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xxsabitoxx · 1 year

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Experience

Kishibe x Fem! Reader

Warnings: large age gap (reader is in her 20s but it’s unspecified) and Kishibe is 50, car sex, hand job, degrading, praising, smoking

A/N: this was meant to be a short 1-1.5k Drabble but it turned into a mini smut instead (my brain is weird so some of y’all may still consider this a Drabble or you may consider it a full fic… idk man) anywho here he is :)

Word count: 2.6k

“You… you can’t be serious, oneechan.” Denji was staring at you with an udon noodle hanging between his lips. You chuckled at Denji’s constant use of calling you “big sis” — Aki had reprimanded him forever ago about using formalities with you. You had told him senpai was far too much and that calling you oneechan was fine. Still, it made you chuckle that it was the only nickname he ever stuck too with no bribery needed. Aki still used the gum tactic to get Power and Denji to use the correct terms while addressing him.

“I am serious.” The smile never left your face, watching as Denji slurped his noodle the rest of the way. “But why? He’s so old! Hell he’s over half your age! Ain’t he like 50 or something? And you’re like 20-something? I doubt he can even get his dick hard!” You rolled your eyes, laughter bubbling in your chest as Denji’s clear shock at your crush on his mentor. You’d known Kishibe since you joined public safety a few years prior, having worked alongside Aki when it came to training under the man’s brutal regime.

“Oh I doubt that. Kishibe is a man of experience, he probably has over 30 years worth with women.” Denji still couldn’t see how that would appeal to you, if anything he thought it should be a turn off. “That’s 30 years of use. You’ll probably catch a disease.” At that you couldn’t help but snort, putting your cigarette to your lips and inhaling. “Just think about it for a second, Denji. Wouldn't you want a woman that knows what she’s doing? One that would know how to take care of you?”

“I mean yeah, but maybe a woman that’s only a couple years older than me. You’re going after a man that was well into adulthood by the time you were born.” You shook your head, finding it rather funny that Denji was seemingly peeved by this. “That’s real bold coming from you, Denji-kun.” The blonde quirked his eyebrow, eyeing you suspiciously as he went in for yet another helping. “You and your crush on Makima? The fact that she seems to reciprocate your advances? Kinda a similar situation… but mine is legal.”

You shrugged your shoulders, blowing the smoke you had inhaled. “Yah, whatever… go for your creepy old man then.” He stuck his tongue out as you rolled your eyes, a victorious smile still present on your lips. “No really…” he drawled softly “he’s right there.” You froze, head whipping around to the direction Denji had motioned to. Sure enough, Kishibe was sitting at the bar, a glass of whisky in front of him… typical. You turned back to Denji, utterly mortified. “You don’t think he heard us, do you?” The blonde shrugged, a shit eating grin creeping up his face.

“Denji!” You whisper yelled this time, face growing warm. “Huh?” He spoke a little louder than necessary “I don’t think he heard? What’s the big deal anyways? Ain’t you want him to know? So you can like…actually do something about ya crush?” He drawled loudly, enough to draw a few wandering eyes to your table. “N-not the point! Shut up!” You were snuffing out your cigarettes on the underside of the table seconds later, ready to make a quick escape before Kishibe could even notice you there.

The problem being, you knew your old mentor fairly well. It was more than likely that he was already aware of your presence. Not only that but you were nearly positive he’d probably heard you and Denji talking about him. You wouldn’t be able to escape him unless you put a conscious effort into sneaking out of here. Even then, he’d find a way to corner you and ask you what the hell was going on. “Eh, whatever oneechan… at least I have the guts to go for the people I like.” Now you knew you were done for.

If Denji was going to make this a game of confidence, you’d have to do your “big sister” duties and simply one up him. “You’re a pain in my ass.” You scoffed, watching the grin return to the blonde’s face as you pushed your chair out. “You can thank me later.” Was all he said, returning to his udon as you made your way to the bar. “Captain Kishibe.” You fought to keep your voice steady. Kishibe turned to look at you, the usual stoic expression on his face.

“Come to talk to the creepy old man sitting alone at the bar?” He chimed softly, watching your face morph into embarrassment as he confirmed your biggest fear. He heard everything you and Denji had said. “Blame blondey over there for that nickname. Guessing that if you heard what Denji had to say you also heard what I had to say.” Your arms clasped behind your back, fidgeting with your fingers nervously as you waited for him to speak.

Kishibe swirled his glass around, watching the amber liquid slosh before he brought it to his lips and downed the rest. “Oh, I did. Not that I’m shocked… you’re far more transparent with your emotions than you think you are, y/n.” You could have melted on the spot, seeped straight into the floorboards and disappeared forever. Instead, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, willing yourself to grow some confidence and test the waters. It didn’t seem he was necessarily shutting you down just yet.

“Well… I guess this was a pretty lame ass way of saying I have a thing for my old mentor.” Kishibe leaned back, eyes shutting briefly as he inhaled through his nose. “You’re just looking for someone to show you a good time. Tell me, have you ever actually enjoyed any of the men you’ve slept with?” His eyes opened and he turned to face you fully now, tapping the wooden top of the bar twice to signal that he was ready to pay his tab. “Truthfully, no.” A breathy chuckle left him, one that sent shivers down your spine.

“I see. I guess that would make it my duty, Hmm? Your old mentor has to show you the ropes… show you the good from the bad. A private lesson, if you would.” You didn’t quite know how to react, your brain working in overdrive to try and process the words he had just spoken. “S-so you’re saying you’ll…” you flinched at your own stutter, watching Kishibe eye you carefully. “That I’ll show you how a man properly satisfies a lady? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, Sugar.” Your heart jumped at the nickname.

You found it hard to speak, instead you kept your mouth shut and watched your old mentor pay his tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. “I paid for the fool’s meal as well as yours, he’ll get home on his own just fine. Let’s go.” Kishibe was heading towards the door, you waited till he was facing away to shoot Denji a look. The blonde seemed a bit awestruck that you were already leaving with him, you just shrugged as you left. You’d probably have to apologize the next time you saw him.

Before you knew it you were slipping into the passenger side of Kishibe’s car, thanking him softly for opening and closing the door for you. He slipped on the other side a moment later, turning the key so the engine roared to life. “I didn’t think you were the car type.” You commented softly, eyes scanning the amount of gadgets that littered the dashboard. The car’s interior was all black leather, that was at least something you expected from him.

“I’m not but the holiday bonus was nice and I needed an upgrade anyways.” He cracked his window, lighting up a cigarette before pulling out of the restaurant’s small lot and out into the bustling street. You didn’t expect him to be nervous, nor did you expect him to be awkward about the situation. Yet you were practically squirming in your seat, hoping he’d show some sort of nervousness to help you feel less inexperienced.

His cigarette hung half hazardously from his lips, one hand on the wheel while the other came down to rest on your thigh. You nearly choked on your own saliva, heat pooling in your gut at the simple action. “Amuse me, would you? What’s the best thing a guy has done for you, Hmm?” Smoke puffed out around his cigarette, eyes locked on the road as he waited for your response. “Offer to walk me home.” You admitted sheepishly, not quite sure how he’d react to such a lame response. It was true your taste in men hadn’t really benefited you in any way up until now.

He let out a gruff laugh, slowing down as he pulled up to a red light and plucked the cigarette from his lips. “That’s it? Seriously? Where the hell are you finding these bummy men?” You weren’t sure why his clear annoyance affected you the way it did, but you found yourself struggling to not press your thighs together. A small effort to relieve some of the ache, you knew if you moved your legs even a little he’d feel it. Then again, he was driving you back to his apartment to fuck you… would it really matter? “No need to be tense.” He murmured softly, hand squeezing your thigh.

“…’m not tense.” A stupid lie but it made him chuckle so you couldn’t really be mad at it. “Let me help you relax.” The cigarette was back between his lips, hand on the wheel as the light turned green. Kishibe pushed on your thigh, silently asking you to spread them. It took your brain a few seconds to properly respond, spreading them just enough that he could fit his hand between them. “Atta girl…” smoke puffed out around his lips once again, filling your nose in an almost intoxicating way. You were a bit shocked by the praise, nearly letting a whimper slip out.

The man you knew as your mentor was certainly not the same as the man sitting beside you. Then again you doubted he would ever woo the amount of women he did with his mentor attitude. Kishibe’s hand gingerly crept up your thigh before dipping between to cup your panty covered cunt. You mentally thanked yourself for wearing a skirt, giving the man in the driver's seat easy access to where you wanted him the most. He could feel your warmth radiating through the thin material, on top of that he could tell you were already wet.

Kishibe exhaled deeply, forcing himself to remain focused on the road even though he’d really like to look over and gauge your reaction. Truthfully, he had been waiting patiently for quite some time now for you to be the one to make the first move. He wasn’t lying when he said you were transparent with your emotions, but even then he didn’t want to risk creating awkward situations. He was getting old after all, a fifty year old man going for a woman in her twenties would certainly look terrible on his part if the other party didn’t reciprocate.

Maybe he was just a creepy old pervert for thinking that way.

Regardless, it was starting to get hard to ignore the persistent stiffness between his own legs. You’re breathing had hitched, suddenly dizzied by the fact that his hands were already on you. Two fingers pressed against the wetmark on your panties, drawing a sigh from your lips as he rubbed the material softly. “You’re more excited than you let on.” it was an off hand comment, one that had your fingers gripping the door handle to keep yourself grounded. Kishibe’s fingers slid along your slit, settling over your pulsing clit.

“You’ve said no man has ever satisfied you… I take it because he didn’t know where this was…” he pressed down, sending a shock of pleasure through you. Your mouth opened but nothing came out, slowly he began rubbing tentative circles, making sure you keep his fingers on the cloth of your panties. He wouldn’t let you feel his bare fingers just yet. More smoke puffed out, filling the car briefly before being sucked out the window. “I asked you a question, sugar.” you turned to look at him, face warm as his fingers continued to pleasure you. “T-that would be right…”

“Every woman is different, is this good for you?” you knew he was referring to his current action. “Y-yeah but…” you reached for his hand, placing yours over his as you guided him to a faster tempo. Kishibe took the reins again instantly, chuckling softly as you let out a soft moan. “Hmm, that better?” it was low, enough you send shivers through you as your hips jerked into his hand. “Need more…” you couldn’t quite figure out what specifically you needed, you just knew you needed more of him. “I know.” was all he said, fingers working you up continuously as he drove.

Part of you had to wonder if he was even driving you to his apartment at this point. It felt like you were going in circles around the city as he got you off in his front seat. Before you knew it, you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. “S-shit…” you clenched around nothing, the tension in your gut had appeared a lot quicker than usual. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he teased softly, fingers picking up speed ever so slightly. You mumbled out some sort of ‘yes’, gasping softly as the tension continued to build.

Maybe it was the combination of everything, Kishibe, his hand, the fact that he was doing this almost absentmindedly while driving through the city, everything was edging you on. “Then cum for me. Show me how much of a little slut you are. I mean really, you’re going to cum from me rubbing you through your panties. You’ll ruin them.” You whined at his words, the tension building so intensely that you were certain you’d fall apart. “Atta girl…cum for me” encouraged again, rolling to a stop at yet another red light.

He looked over at you know, the sudden motion causing you to turn to look at him. “C’mon… no need to hold back.” he sneered, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. You felt your lower lip tremble, head turning to look back at the road as your orgasm crashed down over you. Breathless gasps escaped your lips, hand shooting down to hold Kishibe’s wrist as he continued to work you through your ogasm. “…ough… enough…” you squeaked, overstimulation taking over as the light turned green.

He only slowed because of the light turning green, hand never retracting from where it was between your legs. “Here we are.” He commented offhand, pulling into the parking lot of his apartment building. You blinked, the throb already returning. “Hope you’re not worn out… I haven’t even gotten to show you a proper good time.” He pulled into a numbered space, shifting into park and plucking the nearly gone cigarette from his lips. You watched him put it out on an ashtray in his cup holder, turning the car off a moment later.

“Well?” You shivered as his hand pulled away, making you want to chase after him. “Y-yeah…I’m not worn out. Hell, after your training it’s hard to ever get worn out these days…captain.” You teased softly, not knowing where the confidence came from. A smile actually tugged at his lips, hand reaching for the door handle and pushing it open. “I’ll remember that, sugar.” For some reason, you felt as if you had just dug your own grave.

#chainsaw man #chainsaw man fanfiction #chainsaw man drabble #chainsaw man smut #csm fanfic #csm kishibe #chainsaw man kishibe #kishibe x y/n #master kishibe #captain kishibe #kishibe x reader #kishibe x you #kishibe smut #csm smut #xxsabitoxx’s work!

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riddle-me-ri · 1 year

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Alright so this is less romantic and more shitposty but. If I can request the scarecrows' responses to a gotham university psychology student showing up at his doorstep like "hey uh could you look at my thesis?" Like fully prepared to be fear toxin-ed on the spot but absolutely worth the risk cause lord knows that's some shit I'd do 💀

A/N: hnnggg this shouldn't have taken as long as it did but I kept taking it too seriously except for the absolute crack that it is lmao I have no doubt in reality it'd be a miracle if any of them opened the damn door.

Scarecrows Reacting To A Student Looking for Feedback (crack)

Arkhamverse Scarecrow:

First of all, how did you find him?

Secondly, how dare you disturb him?

Are you fearless or just foolishly stupid?

He genuinely can’t tell and he doesn’t want to waste time thinking about it.

However, since you’re here now…

And it doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere anytime soon.

Clearly, despite how many threats he’s shot your way.

He isn’t opposed to a willing test subject

Nolanverse/Murphy Scarecrow:

Well, this was odd.

If not also incredibly annoying.

When he hears your reason for being on his front stoop.

He is shocked…

Surely your institution has much more qualified, not to mention more relevant assistance to look over your paper.

He’s a man of science making headways, he has no time to–

Well, actually…he hasn’t seen very sufficient results in his recent Arkham patients…

BTAS Scarecrow:

Really? Him?

Even when he was a professor, none of his students came to him for a review.

No doubt he’s itching to just shut the door on you.

Then again, perhaps he can hold you ransom for some money to fund his toxin…

And on top of that he can also use you for testing the effects of his recent toxin…

How he could make it stronger, faster, last longer…

Besides, he’s never gotten a chance to properly review a term paper..

This should be fun.

TNBA Scarecrow:

He’s likely to ignore it, if not open it, yell at you and then slam the door.

This Scarecrow doesn’t have time for this nonsense.

Surely, you have other institutional superiors that you can go to?

Why would you willingly dive headfirst into danger?

Unless…you just don’t care?

If you’re so willing to get into danger, perhaps he should take advantage of it.

He debates with himself for a minute…

Before finally just gassing you with his toxin.

Taking sweet delight in your screams.

Fear State Scarecrow:

You should consider yourself lucky that he even answered the door.

Like seriously, the only reason he answered was because of your incessant knocking.

He had half a mind to slip on his mask and inject you with toxin and be done with it.

He’s far too busy planning his Fear State Theory into motion.

Jonathan can’t have any distractions or loose ends…

Everyone has their role to play, he was so sure that Gotham would enter it’s Fear State seamlessly.

Patience running low, he does open the door, and one threat is all you get.

When you don’t leave, it’s very much your fault that you’re screaming bloody murder down the street.

Year One Scarecrow:

Jonathan groans at the prospect.

His past sure has a strange way of following him somehow.

Again, you should be surprised he even answers the door.

But you kept pushing your paper underneath his front door.

Quite, infuriating him.

It takes a few more threats and slams of the door before he finally reaches his breaking point.

He slaps on his mask, believing he’s done all he could to be rid of you.

Perhaps, a reminder will help you.

He’s no professor, a scholar on fear.

He’s The Scarecrow, the Master of Fear…and you’ve just experienced his wrath as you breathe in the toxic fumes.

Masters of Fear Scarecrow:

Jonathan is confused, if not also agitated.

Is this some kind of joke?

His lived a long pathetic life of humiliation…

He doesn’t need it coming to him, knocking at his front door.

You can’t just expect anyone with a PhD is willing to help you…

What kind of simpleton just walks up to a known high-class criminal, a criminally insane criminal?

Honestly, when spoken like that, it was quite admirable.

Took a lot of courage…bravery…or just a huge lack of common sense.

Yes, yes, he’ll take a look, but first…indulge him in your fears

(it’ll help him in his own research later)

HQ:TAS Scarecrow:

Jonathan thinks this must be some kind of joke.

Surely, this is the Legion pulling his leg, what else could it be?

Not only that, how else would you found out where he lived?

It has to be a joke.

He tries to play along, but is quick to realize you’re actually being serious.

Probably the only one that’s actually going to help you with your thesis paper.

1000/10 would recommend

And you may even get a member of the Legion of Doom as a friend.

HHSD Scarecrow:

I’m surprised Grandpa could hear you knocking.

Just kidding, only a little, I love to love and rag on this version when I can.

But you really shouldn’t have picked a night when there were Elvira re-runs.

Jonathan opens the door, reluctantly and is perplexed, but immediately annoyed.

He didn’t have time for these things when he WAS a professor.

He thought he left this type of harassment years ago, why do you choose to haunt him now with it?

When you fail to leave on your own accord. He advises you to go away through a speaker by his door.

When you still refuse, he decides enough is enough.

Jonathan was inspired by that intriguing night at Crystal Cove, as he used a maniacal jack-al-lantern of his own to run you off.

#ri writes #the scarecrow #jonathan crane #arkhamverse scarecrow #nolanverse scarecrow #murphy scarecrow #btas scarecros #tnba scarecrow #fear state scarecrow #year one scarecrow #masters of fear scarecrow #harley quinn the animated series scarecrow #hqtas scarecrow #happy halloween scooby doo scarecrow #hhsd scarecrow #crack headcanons

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writemekpop · 2 years

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Love Doctor | Lee Taemin

5K Follower Series Ep. 28

Summary: You pretend to faint to see sexy doctor Taemin. What happens when he figures out your lie?

Genre: Doctor!Taemin x Patient!Y/n, smut

Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt: “I promise I’ll be good.”

The hard tiles of the hospital floor turn into the soft grasp of a man’s arms.

You crack one eye open. Yes! Just as you hoped, it’s Taemin, or Dr Lee, as he’s better known - one of Seoul City General’s best doctors.

His handsome black fringe has fallen loose, and his forehead is creased with concern. You relish the feeling of his strong, muscled arms supporting you. His smell… it drives you crazy.

You shut your eye again. After all, you are meant to be fainting right now.

Over the past few months, you’ve been coming in to Taemin’s clinic, pretending to have one illness or another. Anything to spend a little time with him. This time, you got even more daring – by pretending to faint in the waiting room.

The fear of getting caught was totally worth it for the sweet bliss of being in Taemin’s arms.

He’s not your average doctor – unless your average doctor is drop-dead gorgeous, ripped, and just about the kindest human being on earth.

The craziest thing is, he seems to have no idea that he makes people swoon left, right and centre.

Even now, you can hear whispers of, ‘Unfair!’ and ‘I want Dr Lee to carry me…” from the other patients.

Soon, you’re propped up with pillows in the bed in his office, and Taemin is taking your pulse. When his fingers touch your wrist, electricity jolts up your arm.

A few moments later, he crosses his arms, frowning. “Y/n… I’ve got to admit it. I’m a little concerned.”

Your heart jumps into overdrive. Has Taemin realised you’re faking it?

“This is the third time you’ve come in this past two months. Now, you’re fainting. But I can’t seem to find what’s wrong with you. Everything seems normal…”

Your heart skips a beat. This is your worst nightmare.

Only, what he says next is worse.

Taemin nods grimly. “I think we’ll have to take further action. Is it okay if I make you a referral to a cardiologist?”

Your eyes widen. “N-no, I’m sure that won’t be necessary!”

Taemin smiles a little. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this cleared up soon.”

You jump up off the bed and stretch your arms. “Ac-actually, I think I feel fine!” You start doing jumping jacks, your shoes squeaking on the floor. “All fixed. No need to call anyone.”

Taemin’s eyes widen at your nimble movement. “How did you just- aren’t you dizzy?”

You realise that in your eagerness… you forgot to act sick. A person who just fainted would not be doing jumping jacks right now.

Taemin’s brows crease deeper. “Y/n…”

And that’s when you realise. You blew it. He’s worked it out.

You sit down, letting your head hang. “I’m sorry.”

Taemin’s voice sounds the most serious you’ve ever heard it; usually he’s warm and friendly. “You’re telling me you pretended to be sick all this time? Y/n – why would you do that?” He sighs. “I thought better of you.”

You look up, your heart sinking at the coldness in his tone. “No! I have a reason.”

His deep brown eyes bore into yours, more intense than ever. “What possible reason could you have?”

You take a deep breath. “What if I said it was… for you?”

Taemin’s mouth opens, then shuts again. He blinks, his movements jerky, like he’s so shocked he’s glitching. “You … but- but-“

Taemin can’t believe what he’s hearing. You, Y/n, went to the massive effort of having yourself carted off the to the nurse’s office for months just because you like him?

He knows he’s considered attractive. Chocolates and wine bottles fill his desk every morning, and elderly ladies ask him to be their boyfriend just about once a week. But he never really cared about any of those people. They weren’t… you.

Suddenly, he realizes that he’d been having a dodgy feeling about your ‘fainting spells’ for a while. Deep down, he knew you were faking.

He must have pushed those doubts down, because he just wanted to see you one more time. To see you, with your black hair scruffily pushed into a ponytail, still managing to look breath-taking. To have you tease him, talk to him not as a doctor, but… as a man. To hold you in his arms, breathe in your maddening scent and imagine just for a second that you’re his.

And now you like him back.

He feels like he’s dreaming.

Taemin sits down on the bed beside you, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. His voice is fast, feverish.

“I really- really shouldn’t.” But your neck is so close to his lips, and he can’t really think straight.

“This is breaking every rule in the book. I mean, you wasted hospital time… I could… report you.” But even as he speaks, his words are getting slower, more tangled up.

You’re turning to face him, your eyes dark and so, so open. Did you always have such thick lashes? Were your eyelids always rose-tinted, your skin so chocolatey brown?

“I made a… I made an oath…”

You press your lips to his, just for a second, and it’s like a shock to every nerve ending in Taemin’s body.

Taemin pushes you off, but gently, just because the kiss felt so good he’s sure he’ll lose control, and he can’t afford that. Not here.

“This… can’t happen. You’re my patient,” Taemin insists. His hand still rests on your chest from when he pushed you off. He quickly removes it.

You say, “And what if I’m not your patient anymore?”

Your heart is beating in double time. This is the moment when Taemin will brush you off, tell you you’re too young, or he has a girlfriend, or he just doesn’t see you that way.

Taemin says, “Then… we’ll just have to find somewhere else to meet.” A smile breaks out onto his face, and it’s so handsome it could make birds sing, like Disney.

Warmth floods your body. Taemin likes you back! Your relationship could be more than fake-patient and doctor!

You grin. “How about that cute little music café on the next street, in a month’s time? I’ll have a new doctor by then.”

Taemin narrows his eyes playfully. “It still hurts to think of you going to some other doctor.”

You smirk. “Well, who’s going to treat me when you break my heart?”

Smiling, he shoots back, “As if. You’re the heartbreaker. I can just sense that you have a long list of ruined ex boyfriends.”

You tap his nose. “You better watch that attitude or you’ll be joining that list, mister.”

Taemin grins. “You mean to say… I’m your boyfriend?”

A blush hits your cheeks. You were caught out. “Maybe…”

Taemin’s eyes burn into yours. He takes your hand, lifts it to his lips and gently kisses it. “It would be an honour to be your boyfriend, Y/n.”

—

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thenerdykneazle · 3 months

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Sallow Soul - Forgiveness

Summary: Sebastian decides he can't accept MC being gone and does his best to follow her home.

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Warnings: 18+, sexually explicit content, aged-up characters, angst, toxic relationship, a dash of grieving

Word count: 10,605

Read on AO3. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. MC's perspective (Kindred Spirits).

Part 5: Forgiveness

The pub door swung shut heavily behind Sofia. “She went home home? As in back to the UK?” she asked.

“Precisely,” Sebastian replied in a flat tone.

He felt numb. He barely noticed the wind biting his face. He didn’t even end up crying. He was exhausted. He’d done his best to fix things, hadn’t he? It just wasn’t enough. He had compounded too many mistakes, and he couldn’t make up for it. MC might’ve taken the words back, but, in the end, he wasn’t worth another try.

“Sepe?” Sofia asked softly.

He turned to her dully. “Hm?” he asked.

“Are you…okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, course,” he replied, quickly putting on a brave face. “Just…surprised.”

Sofia nodded despite the fact that both of them knew she didn’t believe him. “She thought a lot about you the night she stayed in my hotel suite. We spent some time together before I left. She was very upset over your…more careless decisions.”

Sebastian didn’t need to ask to clarify what she meant. “I know it was stupid. Part of me wanted to make her jealous. Mostly, I just wanted to feel something.”

“You hurt her quite a lot,” she said, looking thoroughly disappointed in him. It stung worse than he’d have expected.

“It’s not like she wasn’t bringing people back, too,” Sebastian said defensively.

Sofia arched a brow at him. “And how did that make you feel?”

He scoffed. “Like shite,” he said bitterly.

She looked at him expectantly. “So, how do you think she felt?” she pressed when he didn’t continue.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over himself. It was equally to shield himself from the cold air as it was to show his disagreement. “It wasn’t the same. I mean, I’m sure it pissed her off, but it’s not like it was devastating for her. I’m sure you already know I never stopped loving her. But she couldn’t’ve thought less of me when she got here. The pain of that’s the only reason I…sought such comfort in the first place. She just…doesn’t feel the same about me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sofia asked, a manicured brow arched high in question.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at her, trying to determine if she was really asking or trying to tell him.

“Because I wouldn’t be,” she continued, eliminating his lingering doubt.

“Are you t-telling me information you g-gathered reading her thoughts? Because that’s n-not very ethical, i-is it?” he asked. The chill finally settling in, making him shiver.

“MC seems like a nice girl. But you’re my friend, Sepe. Today was the happiest I’ve seen you since I’ve known you. She seems to love you too, but she’s scared,” Sofia said. “You’ve just got to be honest with yourself about whether she should be. I’ll admit that your recent actions worry me, but I know you’re a good man.”

Sebastian’s head was spinning. MC really did love him? She’d been convincing when she said it, but it was the heat of the moment. And then she disappeared. But if Sofia was convinced, then he figured it had to be true.

“Do you r-really think she’d give me an-nother chance?” Sebastian asked.

Sofia shrugged. “Even I can’t predict the future. But, in my experience, people don’t get that hurt unless it was by someone they truly cared about.”

The assertion crushed Sebastian’s chest at the same time it lit a spark of hope in it. He hadn’t realised he was causing MC as much pain as he was feeling. He’d been reckless. He vowed to himself that wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Thank you,” Sebastian said before seizing Sofia’s shoulders and kissing her cheek.

“You won’t be thanking me if you hurt her again,” she replied in a warning tone. “Like I said, she’s a nice girl. Don’t make me regret betraying her thoughts.”

“I won’t,” Sebastian promised.

He rushed inside the pub and back to the table.

“I need your help,” he told Niko, who had been mid-conversation with Henri.

Niko turned to his friend, his features drawing in concern when he noticed Sebastian’s panicked eyes. “Okay. With what?” he replied.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Sebastian said urgently, waving a hand to urge him to his feet.

Without bothering to collect his cloak, he apparated them back to the Headquarters. He resisted the urge to sprint – he had learned the hard way that you cannot run in a law enforcement office without freaking everyone out – and powerwalked to Teräväinen’s office. Niko hurried alongside him.

“What’s going on?” Niko asked urgently.

Sebastian explained as succinctly as possible that MC had gone back to England, and Sebastian needed to find her. His best method was to break into Teräväinen’s office and find her file, which would have her address. Then he could beg her on his knees to give him just one more chance.

“You want me to help you stalk her?” Niko asked incredulously.

“No, I want you to help me find her,” Sebastian said. “Stalking is repeated and causes fear.”

Niko rolled his eyes but kept shuffling along with Sebastian. “Not a great sign if you’re being pedantic about stalking. And stealing her file is still illegal,” he pointed out. “At the very least, you’ll be fired if you’re caught.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I’m quitting anyway,” he stated.

That made Niko stop in his tracks. “You’re what?”

Sebastian turned to face him. He didn’t have time for this. “Quitting. Effective immediately. I can’t stay here anymore. MC is in England. Ominis is in Scotland. My sister’s grave is there. Everyone I was ever friends with is there. Even if she won’t–” Sebastian had to take a steadying breath. “Even if she doesn’t take me back, I have to go. This isn’t me. I’ve been hiding from everyone for too long.”

Niko gave an indignant sniff. “All your friends are there, huh?”

Sebastian’s shoulders went slack. “Mate, that’s not what I meant,” he said. “You’ve been a great friend. Truly. I just…if I let myself stop and mourn what I’m losing here, then I might lose my nerve. I wish I could take you with me, but you belong here as much as I belong there. The things I went through with Ominis and MC…if there’s a chance I could have them back in my life, I have to take it.”

Niko nodded before giving Sebastian a watery smile. “I told you she had you whipped,” he joked.

Sebastian laughed. “Yeah…yeah, you did,” he agreed. “So, you’ll help me?”

“Yeah, I’ll help,” Niko confirmed. “You’d be even more mopey than you were when we started as junior aurori if you stayed. I don’t think any of us should be subjected to that.”

Sebastian denied having been that bad as they continued on their way down the hall. Niko convinced him that he should be the one to get MC’s file, while Sebastian talked to Teräväinen about his resignation. Sebastian was hesitant to let Niko accept that risk, but he eventually agreed that the plan made the most sense.

Niko disillusioned himself, and Sebastian went into the office. He asked Teräväinen if they could go for a walk to talk about something important. While they stepped out, Niko slipped into the office. Sebastian explained his decision to resign and handed over his badge. Teräväinen was rather caught off guard. He was far from thrilled, but he was surprisingly understanding.

“Does this have anything to do with that young auror Abbott sent to train with us?” he asked.

Sebastian hardly needed to answer when his stained cheeks did so for him.

The older wizard smiled. “I thought it might.”

“I know you probably think I’m just a lovesick fool,” Sebastian said. He admired the man, and his opinion mattered to him.

“Yes, I do,” he replied bluntly. His white moustache crinkled as he smirked. “It’s a wonderful thing, to be young, dumb, and in love, isn’t it?”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed in both confusion and contemplation. “I suppose so, Sir,” he said tentatively.

Teräväinen patted Sebastian’s shoulder before giving it a firm squeeze. “Can I give you a parting word of advice?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sebastian said. He never would’ve denied his superior the opportunity, but he was additionally feeling rather wistfully eager to hear the man’s final advice.

“Don’t grab a girl’s bum to get her attention. She’ll always appreciate it more if you’re just up front with your feelings, especially when they’re hard to admit,” he said.

Invented bum-grabbing aside, Sebastian felt that the sage words would’ve served him much better approximately ten days ago. Still, he resigned to take the lesson forward with him. No more stupid stunts. Just being honest.

“And find out what stupid little gesture makes her melt, and never stop doing it,” Teräväinen added. “For my wife, it’s flowers. I bring her some every weekend. They’re always wilted by Wednesday, but I’ll be damned if her smile doesn’t light up the room when I walk in with a fresh bouquet.”

Sebastian smiled at the soft-hearted man. “I will, Sir,” he promised. He’d never let him know if MC never gave him the chance. It might crush him even more than it would Sebastian.

The fuzzy warmth in his chest turned to dread when he realised they were back in front of the office door. Sebastian had no idea whether Niko had gotten the address and gotten out. He would never forgive himself if he got the lad fired for helping him. As the department head opened his office door, Sebastian spotted a shimmer of light inside.

“Wait!” Sebastian blurted out in panic.

Teräväinen looked back at him with a raised brow. “Something else you needed, Sepe?”

“I–I just–” Sebastian stammered, focusing desperately on not letting his eyes slide back toward Niko’s disillusioned form. He surged forward, nearly knocking the older man down as he flung his arms around his middle.

“Oh,” Teräväinen said, stunned.

“I’m going to miss you, Sir,” Sebastian said, his voice slightly muffled in the man’s work robes.

Teräväinen patted Sebastian’s back. “We’ll miss you around here too, son,” he said. “I sincerely wish you all the best.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Sebastian said as he stepped back. Niko had slipped out of the office and around the corner.

Teräväinen nodded. “You take care of yourself.” He cleared his throat before heading into his office.

Once the door clicked shut, Sebastian took a moment to wonder if he would ever see him again before hurrying down the corridor to find Niko.

“Did you find it?” Sebastian asked in an urgent whisper as they walked back toward the exit.

“Yes, but…” Niko said hesitantly.

Sebastian tilted his head. “What is it?”

Niko held out a manila folder. “It doesn’t have her address. Just the one for the DMLE.”

Sebastian snatched up the file and flipped through it. “You’re sure it wasn’t in here?”

Niko’s expression hardened as he glanced over at Sebastian. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sebastian huffed as he snapped the file shut. “It means that if you’re trying to get me to stay by sabotaging me, I’ll–”

“I’m not! There’s no address! I can’t believe you’d even accuse me of that! I risked my neck to help you, Sepe!”

Niko was fuming, and he’d started walking much faster – presumably in an attempt to get away from Sebastian, who just sped up to keep pace.

“No, I know. I’m sorry,” Sebastian said quietly, his anger rapidly fading to guilt.

Niko’s eyes darted to the side as he observed him warily.

Sebastian chewed his knuckle as he tried to come up with an alternative plan. “I can just go to the DMLE on Monday and see if she’ll talk to me. She’ll probably just have me kicked out, but it’s worth a shot. Maybe I can ask for Natty, instead. She might be more amenable. Unless MC’s already told her everything. If she hasn’t yet, she probably will by Monday if they ended up living together like they planned.” Sebastian dropped his head into his hands. “Damn! If only I had Ominis on my side. He could talk to MC. They’ve always had a way of convincing each other.”

Sebastian sighed before halting suddenly.

“That’s it!” he said triumphantly, making Niko jump. “I can still make it work! I’ve gotta go.”

Sebastian turned on the spot as he tried to get his frazzled mind to recall which direction the exit was.

“What? Teräväinen gets a goodbye hug, but I don’t?” Niko asked wryly.

“Sod off,” Sebastian replied, but he pulled the younger aurori into a hug anyway.

Niko then held Sebastian out at arm’s length by his shoulders. “You take care of yourself, Sepe,” he said with mock gravitas.

Sebastian laughed and shoved his friend’s hands off him. “It’s a good thing you’re such a prat or I might actually be sad to leave you.”

“I’ll miss you too, buddy,” Niko replied with vastly more sincerity.

“Come visit, yeah?” Sebastian asked.

Niko smirked. “If you ever get an address.”

Sebastian apparated to his flat to pack his things. He fit everything into a trunk with an extension charm on it, and then added a featherlight charm before shrinking it down. His whole life fit in his pocket. Save his sofa. He hit that with a reductor curse and vanished the dust that remained.

He signed and sealed a parchment breaking his lease at the end of the month and slipped it through the slot in his landlord’s door. It was too late at night to apply for a portkey. The transport office wouldn’t open again until Monday. He fished a pepper-up potion out of his trunk, downed it, and prepared to be incredibly stupid.

He apparated to Stockholm. It was a hell of a jump. Sebastian was already tired from getting little sleep the last two nights – or two weeks, really. Despite the potion, apparating was exhausting. He leaned against a light post and panted to catch his breath. Once he could breathe without heaving his whole chest, he raised his wand and apparated again. This time to Gothenburg.

Sebastian stumbled to the ground as he popped into a dimly lit shipping yard he’d visited on a case once. The tarmac tore at his knees and palm. He had clutched his wand protectively to his chest to ensure it didn’t get damaged. Sebastian fished through his bag and took a wiggenweld just in case. It wouldn’t fix him if he splinched himself, but it could help if the stress of long-distance apparition was doing internal damage. It took almost thirty minutes for his head to stop spinning.

Once it did, Sebastian apparated to Stavanger. Niko had a grandmother who lived there. They’d visited her for a long weekend over a year ago. Sebastian threw up in her bushes before collapsing on the lawn. He was pleased to find that, while frozen, the ground wasn’t snow-covered. As he lay there feeling his consciousness wax and wane, he hoped it wasn’t due to blood loss from some injury he had yet to detect. He tried to take an assessment of his body, but all he could do was lie there for an inordinate amount of time.

Eventually, he dragged himself to a sitting position and assessed his body for wounds. He found none. He got to his feet, swayed, and then stilled. He took a few steps to ensure he wouldn’t collapse again, and then he apparated to Feldcroft – the longest jump yet.

Sebastian groaned as he stumbled backwards into the stone wall surrounding the town’s well. His wand arm had a searing pain lancing up it. He’d splinched it. Blood was soaking through his sleeve down to his elbow. He cast a left-handed coagulation spell to stem the flow. His head swam as he pushed off the wall, and he almost toppled back over. He had to catch himself on the well again.

The air was cold and smelled like iron. The town was quiet as it was the early hours of the morning. The calm contrasted sharply with the pain screaming in his arm. It felt like the bone had been split like a log. Sebastian groaned as he stumbled toward a familiar home. He prayed to the gods that Ominis hadn’t moved.

Sebastian steadied himself with a hand on the door frame before lifting it to knock heavily on the thick wooden door. His other arm hung useless at his side, his hand growing colder in the winter air, freezing along the trickle of liquid creeping down it. There was an extended silence before Sebastian could hear shuffling within. Eventually, the door swung open to reveal a very groggy Ominis in his night clothes.

Holding his wand aloft, Ominis’s eyebrows drew up together. “Sebastian?” he asked.

“Hey, Ominis,” the bedraggled wizard replied in a panting, anxious voice. His heart was racing, and his breathing was increasingly laboured. He was so nervous that he felt he might pass out.

Before Ominis could reply, Sebastian collapsed forward through the doorway, just barely missing the blind wizard. He hit the floor with a heavy thud.

When Sebastian came to, he was lying on a couch. His cloak and the top half of his clothes were gone. There were dittany leaves wrapped around his right arm. Ominis was sitting in a nearby chair.

Sebastian groaned as he sat up. A potion appeared in front of his face.

“Drink,” Ominis ordered, his tone cold.

Sebastian took the vial from him and downed the crimson-coloured blood-replenishing potion. It slid down his throat, coating it like oil and leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. But his headache eased and his head stopped swimming.

“I fucked up,” Sebastian said as he set the empty vial on the table in front of him.

“You got yourself splinched,” Ominis observed as he sat back in his chair. His expression was unreadable.

“I meant everything else,” Sebastian said dismally. “The dark magic. Leaving the three of you. Not staying after Anne…” He still couldn’t say it. “And the last two weeks with MC.”

Ominis was stone-faced. “You’ve certainly made a lot of mistakes,” he agreed. “MC told me about some of the recent ones.”

Sebastian hung his head in shame. “I’ve been so stupid,” he said, his frustration with himself only increasing.

“It certainly sounds like it,” Ominis replied. “Capping it off by apparating here from Finland. I don’t know how you didn’t get yourself killed.”

“I didn’t do it all in one go. I broke it up,” Sebastian explained.

Ominis frowned. “You’re still lucky it wasn’t worse. Your arm should be fully healed in another hour or so.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian said sheepishly.

Ominis stood. It was only then Sebastian noticed a young runespoor was wrapped around the blond’s shoulders. “I wasn’t going to let you bleed out in my home, was I? But that doesn’t mean you’re welcome here. I expect you to leave once you’re fit to travel.”

Sebastian’s pulse spiked. Ominis was turning him away? “What?” Sebastian blurted out much more harshly than he would have intended.

Ominis did his best to glare down at him; his gaze was only slightly off-target. “I don’t know whether you came here to try to reform our friendship or just to get my help with MC, but I can assure you I’m not interested in either.”

A lump formed in Sebastian’s throat. He tried to talk. To plead. But the words were caught.

“Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt her?” Ominis asked. He didn’t even sound angry – just pained. “How much you keep hurting her?”

“Yes,” Sebastian rasped. He had to work hard to keep from letting tears well up in his eyes. “I’ve been awful. I know I have. I’m sure she’s told you.”

“She didn’t tell me everything, but she told me enough to know I don’t want you near her again,” Ominis replied.

Sebastian swallowed hard. “I understand.”

“That makes one of us,” Ominis said wryly. “I don’t know why you bothered coming all this way. You almost killed yourself to get here. It doesn’t add up.”

“How much did MC tell you?” Sebastian asked.

Ominis’s expression grew cagey. “A fair bit, I expect. Making her stay with you and being a general git the whole time.”

“That’s hardly the half of it,” Sebastian replied with an attempt at humour.

Ominis’s brow arched. “Oh?”

The man had always had a thirst for gossip. He knew everyone’s business back in school, including most of the professors. Sebastian couldn’t help but think that it could be his in with Ominis.

“I could fill in the gaps,” Sebastian offered.

“It’s hardly my business,” Ominis replied, feigning indifference as he focused his attention on the snake. He lifted a hand and let it slither down his forearm, around his wrist, and between his fingers.

“Maybe you’re right. I doubt MC would want to recount everything to you. I just thought you might want to know the whole story,” Sebastian said casually.

“Well, it could be good the have the full picture,” Ominis said as he stroked the snake’s head gently. “To understand what MC has been going through, I mean.”

Sebastian suppressed his smile, even though Ominis wouldn’t be able to see it.

Ominis sighed. “Go on, then.”

Sebastian had a brief moment of panic when he realised he was about to admit every mistake he’d made over the last two weeks to Ominis. Why had that seemed like a good idea? “Just let me get through the whole thing before you hex me, okay?” Sebastian said.

“I’m sure I can manage that,” Ominis replied calmly.

Sebastian swallowed down his nerves. “Well, we just kept clashing. I first learned she was coming to Finland when my boss asked me to show her around since we’re both Brits. I convinced the lead for the training to have her stay with me, too, which she obviously wasn’t happy about. We had to duel for the training, and when she beat me, she said I was worthless without dark magic. I was so mad and hurt, and I think I wanted to hurt her back. I brought these women back to the flat–”

“Sebastian,” Ominis said reproachfully.

“I know,” Sebastian said, wincing. “And I didn’t put up a silencing charm, because I wanted her to hear us going at–”

“Sebastian!” Omins interjected, aghast.

“I know!” Sebastian said. “Believe me, I do. Because MC did hear us, and I felt terribly about it because I think it did hurt her. I didn’t actually want to. I was just upset she’d hurt me. And she got back at me by fucking some prick in my bed the next–”

Ominis’s jaw dropped. “Sweet Salazar, in your–?”

“Yes! So, I felt even worse, naturally. And then she told me I was the worst mistake she’d ever made after I’d finally gotten my head on straight and decided to ask her out properly. I got a bit sloshed and brought another woman back–”

“Sebastian…” Ominis had his head in his free hand now.

“I know!” Sebastian insisted. “MC interrupted it before it could really even go anywhere, and the witch left livid because she thought I was some cheating bastard. I feel like one, honestly.”

“I wonder why?” Ominis spat sarcastically.

“MC had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with me!” Sebastian replied defensively. “I’m not saying it was right, but I just…didn’t want to feel like no one would ever want anything to do with me. It was a moment of weakness. But I was still drunk and made it worse by trying to convince her to sleep with me.”

“The same night?” Ominis demanded, looking thoroughly scandalised.

Sebastian pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes as if trying to block out the image. “It was approximately five seconds after the other woman left,” he admitted.

Ominis didn’t even bother chiding him again, apparently considering Sebastian a lost cause.

“MC ended up not coming home the next day, and I spent the whole night looking for her. It turned out she’d just gone to a hotel. I convinced her to talk with me, but then my mate ruined it by saying something stupid that made her think I just saw her as some sort of conquest. She was gone when I got home, and she ended up bringing someone back to the apartment later that night, instead. I tried to act like it didn’t bother me, but then I interrupted them when they were snogging on the sofa and he was about to undress her. We fought and apologised and cried. Well, mostly I cried. And then we…Well, we slept together.”

“‘Slept’ together?” Ominis asked incredulously.

Sebastian glowered. “We fucked. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Not especially, no,” Ominis replied sternly. “And you ran away again, and now you’re here to grovel for her to give you another chance?”

“No!” Sebastian growled. “I didn’t run. Neither did she. Until she did, I mean. We woke up together. I made breakfast. She agreed to stay for the weekend. I thought we were finally okay, and then she just vanished mid-sentence last night because she never actually intended to stay. I mean, clearly she freaked out. But…I know she still loves me. And I just want one more conversation to try to convince her it’ll be different this time. That I’m not going to hurt her again. That I really love her.”

Ominis folded his arms across his chest. “Convince me,” he said.

Sebastian blinked at him. “That…that I love you?” he asked.

Ominis rolled his eyes. “No, that you love MC, you pillock! Convince me you’re not going to hurt her again.”

Sebastian did his best. He explained how he finally realised that MC had been right about dark magic. That he’d renounced his dark ways years ago. That he understood how much his rash actions hurt MC, and that he never wanted to be responsible for causing her pain again. He tried to explain how he’d felt finding MC with another bloke. How scared he’d been when she didn’t come to the flat that night. How shattered he was when she just vanished right in front of him. How badly he’d missed her over the years. How much he loved her. How he couldn’t stand being without her again. By the time he was done, the sun was peeking in through the windows.

“You two are my family. I was stupid to leave. I tried to forget everything and start over, because I knew I couldn’t fix what I’d done to you two. But there’s always been something missing. I won’t blame MC if she doesn’t want me, but I hope she’ll at least let me be around. I just want to come home.”

Sebastian had no energy left to guard his emotions, and they were threatening to spill over.

“I swear I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think I could make MC happy,” Sebastian continued. “That’s why I left after the funeral. I was so broken then, I…I would’ve taken MC down with me. I never could’ve forgiven myself for that. She had so much going for her – graduating with top marks, the auror academy, you, Natty. She would’ve dropped everything to try to help me. And either I would’ve let her or broken her heart worse when I left anyway.”

Ominis didn’t say anything. He just stood up and deposited the snake in a bin full of its siblings before grabbing a quill and parchment.

“What are you doing?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m writing MC to come here so you can talk to her,” Ominis said simply.

The next several hours waiting for MC’s reply were excruciating. Despite his exhaustion, Sebastian couldn’t rest due to the anxiety. Sebastian kept checking his clothes for wrinkles or remnants of blood he’d scourgified out of them, even as Ominis kept him occupied catching him up on his life the last few years. He had poured himself into rescuing animals – mostly magical snake breeds – ever since Anne’s passing. It wasn’t lost on him that helping the creatures was a rather direct replacement for the time he had spent caring for his infirmed wife.

Sebastian had just made his third cup of tea when the door to the cottage opened suddenly. Just then, the little owl finally returned. Sebastian couldn’t immediately see who had walked in from his place in the kitchen, but he recognised her voice.

“Knew I should’ve sent a patronus,” MC said genially.

Sebastian could see Ominis send her a bemused look before reading the note Pixie had brought him. Ominis chuckled.

“Where’s Poppy?” MC asked as stepped inside and hung up her cloak.

Sebastian’s heart started pounding at the sight of her. He’d seen her less than a day ago, but he wasn’t sure how she would feel about seeing him there. Especially after Ominis told him the pretence under which he had invited MC to the cottage. Ominis had made no mention of Sebastian. Instead, he had asked MC to visit him, the snakes, and Poppy, who had evidently been helping with the snakes rather frequently.

“Actually, I’m going to go to hers,” Ominis said casually.

“Oh,” MC said, sounding surprised. “Shall I come with you, then?”

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” Sebastian interjected, feeling sick at the idea of her immediately leaving again.

MC looked over her shoulder, gaping when her eyes landed on him. Her head whipped back toward Ominis. “You lying bastard!” she growled.

“He came to me and asked for help getting you to talk to him. I think you should hear him out,” Ominis said simply.

MC scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I already heard him out. It didn’t lead anywhere good.”

Ominis sighed. “Look, I know you’re scared, MC. I know better than most the reasons you have not to give him another chance. But I also know better than most how much you two loved each other – and how hard it is for love like that to fade. I can’t have the love of my life back, but I won’t let you regret giving up on yours without weighing it fully.”

Ominis really was pulling out all the stops. Sebastian felt a deep gratitude toward his best mate for how dedicated he was to helping him.

MC looked misty-eyed. “I can’t believe you’re playing the dead wife card on me,” she sniffed.

“Only because I love you,” Ominis said earnestly as he grabbed his cloak. “I’ll be back in two hours. Either waythis goes, I trust you two not to destroy my home.”

Sebastian could feel his face heat at the implication.

MC rolled her eyes as Ominis left. Sebastian watched her as she turned back toward him, ready for her to hex him, scream, or just apparate away. She just stared at him, clearly waiting for him to make the first move.

“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian said earnestly. He didn’t know how to express the depths of his regret for his behaviour. He set his tea on the counter and walked over to her. She began to back away as he drew near, and Sebastian froze while trying to ignore the pang in his gut. “This isn’t how I wanted things to be between us.”

MC said nothing, though her gaze seemed slightly less wary.

“I should’ve been honest with you from the start instead of playing games and trying to manipulate you. I was too much of a coward to just admit from the jump that I never stopped being in love with you,” he said. “I spent years trying to become someone you could be proud of. Someone who could love you like you deserve. I thought that meant giving up dark magic and doing something good with my life. But I clearly have a lot to learn about how to treat you. And I know this probably doesn’t seem like a step in the right direction, but I genuinely didn’t know Ominis was going to lie to get you here.”

“You really gave up dark magic?” she asked, eyeing him sceptically.

“I haven’t touched it since Anne died, and I’m never going to again,” he promised.

MC rolled her eyes, and her posture stiffened. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

“Really?” he shot back, feeling a flare of frustration. It was an argument they’d had many times over the years they were together. “And are you referring to when you told Ominis I was done without consulting me in the catacombs? Or perhaps when I told Ominis I understood him wanting us to avoid it? I never lied about stopping.”

MC’s jaw tensed as she glared at him. She didn’t deny it, though.

“And I’m telling you now that I’m done playing games. I’m done running. Or hiding. Or whatever I’ve been doing the last two-and-a-half years,” he said. He wanted to hold her face and look in her eyes so she could see that he was telling the truth. “I’m not Sepe. He was a mask. A way to avoid owning up to my mistakes. But I can’t keep being him. I want to come home.”

“I’m not stopping you,” MC replied flippantly. “I’m sure Ominis would even let you stay with him.”

Sebastian gave in and stepped forward into the gap between them. He took her hands in his own and looking pleadingly into her eyes. “My home isn’t Feldcroft. It’s you. It’s always been you – since the day you spared me from Azkaban.” He stepped even closer and cupped her cheek in his hand. He needed her to hear him. “No one else has seen me and looked at what I’ve done and loved me anyway. Even Anne took a year to forgive me. And I know I broke your trust, and it’s okay if it takes years to earn it back. I just…I’m asking for a chance to prove that I’ve changed. I’m still not perfect, and I know I don’t deserve it, but I’ll spend every day earning it, and I just…I have to ask. I have to try to come home.”

Sebastian nearly broke as tears flowed down MC’s cheeks. He urgently began wiping them away, but they just kept coming. He felt awful. That wasn’t what he’d wanted. He hadn’t imagined pouring his heart out to MC could hurt her even more. He regretted coming. He should have stayed and bitten his tongue rather than burden her.

“I can’t let you break my heart again, Sebastian. I love you. I do. But I just can’t,” she said, sobbing. She wrapped her arms protectively around herself. Sebastian wanted to hold her tightly against him, but he felt it would only make things worse. He always just made things worse for MC. She loved him back, and he was still hurting her by being there. Evening knowing that, though, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Nor could he stop himself from trying to convince her to give him another chance.

“I know, love,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “I swear to you I won’t. I wish every day that I could redo that night. Stay with you. I was a coward and afraid that you still wouldn’t want me, and I ran. And it was the worst mistake of my life.”

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t entirely true. He hadn’t been afraid of MC not accepting him as much as he’d been afraid of making her life worse – as he’d told Ominis. However, he worried that admitting he would’ve been bad for her then would only increase her resolve not to take him back now.

Sebastian took a shuddering breath before continuing, “I’m so sorry that I can’t fix it. Especially now that I know how you must’ve felt when I was just…just gone. I would give anything to fix it if I could. But I promise it will never happen again. I’m not leaving. Not ever.”

Sebastian’s heart cracked as MC’s face crumpled. She sobbed even harder.

Leave. You’re just making it worse. Just leave her alone!

Sebastian was on the verge of walking away when MC choked out, “I’m sorry. I wish I could believe you.”

She fell back on the sofa behind her. She looked utterly miserable, and Sebastian couldn’t suppress the need to do something to fix it.

He knelt down on one knee in front of her and rested a hand on her leg. “Hey,” he said softly, using his other hand to wipe more tears from her face. “It’s okay. You don’t owe me anything. I–” He choked on his words, and he forced himself to smile. “I’ll be okay.”

MC shook her head, tucking her legs up protectively in front of herself. Sebastian’s hands fell to the couch on either side of her. “I want to trust you,” she said. “I want to give you another chance, but…I mean, you live in Finland. You’re an aurori. You–”

“No, I’m not,” he said, cutting her off.

She looked taken aback. “What?”

Sebastian chewed his lip, unsure whether the truth would just continue to make things worse. He had to tell her, though. “I told Teräväinen I quit. Effective immediately. Needless to say he wasn’t happy, but…I’m not going back to Finland. I told you: I’m not leaving you again.”

MC started crying again.

Fuck.

Sebastian moved to sit beside her and tentatively pulled her into a hug, waiting for her to tense or push him away. She didn’t. Instead, she let her head tilt to rest on his chest. Sebastian rubbed circles on her back, and she slowly calmed down.

“You’re…you’re really staying?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I am, love,” he vowed. “Probably right here for a while until I can find my own place – and a job.”

He laughed off his situation.

MC laughed, as well, and Sebastian instantly felt the tension in his body ease. She sniffed as she wiped her drippy nose. “I happen to have an in with the aurors at the DMLE,” she said.

“Do you now? Well, I do have some relevant experience.” he joked back. He felt elated by the idea that she would use her influence to help him. That had to mean something, right?

“On both sides of the job,” MC quipped.

“Oi!” he said, poking her side. “Too soon, darling.”

He said it light-heartedly, but he genuinely couldn’t take thinking about his former investment in the dark arts. It had started the whole mess. It had cost him so much. If he dwelt on it now, he would break down.

“Sorry,” she said earnestly as she snugged back against him.

He pressed a kiss to her head as he held her tighter to his chest. He felt she was the last person who should be apologising to him.

“It’s all right,” he assured her. “I’ve missed your teasing.”

She lifted her head again. “I’ve missed teasing you,” she said, giving him a cheeky grin. “In all sorts of ways.”

Sebastian chuckled, but his pulse spiked at her suggestive tone. “Funny enough, I noticed that,” he replied drily. “For the record, I much prefer you walking around in lingerie to riding some ponce on my couch.”

“You seemed to be pretty into it,” she argued.

“I was fucking livid. I just didn’t want you to know it bothered me,” he said. “But I lost it when I saw you were wearing my lingerie.”

“You’re welcome to model it anytime,” she teased before letting her feet fall back to the floor and shifting to face him.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant,” he groused, and she giggled. He considered staying silent so he didn’t ruin the moment, but he needed to ask the question relentlessly needling in the back of his mind. “Where does all this leave us?”

“I think it’s worth giving us another shot,” she said before smirking at him. “I mean, you did abandon your whole life for me. I suppose that shows a certain level of commitment.”

He felt lighter than is he were soaring on a broomstick. “Yeah?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a shy grin. “But we should take it slow.”

“I can do slow,” he promised quickly. He could do glacial if it meant being with her. “How about dinner tonight in London? I’ll make us a reservation somewhere.”

“That sounds perfect,” she replied.

She looked so genuinely happy that Sebastian’s heart nearly burst in his chest.

“Brilliant!” he said, beaming at her. He leaned in before catching himself. “Does slow still involve kissing?”

“Slow definitely still involves kissing,” MC replied before pulling him to her.

Sebastian felt drunk. He could barely think. The only thing he knew was how happy he was that MC was there with him and how good she felt against his lips and under his hands. He pressed her back into the couch as he kissed her even more deeply. His lips moved slowly over hers, and he tugged her bottom lip between his teeth before tracing it with the tip of his tongue. She moaned into his mouth, and he moved so his whole body was flush atop hers, pressing them as close together as possible.

He kissed across her jaw and began trailing down her neck. Her skin was smooth and warm under his tongue. She let out breathy moans that made him want to rip her clothes off and ravish her. As Sebastian sucked a mark into her skin just above her collar bone, MC began to rock her hips against him. His lips broke away from her with a low groan that came from deep in his chest. Sebastian felt almost feverish as MC ground herself up against the erection pinned in his trousers.

MC gripped his robes as she pulled him back into a kiss. Her tongue slid into his mouth, meeting his own before pulling back and gliding across his lip. She began pushing his robes over his shoulders, and Sebastian shifted to let the fabric slide free from his arms. He tossed the robes to the floor, and then he began opening her blouse. He kissed down her sternum as he pushed each button through its hole, slowly revealing a central strip of her skin. She arched into his touch.

After ridding MC of her top and bra, Sebastian slid his hands over her skin from her hips up to her breasts. She moaned as he palmed them, her nipples forming stiff peaks as he massaged each mound with careful attention. Kneeling between her legs, Sebastian bent down and took one of her nipples into his mouth. He circled his tongue around it before sucking in earnest. That was still slow, right? Surely it still fell under the umbrella of “kissing” if he kissed her breasts. And he was moving rather slowly.

Yes, it was definitely slow.

MC was panting as another moan erupted from her throat.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” she keened as her hand laced tightly into his hair.

Sebastian smirked up at her and found MC’s gaze fixed firmly on him. He winked at her playfully even as a possessive instinct jolted in him.

Fuck Anton. No one else gets to taste these tits ever again.

MC was his and no one else’s.

“Mine,” Sebastian growled against her, somewhat unintentionally. “You’re mine, MC.”

“Yes,” she moaned. “I’m yours. Please, Seb!”

Burning heat was spreading through Sebastian. He was aching for MC. Objectively, it hadn’t been very long since they’d been together, but he’d thought he lost her. He was high on the relief that she was giving him another chance – one he was determined not to squander – and he craved her touch to ease the pain of the distance they’d had after she disappeared right in front of him.

Sebastian went back to kissing her lips, moving up and away from her cunt to keep himself from trying to rip the rest of her clothes off. She’d said slow. He wasn’t going to ruin things because he couldn’t keep it in his pants for ten bloody minutes.

MC was trying to kill him, apparently, because the moment he was hovering over her again, she wrapped her legs around his hips and returned to writhing against him. He let out a pained groan, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands balled into fists in the cushions. Her core was hot against his length, and the friction was maddening. He could imagine how wet she’d gotten from rubbing on him, and his hands clenched tighter as he imaged rutting his cock against her drenched folds.

MC broke their kiss, panting as she pulled back to look at him. Sebastian forced his eyes back open when she pulled away. Her eyes were filled with a desire that burnt right through him.

“I need you,” she keened before attacking his neck, marking the curve where it met his shoulder like he had above her collar bone.

His skin stung as she bit into it – pain and pleasure at the same time – but it was soon soothed with the wet glide of her tongue.

Sebastian’s willpower crumbled as he crushed her into the cushions, thrusting his clothed cock against her core. MC dissolved into a whimpering mess.

“Fuck! Yes! Please, Seb! Please!” she cried.

Her hands came down and began fumbling with his trousers.

“I–But you–Slow,” Sebastian stammered, utilising his last ounce of reason.

All her movements stilled, and she drew away from his neck. She looked up at him with wide eyes like a frightened rabbit. “Right. Yes,” MC said soberly, and Sebastian was already cursing himself for speaking up. “We…we should take it slow.”

Sebastian cupped a hand to her face and stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. He didn’t want MC to think for even a second that he hadn’t wanted to continue. She bit her lip, and he wanted to drag it back out with his thumb and bite it for her. The uncertainty in her expression suddenly turned to resolve.

“We can…you know…go slowly,” she said in a low voice as she flattened her palm against the front of his trousers.

Sebastian’s brow raised of its own accord, and MC smirked up at him. She unfastened his trousers and dipped her hand into them to wrap around his cock. Sebastian’s forehead fell against hers as he groaned.

“Gods, I missed you,” he said.

MC chuckled. “We had sex less than 48 hours ago,” she replied in a teasing tone.

He lifted his head so he could meet her eye. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” he said seriously. “I love you so much, MC. I can’t lose you.”

MC’s expression melted. “I love you, too, Sebastian,” she vowed, still stroking him.

It sparked something in him, and he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand out of his trousers. He laced his fingers with hers, pressing her hand into the sofa above her head as he kissed her breathless. He stripped his trousers off along with his pants before setting on ridding MC of her remaining clothing.

When he was laid out on top of her once more, he relished the heat of her body seeping into his skin. He could feel her on nearly every inch of him even before his hips starting rutting against hers. His cock nestled along her centre, nudging her open as he glided against her, coating his shaft in her slick. She moaned every time the head of his cock ground against her clit, and each sultry sound sent a jolt of pleasure into the base of his spine.

Sebastian didn’t rush forward. He luxuriated in the feeling of her wet cunt against him. He tasted the salt on her skin as he devoured her neck. He memorised the scent of her shampoo as he nuzzled against her. He was almost vibrating with arousal when the head of his cock caught at her entrance as he thrust his hips forward once again. MC’s nails bit into his shoulders as she arched into him, a wanton moan pouring from her lips.

“Please,” she whimpered, clearly as keyed up as he was.

Sebastian pressed in, breath shuddering as he sank into her heat and stretched her open. “Gods, you feel so bloody good,” he groaned, his hips already moving but languidly so.

Despite the leisurely pace he set, Sebastian was far from relaxed. He wanted nothing more than to abandon self-control and pound into MC until he came so hard he couldn’t see. He wanted her. He needed her. But she’d asked for slow, and he’d give it to her.

He tangled one hand into her hair at the nape of her neck, holding her forehead pressed to his, as his other hand dropped to rub deliberate circles on her clit. He could feel her body coiling tight under him, and he knew she was feeling each drag of his cock through her as acutely as he was.

Sebastian felt like a dog whose owner had set a steak in front of it and told it not to eat it. Hyperfixated on how mouth-watering it smelled. Tapping into every reserve of discipline to hold back from devouring it. He could look and sniff and lick, but he couldn’t sink his teeth in. MC had practically asked him to edge himself in her cunt.

He looked down to the curves of her breasts, bouncing lightly as he rocked into her. The way they moved was perfection, beautiful and obscene at the same time. His gaze dropped lower to where their bodies were joined – where her cunt was clinging to him on every pull out of her before he dove into her heat again. He pulled all the way out once just to watch the head of his cock nudge her back open.

“Look at you,” Sebastian rasped as his eyes trailed back up to hers. “You’re so beautiful, MC. So perfect.”

“Gods,” she groaned. “I–You–Oh, Seb!”

Her eyes rolled back as her nails clawed at him, one hand at his back and the other at his scalp. He smirked at his incoherent witch. He kissed her as he sped up the circles on her clit. She moaned into the kiss before taking a sharp breath in through her nose. Her tongue dove desperately into his mouth as if she might die if she couldn’t taste every inch of him. Then, it was gone just as quickly, and she bit down on his lip as her body trembled under him.

Sebastian’s hand tightened in her hair as he felt her cunt squeezing him in a death grip.

“Oh! Fuck, Seb!” she keened in a quavering voice, followed by a flood of additional curses.

She looked utterly gorgeous as she came for him. Sebastian tried to keep fucking her through it, but his hips stuttered to a halt as his own orgasm tore through him with little warning. He’d been on the edge, sure, but not that close until the sight and feeling of her falling apart suddenly catapulted him over that precipice. He pulsed within her, painting her cervix with his seed as she continued to shutter around him. It was like electric jolts of pleasure were being sent up his spine. Sebastian kissed her again as the final waves rocked through him, and then he collapsed boneless on top of her, nuzzling into the curve of her neck.

They both lay there panting until they caught their breath enough to speak.

“Merlin, you’re incredible,” Sebastian said in awe, face still buried in her neck.

“You did pretty damn well yourself,” MC replied. “We should ‘go slow’ more often.”

Sebastian hummed in agreement. “Just give me five minutes.”

MC chuckled.

“All right, I mean ten,” he conceded.

MC started at that. “You’re serious?” she asked.

Sebastian picked up his head to show her his expression, which was very serious. “When have I ever only made you come once?” he asked.

He immediately regretted it as he vividly recalled that the last time they’d had sex in that house had been one-and-done, and then he’d bolted. Graciously, MC didn’t point it out.

Sebastian worried he might’ve overstepped ‘going slow’ until he saw MC’s eyes darken as she looked at him. “What did you have in mind?” she inquired.

He smirked. “It’s more fun if it’s a surprise, isn’t it?”

She chuckled before leaning up to kiss him. The ten minutes ended up being spent snogging on the couch. Once he was ready for the next round, Sebastian picked MC up as he got to his knees.

“Do I get to be on top for once?” she asked eager.

Sebastian scoffed. “You wish, love,” he said cheekily, to which she rolled her eyes.

He set her on her knees, facing the back of the couch before standing up behind her. He ran his hands down the outsides of her thighs as he leaned over her back.

“I’m going to show you what I wanted to do when I found you writhing on that feckless prick on my sofa,” he growled in her ear.

MC whimpered in anticipation.

Sebastian lifted her hips higher, forcing her to lean into the back of the sofa. He stroked his fingers between her legs, feeling his seed coating her cunt and thighs. His witch coated in his semen. He slid his hand forward to tease her clit, and she started moving her hips back against him. He alternated stroking himself and palming her arse with his other hand. Once she was on the verge of begging, he slid into her in one go.

MC gasped as he filled her.

Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk. “I’d have slipped into your tight little cunt just like that.”

She let out an unhindered moan. “Gods, I wish you would’ve.”

Sebastian started rocking his hips. He didn’t go fast, but he was thrusting hard into her. “Yeah?” he asked. “You’d have liked that? Making that git you picked up watch me fuck you senseless?”

MC just moaned again in response as Sebastian kept snapping his hips into her.

He remembered the way she’d stared at him while on top of another man. Sebastian had no intention of ever letting anyone else touch her again, but he’d be lying if he said the image didn’t still give him a thrill. Even when she’d been in the midst of things with someone else, she had still been his.

Sebastian couldn’t resist speeding up his pace. His hands dug into MC’s hips as he pounded into her, while she dissolved into a puddle of pleasure.

“Oh! Right there, Seb!” she keened.

“Like that?” he asked as he targeted the same spot. He already knew the answer.

“Fuck,” she groaned. “Yes! Gods, yes!”

Sebastian was in the middle of demanding she beg if she wanted him to keep going and let her come when a voice called out over his.

“I gave you two one rule!” Ominis boomed before slamming the door behind him.

Sebastian jumped back, slipping out of MC as he scrambled to grab something to cover himself before remembering that Ominis is blind. MC also rushed to get dressed as she wisely went to the other side of the sofa to put it between her and the irate wizard.

“Ominis,” she said, clearly attempting a pleasant tone, but her nervousness was quite obvious. “You’re back early.”

The blond’s scowl deepened. “I’m thirty minutes later than I said I’d be.”

“Oh,” MC said in surprise. She’d clearly kept track of the time as well as Sebastian had – which is to say not well at all.

“You two have defiled my sofa and stolen the innocence of my snakelets!” Ominis said. “You two could’ve at least had the decency to use the bedroom downstairs!”

Sebastian noticed that he was holding his wand out, but the tip was no longer glowing red. Ominis had clearly “seen” enough.

“Sorry, mate. We didn’t really mean to,” Sebastian said sheepishly.

Ominis rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure you just fell into her,” he said sarcastically.

Sebastian took a breath.

“Don’t answer that!” Ominis added quickly. He let out a sigh. “I assume this means you two are back together.”

“We are,” MC confirmed. Hearing her say it made Sebastian’s heart leap.

“Good,” Ominis said tersely. “Please try to refrain from fornicating in my home again for the customary two-and-a-half years.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll be married long before then,” Sebastian quipped, which made MC’s face go pink.

Ominis wiped a hand down his face. “Remind me why I helped this happen?”

“Because you’re a hopeless romantic and you want your best friends to be happy?” Sebastian suggested.

“Speaking of the hopeless romantic bit, is this a bad time to ask about you and Poppy?” MC prodded.

Ominis glared in her direction. It was, evidently, a very bad time.

MC eventually smoothed things over with Ominis. He even agreed to let Sebastian stay there – with some ground rules. They went to dinner in London, and Sebastian got them a hotel for the night because he couldn’t bear the thought of spending it without MC.

During the following week, Sebastian helped out with the snakes, or “snakelets” as Ominis called them. He met Martin, who was a retired magizoologist that had moved back to Feldcroft after decades of travelling for his career. He worked part time helping Ominis with the rescued animals. The old man was chuffed to work alongside a Parselmouth who could give him insight into the snakes’ thoughts and feelings.

MC helped Sebastian apply to work for the DMLE as an auror, though nothing much would happen with his application until after the new year. Natty threatened him not to get any ideas about stealing her partner away from her.

Much of the week was also spent in preparation for Christmas. Ominis hosted MC and Natty most years, and this one was to be no exception. It was, however, a bit fuller of a party than normal. Aside from all the increasingly-large snakes, Natty brought along Garreth, Martin joined in, and Sebastian was obviously there. In a surprise to everyone except MC, Poppy joined the festivities. Sebastian saw Ominis no-so-subtly drag MC off for a private conversation after he had greeted Poppy quite warmly.

They had an early lunch together that was a veritable banquet. Ominis supplied the main dishes. Everyone else brought sides. Garreth additionally supplied a surplus of booze – from Ogden’s Old to his own brews. They sang carols, played games, and MC and Poppy cooed over the now three-foot-long “baby” snakes. MC even managed to convince Natty to pet one – after Ominis confirmed that it promised not to bite.

Sebastian stole MC away from the group at the first opportunity. She gave him a questioning look as he pulled her into another room as soon as they’d both been eliminated from the current round of Exploding Snap. He just handed her a small box.

“We said we weren’t doing presents,” she whinged.

“I know,” Sebastian replied with a cheeky smile. “It’s not, really. It’s…Well, just open it.”

MC did, and she pulled out a little keychain with a single key.

“I found a flat,” Sebastian announced. “I’m not expecting you to move in right away or anything, but I wanted you to have your own key.”

MC looked stunned. “Already? How?”

“I was very motivated to have my own space,” he said as he stepped into her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I think you’ll agree that both of our current accommodations are lacking in privacy.”

MC smirked as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Their lips had barely touched when Natty called that they were starting a new round.

“Right on cue,” Sebastian quipped. He pressed a kiss to MC’s nose before taking her hand and leading her back to the living room.

Natty and Garreth had to leave relatively early to go visit the Weasleys. Poppy left shortly after to go see her gran. Ominis walked her out, returning after a suspiciously long amount of time for merely “seeing her off.” Martin also had to go to visit with his children. That left the trio sat around the crackling fire like the days when MC regularly snuck into the Slytherin common room.

“I feel like I should be trying to figure out the next Keeper Trial,” MC mused. She was tucked under Sebastian’s arm on the sofa.

“I’m just relieved that neither of you are trying to convince me to go in some cursed cavern,” Ominis replied.

“Now that you mention it, I’m sure we could find some trouble out in the forest,” Sebastian joked.

Ominis threw a pillow at his head with surprising accuracy. “Don’t even jest about that.”

Sebastian laughed as he snuggled the pillow with the arm not wrapped around MC. He looked from his best mate over to his girlfriend. “I’ve missed this,” he said with a small smile.

It was bittersweet being back for Christmas. It made Anne’s absence feel keener than it had in years, but he was still so grateful to be back with the two people he loved most in the world.

Ominis echoed Sebastian’s thoughts as he mentioned wishing Anne could be there to see the three of them back together.

“I’m sure she knows,” MC said confidently. “And knows how much we miss her.”

Ominis nodded, giving MC a watery smile.

“We should do something in her memory,” Sebastian suggested.

“I’ve got just the thing,” Ominis replied, hopping up from his seat. He rummaged through drawers in the next room before cutting back through on his way to the front door. “Come on, then!”

Sebastian and MC jumped off the sofa and followed Ominis out into the snowy weather. Fortunately, the flakes were just falling softly onto the already snow-laden ground.

Ominis laid out a row of what Sebastian instantly recognised to be fireworks. Anne had landed the three of them in detention for setting off fireworks in the Great Hall back in third year.

They stepped back to a safe distance, and then Ominis lit them all with a blasting curse. The fireworks rocketed into the air in sequence. They exploded into burst of whizzing comets, a large green and silver snake that slithered through the sky, a flock of shimmering doves, and even a unicorn that galloped through the air before swooping down through the town square.

Several houses peered out through their windows or braved the temperatures to come outside and watch. Small faces pressed against glass panes, watching in awe at the sky even as their breath fogged their view. Other children were cradled in their parents’ arms as they giggled and clapped.

“Look, Mommy! A dwagon!” one little girl said, pointing at the sky.

Sure enough, a sparkling, winged form soared high above the little town. It breathed out “flames” of sparks in front of it that glittered brightly before fading away.

The trio stood huddled together against the cold until the last of the fireworks fizzled out. Sebastian resolved that it would be a tradition they would repeat every year as he looked up at the cloudy sky. A twinkle of light from behind the clouds told him Anne agreed.

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #toxic relationship #bittersweet #mostly sweet though

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gurggggleburgle · 10 months

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As a writer/artist I sympathize and feel for Shang Qinghua so fucking much because I too understand the absolute horror of not knowing how you'll make bills and trying to pander to the algorithm and whims of the internet. Especially because I've done my hw on how online noveling pays shit for all but usually the top percentage and the man's 10k a day updates were probably not because he was so passionate about the project he couldn't stop writing but because of requirements and site mandates to be paid or keep relevant in the algorithm. Like Shang Qinghua clearly hated writing wife plots over story substance but they paid the bills. I don't doubt the holy mausoleum arc among other things was super long because wanted and needed it to be but was trying to milk for what it was worth. The longer he drew out the story the more likely he was to get licensing deals for adaptations because things tend to not get adapted once they're finished unless they reach a classic status. He had bigger plans for his book. He had themes and a moral. He had more in mind but he knew his audience were finicky incels that would move on if he stopped giving them what they paid him for. Man probably intended to use the fact he had an audience now to actually write something good and fulfilling only to die horribly. We never hear about graphic novel or animated adaptations, because if the existed SQQ would never shut up about them, so we gotta assume that as popular as PIDW made money but probably just a modest sum which had to hurt even more.

Man knew his book was shit. Knows it's shit. Understands that what he cut was stuff that would have made him happy but his readers who were there just for porn wouldn't give two flying dicks about and therefore was like fine. I no longer have all this work I spent forever on and only so many hours in the day. If it means I can keep the lights on and eat 2 meals a day instead of one and half a bag of sunflower seeds instead so be it.

Like man went, "yeah fuck my dignity as an artist. dignity doesn't pay my bills."

And i respect and feel that. Rock bottom is a soy sauce packet and a piece of bread you stole from the trash in the bakery department of a mid-tier grocery chain being your lunch and dinner for the day as you pray the suspiciously wealthy furries will finally give you money rather than just liking your work and asking for requests.

Rock bottom is writing porn you don't even like because for some reason a lot of your fanbase has a thing for feet and various other fetishes and you desperately need an extra $20 because of sudden expenses that overblew your budget.

#svsss #scumbag system #shang qinghua #svsss shitpost #scum villian self saving system #scum villain

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delilah705 · 2 months

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Sometimes, it feels like WWRG Knives kinda wants Reader to see, to experience danger. Whether to actually test himself on if he truly would risk himself to jump in and save Reader or to invest fear into them should they ever wander without him.

If Knives is fully for physically and mentally torturing his fellow twin brother just to prove a hypocritical point, then imagine how far he would go for his unhealthy relationship dynamics with poor Reader.

(He would absolutely take full advantage of our lack of knowledge, I would go as far to say that Knives himself wants to be the only one they stem their values and education from, because he's that controlling and paranoid over loosing them to anyone or anything.)

A cunning trail of manipulation, I suppose I should describe it. Just so he can hop in and destroy said dangerous threat and exhort more control over us. Just so we will have even more doubt about transversing the world around us, relay even more on Knives. He wants to be the center of everything and wants to be the deciding word over everyone else's. While Knives certainly will never want to be anything but independent, he wants his Reader to be completely dependent on him, it's a power-trip, a stroke of ego to hold such decision over someone's life and choices.

I honestly think he'd prefer it most that way even if it does end up hurting us more, sealing us in a mental handicap of manipulated isolation, where any and all events will never end up with a choice for us, not unless Knives 'allows' it to be so, knowing how fucking selfish he is, he always had a knack for destroying the very people he cares about even more then people he doesn't give more then 2 shits about.

XD Oh man, Knives is just the poster boy for toxic yandere boyfriend/husband in this fic I swear. Hero syndrome!! Okay, I didn't dwell on or actually address it much in the fic, but the fact that reader threatened to just leave him behind and live with Margie really burned him up inside. He was fuming. (XD Is this why he decided to leave the ship even though his leg wasn't fully healed? You be the judge)

Oh, yes! And while I never wrote it out, it's something you have to read between the lines for, the reason he's so rough with reader at times is because he's kinda taking his aggression out on her sexually: his frustrations towards humanity, and the way she makes him feel, and even his jealousy.

(XD Ding ding ding! We have a winner! (Oh, boy, now I'm wondering what means he would have went through to get her back if she'd left with Vash instead, and what he'd consider the punishment to be for that.) In fact,… I'd argue he's kind of already done that by keeping her away from humanity so long and convincing her there's no way there could ever be peace and harmony between Plants and humans. For the longest, he and Vash were her only sources of information. And the fact her and Vash went to that town so much and often and made friends and learned things there,… Let's just say maybe that town… <.< Might have been the uh, first place on his hit list.)

Her fear of being entirely alone in an empty world worked entirely in his favor in that regard. He is her "savior from loneliness" so to speak, especially with Vash now gone. Humanity was always the threat, but the introduction of that town really made it so. To his plans especially. Though,… Could that ending of him actually succeeding be a happy one, I wonder? He's such a hypocrite and so selfish in that regard, but the real question, I guess is would he ever change, even with reader's influence? Hm…

Ohhoho. He would. If he'd had it his way, that would have already been so. Even if it meant any knowledge beyond what he and Vash had would not be passed down onto her, he would have preferred it to all come from them, from the "superior breed". He's convinced humanity wouldn't have had anything of value worth teaching that they didn't already possess. It's true. :( So sadly so, because he's shut off his emotions, the things he deems that makes people weak, from the very people he cares about, thus hurting them in the process because he's so touchy in a way he won't admit, that he lashes out the moment he feels there's any threat to his fragile ego.

#Sfw #Ask #someweirdoreblogger #WWRG #Where Wild Roses Grow

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 3 years

Note

PLEASEE we need a part 2 of Draco arranged marriage smut with preg readerr😩❕

mixed with this request: hey, can i request a combo of smut, angst, fluff draco x fem reader where she’s his wife, but draco’s been very busy lately and she needs him, she thinks he doesn’t find her attractive anymore because they hadn’t had sex in a long time, but draco tells her that he still loves her and make love to her? sorry if this is weird, and only if you’re comfortable. anyways have a good day

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: 2.5k

warning(s): 18+, pregnant!reader, mentions of negative body image, mentions of weight gain, oral (female receiving), breast play, pregnant sex

a/n: this is actually part 3 to the arranged marriage draco series, so feel free to read the other two before this one if you haven't already! i love these ones so much. also my fbi agent probably thinks i'm a really kinky pregnant lady based on my search history while writing this but oh well.

part 1 / part 2

It had been almost two years since your arranged marriage to Draco Malfoy and a lot had changed since then.

Firstly, you two were very much happily in love. Your engagement and the first two weeks of your marriage had been awkward and tense, leading you to find pleasure in the arms of your ex. After an impulsive move to admit your mistake to Draco on the very same day, mixed in with some aggressive sex, you two had decided to give your relationship a real shot. It was the best decision either of you had ever made. And now, two years later, you could happily and honestly say it was a real marriage filled with love.

Secondly, Draco had fully taken over as the sole leader of the Malfoy’s family business. You still weren’t entirely sure what the business entailed even after he had explained it to you a dozen times, but you were still proud of him. He worked hard and that hard work was all for you and your growing family.

Oh, right.

The biggest change in your lives has been your pregnancy. It wasn’t exactly planned but it wasn’t exactly an accident either. The two of you had simply decided to let fate decide, and fate was deciding now. You were six months in and you were really beginning to show. It wasn’t the bump that was the problem, but your husband's reaction. Or non-reaction. You understood he was busy with work and more than likely tired when he finally made it to bed, but he had barely touched you over the past few weeks other than small kisses. You knew he loved you, there was no doubting that, but you were starting to have your doubts about his attraction towards you.

Which led to the current situation unfolding in your bedroom.

“Why are you wearing that to bed? You never wear that much clothing to go to sleep,” Draco asked, his face laced with concern as he stripped from his work clothes near the bottom of the bed.

You almost wanted to roll your eyes. Or scream. Because of course he noticed. He noticed everything. You settled on giving him a non committed shrug, but of course he wasn’t having any of that either.

He quickly rounded to the bed to sit down beside you. “Are you feeling alright?” He asked, already bringing his hand up to feel your forehead.

You quickly pushed his hand away and this time you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I feel fine,” you replied shortly, praying that he wouldn’t keep pestering you about it.

In truth, you were wearing a full set of pajamas to bed because you just didn’t feel attractive wearing your usual over sized shirts or skimpy, small sets anymore. You knew, rationally, that most of it was in your head, but his lack of libido for you lately wasn’t helping you feel much better about your current weight gain.

“Why all the clothing, then? Are you cold? I can turn the heat up if you’d like,” Draco continued, but he stood back up to continue changing.

“Draco, I said I was fine,” you insisted, barely keeping the annoyance out of your voice.

“Do you have a sexy set of lingerie underneath that you want me to find?” He asked, playfully now.

You scoffed. “Not that you’d fuck me if I did anyways,” you whispered under your breath.

But of course he heard you.

“What was that?” He asked, spinning back around to face you, his shirt half unbuttoned and his tie around his neck. Damn him for looking so good.

“I know you heard me. Don’t make me repeat it,” you replied coldly, rolling over so you didn’t have to face him any more.

“Y/N,” he called, trying to get your attention, trying to get you to turn back around. Once he realized that wouldn’t work, he rounded the bed so he could see your face. “Why do you think that?” He asked calmly, but you could see the desperate confusion all over his face.

“‘Why do I think that?’” You mocked, the question riling you up enough to force you to sit up. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you haven’t touched me in weeks. I know I’ve gained weight and I know I’m probably starting to look like a whale but-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cut you off, swiftly climbing onto the bed so he could be closer to you. “Darling, please calm down,” he pleaded softly, gently dragging you onto his lap so he could hold you. You let him move you easily, but you were still uneasy. He held you close and waited for you to calm down a bit and get settled before he started.

“First of all, you don’t look like a whale so let’s get that out of the way. You never have and you never will no matter how big this baby gets. You’re growing a child inside of you, darling. Please don’t be so hard on yourself for something you’re supposed to be doing right now,” he told you, absentmindedly stroking your growing belly. It was a new quirk he had picked up once you started showing - either of you started talking about the baby and suddenly his hand was on your stomach. The familiarity of the movement put you at ease and you leaned further into him.

“Secondly, I haven’t initiated anything because you were telling me how tired you’ve been. I didn’t want to push you into something you didn’t want or end up hurting you or the baby, so I didn’t try anything. I realize now that that was a mistake, because I hate that I made you feel this way, darling. I should have just asked. But please trust me when I tell you I’ve wanted you every day, same as it’s always been and always will be. Merlin, the past few weeks I’ve been going to bed and waking up hard enough to pound nails,” he admitted sheepishly, causing you to giggle.

Even the thought of him being hard had you clit throbbing and your body perking up. The past few weeks had left you desperate and aching despite the fatigue and other pregnancy symptoms wreaking havoc on your body. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you wanted him now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He finally asked, cutting off your train of thought.

You debated lying or even brushing off the question, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it unless he was certain you were being honest. Serious conversations called for honest responses.

“A couple of reasons I guess. You work hard all day and I know you’re tired by the time we get to bed, so I felt bad asking. And with the thoughts I was having it didn’t even really seem worth it to try anything because I thought you’d just shut me down,” you confessed, not even daring to look up at him.

“Darling, the day I say no to sex with you is the day my cock doesn’t work,” he said with a chuckle, but his hand came up to grab you under the chin to turn your head to face him. “I think you’re beautiful, Y/N. I have since the day I met you and everyday since. I don’t call you ‘my pretty girl’ for no reason. If you wanted me to make you feel good, you could have just asked me.”

You gave him a small smile, your first genuine one all day. But you jumped at the opportunity. “Even right now?” You asked bashfully, referencing the less-than-sexy pajamas you were wearing.

He didn’t even bother giving you an answer. On your next breath, he was pulling you into a heated kiss that you have been waiting weeks for. You both have been waiting if his enthusiasm was anything to go by.

Gently, so gently as if you might break if he was any rougher, he moved you both until you were laying flat on your back without breaking the kiss once. In mere moments he was stripping you bare, removing your layers until you were finally exposed to him. He didn’t give you a moment to be insecure, though.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, his dark eyes trailing over every inch of your body. You might have thought he was just feeding you compliments if you didn’t see the utter rapture in his eyes, but his look of lust was unmistakable.

You were breathless just from the way he was looking at you, equally stunned and turned on by the way he was devouring you with his eyes. But when he immediately ducked down to lick a harsh trail up your soaked slit, a moan of pleasure got ripped from your throat without hesitation. After weeks of nothing but self inflicted torture, feeling his tongue on you was an otherworldly experience.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he murmured against your aching clit before unleashing himself on you like a starving man. He started on your clit, giving it kitten licks and sucking it in between his lips until your legs were shaking. Eventually, he made his way down to your entrance to fuck you with his tongue, making you writhe against the sheets and practically scream his name.

“Cum for me, pretty girl. I can feel how close you are,” he demanded, his lips a caress against your sensitive skin as he worked you closer and closer to your release with his tongue.

He sucked your clit into his mouth one last time, and that was your undoing. You came with a scream, your back arching obscenely as wave upon wave of pleasure coursed through your body. Despite not having made you cum in weeks, your husband certainly did not disappoint. You doubted he ever would.

You could feel Draco staring at you as you came down from your high, and when you cracked your eyes open you were just as transfixed as he looked. His usually perfect hair was a mess, sticking up in odd places from the way you had mused your fingers through his locks. His lips were swollen and wet, in equal measure from the kisses you had been sharing and his exquisite ministrations on your still throbbing cunt. And his eyes were dark with lust, staring into yours like you held the answer to every question he ever had.

“Did that feel good, darling?” He cooed, his hands trailing possessively up your body as he raised himself to hover above you.

“I want more,” you told him honestly as he took your tender breasts in his hands, tweaking your nipples just to force a whine out of you.

“Keep making those pretty noises and we might be here all night,” he said with a smirk, his head ducking down to suck on the nipples he had just been playing with.

It felt so much better than it usually did, probably thanks to how sore they were. His tongue was soothing every inch of you and every movement caused another pulse of pleasure to go directly to your clit.

“Fuck, I think I can cum like this,” you gasped, pulling his head impossibly closer to your chest.

With graceful ease he doubled down on his actions, licking and sucking on your nipples with fervor as he slipped a hand down to play with your clit. Your body was in sensory overload as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, never once stopping what he was doing just to get you there.

You arched your back, suffocating him with your breasts as you reached your peak. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he worked you through it, his own moans vibrating against your sensitive nipples.

Draco wasted no time in stripping the second your breathing evened out, settling himself in the cradle of your thighs once he was back on the bed at lightning speed.

“Tell me if it’s too much. I don’t know how gentle I can be right now,” he said softly, a warning you’d probably ignore because you needed him inside of you just as badly as he did right now.

You could only nod back, your voice caught in your throat in anticipation. In one swift movement, he was buried inside you to the hilt, both of you giving strangled moans at the sensation.

He started slow, letting your body readjust to his impressive length and girth. You weren’t even sure which noises were yours and which were his, but you did know you were fighting not to roll your eyes back in your head in order to watch him work. He was clearly holding back, but his impeccable self control was shattering as he thrust inside of you.

You knew just how to break him.

“Fuck me like you mean it. Draco, please. I want to feel it in the morning,” you whined, your voice breathy from just his slow movements. You knew you’d be helpless to your own desire once he broke, but you knew it would be worth it.

He took a moment to look at you, an assessing gaze in his eyes. It was sweet that he didn’t want to hurt you, but that’s not what you needed or wanted right now. Far from it, really. He must have liked what he saw because from one breath to the next, you were screaming his name.

His next thrust was brutal, deep and hard just the way you were craving. You knew neither of you would last long like this, not with all the pent up arousal, but it was worth it to feel the powerful movements of his hips as he ruined you.

Despite his lack of control, he was still meticulous in the way he tore you apart. Slowly, he dipped his head down once more to suck a nipple into his mouth. Your back arched as you writhed under him, only pushing his cock deeper inside of you. Once you felt his fingers on your clit, you knew you were done for.

The world was a blur as your climax hit you, your vision and hearing almost nonexistent as he fucked you through it. It was only when you heard Draco let out his own ragged, breathless moan that you felt your body falling back into place underneath him while he released deep inside of you.

You both stayed like that for a time, your bodies still joined and close as you both came back down to earth. It felt almost impossible to catch your breath, but when he pulled out and wrapped you in his arms you felt your entire body settle into him. The silence that fell over the room was peaceful and content, but a stark contrast from what it had been mere minutes ago.

“Go to sleep, pretty girl. I’m staying home tomorrow and at this rate it’s doubtful we’ll ever make it out of bed,” he finally said, his promise coming with a smirk you couldn’t see from your angle but you knew was dancing across his face.

“I like the sound of that,” you conceded, slowly succumbing to the sleep you desperately needed after that, but the last thought you had before sleep took you was that you had never felt more loved, more cherished, more beautiful than right now in his arms.

#Draco Malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy smut #Draco Malfoy Headcanon #draco one shot #Harry Potter Smut #Harry Potter #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy drabble #draco x you

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swtki · 3 years

Text

Dancing Days - Edward Cullen x Reader Smut

Anonymous said: 19&24 on edward smut? love ur writing!

A/N: Thank you so much :) also I’m so happy everyone is h*rny for Eddy. I decided I want to explore more period times with Edward, changing his persona in a certain decade, but still ultimately being in the same universe as cannon. This will play into the readers character a tad bit.

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SWEARING, S*X, VAMPIRES, ORAL SEX (MALE RECIEVING), VIRGIN! EDWARD, NON VIRGIN READER, GENDER NEUTURAL READER, MENTIONS OF WAR AND DEATH.

19: “Fuck me like you want people to know”.

24. “Thing is, I’m a virgin”.

_______________________________________

I brushed my hair into its usual part, making sure I looked flawless. The year was 1976, I was a senior in Highschool. It was a wonderful time to be a teenager, no longer afraid that my friends would die in Vietnam. Even in my dinky little Washington town, the culture was becoming our own.

The Led Zeppelin record playing on my record player stopped suddenly, alerting me that I was no longer alone in my room. I turned, my expression soft as I saw my boyfriend, Edward.

“Whats up with you and this album? Everytime I come in, its always House of Th Holy on repeat.” I rolled my eyes, lifted the record in question off of the tray, and put it back snuggly in its case.

“I can’t help it, Ed. Robert just speaks to me. I’m sure you’re like that with Louis Armstrong.” I waved my hand, walking back to my mirror to finish getting ready.

“Maybe, but the music you listen to it’s...” Edward paused for a moment, sitting on my bed. “It’s suggestive, Y/N.” I turned to him, my eyebrow raised.

“Suggestive? What’s that supposed to mean?” I placed my hands on my hips, and waited for him to explain.

“Well, for one that one song says ‘Sipping booze’, I quite think that is blatant alcohol reference.” I looked at him, dumbfounded. Then, I started to laugh, and I walked over to him. Instinctually, he pushed his head into my chest, enjoying the comfort it brought him.

“I love you, but god are we from two different Mars.” He chuckled, sending a rumble through my chest.

At school, I was an average kid. Fair grades, many friends, many ex friends. When Edward was paired up with me in math, I got through his cold, stone skin. At first, he was annoyed when I would fuck off, leaving him to do the work himself. Understandable, and once I realized how rude I was, I stopped. I talked to him, prodded him truthfully. I would ask him once we started dating if he had noticed me previously, because I had never noticed him.

“Yes, I noticed that you were the only one who didn’t acknowledge me. Ironic I guess.”

A year into our relationship, I would never let him go unnoticed. We walked the halls, hand in hand. Our outlooks were so different when it came to life. He was modest, I was free spirited. Edward was different from my boyfriends previously, I didn’t want to fuck things up, and I refused to even risk it.

School went slowly that day, possibly because my head was focused on what I would ask Edward, my boyfriend of one year, about sex. About us and sex.

I hadn’t told him that I wasn’t a virgin, I was worried he would only want a virgin girl, after all they can never look at you disappointed and say “I’ve had better.” A definite plus. Many a nights I tried to imagine him, moaning completely under my control. I wanted him, but I didn’t know if he wanted me. Surely in 50 years he had found a good fuck. I worried that he would be into someone else, forever tied to a vampiress.

The end of the school day couldn’t have come sooner, my anxiety rising as I got into Edwards car, starting a long silent car ride. I tried to keep my mind off of it, an attempt to avoid the conversation until we were at my house. I kept my mind busy with the lush scenery outside of the passenger side window.

“So... I know you want to ask me, and I know the answers to what I would ask you.” He said blatantly, putting the car in park outside my front lawn.

“I don’t wanna talk out here Ed, lets go inside.” I swung my bag onto my shoulder. Thats the thing with Edward, I never have to say anything, just as long as I think it.

My house was empty, making it easy for Edward to follow me upstairs to my room. I shut my door behind us, then turned to him. Unsure of what to say, I breathed in deeply.

“How long have you known that I wasn’t...you know?” He smiled, sitting on my plush navy sheets.

“Y/N, I knew before I met you what I was getting into. Your ex had a lot of thoughts about that one night where you guys-”

“Oh my god okay ew.” A blush rose upon my face, and I saw Edward laugh as he watched my body fill with embarassment. “Well why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

“I figured if it needed to be brought up, it would be. You and I aren’t exactly a physical couple so I didn’t worry too much.” I walked over to my bed, taking a seat next to him.

“I see...I mean it wouldn’t be a big deal for me so if you want to...” I bit my lip at him, his gaze turned to the other direction.

“Thing is, I’m a virgin.” My expression went from a seductive look, to a puzzled one. I wondered if I had heard him correctly. “I’m old school, Y/N. It wasn’t like how it is now when I was human. People didn’t just have sex in highschool, unless they were married because the man was off to war. So, it hasn’t been on the menu for me. You’re the first girl I’ve dated in fifty years, you know. And no, there was no vampiress or anything.” I smiled.

“Well, I don’t wanna scare you or push it or anything. It’s just you know-”

“You want to touch me, to be touched by me.” his eyes trailed back to mine, looking deep into my soul.

“Yes, I want you, Edward.” I pressed my lips to his, pulling away jut as it got intense. I could feel his disappointment. “I want to...but I can’t let you down. Tomorrow night. I’ll call you and we can talk about everything we want out of it, I’ll give you a fucking fairytale, my love” I chuckled.

I called him that night as I had said I would. We talked about my first time, and everything I liked, followed by what he had seen on video, what he wanted to try, and his fears.

“I don’t want to kill you, darling.” He said.

“Then don’t. I won’t let you.” He laughed at me, enjoying my lack of seriousness.

The next night rolled along with a quick pace. I looked at the clock and saw that it was time for me to start getting ready.

I made myself look simple, a small bit of makeup and hair product, but otherwise just a tank top and jeans. Sometimes, dating an old fashioned guy was a pain in the ass. Always complaining about suggestive behavior. But other times, my shoulders counted as being half nude.

“You look stunning, as per usual.” Edward said, stepping into my room. He was tense and barely moved. “I don’t know what to do..what usually happens with it if I’m not the one doing everything.”

If he had any blood flow, he would have been blushing right about then.

“We don’t have to do anything you know. We can just lay down and watch a movie if you want to, I just want to make you happy, Edward.” I walked over to him and put a strand of his messy auburn hair behind his ear. Without hesitation, he pressed his forehead to mine.

“I want to, thats the part that’s been eating me away ever since I met you. I want to make you feel good, I just don’t know if I’ll lose it and-“ I cut him off with a kiss.

“Even if you break my pelvis into pieces, I’ll still be happy. I’m always happy when I’m with you.” we both smiled, and suddenly the thick tension that once filled the room vanished. “I’ll take care of you tonight, just as long as you’re doing it for you. I just need to know you’re doing this for you, and you need to be sure you wont roll over afterwards and hate me.” I said, my hand clasped in his marble one.

“I want you, Y/N. I have no doubts that I��ll want you afterwards, too.”

I pushed his head down, level to my own. Our kiss was deep, filled with a years worth of hunger. My hands tugged on his hair, making him whimper. Suddenly, I felt my feet lift off the ground as Edward carried me to my bed. With a soft thump, the plush sheets surrounded my body. It was a contrast of warmth on my back, and Edwards cool body on my top.

His hands were balled into fists, clutching my duvet as if his life depended on it. I pulled away, panting for air.

“Sorry, I forget you need air.” He smirked. I rolled my eyes in response.

“Well, its a shame you don’t. Because I intend on taking your breath away.” we both made small laughs at my remark.

“What now?” He looked at me for guidance.

“Get on your back.” I said.

We switched positions, he was now on the bottom. My legs straddled his torso, I sight he visably enjoyed. I slithered my hands up to his head, cupping his face as I kissed him again. My left hand left its post, reaching down to the buttons on his shirt.

I paused, looking up at him once I got to the last button.

“Does it...work like normal or...” He threw his head back and laughed.

“It doesn’t have spikes, I can assure you its just like a humans. But Emmet did tell me to pull out so...I’m kind of worried about the implications of that but-“ I leaned down to shut him up with a kiss.

His hands were still at his side, resting on the bed. I picked up his wrists, and placed them on the side of my thighs. He squeezed them lightly.

My hands roamed over his bare chest, cool to the touch. I lached my lips onto his neck, causing his back to arch below me. I could feel his excitement beneath me, it gave me a big self esteem boost. His hand reached along my waist, tugging at my shirt. His eyes lit up at the sight of my bare chest. He reached for me but I pulled away to slide down onto my knees.

He looked confused, like I had left him high and dry.

“Sit on the edge.” I said softly, my knees burning slightly due to the rough carpet underneath them.

He rid himself of the unbottoned shirt, slidding over to me once finished. My hands slowly stroked his thighs, he was desperate for some type of touch.

I smiled, tugging on his belt until it came undone. He stayed silent, looking at me like I was the only thing in the world. I unbottoned the trousers, tugging on them. He kicked them off and was left in his breifs.

“Is it okay if I..” I looked up at him and he nodded frantically. I palmed him over his underwear, feeling how hard he had gotten from kissing. My fingers latched onto the waist band, pulling them down to reveal a pale yet pink cock. It wasn’t too big, but deffinitley satisfactory. I ran my finger over the tip, earning a small groan from the vampire. My eyes trailed up to him, so I could see him when I took him in my mouth.

He let out a breathy moan, eyes focused on my mouth. His lips were parted ever so slightly. I bobbed my head, and grotesquely sexual sounds arose from my throat. I felt Edward move a strant of hair out of my face, he looked at me like I was a god.

“Fuck..Y/N if you keep doing that there wont be anything for you, dear” He said in a breathy moan. I pulled back, my mouth feeling sore and tired. “Do you still want to?” He asked, grasping his hands on my waist.

“Yes, I fucking need you.” I threw off my jeans, I would worry about finding them later, I needed him. He layed back down, propping his head up on my pillows. Our lips collided in another kiss as I leveled myself with him.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, stroking his hard member.

“I’m sure.” He pecked my lips again as I got ontop of his lean figure. I spat in my hand, lubing up my needy hole.

“How do you want me to do this? I mean like slow? What do-“ He said with genuine worry.

“Fuck me like you want people to know” I whispered, “ Fuck me like you want the entire neighborhood to know that I’m yours and yours only.”

“I can make that happen, love.” He flipped me over, now being back to where we first started. He lined up his cock with my hole, running it around the tight area. I put my fingers in his hair, making a slight tug as he pushed into my body.

Pleasure filled my body as he filled me up, his cock stretched my insides in the right ways. Without pausing, he started to push his hips into mine, making sure not to hurt me.

He reached down to suck on my neck, adding to the pornagraphic moans in the room. My hands travled to his back, scratching my nails down the cold stone like skin. His moans echoed in my ear.

“Y/N, I can’t be on top I’m going to crush you” I laughed at him, tapping his side so he fell onto the bed. I swung my legs over him, sitting on his perfect cock.

“Perfect, fucking amazing.” He said as I steady myself onto him. His face was in a euphoric expression, the most relaxed I had ever seen him.

I began to rock my hips, sliding him in and out of me. His hands grabbed onto my hips, guiding me. Everything was a euphoric experience. My gut filled with that wonderful sensation.

“Edward I’m gonna cum, oh my god” I moaned out, picking up my pace.

Suddenly, the world went still. My eyes went black and I saw stars as my orgasm washed over me. My moans echoed in the room as my body twitched. A few thrusts up into my body and Edward pulled out of me, rubbing his cum out onto his hand.

I layed there panting while he sped to the bathroom, and came back with a clean cloth, wiping down my body. He put the cloth down, pulling up his underwear and handing me mine. I slipped the fabric on, slipping under the covers.

“Get in here, I wanna kiss you”

He laughed, obeying and slipping beside me. Our lips reunited in a soft clash.

“I love you so much, dear.”

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader smut #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen smut #robert pattinson smut #robert pattinson #twilight shitpost #twilight headcanon #headcannons twilight #twilight fanfic #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfic #carslile cullen #esme cullen

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parkersbliss · 3 years

Note

hey could i request a kaz fic with prompts: 001, 007 and 041? pleasee let it end in fluff i can’t bare angst after your last fic lol <3

yes ofc ofc, kaz fluff for you

Dead Man | K. Brekker

prompts: 001: “Why do you care?” 007: “Give me one good reason.” 041: “I cant stand the sight of you in someone else’s arms!”

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

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Kaz wasn’t a jealous person. That’s what he tells himself, but he believes it’s far from true. Then again, he didn’t have to believe it to be true. He seems to lie to himself a lot. He’s also noticed he seems to lie a lot more when you’re involved.

His favorite lie would have to be, I’m not in love with (Y/N). He definitely was.

But Kaz Brekker was too prideful to ever admit that. Being in love gave you a weakness, and Kaz was not weak. Far from it, actually. He was the most feared man in Ketterdam. There was a reason he was successful, and that was simply because he didn’t have a weakness.

Well, a weakness that people knew about.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jesper asked, casting a sideways glance at you.

Kaz rolls his eyes, slamming his hands down on the table. “Unless you have a better one, I suggest you shut up.”

Jesper opens his mouth to object, but he shakes his head and shuts up.

Good, he knows better.

“Looking good is a Jesper talent, isn’t it?”

Jesper straightens his back and his jacket, brushing his thumb against his lip. “Why yes, it is.”

“Then I don’t see the problem. You just have to do it with (Y/N).”

You nod, bumping shoulders with the Zemeni boy. “Yeah, we could be a great power couple.”

Jesper laughs nervously, looking at Kaz and seeing the slightest hint of murder in his eyes. There was nothing wrong with the plan except the part where Jesper has to play your boyfriend when Kaz has the biggest crush on you known to man. Jesper knew better than to get in his way. He would really prefer to keep his life than get his head chopped off with a single look.

“You both know your target?” Kaz asked.

You and Jesper nod.

“Good. Get in, get the info and get out. No gambling and no drinking.” He points an accusing finger at Jesper. “I don’t think I have to explain that to you, (Y/N). Any objections?”

Jesper shakily raises his hand. “Yes, so why can’t you go as (Y/N)’s boyfriend?”

Inej looks to Jesper with raised eyebrows. “Are you serious right now?”

“I just think that they would make a more convincing couple!”

“Jesper,” Kaz said lowly, and he knows he’s in for it. “When I say you’re posing as (Y/N)’s boyfriend, you are posing as her boyfriend. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Jesper squeaks.

Kaz pulls back, slapping his cane on the ground and leaning his hands on it. When Jesper doesn’t move, he rolls his eyes, “Well, get to it!”

“Right!” Jesper said, scrambling to get out of the room.

“He seems awfully nervous,” You said.

“I’ll go check on him,” Inej said, passing by you with a smile.

That leaves you and Kaz.

“You were a bit harsh on him, don’t you think?” You asked.

Kaz shrugs. “Not really. It’s Jesper.”

“I think you scared the poor boy half to death.”

Kaz raises a single brow at you. “I don’t see an issue. He still has half to go.”

You let out a soft chuckle, and Kaz swears his heart stops for just a moment. He could listen to it forever.

“Is there a reason you’re so adamant about him being my fake boyfriend?”

“He’s the best choice.”

“Right.”

“You beg to differ?”

You shake your head, “Not at all.”

Kaz knows you did, but he doesn’t say anything. “You should get ready.”

You nod, “Yeah, I should. I’ll see you after, boss.”

…

“Wow,” Jesper said, offering his arm to you. “You look dazzling.”

“I learn from the best,” You wink, looping your arm through his.

Kaz’s lips are pursed into a straight line, and Jesper will be grateful when he’s out of his sight and range.

“Inej and I will be across the street. You know what to do if it goes south.”

“Sure do, Boss,” Jesper replied, eager to leave.

Kaz nods, stepping back, and you both enter the club. He leads you towards the bar and takes a seat. You stand next to him, scanning the crowd for the target.

“Put your arm around my waist,” You hiss to Jesper when you spot him.

“I don’t know about that,” Jesper laughed nervously.

“Jesper.”

“Okay!”

He slips an arm around your waist, nervously looking around to ensure Kaz can’t see. When he’s sure he’s safe, he relaxes a bit more. Everything goes smooth as you wait for your target to come over. You didn’t want to lure him in case that made you both more suspicious. It takes longer than both of you want, but eventually, he makes it to the only open seat in the bar; the one next to you.

He orders a few shots and Jesper makes the first move. “Rough night?”

He groans. “You have no idea.”

“Try me.”

“I’m Archer,” The target said, but of course, you already knew that. He was working for a Mercher, who rumor had it - recently imported something worth millions. Kaz wanted to know what it was and if it was worth it.

“Roman,” Jesper grinned, sticking out a hand.

“And what about this pretty lady?”

You gave him your fake name with a smile as you shuffle closer to Jesper.

“Boss is treating me like shit,” Archer groans, taking a shot. Jesper offers to pay for more. The tipsier he got, the more he would spill. “We got this new import the other week, been on high security since. Doubled my hours, didn’t double my pay.”

“New import? What could be so valuable?”

Archer shrugs. “I have no idea. Not allowed to tell, anyway. Sorry bud.”

“That’s a damn shame.”

Archer leans in, alcohol evident in his breath and you almost choke. “Between you and me, I think it’s some new weapon from Novyi Zem.”

There it was.

Jesper raises his brows. “Do you know what kind?”

“Some kind of gun, or guns.”

Jesper leans back. “Huh. I assume he keeps them in the back.”

Archer shakes his head. “No, he’s too cautious with this. He keeps in the vault in the basement.”

“A vault? Must be worth a lot.”

“Top security clearance. He has it scan his eyes, then his fingerprint and a password to get in.”

“My god,” Jesper laughed. “That’s a lot.”

Archer takes another shot. “You’re telling me.”

You don’t say much, playing the part of dumb arm candy. Your eyes wander the club when you spot a familiar face. He’s walking towards you.

You take a deep breath, turning your head to Jesper. You lean in to whisper, “We got someone coming towards us. He knows us. We need to hide.”

“How?”

“Kiss me.”

“You are out of your mind,” Jesper hisses. God, if Kaz found out, he would be dead in seconds.

“It’s that or death. I promise I don’t bite.”

“Are you two okay?” Archer asked.

Jesper coughs, pushing you off. “Yes, the misses it just eager to get home.”

Archer nods. “I see. I should get going too.”

Jesper lets him. You already got enough information.

“Jesper,” You whisper, tugging on his coat.

He was a dead man either way.

He grabs your face, kissing you with his eyes closed. It doesn’t mean anything to either of you. It’s just the difference between life and death for now. He can see the person leave out of the corner of his eyes. He’s about to pull back when a cane slams the bar floor. Jesper jumps back.

He is so dead.

Kaz's eyes blaze with something much more than rage, and Jesper doesn’t doubt it’s for him.

“Kaz,” you breathe out.

“We’re done here.”

Jesper stands up from the bar, letting go of you. “Yes, we are.”

He practically runs out of there, leaving you with a very pissed-off Kaz.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

He ignores you and walks away.

“Kaz?” You shout, catching up with him.

“What?” He snaps, never looking at you as you walk back to the slat. Jesper was gone, probably hiding somewhere. Inej was covering for him, but Kaz pays no mind.

“We got the information. Why are you so mad?”

Kaz throws open the door to his office, standing behind his desk and finally looking up. “You want to know why I’m so mad?”

“Yes!”

“Because you kissed Jesper!”

“What?” You asked. You couldn’t understand why he was so mad about that. He was the one who assigned him as your partner. “Why do you care?”

It’s not meant to come off rude, you just didn’t understand.

Kaz purses his lips and looks the other way. He can’t bring himself to say why; he won’t admit his weakness.

“Give me one good reason,” You beg. “I’m not mad at you, Kaz. I just don’t underst-”

“I can’t stand the sight of you in someone else’s arms!”

That’s not what you expected. However, it makes your stomach do flips. You swallow the butterflies.

“Then why did you partner Jesper and me together?” You asked softly.

Kaz sighs, “I thought I could prove to myself that I wasn’t in love with you by seeing you with him.”

You snort. “And how did that work out?”

“It didn’t.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

Kaz can hear the mischief in your voice. He’s expecting rejection, but you sound happy.

“I think I’m going to admit that I’m in love with you,” he said, turning back around to face you.

“Well, that’s good,” You grin, grabbing his coat and pulling him the slightest bit closer. He doesn’t pull away. “Cause I’m in love with you too.”

#poor jesper man 😭#kaz is just grilling him #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker one shot #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker fic #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #soc #six of crows imagine #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #shadow and bone

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pedros-mustache · 3 years

Text

convenience

summary: he was within arm’s reach. that’s all.

warnings: suggestions of harassment, alcohol consumption, language, innuendo

a/n: no thoughts, frankie morales and his broad shoulders only. poorly edited so forgive any mistakes you find. i’ll go back and fix soon.

you rarely come to the bar alone. tonight is an anomaly.

grabbing drinks after a long work week is more enjoyable with friends by your side, and you frequent this particular watering hole what feels like every friday but can’t be more than twice a month. life is busy for you and what friends remain from your college days. babies and partners and jobs—it keeps everyone running to and fro like chickens with their heads cut off. (for you, of course, it’s just the job that’s got you strung out. no husband, no babies. that shouldn’t matter, but sometimes it does.) still, despite hectic schedules, there’s a standing date a few times a month: friday, eight o’clock, the booth with the cracked-plastic seat coverings in the far right corner.

you like the noisy atmosphere of this place, and it’s easy to lose a few hours while gossiping over cheap margaritas, a whitney houston song thumping over the tinny loudspeakers. the air smells like cigarette smoke—that’s your only qualm—but the drinks are cheap, the food is passable, and it’s a chance to let loose and really enjoy yourself after a five days of business boredom.

of course, that’s what “the hot bird” is like most of the time. today is different. today is tuesday, it’s six-thirty, and you really shouldn’t be here alone.

you twirl the thin plastic straw around your drink and risk a glance over your shoulder. there’s a guy in your regular booth—red-faced with alcohol, tie loosened, dress shirt two sizes too big. you know he’s staring at you because you can feel his eyes on your back, your hips, your ass; he’s anything but discreet. his stare hurts like a healing sunburn: itchy, uncomfortable, hard to ignore. even from across the bar, his focus is unyielding, and you doubt he’s one to be easily dissuaded, not with the rabble-rousing friends at his booth, jostling drinks and shoulders alike. you imagine he’s biding his time, waiting for you to feel comfortable so he can strike. which is exactly what you need after being passed up for promotion (again): a drunk asshole bent on making your shitty day worse just for the hell of it.

the bartender—josh—says your name and sets a cocktail down on the counter in front of you. “here,” he says. he jerks his chin forward, indicating the back of the room. “it’s from the guy in the back.”

“oh god.” you resist the urge to look over your shoulder again. the muscles in your neck twitch, scream at you to turn and appraise the self-satisfied smirk on this guy’s face, but you hold still. you are nothing if not resolute in your determination to mind your on business, wallow in self pity, and get home without much of a fuss. “what the fuck is this thing?”

josh cringes. “it’s a b-52, our least popular drink.”

“it looks like spilled motor oil and congealed grease had a baby.”

to your right, in the barstool two over from yours, there’s a snort of amusement. your eyes snap to the side, but don’t register the other patron before josh is tapping your wrist. you hold your breath, stomach clenching at the conciliatory look on his face.

“don’t look now. i think he’s coming over.”

“of course he is,” you mutter, dropping your forehead to your palm. fuck, you really do not want to cry right now, but tears prick the corners of your eyes anyway. traitorous bastards. it’s been a long day, and you aren’t sure you have the mental fortitude to tactfully tell some guy to piss off without causing a scene or bursting into a blubbering mess.

“i can tell him—”

a smooth, unflustered voice cuts josh off mid-sentence. “no, let me.”

a half-filled pint of beer and a plastic basket of fries slide across the counter, and then a man, shoulders broad and trucker cap pulled low, drops to the stool beside you. you gape at him, jaw hanging. the guy from two stools over—eavesdropper.

“unless,” he continues. “you want to tell him to fuck off yourself. i’m sure you can—you look like a capable woman—but i know men and sometimes...” he trails off, but you catch his drift well enough. you know men too, and the men who frequent this bar are often of the seedier variety.

except maybe not this guy... he seems nice enough, willing to lend a hand, and after the day you’ve had, you’ll take any help you can get. plus he’s easy on the eye, and it’s been awhile since anyone with such a handsome face paid you any mind.

you twist slightly in your stool, turning your body to face him. you open your mouth to offer your name, but he beats you to it, sliding his hand over the low, curved back of your stool. his presence—so masculine yet so gentle—crowds you, and you fight the urge to suck in a sharp breath. mouth hovering over your ear, he lowers his voice, and his opposite hand, long fingers splayed outwards, settles on the counter. you’re boxed in, an arm on either side of your body, but, strangely, it feels... good, safe even.

“i’m frankie,” he says. “just follow my lead, and we’ll both be out of your hair in no time.”

you turn your face to meet frankie’s eyes. he’s so near you can feel his breath on your cheeks, could kiss his plush lips if you dared. his smile, small but encouraging, eases the clench in your stomach. your gaze drifts from his warm, brown eyes to the thumb-sized spot on his chin absent the fine layer of scruff otherwise covering his jaw. god, he’s handsome.

“uh—excuse me? i couldn’t help but notice you ignored the drink i sent over.” the man from the back of the room leans against the counter, his gaze tight on your face, elbows poised casually on the bar. his voice belies none of the uncertainty he should probably feel when confronted with your obvious disinterest and frankie’s breadth. “picked my favorite for a sweet thing like you.”

gritting your teeth, you turn your head. “thanks, but i don’t think—” your resolve wavers when the man’s fat lips spread into a grin. shit, he likes this doesn’t he—how uncomfortable you are? he reminds you of richard, the guy who got the promotion you deserve: smarmy and entirely too good at weaseling. your stomach sours.

“you can’t turn me down until you at least take a sip of the thing.” reaching over his chest, the man picks up the cocktail. the three distinct layers jostle in the small shot glass.

perhaps he sees the fine sheen of tears that rush to your eyes or perhaps it’s just to make a point, but frankie’s hand drops to your thigh. the warmth of his palm filters through the mesh of your tights. without thinking, you twine your fingers through his and squeeze.

“she said no, man.”

for the first time, your would-be-suitor’s stare slides to focus on frankie. he arches a thin eyebrow. there’s no mistaking the way his chest inflates as frankie straightens his spine. “yeah? and who are you?”

frankie speaks without hesitation. “her boyfriend.”

the man huffs, incredulous. “well, you didn’t claim her before now so i’m just taking my shot. free pick, ya know? first come first serve.”

frankie slides from the stool to standing. he’s near the same height as the other man, but there’s something about the clench in his jaw and the way his fingers tighten around yours and the way he moves to grip your shoulder than has you leaning into him despite the anger rolling off him in sharp waves. your shoulder pushes against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and you hold your breath.

“say that again and i’ll crack your skull open on the counter.”

the man blinks, stunned, then laughs. it’s a harsh, nervous bark. his eyes flit to the back of the room then return to frankie. “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. what are you? some macho man?”

“no—retired special forces. i can and i will make your life a living hell if you don’t crawl back into the hole you came from. leave my lady alone.”

“shit.” the man shakes his head before tossing the rejected cocktail down his throat with a cringe. “ain’t fucking worth it anyway.” he slams the glass down on the counter and, heeding frankie’s advice, returns to sulk in the back booth, tail tucked between his legs.

frankie waits until the asshole is sat snug in his booth before returning to his stool. he pops a now-cold fry in his mouth then tags a long swig of his beer. you watch him and decide you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly in your entire life.

“thank you,” you breathe. “i—fuck, i didn’t realize you’d be so... intimidating.”

frankie shrugs, eats another fry. he avoids your eye. “hate to see you treated like that. least i can do.”

you hum in approval, tracing the curve of his nose with your gaze. “i got passed up for a promotion today,” you offer. “put me in a real tailspin. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week.”

fry dangling between his pointer finger and thumb, frankie finally returns his eyes to yours. “i’m sorry to hear that. if it makes you feel any better, i got stood up. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week either.”

“guess we’re just a couple of losers then.” when frankie’s eyebrow lifts, you visibly cringe. you grab his forearm and squeeze your eyes shut. “no, wait—that’s not what i meant. i meant that... in the grand scheme of things, we aren’t... i mean...” squinting, you risk a peek at him. “shit, i’m sorry.”

after a moment, frankie smiles—and your heart leaps to your throat. he motions to josh at the other end of the bar. “what drink do you like?” he asks. “we can make it a real date, if you want? you know, to keep up appearances.”

“a real date?”

he nods. “yeah. i’m not big on fate and shit like that, but... well, maybe i’m big on fate tonight.” his eyes roam your face, and you wonder if he’s drinking you in, memorizing your features. unlike before, his stare is kind, appreciative, reverent. your cheeks heat under his gaze, but you don’t look away.

the corner of your mouth pulls into a grin. “okay.” you smile at josh when he appears. “i like mojitos.”

“really?” at your nod, frankie’s smile widens. “me too.”

you reach for a fry in his basket. “must be fate then,” you say with a shrug.

“yeah.” his hand falls to your thigh again, squeezing the flesh around your knee. you look from his hand to his face, and anything you once thought shitty about the day turns rosy with possibility. “must be fate.”

taglist:

@ezramando @frannyzooey @spvce-cowboy @writings-of-a-hufflepuff @sofsoftheloaf @salome-c @aphr0d1te5 @anu-simps @softermina @spideysimpossiblegirl @mummifymecaptain @sleep-tight1 @thewayofthemandalorian @greeneyedblondie44 @darthpapi @salome-c @just-another-fangirl-22 @stevie75

if your handle is crossed out, tumblr would not let me tag your blog.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pm writes

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333sth · 3 years

Text

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter ii. previous. series masterlist.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n

warnings: ptsd/military service, violence, injury detail, language, angsty.

summary: santi’s hunch is no longer a hunch, but only will knows how close they are to finding frankie’s girl.

rating: mature wc: 1.8k

When a strong hand had clamped around her shoulder, Dove’s instinct was to break it. It wasn’t menacing; they were just waiting at the bar to be served.

A burly, middle-aged man was towering beside her, clutching a beer bottle that looked miniature in his thick grasp. His arms, still holding the shadow of what was once impressive muscle, were littered with military tattoos. Dove could spot a stick-and-poke from a mile off.

“I recognise that,” He gestures to her neck, where a small Delta Force tattoo was usually disguised by her long hair. “You ex-forces? Delta?”

She wanted to kick herself. The sticky atmosphere had gotten the better of her and she’d thrown her hair into a ponytail without thinking.

“Yeah, but that isn’t exactly public knowledge ‘round here.” She murmurs.

Across the room, Roni throws her head back in exaggerated laughter. A group of men, who looked barely out of their teen years, had come over to make some desperate attempts at getting laid. Dove had excused herself to buy the next round after one of them had cracked a mortifying joke about liking older women.

“That’s understandable.” The man held out his hand, which she took hesitantly. “My name’s Mark, I just retired out here. Served for twenty three years.” He chuckled gruffly, his voice thick from cigarettes. “I got jack shit to show for it, mind you.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, but she doesn’t offer her name.

Mark notices as the conversation lulls. “I trained with a guy who made Delta. Santiago Garcia - we called him Pope, ‘cause he just had that way about him. You probably knew him.”

Dove swallows, chest lurching. “Sounds familiar… You know how it is though, the nicknames all blur into one eventually.”

That’s a lie, you never forget your teammates’ names. Mark knows it and so does Dove. Thankfully, he doesn’t push a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have, and raises his bottle to her.

“Well, it was nice to meet you anyway. Enjoy yourself out here.”

“You too, Mark.” She tries to smile, but her lips press into a thin line that probably looks more like a grimace.

Mark had called Santiago the following day, the alcohol-blurred memory peaking his interest once he remembered his old friend’s plea a few months back. He’d asked around for any heads-up if any ex-Delta women around their age popped up. Mark had thought the man was delusional when he’d heard. If she was Delta Force, she wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be.

Apparently, he was wrong. Maybe even the best of the best got rusty after a while.

The town Dove had been spotted in was questionable to Santiago. It was too cosmopolitan for a woman who was starting over. However, after a onceover on a map of Mexico, Santi spotted its smaller neighbour. He’d never heard of it, which meant it must be the place. Small population, right on the coast, with enough amenities and business to get by without any trouble.

“And, man, she had a wicked scar on her throat. Sort of shit you’d only see on a Delta.” Mark had added, with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine that ain’t your girl.”

‘Dove isn’t my girl,’ Santi wanted to bite back instinctually. He bit his tongue, and instead offered, “It sounds like her. I can’t thank you enough, brother.”

Santiago only told Will what he knew about Dove. He had the mind to retain that information no matter what this trip threw at them. Plus, he trusted him with his life, plus a couple other lives that came to mind. Call it insurance, if things went south.

Plus, Will didn’t have Tom’s mouth, or twisted morality. Tom was more than willing to accept that Dove would miss out on their prospective fortune, that the ‘hunch’ would have to wait until Lorea was dealt with. Santiago knew his brothers well enough to know Benny would throw a hissy fit if they knew where Dove was and she wasn’t included. She’d spent enough time stitching up their war-torn skin and shoving them out of bullets to deserve a cut.

So, Pope told a little white lie. They had a stop in Mexico to meet with a contact.

Frankie had murmured, “Better be worth it, stuck in this shitty car with you fuckers for ten hours.”

Santiago resisted the urge to agree. God, he hoped it would be worth it too. He hoped he wasn’t driving them into a dead end, a bluff on Mark’s part. Or even worse, invading Dove’s beautiful new life without them. That would destroy everything; Dove, the boys, Frankie. What if she had settled down? What if he pulled into that idyllic beach bar she wanted and she’s there, a baby with the same brilliant eyes balanced on her hip? She was never sure about kids. A vivid mental picture of the wrong diamond, glistening on her ring finger in the afternoon sun, and the wrong man pecking her lips, made Santi physically wince.

Fish would never forgive him. Will and Benny would never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself.

It was a long, apprehensive drive. Santi’s eyes were drying, squinting against the headlights that occasionally glared past them. His jaw had been clenched for the last few hours as his anxiety grew, nothing but open road to stare at while he contemplated over and over as to whether it was the right decision. It didn’t help that Frankie never really slept like the others did on the move. While the other boys passed out, Frankie’s soft eyes continued scanning the scene flying past the window. It was like he stayed awake to watch Pope’s back, as if they were still in combat, or as an unspoken act of kindness to keep him company.

Really, Frankie was a terrible sleeper. Santi remembered that from the early days, before he and Dove gave it up and became an item. He was the last to drift off and first to wake up, always restless. Once Dove started tip-toeing over to his cot in the night, he became the worst snorer in the division. Always splayed on his front, one arm tossed over Dove’s waist and the other under his pillow. She’d kick him in the night so he’d roll over and shut up, but it never lasted long.

One night, Benny had enough, and groaned to Dove, “Put us out of our fuckin’ misery and smother him with your pillow, for the love of God.”

Dove had snapped back, “Fuck off, Benny, just ‘cause you aren’t getting any of the action doesn’t mean you have to get all bitter.”

“I’ve told you guys - I’m more than willing to join in-”

“Ben.” Frankie grumbled into her shoulder. It was gruff with sleep but still menacing enough to make the hairs on Dove’s arms stand on end.

Before a pillow smacked into his head, Benny guffawed, “Oh, so he is alive after all.”

Wringing a soft rag for polishing glasses between her fingertips, Dove descends the wooden steps at the entrance of the bar. The last huddle of regulars holler behind her, wrapping up their weekend drinks as the evening creeps closer to the early hours; Dove always notices the time when moths start colliding with the lanterns.

Roni rises from a crouch on the ground, dropping a paintbrush into a can with a clatter. “See, your own little touch!”

The wooden panels that constructed the side of the bar, usually concealed by a stack of cardboard beer boxes, is decorated with little doves. Despite studying criminology, mainly for the satisfaction of her parents, Roni loved painting and insisted on brightening the exterior of their beach shack.

Dove cracks a half-smile. “It’s lovely, Ron. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She beams, throwing the half-empty cans into the nearby bins. She pauses, glancing hesitantly at the older woman over her shoulder, “Dove’s not your real name, right?”

“No, no. Nickname from when I was nursing overseas.” Dove chuckles, before adding, “Feels more like my real name than my Christian one nowadays.”

Roni passes Dove on the steps as she returns to the bar, “It suits you. You’re always graceful, but… you’re fucking fast.”

Dove laughs with her, ignoring the familiar clench in her chest. It’s exactly what Frankie used to say. The difference is Roni notices when she almost drops a glass, or her tray of drinks starts to wobble, and Dove is there to catch it with such fluidity Roni never saw her coming. Even the way Dove’s knife slices through fruit like each piece is a slab of melted butter. Frankie witnessed the extreme of that, the stealth and grace that usually ensured the enemy was dead before the others had even thought to raise their guns. Still, he admired her the same way Roni was right now. It was like awe.

It’s probably because he loved her effortlessly, every single aspect of her being without a glimmer of doubt or judgement. And now he wasn’t here.

The group of regulars stumbling down the steps break Dove from her thoughts, chortling and wishing her goodnight. One of the older men turns and jerks his thumb towards the road, “You might wanna tell them you’re closing, bonita.”

Before the road becomes the sand, there is a small, dusty wasteland that doubles as a makeshift car park. A vehicle is parked, glaring headlights facing towards the ocean and forming peculiar, alien-like beams in the dark. She’s definitely getting rusty; she’d barely registered the idling truck.

“I’ll sort ‘em out, Miguel, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” He jokes, waving to her. “Buenos noches, Dove.”

Military habits are practically impossible to shake, and immediately, Dove’s mind launches into overdrive. She raises her hand above her eyes, squinting against the blinding white LEDs in an attempt to make out a registration plate or even a recognisable model. Her mind is fine-tuned to memorise; most of the locals’ cars are already catalogued in her memory, but this isn’t one of them.

Maybe they’re tourists, ready to push their luck with the opening times. That’s the reasonable side of Dove’s mind. The irrational, dark edges whisper, ‘What if someone found you?’ By someone, it means someone bad. Someone she wronged during her service, an enemy or straggler that got away. Even a civilian that might have been caught in the crossfire. She thought about those ghosts often. Hell, some of them she could still name. When she can’t sleep, sometimes she lists them, pictures their faces if she can recall them, just in case they ever came back.

She inhales a sharp gust of ocean air through her nostrils, welcoming the clarity that spreads through her mind. Parting her lips (the lips Frankie always teased were in a permanent pout), she released the breath slowly, trying to relax the stressed scrunch in her features.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that someday.”

The voice is familiar. A deep, breathy chuckle, barrel-toned and gravelly. It sounds like home.

taglist: @mishasminion360

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x ofc #dove #Santiago Garcia #Benny Miller #Will Miller #pedro pascal #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales fic #francisco morales #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters

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sidespart · 3 years

Text

The Fall of King Romulus

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

This was originally a fake fic but I decided to turn it into a real fic because it looked like fun, The fake fic can be read as a prologue.

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Chapter 1

Previous (prologue) Next Chapter 2

When Roman had first left home, he had no intention of making friends.

Romulus had never had them, unless you counted Remus in their younger days. Royal life was often one of seclusion and once his… particular problem… had come to light, his parents took the necessary steps to ensure he was as isolated from others as possible.

This was for his own good. Romulus could not protect himself. Romulus was a liability to the himself and the Kingdom. One slip before a supposed playmate could lead to discovery and disaster. His father explained this to him when Romulus was eleven, and had taken to following the young Marquis de Orenlla around like a love sick puppy when the family visited the palace.

“Suppose that boy notices,” his fathers voice was a hiss, his hand gripping Romulus small shoulder hard enough to bruise “suppose he realises you will do anything he asks, and he asks you for family secrets? Suppose he waits until your are older and orders you to favour his family, to give them position in court, to promote them above their deserved station- or to harm their enemies. Do you understand the risk you’re taking Romulus? Swear to me you will keep to yourself. Please.”

Phrasing, Romulus had come to learn, was extraordinarily important when dealing with his curse. The final ‘please’ from his father had turned the order into a request – something Romulus could technically choose to ignore. But the grip on his shoulder suggested it would not remain his choice for long. So he nodded at his father and swore to keep away and was rewarded with a smile and a hand stroking gently though his hair, before he was dismissed to go and study before his afternoon lessons.

He should have been lonely. But he had his parents and his instructors and his servants. And the occasional, highly orchestrated, public appearance wherein he would adopt a practiced air of aloof politeness, wave and make measured conversation with those who would never dare to give him an order. It could have been worse.

Still, he understood that once he left it would be necessary to speak to many more people then he had up to now. He would need food and shelter and work and direction, none of which he had had to procure for himself before.

So he prepared himself to make conversation with strangers, perhaps acquire acquaintances. He expected to find admirers once he was far South enough that he could perform with his lute without fear of recognition from the crowd. He hoped, perhaps, for some romances, some temporary but dashing companions to join him on adventures. He had read about such things during hours spent locked up in the palace library and told to entertain himself.

He had not planned on making friends. Traveling with anyone for too long, getting to know them and allowing them to learn about him – it inevitably increased the chance of them discovering his secret. Of exploiting him as his parents had warned against. It was not worth the risk.

And yet.

And yet somehow, he had acquired three.

Virgil and Patton and Logan.

Brave and kind and wise.

Not a drop of aristocratic blood between them but without doubt the most noble companions a man could wish for. When he thought of them, of how they had accepted him into their little band of misfit adventurers, his heart felt more full, his mind more alive and sharp than it had been in years. His blood buzzed with creativity and songs of friendship, love and loyalty sprang from his lips almost unbidden.

Not right now however.

Right now sort of wanted to kill them. Specifically Virgil.

Roman scowled at the surrounding trees “If there are any depressingly dressed half elves out there who want to APPOLOGISE for being JERKS the floor is open!” he called.

The trees remained silent. They had done that the last three times he tried.

Roman left out a dramatic exhale and flopped back on the ground.

The thing was. He knew, intellectually, that this wasn’t Virgil’s fault. Not Intentionally.

Virgil was prickly. And unpredictable. Last night, Roman had wailed in dismay at the sorry state for a fire the young man was building. Virgil had responded that they would be lucky if there was no fire at all, since that would mean no one would have to be subjected to Romans cooking. Roman had insulted Virgil’s hair. Virgil had made a creative suggestion for where Roman could stick the firewood he was holding. And back and forth the insults went until between them they had built up the fire and set the stew boiling upon it.

It was banter. Virgil had been giggling the whole time, Patton hadn’t interjected once to tell them to be nicer.

And then this evening they’d gone hunting for firewood together. And Roman had made some sly remark, hoping that Virgil’s fire building skills had improved somewhat overnight.

And Virgil had turned round and snarled at him to “shut UP Princy. I don’t need you to help me – just, just get lost.”

Virgil didn’t know about the curse.

Romans mouth had dropped open in surprise. And before he’s had time to close it, his feet had spun round one hundred and eighty degrees and marched him away from his friend, away from the path, deeper into the heart of the forest.

His feat had carried him on a winding route, over one shallow stream and through an extremely dense thicket of brambles that left Roman desperately hacking away at the thorns in front of him before they could shred him to ribbons. He had eventually stopped after an hour of relentless marching and sprawled at the foot of an impressively knotted oak tree.

Unsurprisingly, his surroundings were totally unfamiliar. The trees grew so thick here it was impossible to see more than twelve feet in any direction. He was well and truly lost.

Roman had spent an unsatisfying few minutes ranting to the trees about elves and their unpredictable mood swings and marching and blisters and curses and Virgil’s still subpar fire lighting skills until eventually he had run out of steam and settled himself down for a good sulk.

Phrasing was important. Virgil had told him to get lost but he hadn’t said to stay lost. And now that he was lost, there was nothing to prevent him being found again.

Patton was an excellent tracker. The idea of sitting around waiting to be rescued stung Roman’s pride, but his feat had already been aching from the days travel before his unintended march. His stomach growled, the smattering of cuts from the brambles burned, and evening was already turning to night. The most sensible thing to do was for Roman to stay where he was and wait to be found.

Assuming they wanted to find him.

Roman bit his lip sharply to try and banish that line of thought. They wouldn’t leave him.

Although, he drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees to fend off the evening chill, There was a strong chance they wouldn’t find him tonight. Patton had looked exhausted when Virgil and Roman and left on their hunt for firewood, in fact he’d been falling behind all day and –

Oh.

Patton and Virgil were born in Krutova and Finaley’ed respectively. Two small neighbouring kingdoms, politically insignificant and famous only for their densely forested landscapes and their intense dedication to wiping each other off the face of the Earth. For the past eighteen years bloody war had raged between the two. Roman had never asked directly, but he was fairly certain that this conflict was where Patton had acquired his enormous broadsword, his limp and, quite possibly, Virgil.

Neither of them liked forests. They carried extra tension as soon as they stood under the shadows of the trees. In addition to that, the uneven terrain aggravated Patton’s hip, sometimes leaving him hissing between his teeth with every step.

Roman had been walking up front with Logan all day, arguing the merits of modern Raspanzean poetry compared with the old masters. He had thought they had called a halt to the day a little early, but was tired enough himself not to question it. And really, since he and Virgil had been on fire and cooking duty last night it should have fallen to the others today…but Virgil had scampered into the woods as soon as Patton was settled on his bed roll, and Roman had gone chasing after.

Virgil fretted. He fretted after all of them, but Patton most of all. And Roman had chased after him when he was already stressed about his best friend and then started needling him about his fire making skills.

Roman groaned and pressed his face into his knees.

Maybe he was the jerk.

“It sounds like it.”

Roman sighed, hating the whine in his voice as he replied “but he still shouldn’t have taken it out on –“

Romans head snapped up so fast he hit his skull hard against the oak tree behind him. Wincing he twisted his head left and right, but the area remained deserted.

He frowned. Perhaps he was more exhausted than he thought –

“You certainly are over tired little Prince,” Roman made a sound which he refused to think of as a shriek and scrambled to his feet.

Standing not three feet- two feet – five feet- three feet from him, stood – hovered - sat – stood a figure in – black – yellow- black – shadow – gold - black. He- she – it – he? Laughed sweetly and stepped – slunk – prowled – flew – stepped closer

And drew back abruptly as Roman held up his dagger between them.

Roman’s sword was the best he could buy, made of blended steel with a bronze handle. He cleaned and sharpened it religiously and practiced often. It was beautifully made and perfectly balanced, suitable for a solider but ideal for a traveller in who knew how to use it.

Romans dagger was old and brittle. And more than once Logan had tried to surreptitiously throw it out and convince him to replace it with something usable.

But it was made of pure iron and it kept the scowling fae at bay.

Looking directly at the fae made something in Romans stomach twist. But he kept his eyes at a squint and held the dagger firm between them, even as his arms shook from the effort.

“What do you want from me?” he gritted out

“What do I want?” The fae’s face would not quite settle, the edges shifting and billowing, but when he smiled Roman was certain he saw fangs “You’re the one trespassing in my home, little Prince, I should be asking you”

Suddenly the fae was as close as he could come, his face less than an inch from the daggers edge. Up close, Roman could see two eyes clearly, one black and one pulsating with a sickly yellow light. “Come to make a deal with the devil, Princey?”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and held himself firm, even as the shaking began to spread over his entire body.

“I am. A. Lost. Traveller.” He gasped out “I. mean. No. disrespect. To you. Or. Your court” for what felt like an eternity the shaking continued, rattling his brain and sending one knee crashing to the floor. And then it stopped.

Hesitantly, Roman cracked one eye open and looked up. The fae had, mercifully, settled its form. It had picked a face identical to Romans own, save for the yellow eye and scales that spread over its left side. A cloak of shadows hid most of its body from view, but when it moved towards Roman now it seemed to slither rather than step.

“You mean no disrespect” it nodded towards the dagger still clutched in Roman’s sweaty hands “but your bring a weapon to my home?”

“it is a shield, my lord, not a sword, despite it’s shape”

The fae harrumphed, a disconcertingly human noise, and circled Roman once. “You’re not from around here.”

“I’m lost, my lord.”

“I know that” The fae stopped in front of Roman again and rolled it’s eyes. “I meant you are not one of the town folk who trespass in my wood so regularly. You know how to speak to me.”

Roman opened his mouth to say ‘in my fathers Kingdom the Fae are welcomed, and representatives of the Saelie court attend each ball and function’ but managed to snap it closed before he made a sound. Rule one for dealing with the Fae, even those considered allies, was not to give them any information that they didn’t already know. “You flatter me my lord” he said instead.

Roman still hadn’t moved from his half kneeling pose and now the fae coiled down so that they were once again face to face. “Most humans in your position” he said, “would have already started begging for a deal to relive them of their…little problems. What’s the matter Princey, curse got your tongue?”

Roman couldn’t help the way his heart rate sped up at the faes words. But he did his best to keep his outward face calm. It was true, the first deliberate order he had received when his curse was discovered was to never talk about it, he couldn’t have brought it up to this fae if he wanted to.

But more than that – the fae who allied themselves with his father’s court had done everything in their power to remove the curses from him and his brother. Nothing had worked. “A gift once given can only be taken back by the gifter” an elder sprite in the guise of a kindly woman had told his mother. “And their gifter is unlikely to return here.”

The gifter was also unlikely to be a snake shaped creature tied to a southern forest. “I want nothing from you my lord, except to be allowed to leave your home” Roman intoned honestly. He had wondered, for a moment, when the creature had called him Princey – but Virgil and the others often called him by that nickname. If this was a lord of the forest he could have heard them when they passed by.

The fae stared at him for a long moment. And smiled. “Liar.”

Roman frowned – “what-“

“Roman!”

Roman jerked his head to the side, the shout had come from close by, he was sure. “Pa-Padre?”

A whisper in his ear: “time to go home Roman.” Roman quickly looked back to the fae, but it was gone. On the ground where it had been, lay a single oak leaf dyed a brilliant, autumnal, yellow.

He didn’t need to look up at the oak trees leaves to know they, like every other tree in the forest, were still a vibrant green.

“Roman! Roman are you here?”

Without much conscious thought, he reached forward and snatched up the yellow leaf, burying it deep in his pocket.

“I’M HERE. Patton? Virgil? I’M OVER HERE”

Within minuets all seven foot of Patton was crashing through the tree line and baring down on him, Virgil not far behind.

“Roman, oh my goodness we were so worried! Are you hurt? Can you stand? Why do you have your dagger – did something happen?”

“Princy! Shit are you – are you okay? I am so, - I’m really- We looked EVERYWHERE“

“I’m fine.” Roman promised ‘Its fine’ he added to Virgil, “I just – I figured you needed some space so I tried looking for wood on the other side of camp. Guess I got a little turned around” He allowed Patton to pull him to his feet, giving them both his best sheepish grin. Embarrassed but ready to laugh at himself. He really had got lost. Silly Roman.

It’s not like he could tell them about the curse.

“We’re not the far from camp” Patton told him, he glanced around frowning slightly “I’m sure we searched through here before.”

“I was trying to make my own way back,” Roman lied easily “I probably ended up walking in a circle and missed you.”

It’s not like there was any point telling them about the fae.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine Pat, what about you? How’s your leg?”

“Oh this old thing?” Patton gave them a wide smile “it’s just fine, Ro, don’t you worry. Now I think I know a short cut back, you two follow close to me alright?” and with that the large man spun round and headed into the trees.

Virgil and Roman shared an exasperated glance. The man was clearly in agony.

“Listen, Princy I-“

“I’m sorry too.” Roman cut him off. Bumped his shoulder against Virgil’s and winked. “Now lets get back to camp before Logan paces a trench in to the ground hm?”

Slowly Virgil nodded, although he was still staring at Roman guiltily. The two of them headed into the trees together, collected Patton from where he was half collapsed against an elm, and the three slowly made their way back to camp.

By the time they were explaining what had happened to Logan, the memory of the fae had faded like mist.

With a days more travel they would be out of the forest and on a path to Steveange. The largest and greatest city of the Central Kingdoms. From there they would have to chose whether to head east, towards the coast line, west to catch the merchant festivals or north, where Roman had always refused to travel.

Stuck between two pages of Romans notebook, a unseasonably yellowed oak leaf shivered.

Time to go home.

#sanders sides fic #roman sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #but not in this chapter #creativitwins #sidespart writes #TS: Fall of Romulus

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breakyeol · 3 years

Text

— SQUIRM, BABY.

You don’t like Doh Kyungsoo. Especially not when he’s got his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you and your seeing stars —goddamn stars!— but can’t make a sound unless you want the entire library to know exactly what he’s doing to you under the table.

┗ Pairing: Tutor!Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: college au, tutor au, enemies w benefits au, smut

Words: 4.7k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, sexual acts in a public setting, fingering

A/N; tomorrow is going to be my 1 year anniversary as an EXO-L!! oh my goodness that feels so crazy, time really flies. so here is a little present from me to you, enjoy lovelies!!

“These are all wrong,” Kyungsoo mutters blankly, “start over.”

A loud groan is ripped from your throat, the sound earning you more than a few sideways glares from the surrounding tables but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been here for two hours, studying one of the most intolerable subjects in the world: Calculus. The mere mention of its name made you shiver in disgust.

To be blunt, you’d always been shit at math. Numbers and equations were never your strong suit, not in high school and definitely not now with the added complexities of derivatives and differential equations (neither of which made even the slightest bit of sense to you). You much preferred the gentleness of literature and history to the strict logic and rules of mathematics and science. Unfortunately for you, the latter subjects were just as vital a part of your education, and opting out of them was not an option.

“Can’t we take a break?” You almost whine the question, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. “My brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“No.”

You scowl at the bluntness of his rejection. “I’m paying you.” You point out, stabbing a finger into his bicep for emphasis. “Shouldn’t I have a say in when we take a break?”

He rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away and shoving the paper back in your direction. “I’m giving you your money’s worth. Do it again.”

You let out a noisy huff of air, slouching over dramatically in the stiff plastic chair until your chin is pressed against the cold table. “I hope you know I am deeply regretting some of my life decisions right about now.” You grumble, shooting him an icy glare that you hope conveys the absolute loathing you feel for both him and the set of problems laid before you.

“I thought that was a daily thing for you.”

Scoffing, you bury your mouth in the thick sleeve of your hoodie. “Your face is a daily thing for me.”

He doesn’t even bother to look at you, though you could almost feel the intensity of his deadpan. “I think that was the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“Your face is the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“You do realize that that makes absolutely no sense.”

“Your fa—”

“Shut up and do your work.”

He either doesn’t hear or consciously chooses to ignore the colorful array of curses you grumble spitefully in his direction, though simultaneously resigning yourself to the fact that you won’t be able to put off your work inevitably. Kyungsoo was a stickler for proper time management. If he had an agenda set in place for your tutoring session (which he always did), then you better believe he’d be checking off each item within its designated time frame. And if you don’t cooperate— well then, your best bet is to pray that there isn’t a mechanical pencil within his reach.

He might not always be able to reach the top shelf, but Kyungsoo had ways of getting what he wanted. Usually, that chilling glare was enough to get those around him to bend to his will. He could be a scary little shit when he wanted to be. You’ll admit, even you had been the tiniest bit intimidated when you first met him. He was quiet, reserved, strict in manner, but also the dangerous unpredictable type, you gathered that much quickly enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you didn’t get on too well.

Where he was cool and standoffish, “a man of few words” some might say, you were more vocal about your opinions, social by nature, always eager to meet new people and make new connections. You had a tendency to speak loudly when excited and talk with your hands when passionate about a subject. That was something most people learned about you very quickly. Unfortunately, upon your first official meeting at a party in your freshman year with your mutual friends, Kyungsoo had no idea just how emphatic you could be until you’d knocked his drink clean out of his hand and spilled it down the front of his brand new shirt.

It was an accident, of course. You’d apologized profusely and he’d accepted it (albeit somewhat begrudgingly), but that was probably the first of many missteps in your... unique relationship.

With such conflicting personalities, it was understandable that you got into frequent arguments about one thing or another. Petty disagreements would often grow into something larger than they really needed to be. Mostly because despite having such contrasting personalities, you shared the trait of innate stubbornness, neither of you willing to admit when you were wrong. It was easy to argue with him, and you liked when you proved him wrong. You liked the way his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed. You liked the way he glared, the way his lips pouted. You like the challenge he presented you with every time he opened his mouth. Above, you loved to win. Especially when it was against him.

So you pushed, and he pushed right back. And before you knew it, you found yourself a proper ‘frenemy’, though you aren’t sure that that’s quite the right word to describe whatever it was you two were.

But that’s just how the two of you are, how you’d always been. If you were being honest, riling him, seeing that usually so stoic, so controlled expression crack when you pushed just the right buttons— it was fun. You thoroughly enjoyed fucking with him, discovering new and creative ways to get under his skin. And you knew he got just as much satisfaction from doing the same to you, rendering you speechless with witty comebacks, flustering you with his sharp tongue and impressive rebukes.

So really, was it such a terrible thing?

Not to mention, a number of not-so-terrible things occurred as a result of one of your many arguments, such as hiring him as your calculus tutor. One that started out with you claiming he would probably be the shittiest teacher to ever exist (which seemed a valid argument at the time considering how short tempered and impatient he could be *cough* with you *cough*) to which he rebutted with the claim that he could “teach a goldfish advanced calculus” if he set his mind to it, and considering that you “had an IQ equivalent to one”, he could without a doubt teach you. His words, obviously.

It just so happened that you had a calculus exam coming up that next week, so to prove his point, he tutored you for the three days preceding said test. Even though you loathe being proven wrong, you ended up getting one of the highest scores you’d ever gotten on a math test in your entire academic career.

Putting your pride aside, you made the suggestion that he continue to tutor you. He only agreed when you offered him green in exchange for his troubles and admitted that he was right (it took a few extra hours to convince yourself that your grades should be held above your ego before you could bring yourself to verbally admit defeat).

And now here you are, not flunking out of calculus. You’d consider that worthy of the bruise to your pride, even if only by a small margin.

“Kyungsoo, why’d you mark this one wrong?” You frown at the large red X marking problem two as incorrect. You’d been glaring at your scribbled work for almost two minutes, running over the problem in your head, but you couldn’t seem to figure out where he thought you’d gone wrong. It looks right enough to you.

Kyungsoo shifts over to get a better look, his arms pressing against yours in the process and you are briefly stunned by the sudden, unexpected closeness, wholly unable to stop yourself from noticing the faint, woody scent of his aftershave that caresses your senses. Fuck. You can’t tell if you hate or love the fact that he smelled so good. Partly love it because good hygiene is always something to admire in a man (even if that man was Doh Kyungsoo), partly hate it because dammit it’s Doh Kyungsoo and you loathe finding anything that has to do with him attractive. Plus, it’s distracting. You’re here trying to learn and he has the audacity to go around smelling like pine trees and fresh moss after a rainfall. Unfair.

“Right here.”

The scowl you don’t realize you’re wearing immediately drops away as the low baritone of his voice thrums through the cavity of your ribcage and you lean forward to see exactly what he’s pointing at.

“You multiplied straight through instead of distributing.” He explains further upon seeing the uncertainty on your face. A few seconds of further inspection and you finally see what he’s talking about.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “I’m so stupid.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make.” He reassures.

“Yeah, but I should know that by now, I should’ve—” you turn your head, only to nearly choke on air as you discover that any space that once existed between the two of you has virtually disappeared, “... seen it.”

He’s close, so close that you can feel the cool rush of his breath against your skin as he exhales, goosebumps bristling across your arms in response. He’s close. Too close. You can’t think straight, can’t even breathe. The moment that surrounds you feels fragile, like even the slightest disruption would rupture it completely.

Frozen, you can only swallow around the sudden dryness of your mouth as your treacherous eyes drop to trace the plush line of his lips. Who even has lips like that? They’re just so big and so pink, that dark, kissable kind of pink that every girl just wishes her lips could be. You, included. They look soft, and you can’t help but to wonder if they’d still taste like the strawberry bubblegum he’d been chewing on at the beginning of your tutoring session.

“Careful, ___.” The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice, raspier than you recall it being before and laced in a faintly taunting pitch, is enough to break you from your trance and, once freed, you whip your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash.

“Fuck off.” You cough, jaw clenching as you attempt to drag your mind out from the gutter and back onto the calculus problems you have yet to correct. But for whatever reason your brain refuses to cooperate, instead filling your head with images of his pretty mouth and everything it could be doing instead of rambling on about something as uninteresting as calculus. Damnit.

No doubt seeing the distress written clearly across your face, Kyungsoo chuckles, the sound low and smooth where it drips from his lips, and a familiar heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach.

You can feel his eyes on you now, every cell of your being suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. The pressure of his knee where it nudges against yours, the teasing curl of his lips as he watches you struggle to focus, the warmth of his palm caressing up your thigh, the— wait what?

Your gaze whips down, breath hitching at the sight of Kyungsoo’s hand gently gripping the lagging clad flesh just above your knee. It’s another few seconds before you’re able to find your voice again.

“W– What’re you—?”

“Focus.” He cuts you off smoothly, fingers soothing over the inside of your leg, squeezing gently. When you don’t look away from him, he smirks, jerking his chin forward in a manner you can only interpret as challenging. There’s a familiar glint in his eye, a dangerous glint that doesn’t fail to provoke your competitive side. You know that look well. He’s challenging you.

And you don’t back down from a challenge.

Especially not from Doh Kyungsoo.

Determination flairs up inside of you, your jaw clenching as you strike him with a single, heated glare that read plain and simple ‘you. are. on.’ before honing all your attention onto the worksheet in front of you. It’s not too difficult to focus at first, to disregard the tingles that erupt across your skin where his hot touch sears into it. You manage to find and correct your error in one of the problems (impressive for you even if Kyungsoo wasn’t feeling your leg up under the table).

But whatever pride you find in doing so is quickly quelled when his hand suddenly shifts higher, and you feel the faintest pressure against your heat. It’s a sensation that robs you of your ability to breathe entirely for a handful of seconds, and you can’t stop the shiver that ripples down your spine.

This, you see, is one of the more recent developments in your oh-so complicated relationship with Doh Kyungsoo. Yet another that began with a disagreement at a party, over something you can’t even remember anymore thanks to the haze of alcohol that clouded both your minds at the time, that spiraled way out of proportion. You remember yelling at him, insulting him, stabbing your finger into his chest, feeling the sting of his lethal glare. God, he’d looked so pissed off, and you just fed off of it, fed off the rage and the frustration that festered like lava in those dark brown eyes. The angrier he got, the harder you pushed, until he finally snapped.

You’re still not sure what you expected to happen. What you expected him to do. But you sure as hell hadn’t anticipated him grabbing you by the throat and pulling you into one of the hottest, most mind numbing kisses you’d ever experienced.

Next thing you remember is being in a bed. Whose bed it was, isn’t important. What is important, however, is the fact that that night you had the best sex of your entire life with the man you thought you couldn’t stand.

Hate sex with Doh Kyungsoo opened your eyes to a whole new world of mind boggling pleasure that you’d never experienced before. Pleasure that no other person had ever been able to give you. God, the things he did to you. No one had ever touched you like that before. It was like he knew all the places on your body that made you unravel. He honestly ruined all other men for you that night because none have even come close to comparing. Which was beyond frustrating especially considering that, at the time, you thought it was a one time thing.

The morning after you both pretended that nothing happened. In the two weeks following as well, neither one of you mentioned it. You tried to erase the memory from your brain, tried to go back to normal, but it was hard considering every time you needed some sexual release (which was more often than you care to admit), it was his hands, his mouth, his cock that you imagined while you touched yourself. You replayed his moans in your head, his deep, rasping voice growling your name, and fuck, you never came harder.

But it was still nothing compared to the real thing.

As time passed you only grew more and more frustrated. Worst of all, you could tell he was feeling it too. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, with fire burning in eyes, in the way he spoke to you, with a pitch of something hot and wanting in his voice, in the way he lost his cool far quicker and far more often than he had in the past, your arguments fiercer and more frequent than they’d ever been. The tension between the two of you was palpable, thick enough to be cut with a knife. It got to the point where even your most oblivious of friends started noticing it as well, though they knew better than to voice their curiosity.

The second time it happened, you were both sober and, somehow, it was even better than you remembered. The pleasure was more intense, more overwhelming, a feeling you can’t even put into words. Then it kept happening. Late at night when he’d show up unannounced at your door. Early in the morning when you had an important exam later in the day and you needed some pre-test de-stressing. Between classes in the back seat of his car just because you could. At parties when your friends were too shit faced to notice the two of you slipping into an unoccupied bedroom.

Just sex. That’s what you both agreed to when it became blatantly obvious that your little ‘arrangement’ wouldn’t be coming to an end any time soon. No strings. Just sex. Just really, really good sex.

And that was perfectly fine by you.

Exhaling shakily through your nose, you try to block out the feeling of his thumb as it begins to caress gently up and down your clothed core, suddenly very grateful for the layers of fabric that separate you from his intoxicating touch. But it’s a gratitude that’s short lived. Just as you manage to adjust and scribble down a correction, he cups his hand over your mound and squeezes. A gasp escapes you, and you try to cover up the sound with a series of short coughs, the sting embarrassment intertwining with the warmth of pleasure as a few eyes briefly glance in your direction.

“You’re such an asshole.” You hiss under your breath, thighs tightening around his hand, locking it in place.

He throws you a lopsided grin, brows lifting and you don’t miss the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been called worse.” What he means is you’ve called him worse.

Your lips part, but any intelligible words die on the tip of your tongue as he grinds the heel of his palm down, directly against your clit. Your head drops, eyes squeezing shut, teeth locking down firmly on your lower lip in order to silence the soft moan that threatens to break free.

“F- fuck.”

You hear him coo tauntingly beside you at your slip, the tips of his skilled fingers easily locating your entrance and prodding experimentally. At this point, you don’t doubt he can feel the fabric of your leggings growing hot and wet with your arousal.

Despite being used to the quick effect he had on your body, you can help but to feel the slightest twinge of shame at how he was able to rile you up this much with little more than a few well-placed strokes of his fingers. But fuck, it felt so good. You’d already been feeling somewhat deprived since you’d both been so busy this past week with exams and projects and what not. This is the first time you’re spending time with him since almost a week ago.

And you are in need of a fix.

“You look like you’re having a bit of trouble on that problem. Do you need my help?” Kyungsoo leans into you, his face right up next to yours, and you have to resist the sudden urge to kiss him right then in there in front of everyone in the stupid library.

Instead, you grit out an unconvincing, “I’m fine,” and force yourself to stay focused on the dizzying mess of numbers and letters on the worksheet in front of you and not on the delicious warmth of his hand where it is applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you teetering between pleasure and the insatiable need for more.

“You sure?” There’s a certain lightness to his voice that tells you he is thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle. Sadistic bastard.

“Positive.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You almost gasp as a rush of cold air fills the places he had been, and you can’t help the frown that tugs at the corners of your lips, disappointment and irritation coloring your features before you can reel them in. From the corner of your eye, you chance a glance in his direction. The smug, knowing little smirk staining his lips sends a wave of heat pulsing into your cheeks, and you grit your teeth in frustration.

“So what, you’re just going to stop?” You whisper sharply, not making any attempt whatsoever to hide your annoyance.

A look of feigned innocence overcomes his features. “You said you didn’t need my help.”

You grit your teeth, glaring at him as hard as you can manage with how incredibly turned on you are. But he remains unfazed.

“If you want my help,” he continues, voice dropping an entire octave, “you’re going to have to ask for it... nicely.”

Nice wasn’t a word in your vocabulary when Kyungsoo was involved.

Seeing the resistance you are still putting up, he feathers his fingers over your thigh, tracing slow designs across the thin, black fabric. You swallow, unable to look away as they trail dangerously higher, teasing closer to where you both knew you wanted them most.

“You do want it, don’t you?”

Fuck, you want it so bad.

You know that he knows you want it. It’s just the getting yourself to actually say it out loud part that proves to be a challenge. But that’s exactly what he wants you to do, he wants to hear you say it, wants to see you cast aside your stubborn pride and beg for it. Beg for him.

Lifting your eyes, you glance unsurely around the library. It isn’t overly crowded anymore since most of the other students have begun to trickle out as late afternoon approaches. Plus, the table you were seated at was tucked into the far back corner of the room, secluded and out of the way. But still, your nerves buzzed at the thought of someone seeing. Though maybe — just maybe — there was a buzz of something else as well. Excitement, perhaps?

Grip tightening around your pencil, you chewed on the corner of your lip, refusing to meet Kyungsoo’s penetrating gaze as you let out a soft murmur. “...ease.”

He leans closer, mirth shimmering in his eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Groaning, you shoot him a scowl, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Please help me, asshole.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, the genuine kind that makes his cheeks lift and his nose wrinkle. You like it when he laughs like that. Makes him look a lot less like a serial killer.

Sinking his teeth into the pillowy flesh of his lower lip to stifle his laughter, he shoots you a lazy grin, “that’s all you had to say.”

Next thing you know, his hand is slipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and into the soft cotton confines of your underwear. Your mouth fell open, a sharp inhale filling your lungs with cold air as his fingers slid through your slick folds.

“I knew you were wet but shit.” He hisses, thick brows furrowing at the feeling of your heavy arousal coating the length of his digits. “I must say, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, “even Chanyeol can get me this— ngh!”

Without warning, he plunges his middle finger inside of you, and the remainder of your sentence pitches into a strangled moan. One look at his face, jaw clenched, nostrils flared, lips down turned, tells you he isn’t all too pleased at the mention of another man’s name, especially when he’s the one buried knuckle deep in your greedy cunt.

A hazy smirk curls onto your lips and you let out a low hum of pleasure, walls squeezing around him. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Is that why you enjoy pissing me off so much?” He questions, tone biting and low, and you shutter involuntarily as he rolls the pad of his thumb harshly over your aching clit.

“Partly.” You admit, somewhat breathless. “But you’re also just a really fun person to piss off.”

He chuckles dryly in response, though the sound lacks any genuine amusement. “You are such a brat, you know that?” He emphasizes the word by stretching you around a second finger, and you have to drop your pencil in favor of clasping your hand over your mouth, unable to swallow down the soft whimpers that tremble up your throat.

“You love it.” You manage to get out before you’re forced to bite into the tender flesh of your palm to muffle a desperate cry when the slow thrusts of his digits suddenly picks up speed. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jerking up to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm. Electricity ricochets through your veins, and you feel that distinctive tightening in the pit of your stomach. Kyungsoo also feels the way you throb and clench around him, and makes sure to grind down hard against your swollen clit.

Heat immediately spreads through your core, the intensity of the pleasure becoming more than you can handle. “Oh god, Kyungsoo.” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, and you quickly duck your head, doing your best to make it seem like you’re focusing on your work and not the fingers drilling relentlessly into your g-spot, praying to god that no one had seen the blissed out expression on your face. Still, you can’t help the quiet whine that escapes you when his ministrations slow.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” He asks in less than a whisper, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Ever hear of subtlety?”

“Ever hear of suck my dick?” You snap back without missing a beat, only to jolt as his fingers curl inside of you, pressing directly against that sensitive bundle of nerves. Every muscle in your body tenses, and fuck you’re so close you can almost taste it. Frantically, you thrust your hips, desperately trying to fuck yourself down on his digits.

“Sit still.” He growls, and you quiver when he sinks his teeth into the lobe of your ear, obeying only because you really don’t want to get banned from the campus library if someone happened to catch on.

“Soo— fuck,” the force with which you bite into your lip is nearly about to break the skin, but you can’t be bothered by the pain, not with how quickly your orgasm was approaching. Sensing as much, Kyungsoo goes the extra mile of drawing hard, fast figure eights over your clit with his thumb while simultaneously thrusting his fingers into you so fast that you swear you can almost hear it.

All at once fire roars through your veins, euphoria consuming you as your high crashes over you. Your walls spasm around his digits, painting them with your release.

He doesn’t withdraw from you until you go slack, thighs spreading, body slumping back in your chair, eyes fluttering as a hazy, blissed out smile touches your lips. You can only watch through hooded lids as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sighing in amazement as he sucks them clean. There’s a twinge of arousal in your core as he moans softly at the taste of you on his tongue, a downright lethal sound that somehow manages to rouse your positively spent pussy.

This man is going to be the absolute death of you one of these days.

“Fuck.” You chuckle airily, heady gaze flickered over him lazily, only to do a double take when you notice something standing upright beneath the zipper of his jeans. The corners of your lips twirled into a mirthful grin, eyebrows raising slowly.

“Need some help with that?”

“Yes.” He answers shamelessly and without hesitation, grunting softly as he adjusts himself in the tight confines of his jeans to make the raging hard-on he’s sporting somewhat less obvious. “But not here.”

“I figured. So... your car or mine?”

“Didn’t you just get a new one with reclining seats?” He questions, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lip at the mere implication.

You strike him with a wicked grin, already beginning to shove your things into your bag. “I did indeed.”

“Then what are we— wait.”

“What?”

“You didn’t finish correcting the worksheet yet.” He points out, drumming his fingers across the paper that had completely slipped your mind.

You pull a face, pausing in the act of gathering your belongings long enough to cross your arms pointedly over your chest. “No offense, Kyungsoo, sweetheart, but I’d much rather suck your dick than do one more of those stupid fucking calc problems.”

His brows leap to his hairline, and he offers a single nod of acceptance, in no position to argue with such a valid point.

“Noted.”

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zodiyack · 3 years

Text

In Regards Of My Apology

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst?

Words: 1,174

Summary: Y/n misses her husband so much that it affects her visibly. Rebekah allows her to rant about it then schemes with Elijah. Before Klaus knows it, his older brother and younger sister are before him with an important message.

Note: I’ve decided I’m gonna do three parts, which. on that topic, part three will be released soon!

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @dpaccione, @jenepleurepasbaby

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

His castle, really the Mikaelson home, was deserted apart from himself. Every day, the weight of his guilt daunted him. Too stubborn to straight away admit his foolishness, even to his wife, he sat in the lonely home of the Mikaelsons. It wasn’t like he didn’t wish he could reverse what he’d done, nor did he believe he wasn’t in the wrong. Klaus was just...Klaus.

On the other hand, Y/n was surrounded by the people she loved, minus her husband. Elijah and Rebekah were constantly checking on her and rarely did they speak of Klaus. The one time Davina tried to bring him up, all three older women stared her down and shook their heads urgently. It was like he was a forbidden topic, a man who’s name was no longer something allowed to be mentioned if you so much as valued your life.

However, it was quite the opposite with Y/n. Whilst she appreciated their caring company and loving gestures, she had no problem talking of her husband. In fact, she wanted to talk about him. Y/n desperately wanted to figure out the whole situation so she could be resting beside him in their shared bed every night again rather than the uncomfortable one provided by Marcel. She was grateful, but she yearned for the love of her life.

Each time she tried to talk about him, someone was quick to interject. Eventually she gave up, but when she hadn’t heard from him for a few months, she began to grow ill with worry. She couldn’t literally get ill as a member of the undead but it did affect her drastically. It wasn’t long before the others started to notice.

“Y/n, dear, are you alright?” Rebekah paused in place, concern lacing her knitted eyebrows as she set down the teacup she was about to pour the hot water in.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose I’m fine.” Her lie wasn’t nearly as convincing as Klaus deemed Aurora’s to be, which was saying a lot.

Rebekah new better than to listen to her sister-in-law at this time. “What’s bothering you, love?”

But then, that was the problem. If Y/n were to tell anyone who was watching over her while she tried so hard to get back on her feet and recover from her fight with her husband that he was what was on her mind incessantly, they were surely to shut her down instantaneously. She hadn’t tried her luck in some time, over being interrupted again and again.

“It’s nothing...”

“No, no, no. Unless ‘nothing’ is making you look like utterly useless trash, no offense, then it is something.” She crossed her arms and leaned her hip into the counter with a sigh. “So, tell me what the ‘something’ is.”

Although Y/n doubted Rebekah would let her bring up Klaus, even for a second, she decided it was worth a try. “Well...if you really want to know-”

“I do.”

“Then,” she inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly as she prepared to voice the source of her troubled thoughts, “it’s about Nik.” Y/n waited, watching Rebekah intensely, waiting for her to interfere and change the topic. But she never did.

The Blond looked around for a second, then back to Y/n, “Are you going to continue or are you just going to leave me in the dark?”

“You’re...not going to stop me?”

“No. If he has you this distressed, we might as well solve the problem instead of letting you dwell in it.” Rebekah moved forward, pulling out a chair and sitting across from Y/n. “Now. Do continue.”

“Uh- Alright.” And so Y/n explained to her sister-in-law, as though she were her personal therapist, the distress she felt, the weight of their first large and unsolved fight a burden on her shoulders like Atlas and the world. In truth, she had taken up the role and become rather serious about it.

“Well, what do you think we ought to do about it?”

“I- We?”

“Did I stutter? Or did vampirism not amplify your hearing the way it should’ve?” Despite her sarcasm, she waited for an answer, but when one did not come, she chuckled a bit. “It’s the same as the last time. I have your back. We all have your back, so, if you’re going to do something about it, so am I.”

Both Rebekah and Elijah were the first to enter the forgotten Mikaelson palace in the time since the king and queen parted ways. Klaus reigned terror more than before, threatening people because he felt like it, doing things to quell his anger even though he knew full well that the satisfaction it gave him was only temporary until he had his queen back. Klaus was just as broken as Y/n and it was only when he was in the darkest place of months without her, did he fully take in Hayley’s words and actually give an effort to see the truth.

It was true, Y/n was loyal to a fault, and yet, he believed the woman turned out to be just as evil as her brother and Lucien in plotting against the Originals. He was vengeful when he found it out, putting an end to their plan and their existences with the help of his family and some friends. That was the last time he’d seen them since then.

“Thank you, Elijah.” His voice quivered.

Elijah pulled at his cuffs slightly, then looked at his brother with dead emotion. “This is the last time I will be by your side until you realize your wrong doings and do the thing you know you must. Until then, brother.”

As Elijah walked past him, he bumped Klaus’ shoulder harshly. He couldn’t help but freeze, tears filling his eyes as his gaze remained glued to the ground.

Snapping out of the memory, Klaus wiped his tears away.

“Alas, he finally returns to reality.”

His head snapped around, eyes wide and still watery. “You came back-”

“But not for you.” Elijah was quick to put an end to any hope of his siblings trust Klaus had left. “Niklaus, do tell me, have you any remorse for what burdens you have placed upon your wife?”

“Oh...” Klaus realized the true meaning of his siblings’ arrival, the guilt swimming around his gut only intensifying.

“Oh indeed, Nik. She’s ready to forgive whenever you’re ready to apologize.”

“Are you here to help me?”

Rebekah laughed, “No, I’m afraid you’re the one who made the mess, so you’re the one who must clean the mess. We’re simply the messengers, dear brother.” She smiled with false sweetness, then turned and paced out of the room.

Elijah, once again left alone with his younger brother, uttered his wise words of advice before he too left for the second time. “I do wish you take Hayley’s words to mind, Niklaus. It would do not only you, but your wife some good.” By the door was where he stopped one final time. “Mind you, if you truly love her,” he paused, “you’d do what is right.”

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

Text

Anakin is to blame for his fall.

Anakin bears final blame for his state of being.

It is true that he was raised fatherless as a slave, taken away from his mother and only security while only nine years old to be raised by a religious group he knew nothing of prior to meeting one of its practitioners.

It is true that he was met with skepticism and suspicion upon arriving, being deemed too old to train and thus picked on my his peers.

It is true that his relationship with his master was rocky, and that Obi-Wan could not be outspoken and honest about his love for his apprentice.

It is true that his fears were realized when his nightmares about his mother’s death became reality, and that he was overtly prevented from coming to her aid.

It is true that he was was required to bury his volatile emotions underneath the surface, to shut up and never bring them up and let them go.

It is true that despite being married to a loving wife, he had to hide the marriage from the public and live with a secret he knew may ruin his reputation and sever his connection to the order.

It is true that he did stand up for Ahsoka, that he did want the best for his own apprentice while she was being falsely accused of murder.

It is true that Anakin was barely even an adult when he fell to the Dark Side, terrified of losing Padmé, of losing their children of knowing that the nightmares may once again come true unless he acted to prevent it.

It is true that Palpatine manipulated and groomed Anakin all the while, sensing both his power and his vulnerability and feeding off of his weaknesses.

It is true that the Jedi did not have the tools to aid Anakin, or to give him the psychiatric help he would have needed in order to function within society given his traumatic childhood and difficult upbringing.

But it was Anakin who would not trust his loved ones, who would not believe they had the best intentions. It was Anakin who adhered to Palpatine’s constant reassurance of his greatness, his value, his power.

Ahsoka explained why she left, that she couldn’t trust the order that had not stood up for her - but Anakin still took it personally, as if she was abandoning him and without taking her feelings into the equation.

The Jedi order were clear with their rules, they put up guidelines and restrictions to follow, and Anakin still broke them.

Obi-Wan may not have been able to profess his love for Anakin out loud, but if Anakin had taken the time, he would have noticed and realized that Obi-Wan did love him - and that in spite of the fact that Obi-Wan knew he was not supposed to develop emotional attachments.

Padmé may have been selfish and codependent on Anakin and much as he was on her, and she did condone and forgive his murdering an entire village - but she did put her foot down when it went too far, and she did tell Anakin that she loved him and would have forgiven him once more despite knowing he had murdered children if he had only listened to her.

But Anakin didn’t listen. Anakin never listened. Anakin is a loving and emotional man, yes, but he is also hopelessly inept when it comes to taking the people he loves’ feelings into account.

Anakin loves Ahsoka, therefore she should stay with the order even if it’s not fair to her. Anakin loves Obi-Wan, therefore Obi-Wan should always praise him and be openly proud and verbally supportive of him. Anakin loves Padmé, therefore she should always forgive and support him whatever he does, even if that includes killing innocent people. Anakin loves his mother, therefore killing an entire village in cold blood as revenge is a fair retribution.

Anakin loves Ahsoka, but her state of mind is worth less than Anakin’s. Anakin loves Obi-Wan, but his dedication to the order and to himself is worth less than Anakin’s need for validation. Anakin loves Padmé, but her unrelenting love and forgiveness doesn’t matter if she won’t follow him to the end of the line.

Anakin promises to save his mother, and he does come for her but it’s too late. Anakin promises to clear Ahsoka’s name, and he does but she rejects the order either way. Anakin is bashful upon learning that Obi-Wan is proud of him, but he still second guesses and doubts the sincerity behind it. Anakin promises Padmé he will save her, although she doesn’t care if she dies as long as her child(ren) lives and Anakin can’t accept that.

Anakin doesn’t care if Ahsoka, Obi-Wan or Padmé are happy or satisfied with any outcome. What Anakin cares about is his world, his feelings, his own satisfaction.

Anakin isn’t an inherently selfish man, and he doesn’t pressure people and demand their all because he’s callous. Anakin simply never learnt how to deal with healthy relationships, he only had his mother and during his formative years, he was Obi-Wan’s padawan - and Obi-Wan was distant, despite his attempts at breaking the ice.

Now, Obi-Wan being distant does not put the blame on him. Ahsoka leaving the order does not put the blame on her. Padmé enabling Anakin’s violent tendencies does not put the blame on her. The Jedi order following their religion and imposing it upon Anakin who did wish to become a Jedi does not put the blame on them.

Could Obi-Wan have been more nurturing? Yes, but Anakin still demanded more than he could give.

Could Ahsoka have stayed in contact with Anakin after leaving the order? Yes, but her wanting to put some distance between herself and the Jedi is understandable and valid.

Could Padmé have protested and given Anakin ultimatums when he committed atrocities? Yes, but her seeing the best in Anakin at all times came from a place of love, not a wish to condone murder or violence.

Could the order have given Anakin some leniency and offered him therapy instead of asking him to hide his emotions? Yes, but they simply followed their teachings and expected Anakin to be able to do the same.

Anakin had no easy life, no simple choices - but he did have the choice when it came to Palpatine. Still, if anybody outside of Anakin influenced, coursed and shares the blame, it’s Palpatine. Palpatine is what Anakin is inherently not - he is a cruel, ambitious, evil man.

Anakin is selfish, Anakin wants love, Anakin wants to save the people he loves. Sure, it’s for his own gain, but he still wants to be good. He has good intentions as much as they are driven by personal investment. Palpatine cares for no one but himself. Any kindness Palpatine showed Anakin is a lie and a hoax and a bluff. Palpatine preyed upon Anakin’s insecurities. Palpatine manipulated a lost young boy desperate for approval and a father figure.

But at the end of the day, Anakin had a choice. Do I understand why he chose Palpatine and the Dark Side? Yes. Do I understand how his fear drove him to desperate measures? Yes. Do I understand how the high of his new powers snared him? Yes. Do I understand why he believed in Palpatine above the Jedi order? Yes.

But Anakin’s self serving attitude is revealed when instead of saving Padmé, instead of running away with her so she can be safe - what he was initially fighting for - he chokes her, harms her, contributes to her demise. Anakin’s selfishness is his downfall, and that’s where the blame lies with him.

As soon as he dons the cape and mask, he accepts this new living hell he’s trapped within - because deep down, he knows he deserves no less. He ruined his own life, he destroyed the Jedi order, he drove away Obi-Wan (and Ahsoka), and he killed Padmé. Vader isn’t a different person. Vader is Anakin, and Anakin knows what he deserves is suffering, and pain, and torment.

Anakin deserves being but a husk of the man he once was. What else does he have left, but to serve the man who aided him in his downfall? What else does he have left, but to bring harm and hurt to others so that they may taste a sliver of his internal agony? What else does he have left but the monster he turned himself into? Anakin knows it’s his fault, he knows there is no Vader, he knows he did it all by himself.

Anakin knows he became his own nightmare, and he continues to exist because he knows it’s what he deserves. Anakin does not abandon his old self because he’s no longer Anakin, but because the man he once was is warped and he does not believe he deserves to associate himself with his past. The name ‘Anakin’ stands for life when it was good, and hopeful, and worth living. Anakin can no longer relate to any of those sentiments, and thus ‘Anakin’ is simply not a name he feels worthy of.

Anakin never forgot who he was, he simply accepted that he had gone too far to turn back. He understood that he did not deserve forgiveness, or redemption, and he did not seek it out. Anakin knew Obi-Wan and Padmé and Ahsoka would all have forgiven him, but he could not let them overlook the horrible things he had done.

The irony in his refusing to accept forgiveness and turn around, is that that is perhaps the most selfless decision he could have made. Because when Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and Padmé had tried their hardest, he still would not budge. And that would, in some aspect, at least let them know they did their best and it was not enough. They tried, and failed. Anakin made sure they failed because he did not wish to be saved.

Ahsoka got her chance to stay with him, and make her perceived betrayal right. Padmé never lost her faith in him, even while she lay dying. Obi-Wan let himself be cut down and killed, both to free himself as a Force ghost, but also to let Anakin enact his revenge. They got even, in the end.

Vader is no disease, no second persona, no separate entity. Blaming Anakin’s deeds on Vader as somebody else absolves Anakin and removes the guilt from him. It discredits Anakin, and it cheapens his character. Anakin is not a good man, he is only human. But in the end, despite a life time of poor choices, he makes the right decision. And it’s just as much Anakin saving Luke, as it was Anakin cutting off his hand. It’s just as much Anakin choking Padmé, as it was Anakin marrying her. Anakin did it all.

Anakin alone is to blame for his suffering, and he knows this because there is no Vader. There is only Anakin.

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panda-noosh · 4 years

Text

unlike me {fred weasley x reader}

Words: 8k

Summary: You, a shy Hufflepuff, have caught the eye of Fred Weasley.

Genre: fluff

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - did i just write pure fluff? wow. i’m learning.

----

Fred Weasley doesn’t do things to impress others. He never has. Trying to please others is so far from his mind when playing one of his pranks that it’s almost laughable to think he and his twin brother do anything for the sake of attention. They live to amuse themselves, and nobody else.

But sometimes the reactions of others do catch his eye. It happens rarely, but there have been the odd times when Fred and George are fleeing from the scene of one of their usual messy pranks, and Fred will look over to see someone standing there, staring open mouthed and wide eyed at the scene in front of them, and he will turn back to the path and smile because - yet again - he has left somebody speechless.

More often than not these days, that person is you.

Fred doesn’t know much about you; you’re clearly very shy, hardly ever being spotted in the hallways unless you’re making your way to your next class, and even then you’re prone to keeping your head down, refusing to talk to anybody who wants to talk to you. Fred doesn’t know if you have any friends, if you want friends, if you’ve ever looked at him and wondered what it would be like to talk to him…

“So, Harry, tell me a bit about that one over there.”

Harry looks up from his breakfast plate, eyes still fogged from a night of no-doubt restless sleep. Beside him, Ron is still trying to wake himself up and Hermione is hastily flipping through a gargantuan textbook. It seems to Fred like the Chosen One may be the only one at this moment in time in a fit enough state to answer his pressing questions.

“Huh?” he replies.

Fred leans forward a little more, so close that his mouth is very nearly touching Harry’s ear. “That one over there.” He nods over to the Hufflepuff table. “The one sitting on their own.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Y/N L/N? What about them?”

“They’re in your year, aren’t they?”

“I think so. I don’t really know too much about them; they’re quite quiet, really.”

“Yeah,” Fred and George say together. “We know.”

Harry raises a brow, flicking his gaze to the twins standing on either side of him. “Why? Are you both interested?”

“Just ol’ Freddy Boy here.”

Ron scoffs. “You? Getting in with Y/N L/N? Mate, that’s about as likely as Percy showing up for Christmas this year.”

Fred slaps Ron on the back of the head. “Shut your mouth, you git.”

“So, what? You really think you have a chance with them?” Harry asks.

Fred shifts uncomfortably; he hadn’t meant for the conversation to get this far. All he wanted was for Harry to tell him a bit about you and that be it - he was fairly confident he could handle the rest on his own using his incredible charm and humour.

But now these snotty little fifth years are making him second-guess his own abilities, which has never happened before in his seventeen years of life.

“I think so,” he replies, trying to keep his voice as confident as possible. “Why wouldn’t I have a chance? I’m charming, and witty, and-”

“And loud, and annoying, and centre of attention literally all the time,” Ginny finishes, waltzing into the conversation. She sits down next to Hermione, pinching a hash brown off Harry’s plate. “Y/N is the complete opposite of that. You’ll scare them away before you even get a chance to ask them out.”

Fred frowns. George says something in his twins defence, but Fred has stopped listening, instead choosing to glance over to where you’re still sitting, smiling shyly at the Hufflepuff boy who has just taken a seat next to you. It’s clear - and always has been clear - that you get plenty of attention - you just don’t want it. Fred has watched you get shy and awkward, shuffling away from people who so much as grin in your direction. Fred has even watched you scurry away when he walks past, and at this point, he isn’t even surprised; the scenes Fred finds him in are far from the types of scenes you’ll want to be caught in.

You really are very different people, and Fred isn’t stupid enough to deny that. Nonetheless, there’s something about you that has always caught his eye, from the day he was a puny little second year, watching you scramble up to the Sorting Hat. Even then he found himself staring at you, fingers crossed in the hopes you would get sorted into Gryffindor, that he could find an excuse to lead you to the Common Room himself - not Perfect Percy - but then you were being sorted into Hufflepuff and an awful long time went by in which Fred did nothing to pursue you.

But now he’s in his sixth year. If not now, then when?

“Have you ever tried speaking to them?”

Ron’s voice snaps Fred from his daze. He looks down and shrugs.

“Not really.”

“That's not like you,” says Ginny. “Have we actually found someone who makes you shy?”

Fred scowls. “I’m not shy. Y/N’s shy - I’m just respecting that and keeping my distance.”

“Good on you, mate,” says George, before he ducks his head down and whispers loudly in Harry’s ear, “Every time he sees them, he wets himself a little.”

Fred kicks his twin. “Would you lot give it a rest? I’ll talk to them today, alright? You’ll all see.”

“Oh, don’t wind him up,” Hermione tuts, slapping Ron on the arm when the group of youngsters start laughing.

“Oooh,” George says. “You’ve got Granger sticking up for you, Fred - who would have thought that would ever happen to us?”

“I think it’s cute that Fred likes Y/N,” says Hermione, sitting up a little straighter. “I don’t know much about them, but I think someone bringing them out of their shell could do them a world of good.”

Fred can’t help but grin; the thought of it, of you actually giving him a chance - it makes him unnervingly happy. “Cheers, Hermione.”

Fred takes that tiny bit of assurance and carries it with him throughout the entire day - he doesn’t really know when he’s going to make his move, just that he is.

At some point.

He has no classes with you. He barely sees you in the hallways. He doesn’t share a common room with you - the situation is really not working in his favour, but Fred Weasley will not let such a drawback ruin his plans. He’ll find ways around it, just as he finds ways around everything.

The solution finally comes to him at 11:00pm.

He should be in bed. He knows he should be in bed, that if Filch were to see him right now, the old man would be going absolutely ballistic, overjoyed with the idea of giving another student a detention. Fred has the advantage of the Marauders Map, plus a lifetimes worth of sneaking around, but that doesn’t make him feel any less nervous.

He’s been out of bed after curfew plenty of times before, but never has he crept into another common room whilst doing it.

He heads towards the basement, checking the Marauders Map every few seconds to ensure Filch and his filthy cat are as far away as possible. His mind is working at a million miles per hour, because for the first time in his life, Fred is convinced he’s being stupid. The amount of protective charms that must be on the doors of these openings would be insane, and Fred is insane to think he could ever try and get past them, but god, he can’t go down to breakfast tomorrow without making some attempt to talk to you, just like he said he would, just like Hermione-

“Eep!”

Fred spins on his heel, nearly falling over a body of armour stood in the corner. Multiple paintings rouse from their sleep, and the ones that were already awake break into fits of giggles. Fred doesn’t even acknowledge the tiny noise that made him jump in the first place, instead choosing to desperately hush the paintings around him.

“Shut up. Sh! Filch will hear and then we’re all in trouble!”

“Speak for yourself, Weasley,” says Doogle Doolaly through a mouthful of giggles. Fred shoots the painting a glare before abruptly remembering what had caused him to stumble in the first place.

He spins around. To his surprise, you’re still there.

You, standing right in front of him with both hands clapped over your mouth, eyes wide. You’re wearing a pair of yellow bed robes, hair a mess. Fred has to take a minute to just stare.

And then, “What on Earth are you doing out of bed?”

Slowly you lower your hands, biting your lower lip as you stare right back at him; Fred, though pleased, finds this quite odd considering he’s so used to watching you avoid eye contact as much as possible. “I was walking.”

Your voice is quiet, timid.

Fred tilts his head. “Walking? At eleven at night?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

You nod. Fred nods back. The two of you stand a good five feet apart, unsure of what to say or do to make the silence go away - of course, there’s so many things Fred wants to ask, considering he was previously convinced you would never step out of line, but none of those questions are appearing right now.

Fred, however, knows this silence can’t last forever, so he’s the one to make the first move in breaking it.

“You alright?”

You look up, startled. “I’m fine. Why?”

“I was just wondering. You look like you’ve seen someone use an illegal curse or something.”

“Thanks.”

Fred’s stomach flips. “Not that you don’t look really pretty, because you do, but I’m just saying-”

“Why were you heading towards the Hufflepuff common room?”

Fred pauses. Have you just caught him out?

“How did you know that’s where I was going?”

“Because nobody else comes down here this late at night unless they’re a Hufflepuff coming back from detention.”

“You’re good at this, you know. Right little detective, you are.”

You shrug.

Fred sighs, rubs the back of his neck before saying, “I was just having an innocent little dander about. Those Gryffindor sixth years can be a rowdy bunch - it’s hard to get to sleep.”

“Oh. Okay.” You trace your eyes along his towering form, and for a moment, Fred is almost convinced you’re genuinely checking him out. It boosts his confidence a little. “Well, I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep. I’m also sorry for making so much noise - you startled me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a pretty scary person I’ve been told.”

Your lips twitch. “Who told you that?”

He shrugs. “It’s not so much a verbal thing. Sometimes sweet little Hufflepuff’s run away when they make eye contact with me.” He raises a brow, smirks when he sees your own smile fade, replaced by a mild look of embarrassment because you both know exactly who Fred is talking about.

You cough and awkwardly kick at the floor. “Sometimes sweet little Hufflepuff’s get a little shy.”

Fred’s confidence is really flooding back into his system now, and he doesn’t know why it feels different. This isn’t the confidence he carries around with him on a day-to-day basis, the confidence that allows him to play these big pranks without a care in the world. This is a type of confidence he has never felt before, makes him feel elated, like he can do anything.

He smirks, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m Fred Weasley, by the way.”

“I know.” Your eyes pop open for a brief second. “I mean - uh - Ron. Ron is your brother, right?”

“He is.”

“I know your brother. He’s in my year. Goalkeeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, right?”

“Right.”

You nod, biting your lower lip in that way Fred has learned you do quite often when you’re flustered. “I heard of you - uh - from him. Yeah.”

Fred nods. He stares at your flustered form, finding amusement in the way you quickly look to the floor, trying desperately to avoid his gaze which has apparently now become too much for you.

He chuckles and pushes himself away from the wall he found himself leaning upon. “It was lovely talking to you, Hufflepuff. Try not to run away next time and maybe we can talk again.”

You look up and nod, lips twitching. Fred grins right back, bows his head to you before he walks off down the corridor, pretty darn pleased with himself.

----

“So how did it go?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

Ginny gasps, slapping Fred on the arm when her, Fred and George sit down to breakfast the next morning. “You kissed?”

Fred snickers. “No. But we spoke, and it was great. Y/N L/N is actually a bit of a rule breaker.”

Ginny raises a brow, reaching across George for a slice of toast. “Shut up.”

“He’s telling the truth,” says George, at the same time Fred says, “I’m telling the truth.”

“Wow. What were they doing to break the rules?”

“Walking about after curfew. Lucky I was there, or else Filch would have had them.”

Ginny scoffs. “Because god forbid anyone be as sneaky as you two.”

“Exactly,” the twins reply.

“So what was the conversation like?” Ginny prods. She wears a distracted gaze in the hopes that Fred won’t see just how curious she really is, but Fred sees right through her.

“It wasn’t bad,” he replies. “A bit short, but that’s easily fixed.”

“So you want to keep talking to them?”

Fred raises a brow. “Of course I do.”

Ginny hums around the slice of toast in her mouth. “Cute, Fred. Cute.”

Fred opens his mouth to give a sarcastic retort, but gets abruptly distracted by the sight of you rising from the Hufflepuff table. He sits bolt upright, craning his neck to see over the heads of everybody else; you don’t spare him a glance, apparently retreating back to your usual, shy self. With your head ducked down and your books piled in your arms, you hastily make your way towards the exit.

Fred is standing up before he can even process he’s moved. Ginny and George watch him, both smiling maniacally as Fred utters a half-hearted goodbye and follows after you. He really has no plans for what he could possibly say when he finally catches up, but he’s decided to take every opportunity he possibly can.

He bustles out of the Great Hall, finding you only a few seconds after as you head back towards the Hufflepuff common room.

“Y/N!”

You freeze, spinning around as Fred jumps onto the step just below the one you’re currently standing on. He pants dramatically, clutching his chest.

“You move quick.”

You glance over his shoulder, hugging your books a little tighter. “Hi, Fred. How was breakfast?”

“Oh, good. Great, actually. I - uh - had toast.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” He straightens up, rubbing the back of his neck; why is he suddenly nervous? “Where are you off to?”

“I have to go grab some books for my first few classes,” you reply, and Fred can’t help but note the slight tinge of amusement in your voice. “Where are you off to?”

Fred pauses; again, this was not something he necessarily thought through when he first decided to follow you out here. He really just wanted a chat, to hear your voice one more time before he was forced to go to classes.

He folds his arms over his chest as nonchalantly as he can manage, leaning against the banister. “I don’t think it’s right for a lovely wizard like yourself to be walking to class on your own; I thought I’d offer my services.”

You raise a brow, once again taking a cautious glance over Fred’s shoulder to ensure nobody is around to hear his flirtations; nonetheless, you make no attempt to stop him, which he takes as a relatively good sign. “Well, you can walk me to class if you like. I have to get my books first, though.”

Fred gestures up the stairs. “Lead the way.”

And so you do. Fred follows you all the way to the Hufflepuff common room, where he is forced to wait outside whilst you gather your belongings. His stomach grumbles, evidence of his uneaten breakfast, but he doesn’t even care right now. Not when you walk out of the common room, all smiles and nervous glances. Fred offers you his arm, and it’s with only the slightest bit of hesitation that you take it and allow Fred to lead you back through the school hallways.

“What is it like in there?” he asks.

“In where?”

“The Hufflepuff common room. Surely you can hear all the house elves rattling about in the kitchens at night.”

You shake your head. “The walls are soundproof; did you know Muggles have soundproof things as well?”

Fred raises a brow. “You’re not obsessed with Muggle stuff, are you? My dad’s into all that stuff - I’ve heard enough of it for a lifetime.”

You giggle, and Fred is fairly certain his hand starts trembling.

“No, I’m not obsessed,” you say. “I do find some of it interesting, though. The similarities between our world and theirs.”

“Are there many? Similarities, I mean.”

You shrug. Looking to the side, Fred can see your face suddenly change; what once was an expression of nerves and uncertainty is now one of interest and intrigue as Fred asks you questions on a topic you are clearly very invested in. It makes his heart lift, and he has to bite his lower lip to stop the smile from spreading and making it too obvious.

“A few I’ve picked up on,” you reply. “They still - like - wear clothes and stuff. Just different styles. And they live in houses, and go to school-”

“School? Don’t insult Hogwarts like that. Muggle school and wizard school aren’t even comparable.”

You furrow your brows, glancing up at Fred. “But they still learn.”

“Not the important stuff. Not like we do.”

“And what would you consider important?”

Fred hums, gazing wistfully into the distance. You giggle again. Finally, he says “aha!” and clicks, whirling on you. “Right, tell me this - do Muggles learn Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

You frown, grip tightening on his arm. “I don’t think so. They don’t have magic, so it would be a bit pointless, wouldn’t it?”

“Ah, but it’s important. What are they gonna do if a Dementor comes knocking on their front door?”

“There’s nothing they can do, even if they knew the basic stuff we know. They don’t have magic, Fred.”

Fred grunts. “Must be a hard life having to do everything by hand.”

“I agree.”

Fred chuckles, glancing down at you. Your eyes meet his for a fraction of a second before you bite your bottom lip and avert your gaze.

“Go on then,” Fred continues. “Tell me some more similarities. You’ve got me interested now.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

You tilt your head in thought. “Well. . . I suppose the way their government system works is quite similar to ours.”

“Explain.”

“They have people in power. A system of higher-up’s, if you will, who control everything.”

“Is theirs as corrupt as ours?”

“Oh, definitely. Sometimes I’d even argue they’re even more corrupt than ours.”

Fred’s eyes pop open. “Blimey. How has the Muggle world not completely broken down?”

You laugh. Full-on laugh, eyes squinting closed and head thrown back. Fred can’t even bring himself to laugh alongside you, suddenly too engrossed in your enjoyment to indulge in his own.

You hiccough yourself back to reality before looking up and saying, “Surely your dad could teach you all this stuff if he’s so interested in Muggle affairs?”

“He’s interested, but he’s also a bit oblivious. Doesn’t matter how many times Harry tells him what a telephone is, he still has no idea how it all works.” Fred shrugs. “Plus, I enjoy my lessons much more when you’re teaching them.”

You stiffen, lower lip hiding - yet again - behind your teeth. You swallow thickly, and before Fred can do anything, you’re unwinding your arm from his and picking up your pace, calling a quick, “I’m gonna be late!” over your shoulder. Fred falters mid-way, staring after you with his mouth dropped open and confusion making his stomach churn.

Someone crashes into his shoulder as you round the corner. “Nice one, mate.”

“Shut up, George.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s going too well.”

“It’s - it’s going fine.” Fred curses under his breath - now you’ve got him stuttering? “They’re just a little shy. But I think they like me.”

“Oh yes, the most obvious sign of attraction - running away.”

----

Fred is beginning to get very tired of his classes.

He’s only here for the sake of his mothers sanity; god only knows how Molly Weasley would react if he showed up at the Burrow six months early, claiming he was finished with school before he’d even managed to bag an acceptable amount of N.E.W.T’s.

But he doesn’t want to be here any more. He’s getting tired of forcing himself to listen to things he only half cares about, getting tired of being told off for things that - honestly - the teachers should just be used to by now. It’s not like they haven’t seen it for the past six years.

He grunts to himself as he and George walk out of History of Magic. Yet another boring lesson that seemed to drag on much longer than necessary; all Fred has to prove he was there at all is the doodle of a cat in the top hand corner of his notebook.

“I need a sleep,” George says. “His bloody voice exhausts me.”

Fred opens his mouth to respond, but his twin brother cuts him off by slapping a hand to his arm and pointing straight ahead.

Startled, Fred looks up. Standing by the gargoyle just outside History of Magic is you, hugging your books whilst awkwardly looking back and forth, as if afraid one of the passing students is going to stop and harass you.

George snickers. “Go on, mate. I think they’re looking for you.”

Before Fred can object, get himself together, George shoves him forward hard enough to make him stumble. Your head snaps up at the sound of Fred saying “You git!” and Fred is quick to lean against the wall, look at you and say, coolly, “Y/N. What a pleasant surprise.”

You stand up a little straighter, lips twitching. “Hi. How was class?”

“Boring.” He smirks. “Much better now that you’re here, though.”

The unmistakable sound of George snorting as he passes by floats between you. You smile, giving Fred’s brother a nod before you turn back to Fred and say, “Do you fancy taking a little walk before break ends?”

Of all the things Fred expected to happen today, you asking him on a walk was certainly not one of them. It takes him a second to reply, and it’s only the realisation that you’re probably just as nervous as he is that he snaps out of it and nods.

You wind your arm through his without him having to offer; his cheeks are burning.

Together, you set off down the hall. It’s quiet for a little bit, Fred still trying to figure out what’s happening, and you inspecting each and every one of the sculptures you pass, as if too afraid to look over at Fred.

Finally, however, you break the silence. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Fred’s stomach jolts. “What are you sorry for?”

“For how I reacted. You were just being nice and I - uh - I don’t really know how to handle that kind of thing.”

Fred perks an eyebrow, glancing down at you with genuine curiosity. “I find that very hard to believe.” Because he does. He finds it downright unbelievable that compliments are not something you have grown used to across the five years spent in Hogwarts.

You shrug. “Well, believe it. I really appreciated what you said, but I just. . . I don’t know how to respond, or if you’re telling the truth-”

“I was definitely telling the truth.”

You bite your lip. “I shouldn’t have ran off like that. It must have made you feel awful.”

Classic Hufflepuff behaviour - thinking more about other people’s feelings than their own.

“You know,” Fred drawls, “if my flirting makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and I’ll stop.”

“No!”

Fred’s eyes snap down. You look back up at him, eyes wide before you realise the abruptness of your protestation and hastily avert your gaze to the floor.

“No,” you say, softer now. “I - uh - I don't think you should stop. I quite like it, actually.”

Fred smirks, keeping his eyes trained on you even as you fight desperately to look anywhere but him. “Do you fancy me, Y/N L/N?”

“Oh, give me a break, Fred.”

“I think you do.” He rubs his cheek against your own. “Just a little bit.”

You jerk away, slapping his arm. “Well, it’s not bloody difficult, is it?”

Fred falters, though his smile only widens. “What does that mean?”

You groan, pulling your arm from his yet again. Fred stumbles back, unable to help the laugh that bursts from his throat at the sight of your flustered state.

“I’m going to class,” you announce.

“You didn’t answer my question!”

“I don’t have an answer to your question.” You stand there a little longer. With a smile still beaming, Fred watches as you take a single step forward, a step back, another step forward-

And then, as if telling yourself to just get it over with, you jump forward and press your lips to Fred’s cheek. His jaw drops open, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything before you’re spinning on your heel and rushing away, rounding the corner without so much as a wave in his direction.

Fred swallows thickly, reaching up to brush his fingers against the area you have just kissed, just like they do in those cheesy Muggle movies his mum is so fond of. He can’t believe the feeling that comes with it - his heart is going to explode.

Oh, no…

----

The Hufflepuff table is boring compared to the Gryffindor table. That’s the first thing Fred notices.

Maybe it’s because his friends aren’t with him. Maybe it’s because George flat-out refused to accompany him. Maybe it’s because Fred is nervous, and he’s angry about it, because since when has Fred Weasley ever been nervous about anything?

This morning, however, he is pushed on by the memory of your lips against his cheek. That is his only source of motivation, the only reason he doesn’t flick Ernie MacMillan on the back of the head when the Hufflepuff boy turns and scowls at the Gryffindor student currently making his way towards you, sat at the very end.

You have yet to look up from your textbook. Fred takes great pleasure in wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your body jumping back against his in your shock. He leans down and chuckles in your ear, moving his head so you can see his clearly amused features.

Immediately your eyes widen. “Fred! What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come have breakfast with you.” He waves his wand; a sausage springs up from Ernie’s plate, which he catches before biting into. “Like a date.”

You bite your lip. “Do you want to sit down?”

“Uh, Y/N?” Ernie calls over as Fred takes the empty seat next to you; he doesn’t miss the way you barely look up when you hum in response to Ernie’s - quite frankly - rude call of your name. “You know the houses have to eat together. He’s breaking the rules.”

You shyly look up. “Oh, Ernie, let him sit down…”

“Yeah Ernie,” Fred jeers. “Let me sit down, you nosy little git.”

You choke on the pumpkin juice you just lifted to your mouth, spinning in your seat to hide the amused smile growing uncontrollably upon your face. Fred grins, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Did you like that?”

“You’re impossible,” you hiss, slapping his arm. “Just ignore him. He’s got a grudge against anyone who plays for Gryffindor.”

“Yeah, I know.” Fred narrows his eyes, craning his neck a little to see over your shoulder, where Ernie sits with a scowl on his face. “He better not give you a hard time for hanging out with me, you know. You’d tell me if he was?”

You shift so you’re covering Ernie’s face and are now the centre of Fred’s attention. “Of course I would. Plus, Ernie doesn’t scare me.”

“I’ll certainly scare him if he so much as-”

“Fred,” you laugh, nudging his knee beneath the table. His eyes drift back to you, his body immediately relaxing at the sight of your glowing smile. “Calm down, okay? He’s got nothing against me - it’s you and the Gryffindor team he’s got a problem with.”

“Is that supposed to make me hate him any less?”

You shrug, plucking Fred’s hands from your shoulders and placing a hash brown between his fingertips. “He’s got a point, you know. You are breaking the rules by sitting here.”

Fred raises a brow. “Right, I’ll leave if you-”

“No!” You latch onto his arm, pulling him back to the bench as Fred bursts into yet another round of raucous laughter at how easily flustered you become. “No, you should stay. Dumbledore isn’t even looking.”

“If I was any less wise, L/N, I’d think you want me to have breakfast with you.”

“I just don’t get to see that much of you,” you mumble.

Fred coos; he’s trying so hard to keep up the fun-guy persona, putting on a mask of confidence despite the speed at which his heart is hammering in his chest at the moment. You make it so easy for him to feel this way, too easy, because sure, Fred has had crushes on people before, but never has he put himself out like this. Never has he wanted to make someone laugh so much. Never has he been so proud of being the reason for someone else’s smile.

Fred leans forward, lowering his voice. “That’s very cute.”

“Yeah, well…”

He chuckles, flicking your heated cheek before he takes a bite from the slice of toast you’re holding. You jolt upright immediately, swatting him away with a glare. “Hey!”

He licks the butter noisily from his fingers. “Yummy.”

You roll your eyes. “Get your own breakfast.”

“But yours is so much tastier.”

You grab another slice of toast from your plate and push it against Fred’s lips. He opens his mouth, takes a bite and hums appreciatively.

And then the world stops.

It really is like those scenes in those cheesy movies his mum watches all the time, where the room seems to go still and it’s like nobody else exists. Your fingers hover inches away from his face, your eyes cast to his lips where the slice of toast has just disappeared. Fred swallows, his own eyes drawn to your lips, slightly parted, so soft looking-

“Weasley! What do you think you’re doing sitting at the Hufflepuff table! Get back to where you belong right this instant!”

McGonagall grabs a fistful of his robes, pulling him up from the bench. Fred gasps, stumbling up with his eyes still locked on you. You hastily look back down at the table, pushing hair out of your eyes, trying to avoid being told off by the Deputy Head.

“Awk, lay off, Professor!” Fred exclaims. “I was having fun!”

“You were breaking the rules, Mr Weasley. You can integrate with your pals whenever breakfast has finished, but until then-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred grumbles, giving you one last glance. It’s to his utter relief that he sees you looking back at him, a tiny smile on your face. Fred winks before McGonagall shoves him forward, back into his seat at the Gryffindor table.

----

When Fred receives your note, he is sat in the Gryffindor common room with George.

Homework litters the table in front of them, unfinished and not understood by either of them. Hermione had long since gone to bed, insisting she wasn’t going to help people who didn’t want to help themselves. And so, the twins sat up until the late hours of the night, staring at their homework with a sense of frustration building between them.

Fred feels certain he’s going to snap at any given moment; this whole school thing really isn’t working out for him nor George, and the two of them have such prestigious dreams that sitting in a classroom all day just feels like a waste of time. Maybe that’s why he can’t bring himself to properly concentrate on his lessons. Maybe that’s why neither he nor George care as much about grades as all his other siblings.

“Right, so clearly Flitwick was on something when he wrote this,” says George, scowling at his charms homework. “He didn’t even mention flying charms last lesson, so why has he-”

The fireplace suddenly erupts.

Both Fred and George jump at the sudden interruption, swivelling round in their chairs to catch a glimpse of what has happened; they both know full well the kinds of things these fireplaces can permit, and neither of them want to deal with anything too dangerous at this time of night.

In the fire, however, is not the face of a Death Eater, or anything close to such - instead, a single piece of paper sits in the ashes, Fred’s name printed in bold across the top.

The twins frown at each other. George makes a suggestive gesture, all but shoving Fred closer for inspection.

Fred stumbles, sends George a glare before he bends down and picks the piece of paper up. Immediately the handwriting is recognisable by the lazy flick of the letters, how effortlessly neat it looks. It would take Fred hours to write a note that looks like this, and yet he’s watched you scribbling notes down; this is undoubtedly your doing.

Suddenly he’s smiling.

“Oh, here we go,” George groans, noticing his twins expression. “You’re sending love notes to each other now?”

“Shut up.” Fred sinks down into one of the armchairs, reading your note thoroughly. “Y/N wants to meet up.”

“Right now?”

“Mhm.”

George raises a brow. “Have you two even kissed yet?”

Fred’s eyes snap up, cheeks heating before he can stop them. He never ever gets flustered around George, but the mention of such a thing has his stomach flipping. “Why do you care?”

George raises his hands in mock surrender. “Never said I did, mate, but the smile on your face right now would suggest at least a peck on the cheek or something.”

Fred scowls. “No, we haven’t kissed. We’re not even properly together, so drop it.”

“How does that make sense? You both fancy each other-”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing official.” Fred lazily flicks his hand, clicking his fingers so the note folds itself into a perfect square and zips into his robe pocket. “You wouldn’t understand these things, Georgie Boy. You’ve got to take it slow.”

Goerge scoffs, throwing a pencil at Fred. “Very bloody slow apparently. But I forgot, it’s a Hufflepuff you’ve got your eye on. They tend to be a bit hard-to-get, don’t they?”

Fred opens his mouth to protest, to stick up for you, but he can’t even deny the truth in George’s words; a fair amount of time has passed since the two of you first started talking, and all you’ve done is say you enjoy his company. There’s been no kissing, no hand-holding, nothing even close to being considered romantic.

Fred is okay with this, of course. He’s in that very weird head space where even just being in your presence is enough to satisfy him; he catches glimpses of you as you parade from one class to another, and that is enough until he sees you again at lunch, or dinner, or during breaks.

He sighs, pushing himself up from the armchair. “Don’t wanna leave them waiting, do I?”

George scowls. “What about our homework?”

“We’ll be fine.”

“I’m not covering for you if Flitwick asks what you were up to that’s more important than his homework assignments.”

Fred grins, not even giving a response as he clambers out of the common room and ducks into the hallways.

He knows exactly where to go, even though he’s never met up with you after hours before - not since the first time, which he doesn’t even count considering it was entirely an accident. To this day, he still isn’t convinced that wasn’t some type of dream - a Hufflepuff, out of bed after hours? Not a single soul would believe him if he told them.

Fred makes his way down the corridor and grins when he sees you standing there; you’re much braver than him. Fred, personally, feels much safer when he’s wading through the halls - it makes it more difficult for Filch to catch him if he’s not stationary. You, however, seem to have no issue with standing behind a suit of armour, waiting patiently for Fred to round the corner.

“Hola. Bonjour. Hello. Hi.”

You look round, face immediately lighting up. “Fred! Hi!”

He’ll never get used to that greeting.

“Y/N! Hi!” he mimics. “I got your note.”

“Good. Great. I was worried I did it wrong.”

“You? Do something wrong?” Fred screws his face up in an expression of mock confusion, which prompts you to roll your eyes and nudge him. He grins, stuffs his hands in his pockets and says, “Out after curfew again, eh? Have I finally corrupted you?”

“You must have,” you reply.

Fred tilts his head. “What’s the actual reason you invited me out?”

And that’s when your expression shifts.

You bite your lower lip in that way you always do, eyes darting to the ground awkwardly. Fred raises a brow, leaning forward a bit in his attempt to get you to look at him again, but you suddenly seem much too embarrassed to even be giving Fred the time of day. His stomach flips with uncharacteristic anxiety, and he can’t stop himself when he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your elbow.

“Hey. Did something happen?”

The words burst out of you in one breath. “I left my book in the bathing room and I’m too scared to get it myself but I really need it to help me sleep, so I was wondering if you could help me get through the hallways without Filch knowing and then I promise you can go back to bed and never speak to me again.”

You take a sharp breath before looking away again, apparently too embarrassed by your request to even look at him.

Fred takes a moment to reply. He has to untangle your words first, and then he has to bask in his amusement at how embarrassed you were by asking it; personally, he doesn’t see the problem. He’s happy to help. In fact, he’d be pretty annoyed if it wasn’t him you were asking.

“Alright.”

Your eyes snap up. “Really? I mean, you don’t have to, I just thought - well, you know your way around, and you’ve dealt with Filch-”

“You don’t need to explain.” He offers his arm, just as he always does. “What book is it?”

And it’s with only the tiniest bit of hesitance that you take his offered arm and allow him to guide you through the corridors he apparently knows so well; in truth, he doesn’t tend to go out after curfew all that often, because he gets all of his mischief done in the day time now. But you were indeed correct in saying he knows this place better than anyone else. He and George spent the majority of their school careers finding secret passageways and little hiding spots they could use at any given time. As he listens to you talk about the book he’s about to try and save, he recalls each and every one of these hiding places whilst keeping a sharp ear out for Filch.

The two of you arrive at the bathing rooms and Fred pushes open the door. It squeaks, and you wince, glancing at Fred anxiously; he merely places a hand on the small of your back, pushing you further into the room.

He follows, closes the door and exhales heavily. “Made it. Now where’s that book you’ve lost?”

You skitter around the edge of the massive bathing pool; it’s still filled to the brim with forever hot water, always clean despite the amount of people washing themselves within it on a daily basis. Fred stands on the edge, hands stuffed in his pockets as he watches you rush to the far side of the room, rummage around in a basket of towels before pulling a particularly thick book out from beneath them.

You look over, smiling broadly with the book pressed against your chest.

Fred raises a brow. “Happy now?”

“Overjoyed.”

You skip back over to him, pulling open the front cover to look inside. Fred leans forward, reading the confusing inside blurb over your shoulder.

“And you use this for a bit of light reading in the bath?” he asks.

Startled, you slam the book closed. “It’s good, honestly.”

“I’ll take your-”

Fred’s sentence is cut off by the sound of Filch yelling.

And it’s unmistakably Filch yelling, because Fred has heard it many, many times before. It always comes with that initial rush of panic, the realisation he’s been caught, and if he was with anybody else, that initial panic wouldn’t have even lasted. Now, however, he takes one look at your slack face, the horror swimming in your eyes, and he realises this is the first time you’ll have ever gotten in trouble with the caretaker.

A traumatic experience for anyone.

“Oh, god,” you whisper, dropping the book with a SLAM. You jump, scrambling to pick it up, but the noise only seems to draw Filch closer to the door. Fred has to think now.

He groans low under his breath, fumbling beneath his robes for his wand - a wand that has been left on the table back in the Gryffindor common room.

You jolt back up straight, hugging the book to your chest, and that’s when Fred does the one thing he can think to do right now - he grabs your arms and pushes you back, jumping into the deep end of the bath with you alongside him.

He holds you close, opening his eyes as much as he possibly can. He can hear Filch’s yelling from above, aggravated screams of “I know you’re in here! I know you’re in here! I heard you!” Fred simply pulls you closer, urging you to hold your breath for as long as possible.

But he can see you panicking, the air leaving you. He can see your lips threatening to split open so you can scream or cry or breathe, Fred doesn’t know, but he can’t let you do it. Not right now.

Without magic, there’s only one thing he can think to do.

He presses his lips to your own and pries your mouth open. He doesn’t know how this works. He read about it once in a Muggle Studies book, but he never thought he would ever actually need to pay attention to the details. He takes your relaxing body as a good sign, tightening his hold on your shoulders as he continues to breathe as much air into your mouth as he can possibly muster.

And then the door is slamming, and Filch’s screams are muted behind the gold plating, and Fred immediately lets go of you and bursts to the surface.

You follow, gasping for air, wiping water out of your eyes along with fat strands of wet hair. Fred pants, wiping his eyes roughly, trying so hard to find words for an apology but unable to gather enough breath to even think proper thoughts at the moment.

His heartbeat soars. He looks over at you; you’re already looking at him, and the entire room is silent besides your synchronised panting breaths.

You shove past the water, into his arms, and kiss him.

Fred’s eyes pop open wide, but his arms wind around your waist almost instinctively. His lips mould against yours, and once the initial shock has passed, his eyes are slipping closed and he’s falling, falling, drowning, never wanting to resurface ever again.

You pull away first. Water drips from your bottom lip, your eyelashes, your chin, and Fred has never seen a sight so beautiful. He reaches forward, swiping his thumb along your lower lip before he leans forward and gives you a final peck.

“Always full of surprises, you are,” he whispers.

----

Fred watches you. Leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest, he watches as you run the towel down your face, grumbling beneath your breath about how impossible it will be to explain your soaked robes to Professor Sprout.

Fred hasn’t even stopped to properly think about how the two of you are meant to get back to your respective common rooms without someone noticing; you’ll surely leave a trail of water in your wake, and Filch is already on high alert. Despite this, Fred can only focus on the kiss the two of you have just shared, and what it means for the future.

You sigh, slamming the towel down and turning. There’s an adorable pout on your face, eyebrows furrowed, hair still soaked and clinging to your skin.

“That really was a shock,” you say.

Fred chuckles. “Just the bit where we took a swim?”

“And the bit where you saved me from drowning.”

“And the bit when we resurfaced and you-”

You groan, waving your hands in front of you as if swatting a fly. “Awk, don’t. I never do anything like that. I probably did it all wrong-”

“You didn’t.”

“Kissing is just something I never got the hang of. I’ve only done it a few times, because I don’t really tend to like people that way, but-”

“But I’m a special case?”

You scowl, deflating. “You know you are.”

Fred grins that cheeky grin of his, pushing away from the door. He wades towards you and stops only when he’s close enough that you have to crane your neck to look into his eyes. “I think you got the hang of kissing perfectly fine. You’re a bloody natural.”

You blink. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” With that, Fred leans down and presses his lips to your own. It’s only slow, slow enough that Fred can feel you melt into him, your rib cage suddenly coming against his own, your fingertips brushing delicately against his waist. It’s adorable, feeling you lose yourself like this, barely registering what is actually happening.

He pulls away just as slow, so you can feel everything when he does so. Your eyes stay closed for a second before opening, lower lip retreating between your teeth, face hot when Fred brings his hands up to your jaw.

“Does - Okay, well, stupid question, but does this make us a couple?” you ask.

Fred laughs. “If you want, yeah.”

“Do you -”

“Oh, Y/N, don’t even ask that; you know full well I want to be your boyfriend. Full. Well.”

A grin splits your face. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his middle and placing your chin in the centre of his chest. “Yeah.”

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