSHITA PLEASE.

Honestly takes a while to accept it but once he does he is noticeably on top of the world.

Doesn’t announce it to the world but once people asks he’s smuggly like YEP WE ARE INDEED DATING peasants. Like damn Ennoshita.

A very caring and protective guy. Lets you do your thing while watching your back from the sidelines. Will punch people for you but won’t let that slip.

Very much a words of affirmation, tease and quality time dude.

Will go with the flow but will absolutely take charge.

His first kisses are those cute gesture ones. A kiss on the cheek, a peck on the lips or a smooch planted on the forehead.

You gotta grab this man by the cheeks and just plant one passionate kiss on him. That leaves him frozen for a second and then oop self control gone. MAKE OUT TIME.

More of an alone time physical touch guy but will break that when he’s particularly ehem into you. Or if some jerk thinks they can pick you up.

Plants one on you while maintaining eye contact with said jerk. Or places a very in your face arm around your shoulders.

Very much a big spoon guy. It just makes him feel protective. Also kind of like he’s leeching your hair warmth.

Pretty chill sleeper. Once he’s out he doesn’t move much. Sometimes you wake up facing him and he’s blowing air in your face (sleep breathing).

Kiss his nose and he’ll scrunch it in his sleep and let out a soft ‘mmm?’ But doesn’t wake up.

Tanaka and Ennoshita poly

You’re all in a relationship. Tanaka and Ennoshita included. Their crush on each other goes back a while they just never wanted to admit it.

You coming into their lives kind of makes it easier. Well eventually.

Once they realise they both have a crush on you both of them want to be the better man and let them have you. (Even if a small part inside them is screaming for the opposite).

It’s up to you to set them down and be like ‘nah uh I’ll have both’ and then also set them onto the path of realising they also like each other. It’s a very eventful week.

Ennoshita is still the big spoon. You’re the middle. Tanaka is either little or wrapped around you like a Koala. Depends on the day.

Ennoshita is the wrangler and kind of takes charge when he needs to. Tanaka is the passionate but also softy. It’s up to you whether you want to continuously go with the flow or take charge every now and again.

Just imagine sitting on the couch between them and taking turns making out. Start with Tanaka then come up for air and turn to Ennoshita. He’s a bit more intense when he’s second, handsy too. Then sit back and watch them kiss each other.

Every now and again you get home late and find them either cuddling or asleep in each others arms on the couch with some movie playing in the background.

Ennoshita brings his (grand) movie collection to the relationship. Tanaka brings his home gym. You tie it all together by hyping up both.

[unknownteapot]

2 Truths 1 Lie : SMOSHBLR EDITION 

y’all ive been thinking about this one for a while lol- after the ‘smoshblr assumptions’ game was received so well i was like we haaaave to do another one- it brings the fandom so much closer and is honestly such a good way to get to know moots better <3

SO. without further ado- I present to you SMOSHBLR’s 2 Truths 1 Lie organised by yours truly with some help from kind friends @xxsuicidalravenxx & @babychosen <3 

Here’s how you play:

Rb this post with ‘#i’m in’ so i can keep track of who’s playing

Between the hours of 9:00 am EST - 12:00 (noon) EST on Wed. June 5th (check what time that would be in your area) post a 1-day poll to your blog with 3 facts about yourself (the reason it’s a specific time is so we don’t miss any/have polls end at different times and make the game an endless loop )

Self-explanatory here, 1 of the facts should be completely false and the other two should be true.

IMPORTANT: PLEASE. please. do NOT give away personal information/intimate life details that could identify you. despite how awesome smoshblr is, the internet is still a scary place.

You can tag the poll whatever you’d like but please include #smoshblrtwotruths somewhere in the tags so i can rb it ;)

After your poll is up- you now have 24h to go on the #smoshblrtwotruths tag and have fun speculating on other’s facts in the replies of their posts and

VOTE FOR THE OPTION YOU THINK THEIR 1 LIE IS!!

You can ask others questions about their facts to help verify their stories via asks or replies on their polls, but keep in mind, just like in smosh’s real game version, they could be lying ;)

Be silly, be goofy, be kind.

After the polls end (sometime on Thursday the 6th), rb your poll explaining what the truths and lies actually were so we can see if we were right!!

At the end (Friday 7th) i’ll make a masterlist of all the truths & lies so we can clearly see who the winners were <3

AWARDS:

�� The Lesbian Wonkas 🍭 (The Winners)- people whose lie does NOT get found by collecting the most votes on the poll- will get a personalised playlist based on the vibes their tumblr gives off straight from my chaotic ass spotify <3 

🐦‍⬛ The Birds of The Amazönê 🚬 (The Losers)- the losers will get sprayed with water a.k.a an influx of asks with nothing but 💦🔫💦🔫💦🔫💦🔫 in them (by participating in the game, you consent to this so don’t be annoyed at me. get sprayed, bestie)

okay. that’s it. please reply or send asks if the rules are unclear!! i’d suggest scheduling ur 2 Truths 1 Lie poll as soon as you have your facts so it can go up during the mentioned time with all the other polls and you don’t have to worry about posting it 🫶🏻

i’m tagging some moots so they know this is happening and just bc they’re awesome @lilac-hecox @sage-lights @japhan2024 @baflegacy @shesmore-shoebill feel free to tag your friends too <3

Let’s get truthing and lying, smoshblr!!!

[leviafin]

Hey! Over here!

Hello, and welcome. You're free to call me Fin, or Sebastian if that suits you more. Or make something up, I don't care, do whatever. I'm a fictive within the Interstellar System--a DID system of over 400 members, with a vast majority of us being alterhuman or something along those lines. I use he/him pronouns exclusively, though I might test the waters, so to speak, with something else later.

This'll be my personal blog, which will probably have a bunch of alterhumanity and a lot of queer stuff on it. Adult content (which will just be words and such if anything) will be tagged with "tw: adult content". Jokes that might be slightly adult content will just be tagged with "adult jokes".

| Ask link | Our Website | Trigger Warning Tags | | Collective System Blog | Ocean dividers by Plum98 |

Identity:

I'm a multifictive, aka I have multiple sources. I'm a noncanon avatar of The Vast + The Hunt (The Magnus Archives), and a Sebastian Solace (Roblox: Pressure) fictive. I may call Sebastian a kintype occasionally due to the nature of how I learned I was him--to me that identity is both fictionkin and fictive.

Disabled, neurodivergent, and mad--deal with it.

Queer as fuck, deal with that too.

Terrorpunk--aka, if I scare you or ick you with my identity? Good. Not my problem.

Anyway, onto the boundaries and whatnot.

Overall, I am inclusive of everyone (including endogenics, factkin, mspecs, etc), as long as you act in good faith and nonharmfully. I don't care about microlabel discourse or anything of the sort.

I will be blocking queerphobes, racists, ableists and anyone else of those sorts. Hell, I might block you just because I don't want you interacting, so don't take it too personally. The button is there for a reason.

That being said, while I'm listing my stances here, I don't have a DNI, and probably won't read yours before I like or reblog from you. Large bodies of text can be incredibly inaccessible, especially buried 10 pages deep in a carrd, and I'd rather someone just hit the block button on me. As was its intended function, really--one click and I'm gone, no stress about it!

I might sound snappy depending on the day--I deal with chronic pain, have the kind of autism where I don't know what socialising is, and use sarcasm heavily. Those do not mix well. Genuinely, ask me to clarify if you don't understand something I've said, or if you think I'm snappy for no reason. Unless you're someone like an anti-endo or transphobe, I probably don't know how my tone sounds.

Tags I use:

Aside from the trigger warning tags I included up above, this list is mostly for personal organisation.

Organisational Tags:

#op - Original posts by yours truly.

#rb - Reblogs.

#srb - Self-reblogs from any of our blogs.

#ask - Asks that have been answered.

#ask game - Self explanatory.

Alterhuman Tags:

#alterhuman - Self explanatory.

#otherkin, #plural, #fictionkin, etc - More self explanatory tags.

#sourceposting - Posts about my sources--usually fandom related, but not always.

#leviafin real - Art of me specifically. Not source fanart, me as a fictive.

#oceanic - Ocean or water related posts, probably aesthetic.

#sebastian solace - Posts about Sebastian Solace, probably fandom related.

#the hunt - Tag for The Hunt, probably fandom or aesthetic related.

#the vast - Tag for The Vast, probably fandom or aesthetic related.

Other Tags:

#aesthetic - Pretty things.

#art - You know. Created stuff.

#creatureposting - Posts about our wonderful little critter companions that live inside our house.

#disability - Disability posting.

#queer - Queer stuff.

#terrorpunk - Terrorpunk stuff.

[danilovefest]

DANI LOVE FEST 2024

WHAT IS DANI LOVE FEST

just a few days ago I was once again desperately looking for Dani content on here but it was woefully difficult....and since (hopefully) a Dani wildcard in Jerez at the end of april is very likely, I thought it would be fun to organise a little event to dig up as much Dani content as possible so that everybody looking for Dani content in the future can find loads of it here :) and maybe it'll even inspire some new fans!

HOW CAN YOU TAKE PART

MAKING POSTS: your post can be anything - videos, pictures, text posts, fics, articles - translated interviews or articles, web weaves - whatever your heart desires! just tag your post with #danilovefest or #danilovefest2024 to be featured on this blog OR you can send it directly as a submission to this blog (re: sources - please if possible include your sources/credits!)

SHARING POSTS: not all posts have to be new!! this event is all about sharing dani content, gathering it all in this neat little pile for us all to play in!! a lot of you definitely have a LOT more insight and archives of all the posts on motogpblr through the years. so please, dig up your favourite posts and let us enjoy them once again!! you can send posts via ask or send me a dm on my main @whoregaylorenzo so I can reblog it here!

ASKS: if you have any suggestions or spontaneous prompts - or you just wanna submit a fun pic without making a post - you can hop into our asks and talk to Dani! try it :)

TAGGING SYSTEM

I will try my best to make this blog SUPER organised so it can exist as a sort of dani archive for years to come <3 this list will be edited/added on to as I add new tags

media type: pictures, gifs, video, text post, links, web weave, art, mixed

theme:

year:

place:

others featured: marc, jorge, vale, ....

#rpf content

We will use tw injury/tw crash (re injury day) and #nsfw for explicit posts (re danifucker day)

THEMES (click on the links to access the tag):

this following list includes themes/prompts for all the days BUT of course we only want to give you ideas, you are not limited to these/nor are they limited to these days, you can post anything any day as long as it's Dani!

10.04. baby Dani

11.04. 125cc days

12.04. 250cc days

13.04. random Dani facts day

14.04. team tiny day

15.04. Dani's smile

16.04. injury day (you all made me!! ._.)

17.04. his gray hair streak

18.04. Dani ventures outside of motogp (windsurfing, cycling, his childrens book, car racing etc)

19.04. danifucker day (18+)

20.04. Pedrenzo day

21.04. Danis special riding style/ability to give feedback (gifs/videos/pics of riding, ppl describing his riding style etc)

22.04. Dani's relationship with other riders

23.04. after motogp/ktm days (various wildcards, reception and emotions coming back etc)

24.04. favorite helmet

25.04. favorite podium/win(s)

26.04. Dani at jerez through the years

27-28. give me all you got (ANY fav dani content at all) - also open for the hopefully new content that weekend

I hope you all have SOOO much fun, we certainly had fun planning and scheming and are SO excited to share the dani love with you!! - fran (@racewinnerbatmav) and dante (@marquezian)

"It's easy to base success on results, but I think that concept is mistaken. Above all, what is most satisfying is how I will remember all of those fans, all of the people who encouraged me, who supported me during my moments, good and bad, and who often kept me from throwing in the towel." - Dani Pedrosa

[blueraineshadows]

Blood Bound Part Four

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

MC digs deep as she faces her darkest hour, whilst Leander wrestles with his moral compass. Sebastian catches up with an old friend.

Words: 13.5k

Tags: NSFW / violence / angst / mentions of death / grief / depression / organised crime / manipulation / bound prisoner

Chapter Master List and Ao3

Mutuals tag list at the end ✨️

Four: Pirouette in the Dark

Leander

There was no denying it. Leander felt sick. His stomach was a twisted knot of anxiety and he kept having to rub his forehead with his hand, certain that his nerves were written all over his face as he sat at his desk trying to go through the Rookwood files. The words on the parchment kept rolling into each other, and none of it made sense. His thoughts wrapped up in the memory of last night in the questioning chamber.

Whatever truths MC had stashed away in her head, they were locked tight behind a pact that would kill her if she spoke about them. A blood pact with Sebastian.

Leander clenched his fists, his teeth grinding together as he thought about Sebastian running free whilst MC lay withering in her cell. What were they hiding? Did MC love Sallow that much that she was willing to take the risk of dying for him?

The thought made Leander feel like an utter fool. He had sat on the frigid floor of the prison, holding MC in his arms while she cried, her hands clutching at his clothing in a death grip. She was crying over that smug bastard, a scar on her palm marking her as his forever, and yet Leander was sitting at his desk, sweating and nauseated because he was considering risking everything to save her life.

Deep down, it wasn't even a choice. Even if MC found her way back to Sallow one day, he still felt it was worth saving her. She had never been his in the first place. He was just a comfort in a dark place. He knew that. He would still save her, though, the fool that he was. He had to. Who else was going to?  

Odessa walked behind his chair, leaning across to place a cup of steaming tea down onto his desk, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “There you go, Prewett. You look like you need a good, strong tea. Is everything alright?”

Eyes tight with tiredness from the lack of sleep, Leander lifted his gaze up to Odessa with a strained smile of thanks. “I’m fine,” he lied. “Just trying to refresh my mind on these notes before heading out this morning. I’m meeting Harrington in half an hour.”

“You don’t look fine,” she said softly, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she perched herself on the edge of his desk. Her brown eyes travelled over his face, and she smiled fondly. “You work too hard, Prewett. I admire your dedication, though.”

Warmth crept into his cheeks, and his gaze flickered back down to the open file on his desk, his Auror badge feeling rather heavy in his pocket at the thought of what he was planning to do. He wouldn't exactly call it dedication to the job. 

“This case is important. Harrington could have picked anyone to join, so I need to make sure I’m putting in the effort,” he said, nervously licking his lips.

“I’m not knocking your efforts,” she said, leaning in a bit closer. He met her gaze, his blush darkening even further at the glint in her eyes. “Just don’t overwork yourself, that’s all. All work and no play and all that. Perhaps we should go out for a drink one evening and blow off some of the steam. What do you think?”

Odessa McKinnon was a very attractive young lady, confident and bright. She was popular with his fellow colleagues, and here she was leaning over his desk and asking him out for a drink. His pulse was fluttering and he felt his familiar awkwardness creeping in, making him swallow hard as he considered her offer. He should be leaping at the chance, and yet his head was consumed by images of large haunted eyes, the first blossoming hope of trust shining from them as MC had said goodbye to him last night at her cell door.

But Odessa could never know about that. It was a secret for him to keep safely tucked away in that soft space behind his ribs.

“Erm…sure. That sounds lovely,” he said, nodding, the knots in his stomach twisting up even further. Attainable, beautiful, and offering him a chance to spend time with her. How could he say no to that? 

Her smile was slow and full of lingering promise as she stood, his eyes following her as she walked towards her own desk, leaving the delicate scent of her perfume lingering behind her. It had been a while since he had courted anyone, and Odessa was certainly a tempting prospect.

Blowing air through his lips, Leander rubbed his face with his hands and checked his pocket watch. He needed to collect the Veritaserum from the potion dispensary before heading out to meet Harrington, the thought of having such a thing in his possession making his throat close up. Tucking away his file, he stood and grabbed his robe. It was time to go.

As the glass bottle of truth serum was handed to him, he felt the shiver travel down his spine at what this could mean for MC. He shoved it deep into his pocket, striding for the bathrooms, fighting the urge to glance over his shoulder. His neck prickled as though someone was watching him, his own guilty conscience making his hands tremble as he entered a toilet cubicle and leant back against the wall. 

Months of training, hours of studying to pass the NEWT exams to even get onto the Auror program in the first place, and here he was considering risking it all. He took out his Auror badge, polished to a shine, the pride of such a thing being in his possession making his chest swell. He had always been second best at everything, but this had been earned through hard work and sheer determination to succeed. His mother had squeezed him so tightly, her words of happiness at his achievement still fresh in his memory. 

He bit his lip, letting the badge drop back into his pocket before taking out the bottle of Veritaserum and holding it up. He turned it in his fingers. MC’s potential death, right here in his hands. 

Not if he had anything to do with it.

He pulled the stopper out and held the bottle over the toilet bowl, his fingers trembling as he took a shaky breath and poured the contents out. He watched it trickle down, breathing hard and fast as he reached up to pull the chain, the swirling flush taking the potion away into the water sewers beneath the Ministry building. 

Swallowing through the tightness in his throat, his heart thudding at a reckless pace, he wiped the back of his hand against his forehead. Moving fast, he hurried to a sink and rinsed the bottle out well, making sure to get rid of any lingering potion because just a few drops would be enough to make MC talk. He shook the bottle, wiping it dry before taking out another small bottle from his pocket. The liquid inside was similar in colour and consistency to the truth serum but utterly harmless, just a sugary syrup. Nobody would be able to tell the difference. Pouring it into the truth serum bottle, he replaced the stopper and eyed it nervously. He was tampering with an investigation.

They would have his badge for this. 

Shoving it back into his pocket before he could change his mind, he straightened his tie and took a deep breath. Whilst every instinct inside of him hated the thought of breaking the rules, there was no way he could stand by and watch MC die. It wasn’t right. He left the bathrooms with a straight back, head held high, making his way to the atrium and the fireplaces to meet Harrington. 

….*....

Apparating into the Auror reception chamber of Azkaban, Leander signed in quickly and slipped his hand into his pocket to fiddle with the potion bottle as Harrington did the same. His colleague looked grim, scratching thoughtfully at stubble on his chin. 

“What's the plan, then?” Leander asked, gripping the bottle in his pocket. “Are we pushing the Rookwood angle?” 

“Hmm, yes, about that,” Harrington said, his brow furrowing. “I've just had a tip off from one of my chaps on the ground. There are rumours that Rookwood is considering a prison break.” 

Leander’s eyes widened, his thoughts racing as he recalled details from the files. “A prison break? Do you think he is going to attempt a rescue on Harlow?” 

“Not Harlow,” Harrington said, ignoring the Wand Weigher as he strode towards the door. He gave Leander a look through narrowed eyes. “Harlow is no longer useful to Rookwood. Not now he has Amos Carrow based in London. No, I think he has his sights set on someone far more powerful.” 

Leander paused at the door, his heart jumping behind his ribs. “Not MC,” he said, shaking his head. 

Harrington gave him a meaningful look. “Who else? I told you not to trust her, lad. If they break her out and she joins the Ashwinders, with all that ancient magic she can wield, Rookwood would be unstoppable.” 

“MC hates Rookwood,” Leander said, shaking his head more firmly. “She would never join them.” 

“She would join Sebastian Sallow, though, wouldn't she?” Harrington said, slipping his wand out as they entered the gloom of MC’s wing. “And guess who has been sighted in the Black Rose pub? Sallow tried a few years back to plead her case and get her out. Now, he has the backing of Ashwinders. I'd bet my last galleon they are coming for her. Or at least, they are going to try. It's a good thing we got the warrant for the truth serum. We can get some decent information out of prisoner 2757 at last.” 

Leander paused in his step, ignoring the shouts from the other prisoners as his mind raced, his eyes fixed on the black stone beneath his boots. MC might hate Rookwood, but she was blood bound to Sebastian, her revelation last night making it highly possible that she would join him if released from this prison. 

And he had just switched out the potion to prevent any truth from leaving her lips. Had he just majorly fucked up? Had he let his emotions rule his head after all, and placed too much trust in her? His chest constricted and he swallowed down the flutter of panic.

“Nobody breaks out of here,” he said thoughtfully, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. “They would be foolish to try.” 

“Indeed,” Harrington said, pausing before they arrived outside of MC’s cell door. He looked up at Leander, his face firm. “She has to be in deep with Rookwood. I just need to get that link to him out of her, and she won’t be getting out of this place any time soon.”

Fiddling anxiously with the fake potion in his pocket, Leander nodded, his eyes drifting towards the cell door behind which was a girl he'd just put his neck on the line for. It didn’t matter how many drops of this solution they put into her mouth. She could say whatever she wanted. 

What if his foolishness led to the first ever successful escape out of Azkaban? A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck at the thought. His Auror badge felt heavy in his pocket, mocking him for allowing a girl to get so far under his skin that he could end up taking a fall for her.  

Sebastian

There was one thing you could say about Ominis Gaunt. He had style. It didn’t matter what the occasion was. He always looked immaculate and self-assured. Even if behind those strange yet bewitching eyes, there was a maelstrom of emotion brewing. Sebastian had often envied his cool, collected aura, his icy demeanour often hiding the wicked temper that simmered beneath. Sebastian had been on the receiving end of that temper many a time, and yet he dared to be just as cheeky as ever with his old friend.

“You took your time,” Sebastian said, straightening from the wall he had been leaning against whilst waiting. He adjusted his flat cap, eyes flicking along the pathway that led on past the building at the edge of the park, city people dawdling along in the early autumn sunlight. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

“Hello, Sebastian,” Ominis said, coming to a pause in his step. He carried a cane in his right hand, the head of which was a Thestral disguising his wand, his means of navigating a bustling city such as London. He could not see without his wand, and so subtlety was required under the gaze of thousands of Muggles. “You’re lucky I did come. After receiving your owl, I was tempted to just ignore it considering the long months of no word from you. Anne thought you may have perished.”

“I’m surprised she even cares,” Sebastian muttered, his brow darkening with a frown.

Ominis huffed a sigh, leaning on his cane, his long dark coat cut with the finest cloth, his shoes impeccably shining, and his hair a neat sweep of dark blonde. Always fine featured as a boy, the man was classically handsome, his cheekbones utter perfection. Combined with his fine attire and his haughty manner, Ominis was very much the image of a blue blooded English gentleman. He even wore a black pair of fine leather gloves.

Sebastian was dressed in black from head to toe, sturdy boots instead of fine shoes, his coat more practical than fancy, and his brunette hair was a mop of chaos still in need of a cut. His collar was turned up, and his cap worn low in an attempt to disguise himself against potential lurking Aurors. He figured they cut an interesting pair here in this London park, but there was no way he would risk arriving at his old friend’s home lest he run into his twin. 

“Anne cares too much about your sorry behind,” Ominis said, shifting his stance so that his wand could get a better look at Sebastian. “I told her to give up a long time ago, but she still insists you will change.”

Sebastian smirked. “I’ll change when she does.”

“Then we are doomed to be at war for all time,” Ominis sighed. He shifted his cane to his other hand, holding his right hand out to shake. “Nevertheless, it is good to hear your voice, Sebastian. I hope you are well.”

Sebastian took hold of Ominis’ hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled the man closer, wrapping his arms about him and squeezing tightly. A wave of deep affection rolled over him, the loneliness he kept hidden behind his ribs ripping open like a raw wound as he inhaled the scent of his childhood friend. It made his throat tighten and his heart squeeze as he felt Ominis stiffen, and he wondered if he was going to be unceremoniously shoved back, but then arms came around him, holding him in return. 

“Hello, old friend,” Sebastian said, his voice thick with emotion. “It is so good to see you, too.”  

….*....

Coming to a pause beside the large lake, a bevy of swans gathered at the water's edge, Sebastian felt a shift in the mood between himself and Ominis. His friend's face had grown even more serious as he tilted his head, his eyes shifting as he faced the lake. 

“So then, we walked a fair way around this park and exchanged enough pleasantries. What is it that you really want, Sebastian? You didn't suggest this meeting for small talk, so let's have it,” Ominis said shrewdly. 

Sebastian nodded, pressing his lips together as he gazed out across the lake, the ever growing sprawl of the city laid out beyond it. 

“You know me too well, Ominis,” he sighed. His gaze flicked back towards his friend, appraising his familiar profile. “I wanted to ask about someone you may come across whilst inside the Ministry. You don't share an office. However, you may hear of him. At least, that's what I am hoping for.”

Ominis arched an eyebrow. “Well, who is it?” 

“Prewett,” Sebastian replied. “Do you have any dealings with our old Gryffindor peer?” 

“Prewett? My goodness, that's a name from the archives,” Ominis said, lips pursing in thought. “I believe he entered the Auror profession, but I can't say I cared to follow up on his career. We weren't exactly close at Hogwarts. Why in Merlin's name are you interested in him? You taunted the boy endlessly at school. I can't imagine for one moment you want a jolly catch up with him.” 

Sebastian’s habitual smirk graced his lips as he remembered their school days, moments of boredom turning into amusement as he wound Prewett up. Leander was easily riled if you knew what strings to pull on, and Sebastian took delight in finding out what made the Gryffindor lose his temper and become flustered. It had all been meant as good fun, though. He had not felt anything malicious towards the boy.

“He is an Auror, you're right,” Sebastian said, keeping an eye on those walking on the pathway behind them, checking for eavesdropping or suspicious, loitering spies. “I've heard he is working on a case that is of particular interest to me, and I wanted to do my homework on him.”

Ominis turned his head in Sebastian’s direction, his face darkening with irritation. “Please tell me you are not meddling in British Auror Office business, Sebastian. Has this got something to do with that despicable band of criminals you call friends these days?” 

“They are definitely not my friends,” Sebastian grumbled, rolling his eyes. “They are merely a means to an end.”

“It always is with you, isn't it?” Ominis huffed. “You invited me here today to meet, but only so you can pick my thoughts over a fellow member of the Ministry. Prewett is doing honest work, Sebastian. I shall not encourage you to cast a shadow over it with your inability to stay out of trouble.”

Sebastian groaned and put a hand over his eyes, rubbing them before throwing Ominis a look of exasperation. “I didn't ask for a lecture,” he complained. “Do you see Prewett or not? That's all I am asking.”

“No, I don't,” Ominis said firmly, his grip tightening on his cane. “And even if I did, I would not send you after him. Why can't you just stick to a decent path, Sebastian? Why does there always have to be a drama or an ulterior motive with you? What is it you want from Prewett anyway?” 

Sebastian’s face darkened as he pouted in disappointment, frustration making his hands fist tightly at his sides. 

“I've spent the last few days trying to track Prewett down with no luck,” he grumbled. “I'm getting desperate, Ominis. He has information I need. Do you know of anyone else who might be able to get me closer to him? I tried Weasley, and he played dumb. Please, Ominis. This is important.” 

“What could possibly be so important that you need Prewett's help?” Ominis stepped closer, his brow creased in concern. “Are you in trouble?” 

Sebastian swallowed. He knew that if he brought the truth of the matter up, Ominis would likely enter into another rant, but the yearning in his chest was becoming unbearable now that he was finally so close to seeing her again. 

“Don't get all pissy with me, alright?” He said, carefully, and the frown on Ominis’ face deepened. “Just try to understand. This means something to me, Ominis.” 

“Go on,” Ominis said tightly. 

“Don't ask me how I know this, but Prewett has been speaking to MC in Azkaban,” Sebastian said carefully, biting his lip as Ominis’ mouth tightened.

He hated the pleading tone that was creeping into his voice, but he couldn't help it. Ominis was the only one he could dare to show any vulnerability in front of, and this meant too much to just walk away without trying. “This is the closest I have been in four years to knowing anything. She's alive, and I just want to know, Ominis. I need to know that she is alright.” 

The look on Ominis' face was hard, echoes of disappointment and defeat written all over it. 

“Is this genuine concern, or is it just your guilty conscience weighing heavy on you?” 

Sebastian flinched as though struck, and he looked out across the lake, the lead ball that he carried everywhere in his chest swelling and threatening to choke him up. It smothered all the hope he had pinned on this meeting.

“I haven't forgotten the past, Ominis. I carry it every day,” he said bitterly. “It wasn't me that put MC in that hell hole. It was Anne.”

“Anne was just trying to protect you,” Ominis insisted. “We have been through this so many times, and I am tired of being stuck in the middle of two stupidly stubborn Sallows.” 

Sebastian put his hands to his head, almost tempted to rip the cap from it so he could tug at his hair, but he needed to remain inconspicuous. Frustration was burning through him. Ominis was right. They had been over this so many times, and each rehash just woke up the bitter sting of his twin's betrayal. She had thrown MC to the wolves, blaming her for everything and leaving Sebastian alone. 

“I want her back! MC was the only one who understood me, and she was taken from me. Please, Ominis,” he begged. “If there is the slightest chance of getting her out of there and back with me where she belongs, then I'm going to snatch it with both hands. You'd do that for Anne, wouldn't you? You wouldn't stop until you knew she was safe. That's all I want, Ominis. I want MC to be safe.” 

“And you think that you can give her this safety?” Ominis shook his head. “How do you know she would even want that? It has been years, Sebastian. Four very long years in a place so dark and horrifying that even those who get out never truly escape. She might not even remember who she is, let alone you.”

“Don't say that,” Sebastian said, eyes burning as he refused to even imagine that possibility. “If Aurors are talking to her, then she must be alright. I have to believe that.” 

Ominis was quiet for a moment, sightless eyes staring off as he thought things over. 

“How did you even find out that Aurors are talking to MC?” 

“It's probably better if I don't tell you that,” Sebastian admitted, his booted feet shifting on the ground. 

Ominis sighed, a graceful hand lifting to press long fingers against his temple. “How do you get yourself into these situations,” he muttered. “I suppose you would prefer me to lie to my wife as well and not tell her about this little discussion.”

“What good would come of Anne knowing? It would be just another reason for her to make a dig at me.” 

“You act as if you are the only wronged party here, Sebastian,” Ominis said quietly. “I was there, remember? You may have dealt the final curse, but MC was dealing out the curses just as much as you were. Did you expect it to all go unpunished? MC may be the one serving the time, but if not her, it would be you in there. If the role was reversed, would you have not done the same for Anne? Anne was trying to protect you. You can not blame her for that.”

“Anne didn't have to do anything but keep her mouth shut,” Sebastian muttered stubbornly. “There was no need for either of us to go down. What if Solomon had killed one of us? Would she have turned him in? Does she forgive him for attacking us the way he did?”

“Nobody needed to die that day,” Ominis hissed, his eyes narrowing. “If you had only listened and left the dark alone, Sebastian, then none of this would have happened. MC wouldn't be in Azkaban, and you would be a respectable wizard rather than running around with no-good Ashwinders.” 

“So, you're not willing to help me,” Sebastian said flatly, staring at his old friend. 

Ominis sighed and turned, tapping his cane against the ground as he shook his head. “I shouldn't. I don't agree with your life choices, you know that, and I love Anne. I stand with her, always.” 

Sebastian couldn't stop the sneer that curled his lips. “She always was your favourite.”

“I love her!” Ominis turned, his face a little flushed and tight. “I've always loved her, and it is because of that love that I even put up with this tiresome rift between you. A rift over a girl who came into our lives and turned everything upside down.”

“A girl that I love,” Sebastian said, his fingers moving to touch the red scar that marred his palm. “I hate that she is out of my reach, Ominis. I miss her every day, and I am not going to just give up on her. Whatever it takes. I'm going to get her back, with or without your help. I know you love my sister, but I hope that you care for me also. You are my oldest friend, Ominis. My brother, if not in blood, then in bond. Nobody else comes close.” 

Ominis closed his eyes, bowing his head as he took a deep breath. “Fine,” he said at last. He lifted his head, his gaze eerily accurate as he looked at Sebastian. “If you want to find Prewett, try speaking with Andrew Larson. Do you remember him?”

Sebastian thought for a moment. “The quiet Ravenclaw boy?” 

“Yes, that’s him. We meet up sometimes to play cards. He works as a research officer in the Auror office. He gathers and files evidence, that kind of thing. I'm sure he must see Prewett. You can often find him at the tea shop in Diagon Alley, or failing that, he likes to visit the British Museum library on a Saturday. The man always has a book on his person. Much like yourself.” 

Sebastian felt his hope flicker back into life at the faint smile Ominis gave him, stepping forward to take hold of his friend by the upper arms. He held a deep affection for him, and he never should have doubted that he would come through for him. 

“Thank you,” he said, almost breathless with relief that he finally had a lead. 

“Don't get Andrew into trouble, mind,” Ominis warned. “He is a decent fellow. A good friend, too. Don't make me regret telling you this.” 

“You have my word, old friend, and that is one thing you know I always keep,” Sebastian assured him, a grin beginning to take shape on his lips. 

MC

There was no sunlight this morning, and the strip of daylight seemed to shift across the dark stone of her cell at a sluggish rate. MC was huddled on her ledge, her arms wrapped around her knees and her eyes staring towards the iron bars of her cell door. She was waiting for the footsteps, waiting for them to come and drag her to her death. 

Flexing her fingers, she lamented the lack of sizzling magic in her veins. Resigned to the possibility of dooming Sebastian to a sentence within these same horrifying walls, she had struggled to make even the faintest flicker of magic appear at her fingertips. Her chest felt hollow, empty, a black hole yawning where her warm heart should be. 

Her time served would count for nothing once they ripped the truth from her lips.

Unfurling her fingers, she looked down at the palm of her left hand, where the red scar marked her oath. Tracing that line with a gentle, almost reverent touch, she felt her eyes sting with tears. She had been so young, so new to all that magic could offer, and she had eagerly bonded herself to the boy with the beautiful brown eyes. 

A promise of love. A promise that she would never be alone again and look at where it had brought her. 

Leaning her head back against the wall, she stared into the shadows and imagined that they were staring back at her, mocking her for being so foolish. She hardened her stare, refusing to be afraid of what the darkness held. She faced those shadows every day and knew every crack and flaw in these stone walls. The shadows didn't stare back. She owned them. 

Bringing her palm to her face, she pressed a gentle kiss to the scar, a solitary tear sliding from the corner of her eye. It was the only self-pity she was going to allow herself. If she was going to die today, then so be it. She would stare death in the face with her chin held high. 

“I'm sorry, Sebastian, my love,” she whispered to the shadows. “Forgive me.” 

….*....

How different the questioning chamber looked from the confining shackles of the chair in the centre of the room. Last night, this room revealed that Rookwood was alive. It made her growing attachment to Prewett strengthen to the point that it frightened her. To trust him meant he could hurt her, and yet, seeing him again this morning brought a flood of relief that made her almost waver under the mental shields she had erected around herself. 

Now, her arms were clamped to the unforgiving wood of the prisoner chair, her ankles wrapped in cold iron. It was a sharp contrast to Leander's embrace as he had comforted her last night.  MC sat rigid in the chair, her skin prickled with goose flesh as she shivered under the pale glow of a light above her head, a Lumos charm cast by Harrington.

This room was now a death chamber.

The older Auror looked far too smug as he glared at her, standing before her with his wand in hand, his face angular with shadows. Her stomach quivered with fear, swirling and twisting with nothing to vomit as she had refused her measly breakfast at first light. 

“At last, we will get the truth from you now, sweetheart,” Harrington said, his smile cold. He gestured towards Leander, who stood just behind him, his face pale beneath his dusting of freckles. “Let's get started, shall we? Hand me the Veritaserum, Prewett. I’ve got some questions for our little prisoner.” 

MC's eyes darted towards Leander as he took a small glass bottle from his pocket and held it out to Harrington. The bottle was so small, so irrelevant looking, but MC clutched at the arms of the chair and gritted her teeth. Her fear was so thick that she could almost taste it. 

On the route from her cell to here, she had barely glanced Leander’s way, knowing that the look on his face had the potential to crack open her resolve. Even now, she was fighting the urge to meet his soft, brown eyes, hungry for some kind of comfort, and yet determined to keep strong. 

Harrington wiggled the truth potion in front of her face, eyes ablaze with expectation. “Open up, prisoner 2757. It's story time.” 

MC turned her face away, staring blankly at the cold stone walls and pretending that Harrington didn’t exist. No way would she make this easy for him. 

Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for games. Grasping her jaw with one hand, Harrington held the open bottle in his other, squeezing at her face, trying to get her to open her mouth. MC clamped her lips together tightly, eyes wide as she pressed her head back against unforgiving wood. 

“Come on,” Harrington hissed. “There is no point fighting this, girl.” 

MC grunted as she fought against his grip, her arms scraping against her bonds, not quite as ready to face death as she had thought. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, images of Sebastian’s smile flashing into life, the naughty little gleam in his eyes when he teased her, their linked hands as he led her through the forest. She breathed hard through her nose, the cavern in her chest filling with the warmth of her memories as she clung desperately to them. 

“Is this force really necessary? You're hurting her.” 

Leander’s voice drifted into her thoughts. Her bare feet were freezing. She was shivering so hard the chain at her ankles rattled, but she wouldn’t relent. 

“Clearly, she's got something to hide,” Harrington insisted. “Look how she is fighting this.” 

“Yes, but she is also becoming emotional. The whole place will be flooded with bloody Dementors in a minute,” Leander protested. “Let her go, or we will have a fight on our hands.” 

Harrington’s grip reluctantly lessened, and MC risked opening her eyes. Leander was trying to ease Harrington backwards, his long fingers wrapping around the potion bottle in Harrington’s hand. Their breaths fogged in the frigid air, and MC swung her gaze towards the door where shadows shifted through the barred window. Death by a pact broken, or left soulless by a Dementor’s kiss. Her options were bleak.

“Let me do it,” Leander suggested softly, his breaths quick and shallow. “We don't have to hurt her.” 

Harrington stared at Leander, his eyes narrowing. “Fine. Let's see how soft you are towards her when she spills the truth.” 

Risking a glance at Leander, MC saw the flicker of something in his eyes, something he hid quickly as he nodded and took the potion bottle from Harrington’s grip. She swallowed hard, dropping her gaze before Leander could turn those soft, brown eyes of his to her. He knew this serum could kill her. He knew about the pact. Panic fluttered in her chest, and she shoved it down, trying to suppress her emotions.

His hand touched her shoulder, and she flinched, air hissing through her nose as she kept her mouth shut tight. 

“Easy,” Leander said, his fingers shifting gently along her shoulder towards her neck. He was shaking, she realised, her eyes fixed on the impeccably neat knot of his tie. “It's alright. I won't hurt you.” 

Her chest tightened with fear and longing as his fingertips brushed the skin of her throat, the conflicting emotions making her head spin. His thumb touched her jaw as he gently guided her head upwards. Her eyes now stared at his mouth, lips soft and pink, his freckles daring to encroach on the curved edges of his natural pout. 

“Don't make us force you, MC,” he said softly, a slight pleading edge to his tone. She watched his mouth move as he spoke, fixating on that rather than look at his eyes. “Just a drop. That's all it will take.” 

Her breaths came hard and fast through her nose, a faint tingle spreading along her skin as his thumb caressed her jaw bone with the lightest of touches, nothing like Harrington’s cold roughness. A soft touch, harmless, warm. Affection that she had been cut off from for so long. 

It wasn't real, though, she told herself. He was just trying to calm her like some wild beast. It wasn't real. But, it was working.

Unable to fight it any longer, her eyes lifted to meet his, soft brown flecked with gold, framed with thick copper lashes and watching her with all the affection he alluded to with his touch. Was that pity she could see? Was it friendship? 

Or was it something else? 

Her thick shield cracked a little, her defences beginning to crumble as she stared up at Leander, and a glimmer of her fear lit her eyes. That potion would force her to speak truths that would destroy everything.

“It will be alright,” he whispered, his gaze intensifying. His thumb stroked soothingly as he continued to speak. “Just a drop, and then we can talk. Okay? That is all we are going to do. Talk. Can you open your mouth for me?” 

His touch, the look in his eyes, the same pleading look he had given her when he had begged her to trust him. She shouldn't let it distract her, and yet she softened slightly. He hadn’t failed her yet. 

It will be alright. 

She eyed the potion bottle in his trembling fingers and then returned her gaze to him as his mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. 

What had he done?

He nodded and brought the bottle towards her mouth. Heart pounding, her chest so tight her breaths felt like they were burning her, she carefully parted her trembling lips. Choosing to trust him, she opened her mouth without a fight. Leander tilted the bottle, and the potion dripped onto her lip, her tongue flicking forward to catch the sugary syrup before it slid onto her chin. It tasted sweet, her tongue tingling at the foreign feel of the flavour after years of bland mush. 

Leander withdrew his hand from her jaw, the lingering sensation of warmth left on her skin making her shiver. He stepped back and put the stopper back in the bottle, slipping it quickly into his pocket as he looked towards a suspicious looking Harrington. 

“How do you manage to get her to cooperate like that?” He asked, his gaze flicking between the two of them. 

MC scowled, her defences immediately slamming back into place as Leander straightened, his gaze unrelenting as he looked at the older Auror. 

“I just treat her like a person, Harrington,” he said. “Regardless of anything else, she is a human being and should be treated as such.” 

“Pfft, I'd like to see you try that theory out on some of the other inmates in this shit hole,” Harrington said. He shook his head, his eyes shrewd. “Something tells me this has more to do with whatever softness exists in your head for this bitch. I warned you about that. Don’t let her fool you. You might be in for a shock here, Prewett.” 

Leander flushed crimson and smoothed his fingers against his tie. “Nonsense,” he muttered. “Let's just ask the questions before the potion wears off. I'd rather not have to repeat this again.” 

MC shifted in the seat, eyeing Leander curiously, chains clinking as Harrington stepped before her. As much as she would like to ponder over the possibility that Leander had feelings for her, she had other more serious matters to deal with first. Harrington glared at her, and she felt the simmering dislike for him in her blood, her fingers gripping like claws on the arms of the chair. 

“Go on then,” she spat. “Ask me your questions.” 

“Did you fake Rookwood’s murder and help cover it up?” 

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I watched that bastard explode.” 

Harrington tilted his head, and MC felt her pulse quicken. The words had been easy to say, but she knew them to be a lie now. Her eyes flicked to Leander, but he remained still, watching her with his thumb and forefinger pinching his lower lip. 

“Were you working for Rookwood?” 

MC laughed, the sound of it a croaky, hoarse rumble in her throat. “No,” she replied. 

Harrington pressed his lips together in frustration. These were not the answers he wanted to hear. “You killed Solomon Sallow, though, didn't you? You killed him in cold blood.” 

MC held her breath, heart hammering behind her ribs, fear clawing at her throat, anticipating the searing fire in her blood as she betrayed Sebastian. Her lips trembled as the memory of that fateful day in the catacombs tried to play out behind her eyes. 

Leander was so pale, his eyes wide as he watched her. He knew she would die if she betrayed Sebastian, but with a soft and aching twist in her heart, she knew that Leander wouldn't let that happen. Somehow, whatever he had tipped into her mouth, it wasn't truth serum. She looked at him as the words left her mouth. 

“It was an accident. He just wouldn't stop,” she said, her voice a breathless gasp, determined that Sebastian’s name would not pass her lips. “I thought he was going to kill me. There were Inferi everywhere, fire and chaos…”

She gulped, and her head fell forward as she tried to steady her breathing. There was no searing pain, and the truth remained locked in her most secret heart. She could lie. Sebastian was safe. She wasn't going to die. The shadows had tried to smother her, but she walked within them, and they swirled around her, protecting her secrets. Relief swept through her with such force that she sagged in the chair, her limbs quivering. 

Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at Leander again. It was because of him. Whatever he had done, the potion hadn't worked. He had protected her at risk to himself despite her telling him to stop trying to save her. He couldn't, not really. Whilst she may live to see another sun rise through the sliver of window in her cell, she was doomed to walk through the shadows of her secrets forever. He could not save her from those. 

“You are saying it was self-defense,” Leander pressed. “You were caught in a duel situation.”

“Are you suggesting honour was involved?” Harrington looked sceptical as he glanced at Leander. 

Her fingers curled to stroke the scar on her palm, the tightness in her chest easing just enough to help her breathe more easily. The words she spoke were the truth even without the serum, the manner of Solomon’s death hidden within them.

“Solomon died without honour,” she said flatly. “He attacked me, almost burned me to death whilst his niece and nephew watched. He deserved everything he got, and I won't apologise for it.” 

“There must have been a reason for him to go for you like that,” Harrington said, his face grim. “Solomon wasn't the type to go around hurting children. Was it because he found out you were in league with Rookwood?” 

“His attack came out of nowhere. Maybe you didn't know Solomon as well as you thought you did,” MC said calmly. Her face settled into one of cold indifference, a mask to cover the twist of emotions in her chest. “Any more questions for me?” 

“Rookwood,” Harrington said, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Did you have anything to do with him or his Ashwinders?” 

MC looked Harrington straight in the eye, her voice cold. “I did not. I fought against everything he stood for. He wanted my magic, claiming it was his birthright. You keep telling me he is alive, and if that is true, then I would happily kill that son of a bitch again.” 

Harrington shook his head, his eyes betraying his disbelief and having no choice but to accept what she was telling him. As far as he knew, she was under the control of truth serum. The irony of the situation could almost be laughable because she was telling the truth. Watching him struggle with her words made her lips twitch with a smirk. 

“Would you help us bring Rookwood down given the chance?” Leander asked, stepping forward again. 

MC considered his question before nodding slowly. “I would happily see Rookwood brought down.” 

The Aurors exchanged a glance, some kind of silent communication passing between them that made her fingers grip the chair arms again. 

“What about Sebastian Sallow?” Harrington asked, watching her carefully. “He is part of Rookwood’s crew now. You bring the Ashwinders down, and you take your sweetheart down with them. Would you be willing to do that?” 

Never. She would never bring Sebastian down for as long as she lived. 

Looking up at both Aurors from the confines of her chair, she thought carefully, her head clearer than it had been for a long time. This morning she had been preparing to die, but now she knew that this wasn’t the case, and all thanks to the tall man who stood before her now, with eyes softer than she had any right to deserve from him. His kindness had given her something to cling to in the darkness, his gifts of restoring potions making her stronger than she would have been alone against the older Auror who hated her.

Harrington had revenge on his mind, never forgiving her for the death of Solomon, his fists and words dealing blows to her body and mind in the miserable time she had spent in his company. Watching him trying to deal with the lack of information she had provided gave her a deep satisfaction, and she found herself hungry for more as she gazed up at him.

Hurting Leander was the last thing she wanted to do after everything he had done for her, but she had warned him not to look for the good in her. This prison, this hell within walls soaked with centuries of pain and misery, had seeped deeply into her bones, smothering the light within her. She was terrified that there was nothing left of the old her. The girl she was before she came here was barely keeping her head above the waves of darkness. Clinging to memories of Hogwarts and Sebastian had been the only way to survive in the long, endless hours within that cell.

Until Leander had walked back into her life. He had given her a tiny glimmer of hope, a shred of light that could potentially lead to more, and she spent so long staring into darkness. Hating that these men held her future in their hands, she knew that her own survival depended on her. Hasn't that always been the case, though? She had always been alone, and even the blood pact with Sebastian hadn’t been able to save her from Azkaban’s horror. 

Would she be willing to sacrifice Sebastian to bring down Rookwood? No. But, bringing down Rookwood was on her own checklist of things to do before she left this mortal life. She just needed to play the game in order to do it. The game of self-preservation. Leaning back in the chair, her face cold and hard, she stared at Harrington.

“Perhaps I would be willing to do whatever it takes to bring down Rookwood,” she said carefully, her lips curving into a chilling smile. “It all depends on what you would be prepared to give me in return. Nothing comes for free, Auror Harrington. What can you do to convince me that helping you would be worth it?”

Harrington’s mouth tightened, and his blue eyes narrowed as he looked down at her, the frustrated gleam in his gaze making her smile widen. Leander shifted uncomfortably beside him, and MC was reluctant to meet his gaze for fear of seeing the disappointment in his eyes, but she forced herself to glance his way. He was still pale, his eyes hinting at the conflict going on behind them. It was regrettable, but she had to do this. 

“You dare to try and bargain with us?” Harrington sneered, his lip curling in disgust. 

MC shrugged, tilting her head, her smile still playing at her mouth. “Why not? What have I got to lose? I’m already here, and death is only another escape. Make me an offer, and I’ll think about helping you.”

Harrington shook his head, his face darkening with rage. “Get this bitch back in her cell,” he snapped, jabbing a finger at MC as he looked at Leander. “Get her out of my sight. I’ll meet you back at the office.”

With her wrists and ankles bound in silvery charmed chains, MC shuffled back to her cell with Leander at her side. The tension was flowing between them, his silence speaking louder than any words he might say, the quiet permeated only by the racket coming from the other cells they passed. When they reached her door, the old hag locked up opposite MC gripped her gnarled hands around the bars and began to chuckle. MC glared at her, fearing the withered and insane look of the woman in case it was her own future. 

Opening her door, Leander touched her elbow to usher her inside, the familiar shadows of her cell strangely welcoming after the cold, starkness of the questioning chamber. When she had left here earlier, she thought she would never see it again, and yet here she was, and all thanks to him.

“Why did you do it?” She asked, looking up at him finally. 

He wouldn’t meet her gaze, busying himself with taking out his wand and removing the charms from her ankles and wrists. It felt like a wall had gone up between them. He had pulled back from her, and after insisting that this very thing would be for the best, she found herself hating it. That glimmer of light and warmth was drifting away from her. 

“Lee,” she whispered, her thin fingers reaching to grasp the front of his robe.

He stilled, his gaze fixed downwards as he swallowed. “You’re a good liar, MC,” he said. “Perhaps I should be thanking you because if you weren’t, I’d be in a lot of trouble right now.”

“I never asked you to save me,” she said, wishing he would look at her.

“You didn’t have to,” he whispered. Taking another potion bottle from his pocket, this time another restoring brew, he tugged her hand free from the front of his jacket and pressed it into her palm, closing her fingers around it. “Here, take this. Call it a goodbye gift.”

“Goodbye?” She stared down at the potion, a flutter of panic waking up in her chest. “What do you mean?”

Finally, he looked at her. The sadness and regret she saw in his eyes felt like a fist to her stomach. His fingers reached out to ghost along her jaw, hovering near her mouth with a trembling touch that made her skin tingle like it did in the questioning chamber. The craving for simple human affection gnawed at her heart like a hungry beast. He couldn’t take that from her, he couldn’t! 

“You answered the questions, MC,” he said, brushing back her hair with a gentleness that stole her breath. “I don’t need to come back here anymore. Like you said, maybe it’s for the best.”

She began to shake her head, denying his words, even taking a step towards him, but he was turning his face away. His gaze lingered around her cell, perhaps taking one last look before he walked out of here forever.

“No,” she muttered, reaching for him, but he was stepping away from her. He walked for the door, and all sense of pride deserted her as she made a dive after him. “Leander, no.”

Grasping his robe, her hand like a claw, she tried to tug him back, but it was useless. He was stronger and held her at bay, still refusing to look at her as he opened the door.

“Don’t, MC. You need to stop,” he said, his voice tight. 

“You can’t just leave like this, not after everything,” she pleaded, trying to wedge herself between him and the door. “Leander, please.”

Strong hands gripped her upper arms, and he lifted her easily from her feet, moving her aside so he could get to the door. The potion tumbled from her grip, hitting the floor and rolling away. It was a wonder it didn’t smash, but she let it go, her hands scrabbling to grab on to his robes. He couldn’t leave her. The days and years ahead yawned like an abyss, fear obliterating all thought as she clung to him, her bare feet dragging across stone as he tried to get to the door.

“Stop it!” He hissed, his breaths coming harder and faster as he grabbed her and pushed her against the cell wall. His eyes found hers, and she froze, gaping up at the burning intensity in his face. “I can’t do this anymore. I risked everything for you today. Everything! Do you know what scares me more than anything else? Despite the risk, despite the fact that you would probably crawl over my dead body to get back to him, I’d do it again.”

He shook his head, wincing at his own words, and her pulse roared in her ears.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. He let her go, bringing both hands to his forehead as he took a shuddering breath. She dared not move, her eyes wide as she stared at him.

That look, that warmth, it was more than she had dared to believe. He felt something for her, something that went deeper than just human decency and friendship.

“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered. And she was.

Her lips parted in a soft gasp as his hands cupped her face, his lips pressing against her forehead in a firm but tender kiss. “Goodbye, MC,” he whispered, his breath hot against her flesh.

Frozen, shocked, MC didn’t move a muscle as he left her cell, her heart thudding in her ribs and her forehead tingling from the touch of his soft lips. The final, cold clang of her door shutting made her flinch, and then his footsteps began to disappear into the darkness.

She shook her head, her feet slapping against stone as she ran, crashing into the iron bars with a chest wrenching sob. Her hands gripped the cold iron, and she tried to look, tried to see him one more time, but he was too far gone. She sucked in a breath and screamed his name, hot tears spilling from her eyes as a grief so swift and brutal slammed through her.

The old hag opposite began to laugh, and MC screamed and screamed, the cords of her neck standing rigid as she clung to the bars. She screamed until her throat was hoarse, and she sank to the floor.

In the questioning chamber, she had thought she'd had nothing to lose. Oh, how wrong she had been.

The shadows closed in around her. He was gone. Leander was finally gone and she was alone. 

Sebastian

The bell above the door in Borgin and Burke’s jingled jauntily as Sebastian entered, his eyes scanning the array of fascinating objects cluttering up the shelves of the dingy little shop. It wasn’t his first visit by any means, but he still perused the objects with a curious eye, always fascinated by the darker items and what secrets they held.

A tall bookcase stuffed full with tomes drew his eye, and he ran a finger along their spines, a smirk tilting his lips at some of the nefarious titles he could spy. He could quite happily kill an hour or two flicking through some of these, but alas, he was here on official business, and his gaze wandered across to the shop counter.

A short man with beady eyes was watching him, a knowing look on his face. “I can sort you out a good deal on one of those,” he offered, nodding at the bookcase. “Got your eye on one, have you?”

“Perhaps some other time, Mr Burke,” Sebastian smiled, walking across to stand in front of the counter. “I’m here on another matter. A meeting.”

“Ah, yes,” Burke said, nodding, his thick lips more grimace than smile. He motioned towards a door that led out to the rear of the shop. “He’s waiting in there for you with the faceless woman.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows arched slightly at Burke’s choice of words, his smirk expectant as he stepped towards the doorway. Rookwood hadn’t specified the meaning of this meeting, but Sebastian wasn’t surprised to see Black Dahlia waiting with him in the storage room. The faceless woman. Sebastian liked that description.

Last time, she had been unassuming apart from her eyes, and you could say the same of her this time. She wore the same deep hooded cloak, her irritatingly familiar brown eyes lifting to meet him as he entered, but her face was plain. He tried to recall what she had looked like in that awful shack outside of York, but the details were hazy. Burke had it right. She was faceless. 

Rookwood was dressed in a long coat and top hat, the image of a gentleman, his face brightening as Sebastian entered. “Ah, Mr Sallow, you finally decided to grace us with your presence,” he said, tucking his expensive watch back into his pocket. “Come, come, we have urgent business to attend to. Did you manage to track down that Auror you were chummy with at Hogwarts?”

Sebastian smirked at Rookwood’s choice of words and moved closer. “I have a lead. I was going to chase it up today, but I came here instead when I got your owl. What’s the urgent business?”

“If you would be so kind, my dear,” Rookwood said, bowing his head towards Black Dahlia. 

Sebastian watched as she dipped her hand under her cloak and retrieved a shiny badge, holding it out to him. Sebastian hesitated a moment, glancing at Rookwood before taking the instantly recognisable badge from her. Her fingers touched against his, and she flinched, his eyes flicking up to hers with a slight frown before he looked back down at the Auror badge. He smoothed his thumb over the polished surface thoughtfully.

“What is this for?”

“It’s the only way you can get into Azkaban without setting off the wards,” she said simply.

Sebastian stilled, staring at her in surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”

She smiled, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, how else are you going to get your little prisoner out if not by going in to fetch her?”

Sebastian looked to Rookwood, who smiled with that cold, smug way he had. “Black Dahlia has been most resourceful and will be rewarded handsomely.”

The flush on the woman’s plain cheeks was nothing compared to the ravenous greed in her eyes as she stared at Rookwood. Her hands pressed together in expectation for a moment before she pulled out a piece of folded parchment and her wand. Clearing her throat, she held out the parchment to Sebastian.

“I managed to make a visit of my own to Azkaban and took the liberty of making a map that will lead you right to MC’s door,” she said. Sebastian immediately snatched the map from her fingers and unfolded it, his eyes scanning it quickly, committing the neat lines and icons to memory. “Luckily, she is held in a ground floor wing, and it's rather easy to get to.” 

“You’ve seen her?” Sebastian asked eagerly. “What is she like?”

Black Dahlia’s mouth twitched knowingly, and she held the tip of her wand to her temple. “So eager, Mr Sallow,” she taunted. “Why don’t I let you see for yourself?”

She gave a nod towards Rookwood, and he moved to open the double doors of an old cabinet to reveal a stone pensieve. As the basin slid out into view, Rookwood took a hasty step back from it, his eyes betraying a flicker of dislike before he gathered his composure and gestured towards Black Dahlia. “All yours, my dear,” he said, wrinkling his nose with displeasure. 

Pensieves were rare and usually in the possession of notable wizards, such as the Minister for Magic and the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Sebastian had only ever read about them until that day in the Undercroft when MC had allowed him to view memories belonging to Isadora Morganach. He recalled the shivery, odd feeling of placing his face into the swirling substance in the bowl, the memories appearing before him as though he was there, but unable to interact with what he was seeing. 

Stepping up to the basin now, he stared into the depths and wondered how a pensieve had come into the possession of Borgin and Burke, his gaze curious as he glanced at Rookwood. “I would not have thought to find one of these in here, despite the curiosities on offer at this shop.”

“Yes, well it’s not always what you know, but who, that matters in the big city, Sallow,” Rookwood said smugly, adjusting the collar of his coat. “This pensieve is on a need to know basis, and those that know heed the warning not to spread word of it. If the Ministry were to catch wind of it, there would be a lot of unhappy wizards and witches. A lot of dark, unhappy people. If you catch my meaning.”

“Understood,” Sebastian said with a nod, turning his gaze towards Black Dahlia. “So, then? What have you got for me?”

Her smile was small as she pressed her wand to her temple, her unremarkable features twisting into a grimace as the silvery thread of her memory was extracted by the charm. Guiding the billowing wisp of her thoughts with her wand, she let it drift into the basin, a dark and shadowy image unfolding in the depths.

“There you go, Mr Sallow,” she said, her eyes gleaming with interest. “Take a look at your little prisoner, and be sure to pay attention to your surroundings, especially in the Auror’s reception room. You will need to remember them when it comes time to Apparate there.”

The cool depths of the basin shrouded his face as Sebsatian bent forward, his heart pounding eagerly in anticipation at the thought of seeing MC. With a rush of air against his face that belied the cool liquid of the bowl, he found himself in a dark chamber lit by fire sconces on the walls, a long unmanned counter running the length of it. He had no choice but to follow the eyes of Black Dahlia, her gaze sweeping over the huge array of prisoner number boards on one wall before she looked down at a signing in book laid out on the counter. 

Sebastian could see Prewett’s name signed several times, each time next to the same prisoner number, and Sebastian’s hands clenched into fists as Black Dahlia shifted to walk through a door into a long, dark corridor. Prewett had walked this same corridor on his way to see MC. He couldn’t help the stab of envy that pierced him as he came out into a huge corridor, the stone as black as night, the ceiling so high up and filled with the dark wraiths of the Dementors drifting lazily about. He flinched as a few swooped lower, but a swift Patronus charm from Black Dahlia kept them back as she walked. 

Sebastian could hear the prisoners as they called out to Black Dahlia, but he could feel nothing, smell nothing as they continued on. The horror he could see was bad enough, and a sickening feeling swirled in his stomach as they came to a stop outside a door of iron bars. Black Dahlia stood silent, staring into the cell, and Sebastian stepped forward to get a closer look, his heart thudding almost painfully against his ribs. 

On the floor near the door was a huddled figure, lank hair hanging over her face, her scrawny arms wrapped around her legs. She was rocking backwards and forwards, soft whimpers coming from under the hair. Sebastian’s heart seemed to freeze in his chest, the swirling, sick feeling pushing up towards his throat, and he thought he might actually vomit. Could he even do that here, trapped in this memory? He had no idea.

That couldn’t be MC. It just couldn’t.

Black Dahlia stepped closer towards the door, and MC went still on the floor, her head slowly lifting upwards to look. Sebastian gasped in horror at the emaciated face, the sunken eye sockets, but most of all, the utter pain and sadness that stared up at him from those huge, haunted eyes. His hand gripped the bars to steady himself, and just when he thought his heart couldn’t crack any deeper, she spoke.

“Lee? Is that you?”

Sebastian sunk down onto his knees. The pain of hearing the desperate hope in her voice made all the harsher because it wasn’t his name on her cracked lips. It was Prewett’s. 

MC shuffled closer, her limbs stiff from being on the hard floor, her boney fingers grabbing iron bars so she could haul herself to her feet. Sebastian stood with her, his eyes fixated on her thin frame, her haunted stare, her tear stained cheeks. He reached out a hand through the bars to touch her, but of course, his fingers went right through her. She wasn’t real. She was just a memory of the faceless woman. 

Gone was the beautiful girl he had showered with loving kisses, her soft curves now wasted into boney joints. Her eyes stared with such hope, but it faded into suspicion as she recoiled from Black Dahlia, a hardness entering her gaze as she stepped away from the door.

“You’re not Leander,” she hissed. “Who are you?”

Black Dahlia laughed, her head shaking slowly as she looked MC over. “This is what he wants so badly? Look at you. You’re pathetic.”

MC’s face twisted, her eyes dark and glittering. “Who wants me?”

“That would be telling,” Black Dahlia teased.

Sebsatian noticed how MC touched her fingers to her left palm, stroking them along what he knew was her scar. He put his fingers against his own matching mark, a flutter of hope soaring through his chest. She remembered him. She hadn’t forgotten. 

All too soon, the image began to fade, the sensation of being sucked up and backwards enveloping him as the memory came to an end. He reached out a hand towards MC, his eyes never leaving her until his head came out of the pensieve, and he gasped for his breath. The storage room at the back of Borgin and Burke’s came into view, and he looked at Black Dahlia, hating her more than anything in that moment, his hand twitching near his wand.

“She looks bad, doesn't she? I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it was still a shock to see her,” she said, her irritatingly boring face filled with amusement. 

“How bad?” Rookwood asked, his eyes narrow.

Sebastian swung his gaze towards him, rubbing his face with the back of his hand, still breathing hard. “She was thin, haunted looking, but she could speak,” he said, gritting his teeth. The nausea made him swallow thickly, his eyes determined as he looked at Rookwood. “When can I get her out?”

Rookwood summoned a wooden box from his pocket with a flick of his wrist and handed it towards Black Dahlia. As she reached for it, he clamped a hand about her wrist, his eyes gleaming with a wicked look.

“Just a little peek for now, my dear,” he said quietly. “This isn’t yours until Sallow returns from Azkaban with our little friend in tow. Call it insurance against any stupid tricks you might have hidden under that cloak of yours. Are we clear on that?”

Black Dahlia’s eyes darkened with fury for a moment, and then she reluctantly nodded. Rookwood lifted the lid on the box, and her face shone with awe at whatever was inside. Then the lid slammed shut, and she jumped. 

“Get out,” Rookwood ordered, his face hard. “Meet me tomorrow at the usual place. After the sun has gone down.” 

Scowling viciously, Black Dahlia left the room, her robe billowing out behind her.

Rookwood turned to Sebastian, the box disappearing back into his coat pocket as he smiled his cold smile. “Tonight,” he said, a glow of anticipation in his eyes. “You will go to Azkaban tonight and collect her. I will give you until tomorrow lunchtime to reacquaint yourself with her, and then report to me, and only me. I will be at the Black Rose from midday.”

Sebastian trembled, nodding his head in agreement, still trying to process what he had seen in the pensieve. “Understood,” he said. 

“Are you sure you are up to this, Sallow? You look rather pale.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” he said, his mouth thinning into a tight line. “I won’t stop until I've got her. You have my word on that.”

After leaving Knockturn Alley, Sebastian Apparated to a desolate spot on the banks of the River Thames, the stinking filth of the city behind him and the drift of sailing ships heading back out to sea in front of him. The expanse of the sky was spread out above, and the salty scent of sea air teased his nose. Freedom.

MC was in that dark hole, her face a pale imitation of what she had once been, and it tore his heart into pieces to think of it. The horrifying image of her was seared into his mind, and a heavy feeling pressed through him, leaden and cold. It was guilt, he realised. She was there because of him. This was his fault. 

A scream of rage and desperation tore from his throat, his face flushing red from the effort of it as he roared at the sky. His hands formed fists that he wanted to smash into the thick mud at his feet, his vision blurring as tears of frustration gathered. 

She had said Prewett’s name. Her pitiful hope had been for it to be that blasted Gryffindor at her door and not him. Sebastian felt thick envy flood his veins, and he grit his teeth, his throat burning from his rage. For years, he had tried not to imagine what it was like for her there, clinging to the hope that she would be alright, that she was strong and would fight it. The truth was like a dagger to his soul. 

His hand dug into his pocket and took out the amulet, the ruby red stone shifting and glittering in the daylight. He smoothed his thumb over the solidified mass of their blood, their promise to one another, and blinked back his tears. He ached for her, hated the years that had separated them, and was ashamed of not fighting harder for her. He gripped the amulet in his left fist, holding it tightly against the thin strip of his scar. 

Tonight, he would get her out of there. Tonight, he would finally have her back, and he would spend the rest of his life on his knees, making it up to her. She was his. Nothing would stop him. Not Rookwood, not Anne, and especially not Prewett. The only name whispered on MC’s lips would be his from now on, and he wasn’t afraid to crush anyone who stood between him and his MC.

Leander

Head in his hands, Leander sat at his desk and stared at MC’s file, the folder open to reveal her prisoner photograph. Her eyes blinked up at him from the moving image, her face healthy and youthful, just as she had looked at school. A dull ache wrapped around his head, exhaustion pulling at him, his chest feeling empty and tight. He had chased sleep throughout the night, but it had eluded him, the sound of MC’s screams echoing through his thoughts and making him shiver under the blankets. 

He didn’t think he would ever be able to forget the sound of his name being screamed through the darkness of Azkaban. The sound of it had made his feet move faster, escaping the chilling feeling that had slid down the back of his neck. She would never know how hard it had been to leave her there like that, to push her away and say goodbye to her as he had. Nobody could ever know. 

Even now, his eyes burned with the need to cry despite sobbing like a child into his pillow last night. How did one person get under your skin so deeply that it had the power to shred you up inside? Her haunted eyes had bewitched him, the plea in her voice when she had begged him to stay clawed at him. It was utter madness, and his head was a mess because of it. 

He had stupidly considered returning to the prison in the dead of night and taking it all back, telling her he was sorry, and of course, he would come back to see her. But then, common sense had him rolling over in his bed, his fingers gripping the blanket tighter around him as the foolishness of such a thought dropped like a stone into his stomach.

He would be chasing a dream. It would always be him. He had seen it in her eyes in the questioning room. No matter how hard and cold her face could become, at the mention of Sallow’s name, her eyes would flare with fierce darkness. Leander knew he could never compete with that. 

Lost in the trajectory of his thoughts, Leander jumped when a parchment was slapped forcibly down onto the file in front of him, the official logo of the Ministry and the Wizengamot printed at the top. His head shot up, eyes blinking as he stared at a fuming Harrington.

“What…what is it?” He mumbled, rubbing his face and frowning in confusion. 

Harrington screwed his mouth up in frustration and huffed air through his nose. “I’ve just been to a meeting with the Head of our office and the Wizengamot,” he bit out. He glanced around the office, his expression one of frustrated disbelief. “They’ve only gone and signed her release papers.”

Leander’s frown deepened. “Whose release papers?”

He glanced down at the parchment, fingers grasping the edges as he scanned the inked words quickly, his mouth dropping open in shock when he saw the name scrawled at the top. Prisoner 2757, MC. His gaze flew back up to Harrington, who nodded and scowled viciously. “I know,” he growled. 

“How is this even possible? I don’t understand,” Leander said, his heart racing behind his ribs as he looked down at the release papers again. 

“Rookwood is alive, and so the charges against her were dropped,” Harrington said bitterly, his hands clenched into fists. “As for the murder of Solomon Sallow, they changed the charges to death by self-defense after the results of her Veritaserum test yesterday. They reduced her sentence from ten years to five, with immediate release under one year’s probation. I tried to argue the case, of course. She killed an Auror after all, but they said she was a minor at the time and not in full control of her magic. It’s a bloody farce is what it is!”

Harrington began to pace as Leander confirmed his rant by reading the paper in his hands. There were terms for her probation, his eyes widening as he saw his own name printed in the box next to Probation Auror. 

“I’m assigned to be her Probation Auror?” He gulped, the parchment trembling in his hands. He dropped it back down onto the desk, pressing his hands together as if in some sort of Muggle prayer and pressed them against his mouth. What the fuck was happening? 

Harrington paused and turned to face him, leaning forward over his desk with a hard look. “Yes, Prewett,” he said, his eyes boring into him. “She gets out, but only if she agrees to spy for us. She needs to sign a contract that states she meets with you on a daily basis, reporting her findings on Rookwood and the Ashwinders. This is the deal the Wizengamot are prepared to offer her, this is what the little bitch gets in return for helping us. She walks fucking free.”

Leander stared at Harrington, trying to process all of this. He had said goodbye to MC last night, convinced he would never see her again, and now he would. Everyday. In the real world. “Shit,” he squeaked.  

“Yes. Shit, indeed,” Harrington spat. He narrowed his eyes at Leander. “I sure hope you are up for this, Prewett. You’ve got to keep a grip on that slippery little bitch, and not let your personal feelings get in the way of the dangerous job that needs to be done here. I know you’re soft on her. I saw the way you were with her yesterday, I’m not blind. If it wasn’t for the fact that you’re the only one who can get her to talk, I would have argued that another Auror would be in charge of her care.”

“I can do it,” Leander said immediately, sitting up straighter. “She trusts me enough, that’s all. If I can keep that bond open, then it shouldn't be too hard to keep her cooperating. She won’t want to go back inside Azkaban, so that should help keep her in line, too.”

“What if she gives us the slip and disappears? What, then?”

“Then we hunt her down and catch her,” Leander said simply. “It can’t be that hard. Not if we know her weaknesses, and I reckon I could figure those out easily enough. I can do this, Harrington. I know I can.” 

Harrington studied him for a moment before nodding. “Very well,” he said, pointing at the release parchment. “Sign in the box to say you agree. McKinnon is out preparing a safe house to put her in. She will need to be cleaned up and seen by a Healer, you will need to get her fit and capable with a wand again before we send her off to join Rookwood, too. That bastard is as cunning as a fox. I don’t want him to suspect her. Unfortunately, we might need to stick MC under Sallow’s nose to get her in with them. With any luck, she will bring that sneaky little shit into our net as well.” 

Leander felt his stomach turn over at the thought of MC being around Sebsatian again. With their blood pact, she wouldn’t be able to turn Sebastian over herself. They would have to catch him some other way, and in the meantime, he hoped that her inability to betray the crafty Slytherin wouldn’t end up with her breaking her probation terms, landing her back inside her cell in Azkaban.

Just when he thought he had left behind the risk and danger of helping her, MC would now be even more under his care. He would need to be so careful, and this time, he needed to keep his soft heart firmly under control.

“When is she to be released?” He asked, straightening his already neat tie.

“She’s already a free woman,” Harrington shrugged, his frown revealing his feelings on the matter. “You can go and fetch her out whenever you like, Prewett. She is all yours.” 

MC

A tear slid from her eye and rolled down her cheek, her hand lifting to swipe it away without really thinking about it. The tears seemed to just leak from her now, an endless flow stemming from the black hole in her chest. Ever since Leander had left her yesterday, the hours had stretched out in timeless shadows as she tried to keep a grasp on reality. 

The strange woman in the cloak at her door before sundown yesterday had put her on edge, her eyes sliding towards her cell door periodically, wondering what other phantoms may appear to taunt her. Perhaps the madness had come at long last. Her mind had finally cracked. 

In her hand, she held the little glass bottle of restoring potion that Leander had pressed into her hands. She twirled the bottle, eyeing the liquid as she debated drinking it. Once it was gone, that would be it. He wouldn't be back to bring another. 

Pressing her lips together, she swallowed back another wave of grief that threatened to consume her. The loss of a friendly face, the ache to be seen, and the desperation to know that she wasn't alone, it made her chest yawn with that swallowing blackness. 

Ripping the stopper from the bottle, she put it to her lips and gulped it down, a pleasant warmth spreading through her shivering frame. She felt her cheeks tingle, her fingers flexing as strength returned to them. She knew it wouldn't last, but she closed her eyes and savoured the feeling. 

As her thoughts cleared and a small sigh left her lips, the sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor. Clutching the bottle tightly in her hand, her eyes swung towards her cell door, wondering what tricks her eyes would play on her this time. 

As the figure appeared from the shadows, she slowly put the bottle down onto the hard stone, her heart rate increasing as he stepped closer towards the iron bars. 

Merlin, please don't let this be a trick. Please, let him be real. 

Slowly, she got to her feet, moving towards the door. She was almost afraid to blink in case he vanished. Pausing before the iron bars that separated them, she met his familiar brown eyes, her lips trembling. 

“Hello, MC…” 

To be continued...

Thank you to my betas @eternalremorse and @slytherin-paramour

Odessa McKinnon is an OC used with the kind permission of @ellivenollivander

Taglist: @evaslytherpuff @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @loving-him-was-red13

[vintage-bentley]

so the fandom's defense of gaiman is that the claims can't be trusted since the site publishing them is "owned by a terf" and is therefore a conspiracy to destroy trans people? the fact they're not immediately disowning the guy who, in the best case scenario, initiated a sexual relationship with a 19 y/o employee, hours after meeting her, while being in his 60s and famous/wealthy says everything.

It’s actually insane. I’ve seen people go as far as claiming that the allegations are some sort of conspiracy to end trans rights because Neil defended David Tennant’s little misogyny fit.

Here’s some examples:

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In my humble opinion, there’s a few things wrong with this line of logic.

I’m putting a cut here since this is a long post.

Regarding DT—that first screenshot seems to be implying that either the allegations were made up about Neil to slander David, or that because there was no “dirt” on David, real allegations were brought up about Neil.

In the first case, if the allegations are made up…wouldn’t they have just been made up about DT? What would be the point in going and making them about NG?

And in the second case, what the hell does DT have to do with that.

People seem to be forgetting that the general public does not associate DT with NG or vice versa. They did one show together, that doesn’t mean that their reputations are forever tied together. Nobody is going to slander NG to get at DT because there’s barely a connection between them.

And regarding the idea that this is some huge conspiracy to end trans rights or whatever…people are forgetting that it’s not like Neil is actually a huge trans rights advocate. It’s not like he’s constantly speaking to politicians and getting involved with trans organisations. It’s not like he’s on the front lines and is the first person the public thinks of when trying to think of a trans advocate.

He literally just said some stuff on social media. He went along with people’s trans headcanons for clout. He said the obligatory “oh yes JKR is a very bad woman”. That’s really it. Other than that, he’s just another straight male.

If the press really wanted to come out with a story that’s going to Destroy Trans Rights!!!!, they’d target a trans identifying person who’s a large face in the movement. They’d go after trans organisations. They wouldn’t find some author who sometimes says nice things about trans identifying people online and slander him in hopes of changing public opinion.

The entire conspiracy is just nonsensical, and to me it’s clearly an attempt to grab onto anything they can to prove that their special tumblr guy is innocent.

It’s also interesting that the one post I added mentions

“What I do believe is that it's awfully convenient that radfems and JK Rowling supporters (seriously, look at the tags of the people spreading the story) are stirring it up

Because yeah…radfems are kind of known for believing women who accuse men of rape and/or abuse. I’ll point to the Heard vs Depp thing again: when that was in full gear, I saw dozens of radfems posting in support of Heard, while everyone else was supporting Depp.

This isn’t an anti-trans thing—this is a feminists believe women thing.

But as we’ve seen repeatedly…the TQ+ crowd is incredibly self-centred. Everything must be about them at all times. I’m unfortunately not surprised that they’re trying to spin this into a “oh my god terfs are attacking trans people!!!!” Thing….even though radical feminists just do not have the social power to run a smear campaign against a powerful male celebrity in order to hurt the trans movement (just typing that out feels insane lol. How is this even a theory people are running with).

That said, when they say “terf” they don’t just mean radfems/radfem-aligned women. They mean literally anyone who disagrees with them.

Apparently the producer of the podcast that came out is Boris Johnson’s sister, who is also conservative. So, most likely not a radfem.

I agree that the source is kind of odd, because it’s such a niche site, and having a podcast about rape accusations reeks of true crime sensationalism. I’d like to see some more solid evidence coming out. Still, I’m believing the alleged victims and I hate watching people scramble to defend Gaiman.