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quindolyn · 3 years

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General Relationship Headcanons || Sirius Black

”Request: hi, love! i adore your new remus headcanon and i was wondering if you could write a general relationship headcanon with sirius black? if not, that’s completely fine. have a good day!

Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m sorry this took me a little longer than I anticipated but I also went really over the top, it’s twice the length of my Remus Headcanon I just got really into it. I was once again inspired to write Dad!Marauders so maybe I’ll get around to that. I wanted to thank you all for such positive feedback on my Remus Headcanon. I hope you enjoy this. Also thank you anon, I love you.

Warnings: fluff, smut, a bit of angst, canon can go fuck itself, Sirius Black deserves to be happy, not proof read because I wrote most of this in one sitting and didn’t have the heart to go back and reread. The ending is a little choppy

Masterlist

Sirius Black was never shown enough love as a child

Even at age 11 you were able to pick that up, when you were dragged into a train car with four other first years. James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black

He seemed nervous, he kept on looking out the window of the train car and fiddling with his fingers

James tries desperately to get everyone to talk, he feels likes he’s responsible for forging your guy’s friendship

Remus, Peter, he, and you hit it off immediately and you see Sirius smile at some of your jokes out of the corner of your eye but he’s nearly trembling

When you guys start talking about what houses you want to be sorted into he turns green

And when James says how he doesn’t want to be sorted into Slytherin he looks like he’s about to vomit

“Are you alright?” You ask him, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder

He seems uncomfortable with the contact so you move your hand away

“I’m just a little nervous” He admits that he comes from a long line of Slytherins, you offer to hex James for saying that for him, but he lets out a quick laugh and tells you it's fine

He’s actually really worried that he’s going to be sorted into Slytherin whilst simultaneously being terrified about what would happen if he gets sorted into another house.

Ravenclaw could be one thing

Hufflepuff another

But Gryffindor, that just couldn’t happen

You don’t touch him this time because you saw how he reacted last time but you reassure him that it will all be fine and no matter which house he gets sorted into you’ll still be his friend, no matter what

That earns you a real smile

A smile that takes your breath away

And even though you’re too young to understand what you’re feeling that’s when you start to fall for him.

You hold your breath while he gets sorted

Like him you feel very conflicted, you’re glad he’s not in Slytherin because of what he shared with you about his family

But at the same time you’re afraid for him

You might’ve only known him for a couple of hours but you have an inexplicable attraction to him and the idea of him being so scared breaks your heart

If you’re a Gryffindor he sits next to you and the others but doesn’t really say much because he’s too busy trying to figure out what he’s going to do

If you’re in a different house then you send him a smile across the Great Hall and go to find him after the feast

“How are you doing Sirius?”

He brushes you off, tells you he’s fine but you can tell he’s not, you let it go though and decide to give him his space, telling him that if he ever needs to talk you’ll listen

The next day in the Great Hall he receives a Howler from his mother, telling him how much of a useless disappointment he is. He plays it cool like it doesn’t really bother him but you can tell that he’s hurt and it makes you unbelievably sad

Your first lesson that day is together and though you sit with one of your dorm mates and he sits with James, you watch him the entire time, you just can’t seem to pry your eyes off of him.

As the year goes on and he starts to come to terms with what his life is going to be like now, he starts to come more and more out of his shell

Answering questions in class, laughing boisterously with his friends during meals, hexing people in the corridors, pranking Slytherins for shits and giggles

But it’s almost as though he’s forgotten about you, he smiles at you when he sees you in the halls or in classes but he doesn’t actively seek you out like you wished he would.

And you’re too scared to because you told him that you would always be there if needed someone to talk to but he hasn’t come to you yet

So that obviously means that he doesn’t want to talk to you

And that’s fine

You’re not going to force a friendship

You still study with Remus in the library

And talk with James about his day when you bump into him

And help Peter if he’s having trouble in a class

But you and Sirius don’t seem to click the same as you do with the rest of them

This continues through your second year until about 5 weeks into your third year.

At this point he’s starting to physically mature a bit, not a lot, that doesn’t come for a few more years, but his shoulders get a little broader, he gets a little taller, his legs start growing hair.

Girls start paying him attention, and more attention than the harmless crushes from previous years

His blossoming looks paired with his wit and sarcasm have every single person in his grade and younger turning their head to take a second look

Sirius being the humble soul he is-

No I’m just fucking with you

Being the little shit that he is, all of this just goes to his head

And he becomes even more insufferable than he was

But you’ve never found him insufferable, not really

You just told yourself that because it was easier than confronting your feelings for him

One day he, James, Remus, and Peter pull a prank that ends up with you covered in quill ink while on your way to Herbology

You weren’t their intended target

You still spoke quite a bit with three of them

It really was just a prank gone awry

But it still sucked

You stalked back to your dorm abandoning your friends in the hallway, not making eye contact with any one as you passed by

Sirius noticed this

He couldn’t stop himself from watching as you jogged down the hallway

Head down

Trying to evade people’s gazes

He’d barely talked with you in 2 years but he was hit by a tremendous feeling of guilt

He hadn’t meant to upset you, he really hadn’t

So he told the others that he wouldn’t be attending History of Magic that day (what else is new?)

And instead took off for you down the hallway

Never mind your house, when you come back down into the common room after taking a shower there’s Sirius Black, lounging on a sofa like he owns the damned place, looking around the room, taking in every little detail if it's not his common room. If it is the Gryffindor common room then he’s staring up at the girl’s staircase, waiting for you to come down.

When you see him you blush

“Si-Sirius, what are you doing here?”

Immediately you become more aware of your appearance, fixing your hair and straightening out your skirt.

“I just wanted to apologize (Y/N) we didn’t mean for that prank to backfire onto you, we’d never do that to you, it was meant for Snivileus-”

“Severus”

“Yeah sure, whatever. What’s important is that you know that I didn’t mean for that to hurt you, I’m sure the other boys will apologize too I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry”

Does Sirius Black look… nervous?

“It’s fine Black, really I was just having a bad day.”

He doesn’t know why but your usage of his last name is like a knife to the chest, why wasn’t he just Sirius?

Then he remembered, because he’d barely spoken to you in the past 2 years

“I’d like to make it up to you though.”

You turn him down, telling him that that’s not necessary, you’re fine

But he’s not having it, so the next day when you sit down for breakfast you find yourself surrounded by not only Sirius but all of them

They’re acting like this is completely normal but you’re lost

What the hell are they doing?

“Making it up to you of course”

Suddenly they’re everywhere, he’s everywhere

The others were already friendly with you so its not as much of a difference

But all of a sudden Sirius Black is everywhere

Eating meals with you until you relent and come sit with him and the other Marauders at their spot at the Gryffindor table

Suddenly he’s hefting the bag off your shoulder and slinging it around his

The year seems to fly by with him at your side

Sneaking you guys food from the kitchens

They show you the invisibility cloak

Pitching the idea of the Marauders map

And all of a sudden it’s the end of your 3rd year and the care free, witty Sirius you’ve come to know over the past year had morphed into someone far more reminiscent of that scared little boy you first met on the Hogwarts Express

The night before the last day of the term you find yourself alone with Sirius in the Gryffindor common room

You ask him if he’s alright, the past few days he hasn’t been acting like himself

He doesn’t have the energy to try and lie to you anymore, he lets it all out, he tells you about all the backlash since he was sorted

He tells you about Regulus

And how they don’t even talk anymore, “I can’t talk to him (Y/N), I want to but if our mother knows that he associates with me then he’ll be punished, and punishments in the Black house aren’t getting grounded they’re, unforgivable”

You gasp at the implication and reach out to touch his shoulder, but then you’re thrown back to the train and remember how uncomfortable it seemed to make him

But it’s too late, by the time you realize your hand is already on his shoulder

You start to apologize and pull it back but his hand wraps around your wrist which brings your eyes to his

They’re brimming with tears

“Don’t leave”

You pull him into your arms, raking your fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings into his ear

Explaining that you just didn’t want to make him uncomfortable

He tells you it's fine, he likes it when you touch him

You two sit there in silence until you think Sirius had calmed down

You tell him you’ll write to him every day

He tells you that you don’t have to do that

You still insist that you will

You two sit there for Godric knows how long but eventually you yawn and that alerts Sirius to how late it's gotten

Tells you he’s sorry that he’s kept you up so late

You tell him it’s fine, it was worth it to make sure he was okay

He blushes but its too dark for you to be able to tell

He walks you to the staircase even though it’s literally 5 feet away

“Good night Sirius”

“Good night (Y/N)”

The next day on the train back to King’s Cross you purposefully sit next to Sirius so you can keep a hand on his arm the entire time

It’s so subtle but doesn’t go unnoticed by the other Marauders

Though they decide not to mention it, he’s having a hard enough day as it is

You hate watching him trudge over to his parents when you arrive at the station, you and James exchange an understanding look.

You both care about him so much, watching him be this wretched physically hurts you

As soon as you get home you sit down and write him a letter

He told you that he probably wouldn’t be able to respond to most of your letter

And that’s fine, but every now and then you get one back

And your heart soars

You count down the days until September 1st, when you finally get to see him again

When you’ll know for certain that he’s okay

You nearly have a heart attack when you can’t find him on platform 9 ¾, but he was just already on the train with Remus and Peter, waiting for you and James to show up

As soon as you can you ask him how he is

He’s doing better than he usually is after an entire summer with Walburga and company

He thanks you profusely for the letters

You tell him not to sweat it

You’re just glad you could help

Once you know he’s okay you allow yourself to relax a little and that’s when you notice that he’s grown up quite a bit since June

His shoulders continue to broaden, his hair is longer, but he looks thin, too thin

And you want to hug him again, but you stop yourself

The sexual tension between the two of you 4th year is unbearable

And borderline uncomfortable

Poor Peter doesn’t know what to do with himself

You write to him again every single day over the winter holidays when he’s forced home to his wretched blood family

When you’re both back at Hogwarts things are even weirder than they were before

Sirius clams up every time you get near him and goes vermillion in the face

You’re sitting in the library the second Monday of the term when he approaches you

“What do you want, Sirius?” You ask without lifting your head

“You sound frustrated.”

“I am Sirius! You’ve been acting weird for a week and I’m sick of it. What do you want?”

He just sort of stands there looking at you, because he didn’t expect you to yell at him.

He’s not sure if he’s ever heard you raise your voice in his entire life.

“I should leave”

“Just tell me what it is Sirius!”

Everyone is looking at you

“This was a bad idea!”

“What is it!”

“I like you!”

This wasn’t how he imagined telling you how he felt about you

Yelling it in the library

Which a bunch of 2nd years gawking

“You what?”

He suggests you guys leave the library for somewhere more private

You agree, and he takes you down to a tree by the Black Lake

When he first told you he liked you in the library you couldn’t believe it, this boy, whom you’ve harbored a crush for for literal years, likes you too

And this isn’t just any boy, this is Sirius Black

And that’s when you remember, shit, this is Sirius Black

“This isn’t a prank or something is it?”

He starts denying it before you can even finish your sentence, it stings a little that you would think that but he understands why.

When you tell him that you return his feelings his his face breaks out into a smile and he lifts you into his arms and spins you around

“Really?”

“Yes really, now put me down please”

He sets you down but he pulls you so close to his body you can almost feel his pulse thrumming through his body

He asks to kiss you and you let him

From that day forward Sirius always has an arm around your shoulders or around your waist

He likes to pull you into his side so he can whisper things into your ear

He likes it when you perch yourself a top his thigh when he sits down

He also likes you sitting in between his legs

And he likes to sit in between yours too so he can smooth his hands up and down your calves

As you get more comfortable with touching each other, he’ll like to slink down so that his head is right in between your thighs so he can just turn his head and kiss them

Having his hands on you reminds him that you’re there, and if you’re there with him then everything is going to be fine

He’s going to get through that History of Magic Lesson

He’s going to finish that Potions essay

One day James might finally stop talking about Evans

He’s not going to bite Snape’s head off

Everything is going to be just fine

He takes you on dates to the Black Lake, you guys like to sit on the dock and dip your toes in the water, especially when it's warm and sunny out

Sirius will slip off his shirt so he can tan a bit and you’ll set your head on his chest, with your toes brushing up against the water

By the time the two of you finally got together you’d already spent multiple nights in the Marauders dorm room

But you usually slept with Remus in his bed because his was the cleanest

But now that your Sirius’ he sleeps with your head tucked under his chin, your body pulled flush against his chest, his arms have an iron grip on you, you couldn’t get out of bed even if you wanted to.

Waking up with him when he’s had a nightmare and the two of you lie there, chests pressed together, fingers tangled with each other’s, whispering about whatever you can think of

When he can’t sleep he’ll lay his head on your chest and listen to the beating of your heart to calm him down

He loves to do this with your shirt off, not in a sexual way he’s just like a baby and skin to skin contact is good for him

It centers him

He really likes sneaking into the astronomy tower with you at night to look at the stars

You murmur into each other’s ears about everything ranging from the your purpose in the cosmos to the color you should paint your nails next, he always votes red and gold, no matter your house

Painting your nails the colors of your house in spite of him if you’re not in Gryffindor

He volunteers to paint your nails once and does them in red and gold

One year for his birthday you give him a bunch of old muggle magazines your parent/guardian sent you when you wrote requesting them

The two of you lay on your stomachs, elbows bent, legs tangling with each other in the air as you skim through them

You point out the different muggle contraptions and what they do and how to use them

When you get to a mechanic magazine you have to explain to an overly excited Sirius what a motorcycle is

He becomes absolutely enamored with them and begs you for more magazines and reading materials on them

For Christmas that year you get him a miniature motorcycle that you charm to fly around his dorm room.

If you’re on your house’s Quidditch team that idiot is there every single one of your games, decked head to toe in your house colors

He also frequents your practices bringing you water and food for when you’re done

Sirius can get pretty jealous

He’s always been insecure in himself so seeing other people get to friendly with you just hits all of his buttons

He never takes it out on you, because he knows how it feels to be the object of misplaced anger

Instead Sirius will come up behind you when you’re talking to them and loop him arms around your waist, pulling you close to him

Or if you’re sitting down he’ll put his hand on your thigh

He doesn’t go overboard, it's not like if you’re talking to someone he’s going to challenge them to a duel

He just needs everyone to know that you’re his

And he doesn’t share

Letting you do his makeup once after you begged him and now he’s the one who’ll beg you

“Please Princess”

He looks so hot in eyeliner

Like no one has the right to be that good looking

And the mother fucker knows he looks good

You and James plan extravagant gifts and parties for his birthday every year because no one on this planet loves Sirius Black more than the two of you and you’re dedicated to making up for so many lost years

You and Remus bake him a cake every year and he loves blowing out all of the candles, he insists their quantity matches his age, none of that cop out bull shit where its just candles in the shape of numbers

He wants to blow out all of them

Your first birthday together Sirius has no clue what to get you, because it’s not like previous years, you’re together now so this gift has to be special, it has to be perfect

He consults everyone he can think of

Lily

James

Remus

Your dorm mates

Hell, he even writes to your family asking what he should get you

In the end they all only make it worse because he has all of these wonderful ideas and can’t choose because what if he chooses wrong and you would have preferred something else instead

So he gets you everything he can think of

You told him 3 weeks ago how you wanted to try a new quill, he’s bought you 7 different types to try out

He can’t decide whether you’d be prettier in rubies, emeralds, or diamonds so he buys you each

You wish you could say that it lets up as years pass

And it does

But only slightly

When his parents kick him out of the house James floos you instantly, tells you its Sirius and that he’s going to be fine, but he needs you

When you get to the Potter’s he’s bloody and bruised and looks like Hell

You have to stop yourself from sobbing at the sight of him

No one gets to hurt Sirius that way

Absolutely no one

When he sees you he starts crying and opens his arms for you to come to him

You help bandage him up and wipe away the dried blood

Once he’s clean and in new clothes you take his face in your hands and press your foreheads together

“I love you Siri, I love you to the moon and back.”

That’s the first time either of you have said “I love you” to the other

He starts sobbing

You pull him into your arms with his head on your chest and you pet him hair, telling him how much you love him and that he’s safe, you’re never going to let anyone touch him ever again

James comes into his room that night, neither of you are asleep, Sirius is still crying only now silently and less violently into your top

Wordlessly James slips into Sirius’ bed on the other side of him and both of you hold him all night long, telling him that he’s safe and that he’s loved, and that he never has to see his mother ever again

That he has a family right there and neither of you will ever make him feel like this

You spend the rest of the summer at the Potter’s

You and James were already good friends but you spend the rest of the holidays bonding over your love and protectiveness of Sirius

Sometimes he jokes that his girlfriend is trying to steal his best friend, but he really doesn’t mind

He loves it actually

The love and protectiveness you feel for Sirius goes both ways

He will not hesitate to kick someone’s ass for you

He often forgets that he’s a wizard at these moments and throws a punch instead of a hex

Cleaning him up after he gets into a fight and scolding him for not thinking, a professor could’ve seen him, he could still get in trouble

When you graduate Hogwarts together the Potter’s come for both him and James

He cries when they congratulate him and tell him that they’re proud of him

Your family also tells him how proud they are of him and he hugs every single person there

You guys move in together, you live a 5 minute walk from James and Lily

He doesn’t wait 2 months before he’s proposing to you

You accept of course

Engagement sex

The man was virile when you were still at Hogwarts but when you first move in together he insists you christen every single room in the house

He loves to make you scream out his name as he overstimulates you

He’s not as hard of a dom as Remus but he’s meaner, he doesn’t just mock you

He degrades you (as long as you’re comfortable with it)

He calls you every dirty name in the book

He loves to put you in barely there lingerie and make you touch yourself as he watches

Will mock you while you do it

“What puppy, your fingers aren’t making you feel good enough? Course they’re not, you’re a desperate little thing aren’t you? Need my cock in order to stretch you, make you feel good. Look at how small your fingers are, how are they supposed to do anything?”

He loves to punish you

To the point where he’ll set expectations that are impossible for you to meet so he can punish you for them

You’re both very open with what you do and do not like and try experimenting a lot

He is so kinky

Loves to edge you and watch you squirm in his grasp

Won’t let you cum until you’ve begged long enough

He loves ruining your orgasms, especially as punishment after you’ve broken one of his rules, but sometimes he does it just to be mean

He has very talented fingers and can make you cum in a matter of minutes if he wants to

Loves eating out, your little whimpers and whines make him want to just destroy you

Enjoys watching your cunt clench around nothing

Will laugh at this and smack your clit

Gets you a collar that says “puppy” or “slut” on it

He’ll tug on it with his finger to get you to look at him

Back to the engagement sex, as soon as you say yes he is on you

You jerk him off onto your tits so he can see the ring on your finger while your hand is wrapped around his dick

Breeding kink breeding kink breeding kink

Especially when Harry is born

The minute he sees you holding little baby Harry in your arms he feels the overwhelming urge to take you there

When you get home that night he tells you how gorgeous you looked with Harry and how much he wants to have a little “pup” of his own

“Gonna fill my puppy with my pups”

Makes you lay with your ass in the air once he’s cum inside you to make sure none of it gets wasted

Will plug you full

“How’s that feel puppy? Good?”

He’s always been able to get you to subspace but now its like he barely has to try, loves calling you his good girl and telling you how well you did for him

You guys don’t get pregnant immediately, which Sirius does not take well

In his mind there’s absolutely no way that you’re the problem

It must be him

He sees his inability to impregnate you as his first failure as a father

Gets really sad

You tell him how much you love him and that this isn't him failing, it could very well be you who is making it difficult to conceive

You have very soft, passionate sex that night as you ride him

He runs his hands up and down your body as you tell him how good he’s making you feel

Maybe it was that night, perhaps it was a different one but a month and a half later the Healer at St. Mungos tells you you’re pregnant

He’s ecstatic

Sirius literally can’t stop smiling

Not that he wants to

But his face almost hurts from how much he’s grinning

Sirius is the best person to have with your when you’re pregnant

He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and that you have everything you need

He’ll try out all your weird pregnancy cravings with you

Especially if you’re feeling a little shy about asking for weird combinations

He loves kissing your belly

He’ll sing French lullabies to it as he moves his hands in circles on your skin

Man never slows down as you progress through your pregnancy, watching you swell just makes him fuck you harder

At first the prospect of decorating a whole room for an infant seems mundane to him

But as soon as you and Lily are pulling out the paint swatches and wallpaper samples he gets so excited and loves helping out

He has to have James and Remus come over to help him put together the crib, he just can’t do it

When he learns he gets to buy clothes for his kid he’s so excited

He and James spend hours going through baby clothes and like with everything Sirius has a very strong opinion about this too

“No Prongs, I’m not putting my child in that, I actually like them”

When the Healer tells you you’re having twins he loses his mind

He’s so excited

Twice the clothes to buy

Twice the toys

Twice the cribs and diapers

He’s thrilled

When the baby comes he doesn’t let himself freak out because this isn’t about him

It’s about you and your baby

He holds your hand the entire time and lets you squeeze however hard you’d like to

Kisses your knuckles and tells you how good of a job you’re doing

You’re in labor for 15 hours

And it nearly kills him

Seeing you in so much pain makes him physically unwell

He wishes he could take away all of your pain for you

But he can’t, so he does what he can

Feeding you ice chips

Massaging your back

He read somewhere that orgasming can help speed along labor

So he does what he does best and makes you cum a few times on his fingers

It's possible that that’s what actually worked

It could’ve also been something entirely different, but he will claim it was making you cum, that finally worked

Your son is born first, and as much as Sirius would’ve been happy with whatever sex, his heart swells with pride to know that he just produced the first half-blood heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black

Next is your little girl

He cries when he sees her

She’s so beautiful, and looks just like you

The two of you sit there kissing and doting on your children for hours until you eventually pass out because you just pushed two humans out of your body

Fast forwarding a bit, the first time his daughter, who has him wrapped around her finger, calls him “Dada” his heart swells and he looks over at you but you’re already staring at him, tears in your eyes you whisper to him

“You’re doing a good job”

tagging: @randomoutsiders

#harry potter fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #sirius black fluff #sirius black smut #sirius black angst #harry potter fanfic #harry potter headcanons

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hillnerd · 3 years

Note

For the headcanon ask game - Romione + rain?

For the headcanon ask meme <-feel free to send a couple and a prompt- i'll either write a short blurb of headcanon or write a drabble my headcanon is that Hermione loves rainy days and Ron doesn't- she wins him over to them eventually:

RAIN

Hermione had always loved the rain. None of the other children in her class did. They'd moan and wail when they had to stay inside during playtime. As they all mourned the loss of their beloved tag, Hermione would squirm in delight.

While everyone else would suffer through checkers and building blocks, adventures and deserted islands waterfalled into the room with every drop of rain. Why deal with getting actual dirt under your nails, when you can imagine walking on beaches. Why deal with lines for the swingset and being elbowed off the climbing frame she could barely manage to stay on for more than a few seconds, when there were chapters of friends to spend her hour with.

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

Rainy days were absolutely, without a doubt, miserable! That's what they were. On a sunny day Ron’s brothers would let him come along and maybe even hang out a bit. He might just be target practice for an apple, but at least he was on a broom, and at least he was having something akin to a nice time with them.

Instead he was locked in, roped into chores, and no one would play him chess anymore. He'd just finished helping his mum mucking out some of the junk from under the sink when he felt his leg get crushed and he let out a string of curses.

“Get your legs out the way!” Fred hissed, giving him a light kick for good measure.

Utterly miserable.

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

Hermione wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck as a gust of rain-loaded wind made her umbrella quite pointless. The Quidditch Pitch was so misty she had no idea how the players were able to avoid colliding.

“Damn this weather is shit!”

A warm cloak was draped around her shoulder and she hurriedly leaned into Ron’s side.

“You shouldn’t curse.” She did her best to school her smile into a formidable frown of disapproval.

Ron laughed and shook his head. Droplets from his hair flicked onto the last dry bit of her face.

“Y’know, we’ve been friends for two years. You should probably get over my cursing. I’m not going to stop.”

“It’s impolite!”

“Worse things to be than impolite, aren’t there? I could be an arse like Malfoy.”

“And that’s the scale you’re grading yourself on? ‘Not as bad as Malfoy?’”

“Don’t be jealous of my lofty goals,” he said, putting his nose high in the air before squinting. “I hope Harry catches the Snitch soon. My bum’s going dead from the cold. Know anything that could warm it up?”

Hermione tucked her head behind her hair as heat radiated through her.

“There’s a hot-air-charm.”

“Oh yeah! Blow some hot air on me!”

“I don’t know it yet… I’ve only seen it.”

“Same.”

“And warming charms aren’t until fourth year.”

“Bit shit, that. It’s getting colder by the second out here. We should all know a good warming charm. Plus we live in a castle in Scotland! It’s bloody cold!”

“Ron!” she said, giving him a small elbow in the side.

“Sorry! I’ll try not to curse so much, I swea—”

“No! What’s that over there?”

A swathe of darkness rushed the field, undulating like a dark ink spill across the Quidditch field.

“Oh no…” Ron moaned. “Dementors!”

He gave another string of curses as they rushed towards the field.

Despite the cold, misery and terror encroaching, a bit of warmth kept the Dementors from fully affecting her as they had on the Hogwarts Express. It was Ron’s large hand holding hers all the way to the field.

She loved rainy days.

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

The wet squelch of his shoes echoing off stone hallways was the only sound left in the castle. Ron was alone, which was all for the better. He’d always loved Quidditch, but now it felt like a scimitar ready to come down and end him. At this point he’d welcome a good beheading— at least then he wouldn’t feel so bleeding miserable.

His sodden robes left tiny droplets, and he’d wrung out one giant puddle, in the halls. If Filch caught him, he’d probably give him a good dressing down, but Ron didn’t care. He deserved one.

How could Quidditch abilities have passed him by so thoroughly? He thought he’d been a good Keeper at home. He always got stuck in the position, but over time he grew to like it quite a lot. Not anymore.

His robes thwarted against the portrait whole as he drug himself through to an empty Common Room. Not wanting to face his dormmates he went for a seat by the fire, but found Hermione. She sat in one of the larger plush chairs, her little legs curled up under her in a way that would make his long limbs go numb in under a minute. All around her were parchment and books. She was working on a Charms assignment he knew was not due for another three weeks. She looked up from the work and gave a warm smile. Despite himself, he smiled back.

“It’s miserable enough with all the rain. Why compound it with Charms?” he asked.

“I wanted to wait for you. I don’t like the idea of you practicing in a storm like this. Especially by yourself! It’s not worth it.”

“Well I can’t quit,” he said, feeling mulish again and collapsing into the opposite chair with a great heave.

“I wasn’t suggesting you quit. Just maybe wait for nights where there isn’t a maelstrom?”

“Ah, but then there’d be loads of other people wanting to practice, and then they’d all see how I suck eggs.”

“I’ve seen you fly and you don’t ‘suck eggs,’” she said, finishing her sentence with a flourish of her quill.

“There’s a whole song about it.”

“That song…” she growled, casting a charm on her paper to dry the ink.. “Malfoy’s the one who sucks eggs! He’s a little monster and I’m a bit in shock the professors have done absolutely nothing to stop him.”

“Why would they?” he said with a shrug.

“Because it’s a monstrous display of bullying? Because it’s targeting a student and making the whole school absolutely toxic? It’s wrong? It’s harmful? Take your pick!”

Ron straightened in his seat as she pointed her wand at him. Suddenly he was hit with the most satisfying warming charm, followed by a water wicking spell.

“You’re good at Keeping! I’ve seen you do it every summer up against the twins, Ginny, and even Charlie. But you’re no good to anyone if you get struck by lightning, fall from your broom, or catch pneumonia from being out in this weather! And what are you smiling at?” she asked, brows furrowed enough to make that cute little line appear between them.

“You.”

“You should take what I’m saying seriously!”

“Fine, I won’t fly in this weather alone.”

“Well who will accompany you?”

He hesitated a moment then replied, “You, if you’ll come.”

“I can. As long as I’m ahead on my revising.”

“Then you can always come, as you’re always ahead,” he said putting his feet up on her arm rest.

“I also meant it about the Keeping. I think you’re good.”

“Yeah, well… Quidditch isn’t your strong suit.” She shoved his feet off the chair and he gave a chuckle. “But, I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Despite wanting to be so ahead in her studies, Ron noticed how she ignored her parchment the rest of the evening for him. For a rainy evening, it was quite nice.

#romione #hermione granger #ron weasley #rain #my writing #harry potter #hp fan fiction #romione fic #drabble #fan fic

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my-unmanageable-mischief · 3 years

Text

Arranged Marriage Part 1

For the Anon who requested : Hey! Can I request something where Draco's parents arrange a marriage for him, and at first he's pissed, but then he meets her and she's pretty and his type and he winds up really enjoying her? Thank you so much!!

Part 2, Part 3

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Draco slammed the door to his bedroom, he was seething. He’d just gotten home from Hogwarts for Christmas holiday when he was bombarded by his mother, who was in the middle of planning their Christmas ball. However, she had other news as well. He was, against his wishes, engaged. He was absolutely livid with his parents, he hadn’t even been consulted. Not to mention the fact that he was only in his sixth year. He was sixteen years old for Merlin’s sake! And on top of it all, he still had his duties to carry out this year, he didn’t need more stress. And that’s all girls were; stress.

Apparently he would be meeting her, and they’d be announcing their engagement at the ball this year, he kicked his desk chair out of frustration and it skidded across the room, toppling over.

“Fuck me,” He muttered to himself, thinking about the few details his mother had given him. Her name was Y/N L/N, a fellow 6th year at Hogwarts in Ravenclaw. Her father worked for the Dark Lord as well, along with his own parents. Pure-blooded and pretty according to his mother. Any girl his mother thought was pretty was probably a troll. He cursed again and tossed himself onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He tried to rack his brain, thinking of her name, and going through the 6th year Ravenclaw girls he could remember, seeing if he could match a face to the name.

“Y/N,” He spoke and the name sounded foreign on his lips. He could vaguely remember a girl in his potions class that went by that name with Y/Color/Hair. She wasn’t a troll but she wasn’t anything special either. A quiet bird who mostly kept to herself and sat towards the front of the classroom, typical Ravenclaw he scoffed to himself. This was ridiculous. Marriage! What next? Babies?! He hadn’t even graduated yet!

He wound up falling asleep on his bed, above the covers and shoes still on. His nap was plagued with visions of frilly white dresses and senseless dancing. When he woke up it was dark, and his family’s house elf had left him a dinner plate on his nightstand, but he wasn’t hungry. How could he eat at a time like this?

The week passed by agonizingly slow, and he spent most of his time being forced to help get the manor ready for their ball. His mother took him to Diagon Alley to purchase new dress robes. They were nice, black with all black accents. He looked at himself in his bedroom mirror, listening to the music and chatter from below. He was supposed to be downstairs an hour ago but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his room. He looked handsome, he knew, his pale skin and white hair popping elegantly with the all black ensemble. Yet he didn’t want to go downstairs where he knew his new fiance was waiting for him.

His house elf popped into his room and he looked away from the mirror with a glare.

“Missus said it’s time Mister Malfoy made his way downstairs. Guests are waiting.” Draco turned on his heel and walked towards the door taking a deep breath. He wasn’t nervous, Draco Malfoy did not get nervous. He was pissed and put out, still thinking this entire thing was ridiculous. He walked down the grand staircase, seeing his mother at the base, glaring at him.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, mother.” She nodded her head in response and attempted to fix his collar but he jerked away from her, doing it himself. Suddenly the french doors leading from the ballroom to the foyer swung open and a girl stormed through like a winter storm. She was wearing a brilliant emerald green dress that hugged her curves and went down to the floor, there was some light beading on the bodice but nothing over the top. Her Y/C/H was up in a fancy array of braids and her Y/C/Eyes were red and slightly swollen.

“I’m not getting MARRIED! Are you daft!” She cried, the man following her looked just like her, same eyes, same hair, much different demeanor.

“Watch your tongue!” He bit out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her towards him with a snarl, “Is that any way to talk to your father?” He looked over at Narcissa and Draco and smirked slightly down at his daughter, “Is that any way to speak in front of your future husband?” Her head snapped around to look where he was looking and she openly glared at him. She was pretty, Y/height, and Draco found himself smirking at the display.

“My sincerest apologies,” She gritted out between clenched teeth, “Malfoy,”

“Call me Draco,” He responded easily. Her father released her and she gripped her wrist with her other hand, holding it to her chest. She stood awkwardly between her father and the two present Malfoys. Narcissa cleared her throat and smiled, greeting the man by his first name.

“Why don’t we rejoin the party, I’d love to speak with your wife about wedding arrangements, and Lucius has some business to discuss with you.” He knew his mother wanted to let them be alone, and while he didn’t particularly want to marry the girl, maybe he could score a sneaky snog out of this. The man nodded curtly and took Narcissa’s arm as they went back through the doors, shutting them behind them. The girl continued to just stand there, glaring in Draco’s general direction.

“Did he just tell you?” He asked, trying to start a conversation. You winced slightly and nodded your head.

“Yes. He didn't think I’d come if I knew. He was right.” Draco laughed and you mustered up a half smile.

“My mother told me when I got home for Christmas.”

“Good for you.” you muttered, looking down. When you looked back up again your face was blank, “I don't want to marry you.” You stated bluntly. He sized you up, mildly surprised by your brashness.

“Listen princess, I don’t exactly want to marry you either, but your father seems pretty deadset.”

“And your parents aren’t?” You questioned, raising a delicate eyebrow at him, arms crossing over your chest. He shrugged.

“They are, I assume. Or they wouldn’t be going through all this trouble. We haven’t really talked about it, I’ve just been told the gist. We-” He gestured between the two of you, “Are to be married, don’t know when, don’t know why.”

“Probably at Voldemort’s request.” You replied and he flinched slightly.

“Don’t say his name.” You smirked.

“Why? Afraid he might come swooping in at any moment?” Draco didn’t want to comment on the amount of times the dark lord had been in his house, and he definitely didn’t want to admit that yes, that was his first thought.

“Call him by his title, the dark lord.”

“Are you a death eater?” You asked, curiously. He shook his head no, unconsciously glancing down at his arm where his soon to be mark would reside.

“Not yet.” You nodded then shook your head.

“Better you than I, I’d never be.” You spat the words out. Merlin, who did his parents want him to marry?

“Well you’ll be married to one.” You shrugged.

“Or maybe I’ll just run away.” You mused aloud, glancing around the foyer, eyes lingering on the door. He looked towards the large front door with you and laughed.

“Run away? With what money? Where would you even go?”

“Paris.” You answered easily, “I’ll make money. I’d be fine.”

“They’d hunt you down, Y/N,” He spoke your name for the first time to you and it felt odd coming from his lips, but not bad. You simply shrugged again.

“It would be worth it,” You whispered. They stood in silence for a few more moments. He wanted to say something but he had no idea what he wanted to say. Again, the french doors opened and Lucius stood in the doorway.

“Draco. Come.” He ordered and he felt his feet moving towards his father on their own accord. He stopped next to you, glancing down. “Bring her. This ball is for you. I will not have you two insulting your mother by spending the entirety of it in the corridor. You will dance, eat, and socialize. That’s an order.”

“Yes father.” And with a swish of his cloak the man was gone again, back into the bustling crowd of pure-blooded wizards and their children. Draco offered his arm to you and you took it with a small sigh.

“He’s charming.” He shushed you, not wanting his father to overhear you. Together you entered the ballroom, Draco leading you towards the bar area.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked and you nodded with a soft hum, “What do you want,”

“I’ll have a Witch’s Heart.” You spoke, keeping your arm linked with his but making sure there was as much distance between your bodies as you could manage. Did you dislike him that much? He ordered your cocktail and a Firewhiskey on the rocks for himself, thanking the bartender when he handed the drinks over. Draco led you over to a table of familiar faces and pulled your chair out for you before sitting beside you, both hands wrapped around his glass.

“Alright, Malfoy?” Blaise Zabini greeted, clasping the man on the back raising his glass towards him and then you, it was obvious he had already had a few. “Congratulations to the happy couple.” Draco laughed, knocking his glass against the other boy’s.

“Thank you, thank you.” He responded, placing his arm loosely around the back of your chair, you leaned away from him slightly and he frowned, shrugging. Pansy Parkinson glared at you openly and venomously from across the table.

“Y/N, right?” She asked, you nodded your head.

“Hello Pansy.” Her glare deepened. She said nothing more to you, crossing her arms over her dress. It was a similar color to yours, Draco noted, not surprised Pansy had opted for a Slytherin green dress. As much as he was proud of his house, sometimes she had too much house pride. It did surprise him however, that you were wearing the color. He had a feeling your parents had something to do with it. Draco and Blaise talked, Pansy occasionally saything something snippy here and there.

“Draco,” She batted her eyelashes at him from across the table, leaning over so her cleavage popped. Slag, you thought to yourself.

“Yes?”

“Care to dance?” Draco looked at you, and you gave a small shrug. You didn’t care what he did. He wasn’t your husband, and would never be if you got your way, which you were beginning to doubt you would.

“No.” He answered simply. Her face fell and you couldn’t help but smirk, she turned her eyes to you and glared darkly.

“Don’t think you’ve got him, Y/N.” She spat.

“Pardon?” You asked bored.

“He’ll never love you, hell, he’ll never even like you.” She hissed and Draco frowned, about to step in when you laughed loudly.

“Doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t, love. I’m marrying him, not you.” Pansy was livid. She stood up, hand twitching.

“Hag!” She cried.

“Oh Pans,” You replied, falsely sweet, “Don’t talk down on yourself like that, you’re barely even a hag.” Draco thought she might punch you, Blaise laughed, slapping a hand against Draco’s back.

“Feisty! I love it, you’re lucky mate, you should meet the boring bird my parents want me to marry.” Blaise glanced past Draco and sent you a wink, “Unless you care to switch.”

“I’m alright.” Draco smiled slightly, “Go cool down Parkinson.” Pansy was bright red with anger, she looked at Draco, then to you, then to Draco again, her face softening. She turned with a huff and stalked off to go Merlin knows where.

“She’s a delight,” You commented. Blaise laughed again, standing up.

“Can I get you lot another round?”

“Sure,” You smiled, handing him your glass, Draco followed suit. Once they were alone again Draco turned to you, smiling slightly.

“Sorry about her,” You shrugged and shook your head.

“It’s alright, I’ve dealt with worse, I deal with my mother daily.”

“You don’t get on with your parents?” He questioned and she raised her eyebrows.

“Do you?”

“Enough.”

“I don’t, not much. Probably why they’re trying to shove me off on your family.” He chuckled and nodded, arm still around the back of your chair. He was quiet for a moment, making eye contact with someone from across the room. You followed his gaze and saw his father glaring at the two of you, ah, yes. Your new darling father-in-law. Draco withdrew his arm and offered you his hand.

“Care to dance?” He asked, watching as you sighed and frowned before nodding your head.

“Alright, but I have two left feet as a warning.” He chuckled again and nodded his head.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” You felt something in your stomach flutter when he looked at you like that and spoke so tenderly, and Draco honestly couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth. He watched as you gathered your dress and took his hand allowing him to lead you out to the dance floor. He placed a hand on your waist and took your hand in his other one, and you snaked your free arm around his neck, keeping a comfortable distance. You began to sway to the music, Draco leading you in the traditional dance the rest of the crowd was partaking in.

“How’s your school year going?” He asked suddenly, needing to break the silence.

“Alright I suppose. Can’t believe they’ve got us preparing for NEWTs already.” Draco nodded with a small laugh.

“Don’t worry too much about it, it’s not like it matters.”

“It’s my future,” You replied confused. Draco nodded his head towards the large grand room around them.

“This is your future. You won’t have to work a day in your pretty little life.”

“And if I want to?” You asked him and he faltered slightly. Wasn’t it every woman's dream to be rich enough to sit on her arse all day?

“What would you do?” He asked, genuinely curious as to what could be better.

“I want to be a healer,” You admitted, stepping on his foot, “Sorry, told you, can’t dance.” He adjusted your position and pulled you slightly closer so he could better lead you in the dance, these shoes were expensive.

“Noble.” He commented. You shrugged.

“I’m good at it, and I like it.” You stated simply and he didn’t press the topic. If you wanted to be a healer, he wasn’t going to argue. At least until you had children. Children!? He shook the thought from his head, Merlin, he didn’t even want to meet you a few hours ago and now he was entertaining the thought of having children with you? He must be mad. Or ill. Mad and ill. The song came to an end and he released you, taking your hand again.

“Shall we find our parents? I’m sure they’d like to see us getting along.” He decided.

“Are we?” You asked him, “Getting along?”

“I’d think so, you haven’t hexed me yet.” You chuckled and he found he liked the sound of your laugh.

“The night is young.” He held your hand as you walked towards your parents who were chatting with several other wizards. You passed Pansy as you went and you couldn’t help but to throw her a smug look, knowing she had been watching you two dance. You might not be thrilled to be marrying the bloke, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome, and you seemed to be getting along, at least for now. And if you could rub it into the snotty little girls face, you would. For fun. She glared in return and you chuckled, causing Draco to look at you, then to the direction of Pansy, smirking himself and tugging you slightly closer to him.

“Jealous?” He asked and you snorted.

“You wish,” As you got closer to your parents you took a deep steadying breath, the hand in Draco’s becoming clammy. He squeezed the hand, noticing your sudden nervousness. Together you would face your parents, he decided, he would make sure you were safe. Afterall, that’s what a husband is for.

#Harry Potter #draco Malfoy #draco Malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #draco malfoy arranged marriage #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine

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thekinghazzastyles · 4 years

Text

Black Lake // Remus Lupin x Slytherin Reader

Pairings: Young!Remus Lupin x Slytherin Fem!Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 2175 Time Period: Marauders Era Summary: Remus wants to introduce his girlfriend to his friends but it doesn’t go very well. Requested: No Authors Note: I hope you enjoy!

Harry Potter Masterlist Masterlist

You and Remus had been dating for almost a year. You both kept it private for the sake of not being judged. More so you because you’re in Slytherin. Slytherins and Gryffindors don’t date, they aren’t friends, they don’t like one another. But you and Remus didn’t care about the stereotypes forced upon your houses.

“Do you want to tell people about us?” Remus asked. You were both in the Room of Requirement. It was in a library form but filled with muggle books and a small rustic table with a pot of tea on top. There was a couch in the far corner of the room, it looked a little worn down but it was rather comfortable. You had taken a small nap but Remus wasn’t tired so he just stayed awakened to make sure you were always comfortable.

“What do you mean? Like, tell your friends?” You were timid for a Slytherin but, proud of your house. You knew how people from every house would react to you dating Remus. You were more intimidated by his friends' opinions. The Marauders were ruthless with everything they did. The entire house of Slytherin was already mostly on the receiving end of their pranks, bullying, and belittling; but to be singled out by Black and Potter was something you would most definitely not enjoy.

“No, I mean everyone, the whole school. I know you think my friends will do something to you but they won't. I promise.”

“I trust you, but how do you know they won’t? What if they think I’m not good enough for you?”

Remus has never seen or heard you talk so down about yourself. “You are enough for me Y/N, if anything I’m not enough for you,” you were going to cut him off but he stopped you. “You know me and my biggest secret, and after knowing it you still wanted to date me.”

You finally cut him off, “Remus John Lupin I swear on Salazar Slytherin's grave that if you talk about yourself in such a manner one more time, I will hex you into oblivion. You are perfect, everything about you is perfect. I love everything about you, even if you don’t,” you finished.

“Now I never said I wasn’t perfect,” he smirked.

“Remus!” you laughed.

“Really though, I want to tell everyone.” You both stared at each other before you nodded, “let’s just let everyone find out on their own, the news will spread quickly.”

* * *

Not a single one of your classes before lunch included Remus, so usually, you would both sneak away sometime during lunch to catch up. Now you’d be able to go up to him anytime you want without caring about anybody seeing. Sneaking away to somewhere private at Hogwarts during lunch had to be the most impossible thing you had ever done.

You had been in the library during your free period looking for nothing in particular. You did, however, find a muggle romance novel you had never read before. Pride and Prejudice seemed like it could be a piece of literature both you and Remus would enjoy. Also decided that this would be one of the best ways to reveal your relationship to the school, you were going to ask him if he wanted to go to your special tree at the Black Lake and read with you.

Briskly you made your way to the Great Hall and straight for the Gryffindor table. You could feel your nerves settling in but you didn’t let your face falter. You approached the table and caught sight of Remus and his friends as they were laughing about something, not caring if they were irritating the people around them.

The silence in the hall seemed to diminish once you were behind Remus. Potter and Black looked up at you first and they both wore an equally disgusted scowl as they stared you down. “Remus?” you spoke softly, suddenly feeling timid. “I found a new book, do you want to go read it with me?” You failed to maintain eye contact with Remus as you continuously looked down at your feet and the book in your hands.

“What does this snake,” Black seethed, “want with you Moony?” Potter seemed to agree with him but Peter, who was sat next to Remus with Black and Potter on the opposite side, looked like he didn’t feel the need to contribute to this conversation.

Remus stood up and wrapped you in a hug whispering into your ear, “I’ll handle this, promise.” He turned towards his friends, “Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N, Y/N these are my best friends James, Peter, and Sirius.”

The entirety of the Great Hall was waiting for the reaction of ¾ of the Marauders. It was silent. No one spoke for what seemed like an eternity before James spoke up, “can we talk somewhere private?”

* * *

The Room of Requirement has once again aided one of your needs. On the journey there you were dreading the conversation that was about to happen. The five of you had been seated across from each without uttering a word for the past five minutes. You didn’t dare look up at the three boys across from you and kept your eyes trained on yours and Remus’ entangled hands.

“What is happening? How did this,” Sirius gestured at you and Remus, “happen?” Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He and James seemed to be the most concerned with Remus dating a Slytherin. You were completely harmless but solely because you are a Slytherin, they automatically despised you and everyone else in your house.

“No matter that, why would you let this happen, Moony? A Slytherin? Really?” James stood up abruptly which caused you to jump a little. Remus squeezed your hand to reassure you that he was there. “Are you under a love spell? Is it amortentia?” he turned to Sirius, “I think she has him under a love spell.”

They both began whispering amongst themselves and Peter kept to himself on the couch. You decided it couldn't hurt so you gave him a small smile and he gave you one back. You were pleased that he wasn’t completely against you.

Remus stood up catching everyone's attention, “Prongs, Padfoot, Y/N did not put me under a love spell. She has been my girlfriend for almost a year; I think it would’ve worn off by now. I love her and if you two can’t accept that I don’t think I will speak to you for a while,” he finished sitting back down next to you.

“Remus you can’t do that, they’re your best mates,” you scolded him. You didn’t want him to choose between you and his friends, who had been there with him for a lot longer.

“The snake is right Remus,” Sirius was cut off before he could finish.

“Don’t call her that. She is not a snake, she is my girlfriend and I love her. I didn’t think you two could be so close-minded. And I will not sit here and listen to you two belittle her just based on the robes she is wearing,” he finished as the room went silent. “Come on Y/N, we’re leaving.”

“Remus, wait! We can work this out, mate!” James called for him but you both kept walking. He kept walking until we were at the Black Lake. He was first to sit down and lean against the tree, Remus pulled you down softly to sit between his legs.

“Can you read it for me?” His voice was soft. You didn’t want to bring up what had just happened or the fact that you still had classes to attend because he needed this.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” You could feel his breathing slow down as you lay against his chest. His arm was wrapped around your waist, drawing random shapes on your side. You finished the first chapter and pulled out a bookmark before turning to face Remus. “Remy?” you asked quietly to not disturb him.

“Yes?” he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I think you should speak to your friends, without me. I don’t want to be the reason you lose your best mates, Rem. They’ve been with you through everything, more times than I can count. You can’t end a six-year-long friendship over me, I won’t let you.”

Remus was quiet as you both sat there. He was playing with the grass when he gave you a slight nod and met your eyes. “I will speak to them. I’m sorry I upset you. And I’m sorry they spoke to you like that.”

“Remus all that matters is that you speak to your friends. I’m fine. I love you,” you finished, hugging him. He said it back and returned the hug. Remus stood up and held his hand out to help you up but gave you another hug.

What the two of you didn’t know is that Sirius and James had used the Cloak of Invisibility. They didn’t expect to see such an interaction. And they didn't expect you to tell Remus that he needed to speak to them. They had no time to dawdle and had to head back to the Gryffindor common room to listen to what Remus had to say.

* * *

Remus briskly made his way to the Gryffindor common room. Before you went your separate ways, he told you he would let you know how it goes. He was nervous to face the rest of the Marauders; maybe not Peter but James and Sirius had a vendetta against the entire house of Slytherin. When he entered the room the two out of the three boys were sitting down listening to James complain and watching him pace about the room. All three heads turned at the sound of the portrait door closing.

“Remus-,” James was cut off.

“I need you to have a seat and listen to what I am about to say.” James took a seat in between Sirius and Peter, waiting for Remus to begin. “Y/N is my girlfriend and I love her. She loves me for who I am, I trust her. I didn’t think you guys would react this way but this is exactly what she said she was scared of. I wish the three of you could just not care that she’s a Slytherin, she’s never done anything remotely evil, she reads and loves pastries.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius started. “We’re sorry,” he emphasized. “We shouldn't have let this get out of hand. We trust you and your decisions, so we should’ve trusted you on this.”

“We shouldn’t have judged her so quickly,” James added.

“She seems nice,” Peter spoke.

“She is,” Remus smiled, “and I hope the four of you can set aside your differences and become friends.”

* * *

You were sitting in the courtyard working on your potions essay when two shadows loomed over you. Your eyes met with Sirius and James. Closing your book and putting away your parchment, you sat up a little bit straighter before speaking, “may I help you?”

“We wanted to apologize,” James spoke. “We shouldn’t have treated you the way we did and assumed you would be bad for Remus.” James kept his head, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

Sirius decided to speak as it seemed that James was finished, “we just want what’s best for him and if that's you, we have to get used to it. I hope we can set our differences aside and be friends.”

“Okay,” was all you said. You didn’t feel the need to scold them for their behavior, that wasn’t your place. The boys both nodded and walked away. You felt more at ease now that they didn’t dislike you. Your eyes strayed on the spot where the two boys had just been standing, not noticing another person who had just sat next to you. Remus watched you for a few seconds before clearing his throat. “They apologized,” you said, turning your head to face him. “I accepted it.”

Remus didn’t respond. You both sat there with your head rested on his shoulder watching as the sun gradually set. He stood up reaching for your hand. You both made your way to the Great Hall and toward the Gryffindor table. You were too tired to protest so you didn’t say anything. Your head was still rested against Remus’ shoulder even when you took your seats in front of the other three Marauders. You gave them a tired smile and they returned it.

Dinner continued rather quietly from your side of the table. Remus and you didn’t bother speaking to one another but silently communicated through facial expressions. He dragged you to the Black Lake for a moment before curfew set in. As you lay on his chest you focused on the way his heart sounded. “I love you,” you whispered.

“And I, you.”

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ktheist · 3 years

Text

04 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 2.9k

➙ warnings. angst

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ warnings. explicit content. smut.

➙ synopsis.

“you wanna say goodbye?”

“yes, i would love to say goodbye.”

one second, you’re exiled from taehyung’s room and the next, you’re under lockdown in the same exact room you were forbidden to enter.

the boy who always made a fuss about cleaning up - cleans up his mess without a single complaint. you thought he’d come knocking on the (his) door and ask for your help but after an hour of twiddling your thumbs and swaying your feet in the air, kim taehyung finally walks in with beads of sweat on his forehead and that ugly stain of a vomit on his shirt.

he pulls it over his head and tosses it into the laundry before pulling a fresh mickey mouse printed shirt and slips into bed. the temptation to text jeongguk or hoseok or jimin to pick you up has never been stronger but you bite the inside of your cheek, lay out the futon and turn off the lights.

“good night, tae.” you say into the darkness, not expecting for an answer.

“why did you do it?” the darkness whispers back.

“it just happened,” you know better than to offer half-baked excuses for something you completely intended and would even pursue if you didn’t get caught in the middle.

when silence lapses into the room, you thought the matter done and buried six feet under you and taehyung’s conscience.

not the first time you’ve been wrong.

“why seokjin? why not me?” his lips brush yours, tasting like heartbreak and missing the part where he’s supposed to be drunk and out of his mind for even daring to get so close to you.

to let his hair brush against your forehead. to let his hand snake down your thigh with feather light touches until he’s an inch away from grabbing your ass. if he dared try, your kick wouldn’t be aimed at the air to which he moves it away and places that hand next to your head, boxing you under him completely.

“ew, what the fuck?” and despite the trapped-between-a-rock-and-a-hard-place situation, you manage to lean as far away as you can. or so you’d like to think, but you can still feel his breath fanning your neck.

you wish you have an owl’s ability to twist its neck all the way to the back.

“you’re my best friend, taehyung! get off!” you feel like a child hitting her father with her tiny little fist. taehyung doesn’t even flinch when it hits his chest.

but he pulls away anyway, standing on his knees over you within a lull in time before he falls back on his butt in the space between your parted calves. the wrist of his hand that’s propped against the floor brushes against the side of your foot.

“do you get it now? we grew up together,” his voice echoes into the dark, “my brothers are your brothers- that- what you did- that was messed up, ___.”

“so? was creeping up on me like that necessary?” you retort, pushing yourself up and hearing the thud pillow you vehemently hurled at the silhouette of the man hunched over a couple feet away from you, “you perv!”

“how much do you like seokjin?” he asks, trapping the pillow in his lap, under his elbow, but before you can even say anything, he shoots you another string of question, “do you even like him?”

“stop making it sound like i’m the bad guy,” you huff, “as if your brother’s such a saint. he wanted it just as much.”

“i don’t care who wants it more, fuck’s sake,” he says roughly, “all your past relationships have only been sexual.”

holding up one hand, you find your shadow cloaked fingers much more nails, “your point being?”

“don’t you stop to think about how much things’ll change? how awkward it’ll be at family dinners once you finally got tired of each other? how awkward it’ll be for me?”

“oh, because everything’s about you, isn’t it?” you roll your eyes yet your stomach churns.

only silence hangs over the darkness as your teeth sink into the soft flesh of your bottom lip. taehyung pushes himself out and marches out of the room whilst you stay rooted in your spot, curled into a ball with your legs against your chest.

when morning comes, you’re awaken to the sound of taehyung padding around with a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping off his hair and trickling down his chest, “there’s no one if the bathroom, if you wanna wash up.”

it’s the only exchange you have in the morning and throughout the drive to your uni until taehyung parks the car in the spot somewhere near your faculty.

“i thought about it,” you finally say, breaking the silence. the way he turns to you in your periphery makes you want to shrink into the seat and crawl away like an ant but you shrug instead, “what you said last night - i thought about it... you’re right, you guys are the closest family i have here. and i don’t wanna ruin that just cause i can’t keep it in my pants.”

the soft hum of the music fills the space between you, making the unspoken truth a bit more bearable than a pin-drop silence. taehyung’s hair sways for the briefest moment as he arches his brows in contemplation before unsmiling lips curl into that signature box smile, “really?”

“yes, really,” you roll your eyes, “one dick wasn’t worth losing my best friend over.”

“i’d hug you but i’m still having withdrawals from what i saw last night,” tahyung’s face scrunches in disgust.

“oh so that’s what it takes to get your sleazy hands off me. by the way seokjin-” trickles of laughter escapes your mouth as you hop out of his car, managing to avoid his swatting hand just in time, “bye! thanks for the ride!”

the mindless banters between you and taehyung never cease, if anything, it goes from playing rock-paper-scissors to decide where to eat to googling up and showing each other pictures of poisonous shrooms in case you get lost in the woods for more than 36 hours.

you used to have lunch together every other day, but taehyung comes to you for a continuous three day, hitting four days streak in between classes this week. each time bearing that boyish grin that could fool just about anyone when it comes to picked-up pieces of a broken heart.

“she texted me,” he shrugs, twirling his chopsticks in the bowl of cold noodles and letting the silence hang stale without any hint of providing more information until you nudge it out of him.

“i didn’t text back.” he says it as if it’s the easiest thing to do.

“it’s so easy for you boys, huh?” you don’t know where in the deities greenland he got the narrowing of your eyes and the scrunching of your nose as-

“seokjin didn’t text you?” the titled smile of his tempts you to smack it off his face right that instance.

“how- wha- that literally has nothing to do with your bitch ass ex-girlfriend who were talking about though?” kim taehyung doesn’t offer any response, only the sway of his shoulders as he laughs before digging into the sweet, savory noodles in front of him.

it’s only after you’ve returned to your faculty, fast-walking towards your lecture, that you find out the subject matter himself sitting hunched over on one of the benches laid out along the roofless pathway that leads to your faculty. the jaws of the girls and gays that happen to be standing a few feet away, drops at the way seokjin looks up, eyes squinting at the sudden intrusion of the sunlight before his lips curl into a smile.

“hey,” there’s that smile you miss so bad.

it turns out seokjin’s little shit of a brother and your ass of a best friend snuck into his room, flashed a light over his face, bypassed his phone’s lock and deleted your number, blocked you on snapchat and unfollowed you on instagram.

“and here i thought you were done with me,” your jaw would have hung loose if you don’t have the tip of your venti mocha swirl keeping your lips together as you stare at the pavement, walking aimlessly with seokjin down the path of rose beds.

“i took the day off, decided to try my luck, and hope you’d see me at waiting for you awkwardly - everyone probably thinks ‘who the hell is this old ass guy hanging around-’“ his words get cut off by your gasp as you feel your face hurting from the way your lips are almost reaching your ears.

“you did?” shoulders sagging, you press a hand to your chest where you heart flutters with a sort of warmth, “for me?” before holding your arms out in an invitation for a hug and retracting them not even a second later, “no wait- i promised tae i wouldn’t do this.”

somewhere along the lines, you find yourself at the sky rose garden because the pathway you found him at, all of a sudden, becomes a runway for the girls and gays. they pass you in a guise of walking by whilst their eyes linger on his broad chest and pants that hug his thighs and the protrusion of his natural size that wasn’t going to get smaller than that.

“what he doesn’t know won’t kill him- or us,” there it is again, the melodic hymn of a chuckle as he opens his arms for you, the action ever so natural, as if he’s done this a couple of million times.

and just like that, you fall into his embrace, cheek mushing against his chest as you inhale the familiar scent of mint seaside and the faintest scent of woody earth. you find it unfair that his heart beats steadily whilst yours thrash in your chest. maybe that’s the cause of your cheeks heating up.

“i can do it, you know?” his voice vibrates against your ears in a honeyed tingles, “i can use my ‘big bro influence’ and get him off our backs.”

you lift your head, breath stuttering at the sight of star glinted eyes gazing down at you with the gentles smiles, “should you?” but you shake your head a second later, “no, he’d hate me forever - he’ll know i put you up to this because you’re too nice. you’d ne-”

a finger under your chin and a tilt of your head and you’re lost in an ocean of galaxy, “i brought up the idea, if anyone’s gonna get in hot water, it’s gonna be me.”

“that’s not what taehyung’s gonna think,” the recollection of your conversation with the aforementioned man floods your mind and almost as if an invisible current wraps around your body, you find yourself taking a step back in surrender.

“and he’s right, seokjin,” the way his eyes flash with a sort of emotion - one that you can’t pinpoint, let alone interpret the meaning of - doesn’t go unnoticed by you yet you go on, “this has to stop. once the passion simmers down and we get bored of each other, what do you think is gonna happen?”

but the words that hits the air is like frostbites to your warm, beating heart, “you already have it in your mind that we’re gonna break up.”

it takes you a second to clear your throat, another to gather your thoughts, “relationships like ours always end with a break up.”

galaxies are littered with illuminating stars but you’re a fool to have turned a blind eye to its dark side. and seokjin’s stars have dimmed, leaving only a trail of shadow in those clouded eyes.

but the half-hearted smile that curls on his lips appears like a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, “do you wanna at least goodbye?”

your eyes follow his that trail down to the noticeable bulge in his pants.

“yes,” you beam, “i would love to say goodbye.”

the cars and the scenic view of the highway pass by in a blur, not that you’re in a position to stare out the window like a heartbroken woman whose fiancee set out for way.

“slow down,” there’s a desperate plea in his voice, “i don’t want to cum too early.”

the stern, warning look he shoots you is makes you giggle. what with his flushed face and twitching self in your hand.

how adorable.

“but you taste so good, jinnie,” your tongue sweeps past your lips, licking the pre-cum off his oozing tip.

“keep teasing me like that if you want me to pull up and fuck you on the side of the road,” the threat on his tongue sends tingles down your spine.

eyes glinting, you can basically hear the blatant disregard in his voice when he first asked if you’d climb up in his lap while he was hitting the back of your throat after you’d quickly scurried into his car for the last goodbye.

so you take it slow, licking him down his length as his hand settle on your head, caressing your hair.

the door closes behind you as seokjin pushes you against it, his hand on your cheek as he crashes his lips against yours and your hand reaching under his boxers. it looked almost painful as he zipped up his pants before getting out of the car and walking the distance between the parking spot and the apartment.

you distinctly remember the sight of a blanket on the couch and an opened laptop on the coffee table, the red of the cans of energy drinks laying around on the ground and surface of said coffee table - they only ever try to clean up when they know you’re coming for your weekly stay over.

but who are you to judge when your clothes soon join the cans on the floor, forming trails down the hallway.

by the time your body lightly bounces on top of seokjin’s bed, you feel the cold air brush against your skin whilst he stands over you like a beast drinking in the sight of the prey he’ll devour. but you don’t mind if that allows you to admire the beautiful landscape of tight abs and powerful physique.

a sort of dread washes over you at the thought of such length coming close to the apex of your legs. taking him in your mouth was doable but only because you’ve had enough practice to know how to adapt to certain lengths by steadying your breath. but you’ve had enough experience to know you wouldn’t just be able to get use to his size right off the bat.

and he’s the biggest you’ve ever met.

your hand runs over the ridges of his muscles biceps before they twine together over the nape of his neck. it must have been the way you look at him, the yearning that pours through gaze and beckons him like a siren’s song.

the spot of the bed a few inches from your head dips as he props himself on his forearms, lips marking your skin as his.

“seokjin- ah!” you should already used to the bold caress of his tongue around your nipple.

your control is devastated, your thighs are quivering and seokjin’s touches have enthralled you in a fierce flare of yearning.

“ah,” you breathe out, gaze unfocusing as pleasure and discomfort flood from your core while he deliberately stretches you out.

his hand returns to the side of your face as he stays inside you, lets you feel him, take him for what he is whilst he kisses your cheekbone, your jawline and burry his face in your neck.

your breath stutters as you feel him slide out of you, heart beat stammering for the briefest moment when his tip kisses your entrance before he pushes himself in deeper than before.

but you know you haven’t taken all of him in.

not yet.

“you’re stretching me out so good,” you say barely above whisper.

“not even half is in, baby,” is all he says before you feel the muscles in his back flexing as he shifts most of his weight onto his hands, thrusting deeper into you.

“fuck,” you moan, the discomfort fading away as pleasure surge through your body in waves as your arms wrap around seokjin’s neck, face buried in his shoulder until you don’t know where he starts and where he ends.

lost in wicked delight, your fuzzed mind barely registers the sound of your phone despite its blares a few inches above your head where you remember tossing to before slipping out of your jeans and succumbing to the reckless savage lust that neither you nor seokjin should speak about to a single soul.

“pick it up,” the man’s husked voice drums in your ear clearer only because of the cease of ripples of pleasures as he stills.

“wha-” you don’t say much, groping around for your phone before shooting him a pleading look of ‘can’t this wait till after you give me the greatest orgasm of my lifetime?’

“it’s taehyung,” the name that spills out of your mouth strikes guilt into your beating heart.

“hm? you’re tightening up. is it because of my little brother?” the surge of possession in his voice tempers with your sanity, it drips like sweet honey rose and mars your skin with its thorns, “answer the call.”

note. ooof ig yall know what next chapter’s gonna be. maybe.

taglist. @aretha170 @scalubera @ambersaesthetics @heyjiminnie @hyuck-me @fanfuckingfic

#bts scenarios #seokjin scenarios #seokjin fic #bts fic #bts x you #seokjin x you #seokjin smut #bts smut #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts au #bts fluff #seokjin fluff #jin smut #jin scenarios

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existential-angstt · 3 years

Text

I’m here for the cult stuff? // Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (kinda light smut if I’m honest :/ ), fucking outside / in public, cult stuff? not sure what else I need to say xD

After the church incident, you started hanging around Dio a whole lot more and of course the two of you started dating. He introduced you to his friends, many of whom scoffed a little at you but after a sharp look from their dark overlord softened up and tried to be as welcoming as they could. Once they got to know you a little better of course, you all found things in common and they started treating you like one of their own, some of them even saying hello to you on campus or first bumping you and earning you stares from the normies.

Your friends heard all about it of course and immediately acted disgusted but once it became apparent you weren’t dropping this, they did their best to adjust and try to find things to like about Dio. Of course it wasn’t important to you if they didn’t like him- they didn’t have to. What mattered was you liked him.

He’d escort you to classes with an arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders or waist, acting like he couldn’t function without a hand on you in some way. You liked to hook your hand in his belt loop under his coat, the two of you walking in step and talking about deeper meanings in Edgar Allen Poe’s stories or how you’d get away with murder, those sorts of things. You started dressing in darker colors at his urging, started to look more like the kind of person who would date someone like Dio. But even after all the steps you took to incorporate him into your life, you still had yet to infiltrate his so-called “cult”.

Whenever you came to see him in the basement of Miller, any and all cult talk ceased and everyone acted friendly and light, but you knew as soon as you headed out for your next class the business would resume without you. You hadn’t directly told Dio that you wanted to be involved… you had said, however, that whatever was important to him was important to you, hoping he’d get the message and invite you into the “inner circle”, but alas, there were still a few nights every week he’d kiss you after dinner and disappear until the wee hours of the morning, when he’d come home reeking of incense and other things.

You hoped to- well, you hoped to something he wasn’t sacrificing animals in the woods, but you were pretty sure that was a little off the wall-- after all, you’d seen how he got around kittens. For all his pomp and circumstance, you seriously doubted that man could hurt a small animal of any kind for any reason.

So one night when he climbed into bed around 2 in the morning, as you stirred and snuggled into his chest you brought it up. “D?” you mumbled sleepily.

“Hmm? Didn’t realize you were awake, pet,” he said, pulling you close and sighing deeply. “What is it?”

“Can I come to a cult thingie? A meeting?” you said into his chest, running your hand up his back, tracing the indentions of his spine under his skin. He paused, silent, as though considering.

“I don’t know if you’d like it much,” he said finally, dodging.

“Dio-” you groaned.

“I know, little one, I know, what’s important to me is important to you,” he rumbled, pausing again. “I suppose… if you really wanted to…. The best time to come is tomorrow night. It’s a blood moon, and we’re having a special ritual for it,” he replied, stroking your hair. He let out a short chuckle and added, “You wouldn’t wanna be the sacrifice, would you?” You opened one eye against his chest, watching the faint moonlight slipping into the room and tracing the edges of your boyfriend’s form on the bed beside you.

“What would that entail?” you said, suddenly much more awake, your heartbeat thrumming away. He did that rumble laugh again, the vibration rocking through you as he held you and stroked your hair, tugging on it softly.

“Nothing too serious… just laying on an altar, letting us pray over you.... Some ritualistic blood spilling… nothing you’re not used to already…,” he said, his hand sliding down to grip your hip to trace one of the faint scars from your adventures in knifeplay. You shivered, feeling yourself get turned on despite still being half asleep. You wriggled under his hand, not wanting to wake yourself up too much.

“Yeah, I’ll do it, D. I wanna be part of it. For you…,” you mumbled, trailing soft kisses up his chest.

“Oh, sweet girl. That means a lot,” he murmured, sinking his face into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply and kissing the soft flesh there, licking and softly sucking a hickey into your throat.

“‘Kay, horndog, go to sleep. Need sleep if ‘m gonna be a sacrifice for you,” you said, tugging softly on the hair at the base of his neck. He chuckled again and stopped his games, simply holding you close until you both passed out.

__________________

Dio didn’t elaborate at all on what you’d agreed to, simply telling you to meet him outside Miller at 10 pm. He wasn’t going to be around all evening-- he said he needed to “take care of some things” and “prepare”, whatever that meant. You texted him and asked him what to wear around dinner time and his only reply was “black dress”. There was only one dress he could be referring to of course- a floor length lace and tulle number you’d bought recently that you had absolutely nowhere to wear it to. Fitting, for a sacrifice, you figured.

You slithered into the dress and did your makeup, going bold with lots of dark red eyeshadow that made your eyes pop and black eyeliner. Waiting was the worst part-- sitting on the couch, all dressed up for some fun cult activity, all alone without him…

Finally you could wait no longer and you shrugged on his long leather coat, which he’d left in your apartment (weird, but handy at this moment) and descended the steps down to your car.

The closest place you could park to Miller Hall was still a bit of a walk, and you were dressed for a party, so your heart was racing the entire time you were walking from the car to the building. You gripped his coat around you as though it would protect you as well as he could himself. The campus was empty, haunting-- everything was well lit, of course. After all, it was a college campus-- but that didn’t stop the feeling of foreboding creeping through your veins.

You walked fast, a fistful of your dress in one hand to keep you from tripping and your other hand holding Dio’s jacket closed over your chest. You rounded a corner of the building next to Miller Hall and ran squarely into a stranger.

“Woah- hey there, pretty lady, where you going so late?” said a voice. You looked up, eyes wide as you stumbled backwards. You couldn’t see his face-- he was directly under one of the lamps lighting the walkway so his face was cast in shadow, but he was big and you didn’t like the way he was looking at you. You could see his teeth glinting in the dimness his face was cast in. He took a few steps towards you as you tracked backwards, the urge to run getting stronger. “Hey, wait, don’t go anywhere- you’re dressed for a party,” he said, stalking towards you now. You realized with a start the jacket had fallen open, revealing your dress. You started reaching desperately for the low pocket of Dio’s jacket, where you knew he kept a knife at all times, but you were shaking and still thinking about running.

Just as the stranger got to the edge of the building, a figure slid out of the shadows and stepped between the two of you, squaring up with the stranger. Whoever it was was just as tall as the opposing figure, and the stranger was clearly startled at the person’s appearance.

“You wanna rethink that, asshole?”

That was Dio’s voice- you stared at the two of them, still frozen in place. The stranger’s posture changed immediately. He went from opposing and overshadowing to something similar to what you were doing- pulling back, preparing to bolt. “Y-you’re-”

“Mmmhmm. Now, scurry, rat,” Dio growled, traces of satisfaction in his voice. The stranger needed no further urging; he spun around and continued on his way, grumbling but speedwalking down the lit walkway between buildings. Dio turned around, still cloaked in shadow and ran over to you. “Hey, hey- are you okay? Did he touch you?” he said softly, all trace of aggression gone as he patted you down looking for injuries and wrongdoings.

“D- Dio, I’m fine, I’m okay- I’m good,” you said, waving him off of you but taking his hand in yours tightly.

“Baby, you need to check your phone. I told you to stay at the car until I came to get you,” he said, his eyes flashing concernedly in the dimness.

“Dio, I’m fine, I’m fine. Now let’s go-” you said, picking up the skirt of your dress and still holding his hand.

“Okay, okay,” he said, looking back towards where the stranger had been and then at you. He paused, his eyes lingering on you. You couldn’t read his face in the darkness.

“What?”

“You… you look really pretty,” he said softly, still unmoving.

Taken aback, you blinked at him and then a soft smile came across your face.

“You like it?” you said, swishing your skirt around and doing a little twirl for him.

“You look perfect, little dove. Now come on,” he said, nodding up at the red full moon, “we’re gonna miss it.” He led you back down the walkway, his hand still in yours, the two of you hurrying around the corner and into Miller Hall with the covertness of teenagers breaking into a movie theater.

The usually well-lit hall was mostly dark with only some of the hazy yellow lights on, and the basement was even more so. Dio led you back down the stairs to where you’d first met him, back through the double doors and into the huge room that used to be the university pools. Everything was pitch black and it took your eyes a moment to adjust; only then did you realize there was a source of light. Down inside the indention in the floor where the pool used to be were about 20 of Dio’s followers, hooded and cloaked; you could recognize the main six of them in the center, all your friends.

You looked up at your boyfriend as he started gently pulling his own leather jacket from your shoulders. You shrugged out of it and he set it on the edge of the pool, taking you by the hand and leading you over to the stone steps that led into the concrete pit. You followed him down carefully, sure not to step on your skirt as you went down the steps.

Dio led you over to the group of darkly dressed individuals who all watched you expectantly. Once you got over there, you could see they’d set up a makeshift altar on a desk someone had brought down and candles flickered on the tabletop. There were symbols carved into the wood and flower petals were scattered everywhere, incense making the room heavy with aroma.

Dio motioned for you to kneel in front of the altar so you were eye level with it, and as you did, so did everyone else. Dio was the only one who stayed standing, still holding your hand and walking around the altar carefully. He glanced down at you, an unfamiliar glint in his eye, and then he looked around at everyone else. “Let’s begin.”

______________________________

Being a sacrifice was exactly what Dio had described. Basically, he began chanting in Latin and the others repeated what he said back to him, their voices echoing around the large chamber. After fifteen minutes of what was utter gibberish to you, Dio picked up a silvered dagger from the altar and dragged it across your palm, the red of your blood stark against your skin in the candlelight.

You gasped lightly and looked up at him, his deep brown irises glowing amber in orangey glow. He was smirking softly but his eyes were soft-- he was playing it up, keeping on that cult leader facade but still speaking to you silently with his eyes, saying things to you that only you could hear. You knew that even though he was still their god, that he was playing king to his little cult that he was all too human when he was looking at you now, silently searching every micro expression for any sign you wanted to stop.

You looked back at him calmly as he raised your open palm to the altar and turned it over, pressing it to the carved surface of the desk, right in the center of the arcane symbols. You didn’t make a sound when your hand touched the desk, didn’t even wince. His smirk grew slightly and you could feel the profound pride rolling off of him; still, it was perhaps something only you could see, could read in him.

Dio said one more phrase in Latin and the congregation repeated it, the sound echoing harshly in the concrete pit and meaning absolutely nothing to you. The illusion seemed to fall then; the stiffness of everyone’s forms dropped and the grouping of people thinned out as everyone started to leave. Many headed for the stairs at the far end of the pool, but some boosted themselves up on the concrete ledge. Whatever the case, they cleared out quickly, sweeping off in their cloaks to Hell knows where.

In moments it was just you and Dio and he was lifting your wounded hand gently off the altar, clutching it close as though it were his own injured hand. He produced a black silk cloth from one of his pockets and wrapped it around your hand, weaving it in between your fingers, meeting your eyes every so often as he did so. He tied a pretty knot in it, tightening the fabric against the cut and you finally let yourself show a sign of pain, your mouth twitching downwards, just for a second.

“Oh, little dove, you did so well,” he said, drawing you into his arms and holding you tightly, spinning you around. “So, so well…,” he hummed, pulling back to look at you in the dimness.

“Did… did I do all right?” you said, a little shaken by his change in demeanor.

“Of course you did, love, of course. You were-” he shook his head, “-perfect.” You blushed a little and smiled up at him as he stared down at you. At this angle his face was cast in darkness again and you couldn’t see it. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, taking your hands and guiding you towards the stairs quickly.

“W- where are we going, D?” you said, eyes widening. He hadn’t said-

“Gotta finish the ritual, dove,” he said darkly, still pulling you up the stairs and towards the double doors.

“But D, your coat-”

“We’ll come back before we go home, dove, now come on,” he hissed, tugging at you urgently. You shut your mouth finally, trusting him and hiking your skirt up in one hand to try to keep up with his hurried steps. He led you up the steps in the dark, so sure of his motions, so used to finding his way in and out of this building in the absence of light.

He didn’t move fast enough to trip you up-- he slowed when he could sense you having trouble, and he held the door open as the two of you burst out into the cool night air, the crickets singing and your panting breaths the only other sounds.

“What-” you started but he grabbed you and kissed you deeply, surprising you. You leaned into it, grabbing his hips to steady yourself and kissed him softly, basking in him.

“Come on,” he whispered, keeping his face close to yours as though he were fighting himself to keep his mouth off yours. He took your hand in his again and led you around the shadowy side of the building, meaning you had to rely on him to guide you down the stone path.

The two of you hurried through the night, weaving in and out of buildings, using the light of the orangey moon to find your way. It wasn’t long for you to figure out where he was taking you-- there was only one place he could be going. “Dio-”

“Hush, dove.”

You found yourselves in the campus gardens, full of hedges and delicate blooms and sweet scents that could be accessed via stone pathways that circled ponds and a small white gazebo. Once you were in the gardens, Dio seemed to relax a little, to slow down as he looked up at the swollen moon.

“D, what are we doing here?” you said softly, following him over to the entrance of the gazebo. Your boyfriend turned back to look at you, taking both of your hands in his and backing up into the gazebo, pulling you after him.

“Gonna finish the ritual, dove. Gotta… consummate it,” Dio said, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips.

“Dio-” you gasped a little.

“Shh, little dove. You’re safe. Why don’t we… invoke something?” he said and then his mouth was on yours. You moaned into him a little bit and his grip on you tightened, your dress riding up a few inches. Dio slipped his tongue into your mouth, hot and wanting, as he backed you up against the rail of the gazebo, the wood digging into your lower back. You brought a hand up to grab his hair at the base of his neck, tugging, as his mouth trailed away from yours and across your jaw.

“Dio-”

“Shhh”

Dio trailed kisses down your neck, sucking marks into your throat as his hands worked their way upwards to your chest, grabbing and kneeding gently. You felt him draw you into him, his face buried in your collarbone as his hands made their way to the back of your dress, pulling at your zipper.

“D- Dio-” you stammered, tugging at his hair sharply.

He looked up, breathing heavily, his eyes glimmering in the half light. You stared at each other, transfixed, and you felt him slowly pull down the zipper of your dress, the material sliding down your shoulders and hitting the wooden floor of the gazebo. You blinked at him in the half light, now in your under things and his eyes roved over your body slowly, his tongue swiping across his lower lip.

Your breath hitched and his hands settled on your hips again, his face turned down towards yours and his hot breath hitting your face. “Please let me take you, little dove. Right here, under the moon. Do it for me, please,” he murmured, kissing up your neck, his raven black hair glossy under the moonlight. You let a moan escape your lips and rested your hands on his chest, pressing into him.

Dio slid his hands down to your ass and picked you up, turning you both around and setting you down on the floor, laying you out and climbing on top of you. You felt him grind down against your hips as he kissed you, his arms caging you in. It was no time before he was pushing your bra up and nibbling at your nipples, kissing and sucking and squeezing your tits more softly than was usual for him.

“D- Dio, we- we’re outside, anyone c-”

He silenced you with another glance up at your eyes, not saying anything but communicating all he needed to. Wasn’t like you two hadn’t fucked in public before-

His mouth came back up to yours, kissing you again and pulling your bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down hard enough to make you cry out. You reached up to grab at his hips, following the edge of his pants to find his zipper and pull at it, unbuttoning and button and sliding them down his hips. You felt him smirk against you and heard his breathy laugh but he didn’t stop you and seconds later he was as exposed as you were and you had him in your hands. You gave him a few slow pumps, making him tense up and moan noisily-- that was when he reached down to pry your hands away, to take back control.

You gasped as he slid into you, all of the sounds of the night suddenly seeming so much louder, every animal noise just a bystander in danger of finding you two, in the middle of the gardens-

He let out a low groan and you whimpered at the beautiful sound. “F- fuck, Dio- s- so pretty,” you mumbled, gripping his shoulders. He murmured something and you said, “W-what?”

“N-not the p-pretty one, dove.”

Your eyes widened a little at the compliment and you bucked your hips up a little as he started moving so torturously slowly, thrusting in and out of you like he had all the time in the world. “Dio,” you whined, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Patience, little dove, be patient,” he said, reaching up to trail his thumb across your jaw. Gradually he started moving faster and you thrust your own hips upwards to meet him, grabbing at his hair and pulling him back down to your mouth so you could kiss him again.

It was definitely the most intense time you’d ever had with Dio (since the church, at least). The perfumes of the different flowers were heavy in your nose and the humidity was drenching you both in a sheen of sweat. The moon hung over the two of you, the roof of the gazebo keeping out most of the light but the rest of the orangey glow illuminating the gardens around you.

“Mine… all… mine, little dove,” he mumbled, kissing your chest and circling your clit with a thumb.

“Y-yours, please, Dio-”

He growled and fucked you harder, speeding up his assault on your clit. You moaned loudly, no longer caring who saw you, who caught the two of you doing this-

“F- Dio, I’m g- gonna-” you whimpered.

Dio chanted something in Latin, very quickly and very softly, so soft you could barely here it, as though he were begging for you to cum for him, praying for it, and with a shout you did. He didn’t stop the Latin after you came, only ceasing once he had, still murmuring meaningless phrases as he collapsed on top of you, panting and kissing you softly.

“Little dove…. Thank you, thank you-” he was saying, pressing his lips to your skin over and over. You trembled and pulled him close, wrapping your whole body around his. Once you were both able to stand, Dio helped you back into your dress and the two of you started walking back to your car in the darkness. He stepped off the path for just a moment and made a quick grabbing motion at one of the bushes and when he turned back to you, he held a pure black lily in his hand, offering it to you. You sighed shakily and took it, inhaling deeply.

“Dio?” you said, tracing the petals with your fingers and taking his hand in your other one.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“‘Love you too, lil dove.”

#NYPD Blue #Pedro Pascal #shane dio morrissey #dio x reader #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey #shane dio morrissey x reader

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cherripeach · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11

Little Match Maker

Summary: Your life motto is “I have the power of god and anime on my side, don’t mess with me,” and you stand by that with your life. No human, magician, or random creature could ever stop your firm belief in it.

However, getting transported to this world that seemed to turn your already bad luck worse was not what you wanted to be in your life story, but you made the most of it. Making friends, enemies, and disasters, you were in your prime in this world, and so you decided to help as many people as you could flourish, at least what you believed to be.

Chapter 1:6-8 when there's too much drama at school- all you gotta do is walk awwwaawy

Warnings: Curse words, violence

Words: 4.5k

Relationships: developing but future twstxreader

Ace dragged Grim to your seats that you picked out by the scruff of his fur on his neck and tossed the struggling cat onto your lap for you to deal with in which you could only hold him like a teddy bear.

“Don’t wanna, don’t wanna! I don’t wanna go back to boring classes!” Grim groaned while wiggling in your hold.

You squeezed the cat tighter, “Can’t help it if you are already here, huh?”

“Damn it! You’re being kinda harsh today,” Grim moaned as he tugged on your jacket by your wrists.

The teacher coughed to get the attention of you three, and he surprisingly had that attention through the rest of class, forgetting about Grim’s nap and Ace’s doodling.

Once the lunch bell had rung, the two idiots who were not at all interested in the previous lecture sprung up and leaped to begin the trek to the cafeteria. Deuce tried to not show as much enthusiasm by joining your side in your walk, but his long footsteps and quick strides told you otherwise.

The cafeteria was as polished and refined as it was before your group broke the magic chandelier last night which surprised you more than it should have because you are in a completely different dimension where most things impossible in your previous dimension are possible here like a talking cat who is too arrogant for his own good. All of this just means in your brain that you should be used to it, but you also remembered how the Headmaster mentioned how ‘magic was not all powerful.’ All of this just confused you.

Grim threw himself ahead of your group and into the cafeteria lines, “Yeah! It’s finally lunch time!!!” Grim’s eyes lit up while he was wandering around the cafeteria and studying what he knew best, food, “I see a lotta delicious stuff already.”

Your eyes found the menu above each food station and found the prices, and even if you did not understand currency in this world, it still seemed too rich for you. A sigh slipped through your lips, “As if we’ll be able to afford half of the food here anyway.”

Grim proclaimed while bouncing up and down, “A fluffy omelet! Grilled chicken and a bacon & egg tart!!”

“You’re too loud!” Ace had his ears covered while lecturing the cat, “You’re pretty energetic even at lunch time, huh!”

Grim ran back to your location and tugged on your cloak while pointing at all the food, “I wanna have some grilled chicken! Come on, there’s only one more left! Oh, and omelets, too! And bread and jam! Go get them all!” The cat ended up in a line and got a piece of grilled chicken before reporting back to your group where you decided to head for a table.

The cat, full of excitement, sprinted off in front of you only to knock into a male with a red armband and pen in his coat pocket, causing the male to stumble and Grim to fall on his butt and yelp.

“Hey, you bastard!” The male with the white hair (which you still question is real even though your friend is a literal talking cat) sneered at Grim, so you tried to calmly approach the group to see what the problem was, “My pasta’s soft-boiled egg is on the floor ‘cause you bumped into me!”

You muttered out, “You're shitting with me,” as you slowly gained on the group to join the conversation.

“Oh, man,” A male located to the right of the white haired boy wined, “The soft-boiled egg’s the best part of carbonara.” His laugh dropped when he spoke, “How’re you gonna pay for that, huh, punk!?” The male snickered at Grim.

Dude with the white hair left his plate of food on an empty table before he made a give-here motion with his hand, “Guess I’ll just have to make do with you giving me that grilled chicken you’ve got there.”

Grim wrapped his paws around the plate, “Wha–!? I don’t wanna! This chicken is mine!” He backed away from the two, only to bump into your legs.

The second male rolled his eyes and put his plate next to the first male’s plate to start approaching you and Grim, “Huh? That's not how a freshie should talk to his senior?” You pushed Grim behind your legs before the second male had made it to you, only for the male to begin yelling at the both of you, “YOU B-” Your leg shot straight to his crotch, paralyzing him while he gripped the area.

The first male threw his hands into fists near his chest and grabbed his magic pen from his pocket, “You’re asking for it, your bitch. I’ll-”

You did the same thing to the first male and kicked him in the dick.

“Sorry, not sorry. But personally, I will never respect a senior who shows no respect for me. No one deserves respect or authority. They earn it. And, in my eyes you deserve nothing from me. I am positive that you are both aware of who we are and what we have caused on our first day, and you decided to target us because we seemed ‘weak’ in your eyes. And you know what, I’m fine with being called weak. You know why?” Your side of the cafeteria was silent all listening in to your voice, “No one actually knows your strength.”

You walked up to the first boy who started this fight who was still holding his crotch while he grumbled out, “You're just a pussy.”

You chuckled, “That’s very ironic because you are in fact the actual definition of a pussy which is short for pusillanimous, meaning a scaredy cat. Your small mind wouldn’t know that, would it?”

The boy with the white hair spat at your shoes.

You nodded your head, “Get all your anger out, baby. I’ve been dying to talk to one of the prefects here, and you just happen to belong to the Hearts dorm.” You paused for a second and placed your pointer finger on your chin, “I wonder what he’ll do when I tell him how you threatened the only non-magic user of the school with magic. And I’m pretty sure using it outside of class will result in a large punishment.”

You turned away from the boys to greet the wide eyes and open mouths of your friend group.

The second male groaned, “We’ll get you. I promise.”

You rolled your eyes and did not even turn to look at the boys, “Well, my promise still stands. I’m never above tatling.” You waved to the boys while your group began to find a table, “Have a great day!”

You could feel the eyes following you to your table.

Ace moaned once you joined the group, “I missed breakfast and I’m about to pass out. Thank Seven nothing happened!”

Deuce sighed, “That was quite the predicament. To think that there would be such brutes in a prestigious magic school…”

You found the perfect table and walked to it, “Anything is possible.”

“Can you not stand up for Grim next time?” Ace frowned at you, “As much as I hate to say it, they could have started using magic. You can’t go charging in thinking you are the hero when everyone else has something you don’t here.”

You stuck out your tongue in defiance and ignored his words.

Once seated at the table, the four of you dug into your food.

Grim bit into the omelette and moaned, “The omelette is so fluffy, and the cheese is so melty~!” He shoved another bite into his mouth, “ By the by, I saw you guys’ dorm a while ago, but what do the other dorms look like?”

You swallowed your food before adding, “Yeah, dudes, your dorm was sick and suitable to live in. Wonder what the other ones are like.”

A tray was placed down next to you, “You’ve seen the statues of the Great Seven by Main Street, right? This school has seven dorms based off of them.”

You stared at the male for a quick second, finding him familiar but not having the ability to remember where he was from, “Ah wait, who are you?”

Ace waved his fork around groaning, “You’re the dude from this morning!”

Grim stood up on the bench and accused the male, “He’s the guy who tricked us into painting roses red!”

“That’s why he’s familiar…” You mumbled to yourself.

The male took a seat next to you and whistled before taking a bite of his food and announcing that he “Didn’t trick you, you know? It’s not like I wanted to do that either. I only did it ‘cause it’s the Dorm’s rules.”

“You looked so happy about it though,” Deuce uttered out while chewing on his food.

The senior waved his hand around to try and comfort his junior, “There, there, Deucey. The rules don’t matter outside the dorms so, Cate here is just your very gentle senior.” He placed his hand on top of his heart and pushed his shoulders back, and you could even see the slightest bit of sunlight coming from behind his head.

Deuce flushed red and shook his head back and forth, “Ple.. please stop calling me that, senpai!”

Another tray was sat down next to Ace, and a rather attractive man appeared with the tray. Green hair and glasses and a clover on his cheek, this male was both sort of odd for an ordinary person but compared to the rest of the people here seemed that he could blend in well.

The new male chortled at the situation, “That’s how Cater expresses his affection, you know?” and shrugged his shoulders.

Everyone’s brain at the table besides Cater’s buffered.

So Ace, with an eyebrow raised and a spoon with some food on it also raised, asked the dying question, “Wait…” Ace tilted his head, “Who are you?”

The male sat down and rubbed the back of his neck, “Oops, my bad. . My name’s Trey, Trey Clover. I’m a Heartslabyul 3rd year alongside Cater.” He stated, pointing toward the other male.

The four of your group nodded slowly before the male turned to you, “ And you...you’re from the Ramshackle… um.” He paused and coughed a bit before continuing, “The new student who’s currently residing in the unused dorm, correct?”

“You can call it Ramshackle or whatever. Believe me it has several health code violations and is just not somewhere I would choose to live.” You sighed out, “But when one doesn’t have a choice it is best to make do with what they have.”

Ace just frowned at you, “Wow... smooth words.” He rolled his eyes after.

Trey ignored your side conversation and just awkwardly chucked, “I heard all about it from Cater. Sorry for the trouble our doommates caused you yesterday.”

Ace broke out into an offended look at the male and shifted closer to Deuce, “He’s just casually sitting next to me..”

Cater grinned at the three, “Come on! We’re in the same school, so we should get along! Give me your number!”

You inquired to Cater about what he just said, “Wait, wait, wait. You have phones here! And so now the only thing that could keep me sane and connected to the real world that I would normally have is here, but I can’t have it because it’s too expensive? Damn I need a raise.”

“Oh?” Cater bounced in his seat, “Oh, so you do have a number? Are you the type to not upload many pictures? Tell me your username!” Cater whipped out his phone and held it up waiting for you to start. When you didn’t, his face slowly moved closer to yours until you had to start backing away.

Trey sighed, “Cater, the newbie’s backing away. Keep it to a minimum.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Cater put his phone away and waved his hands around.

You scooted back to your spot muttering, “It’s okay.”

“So, you guys were askin’ about the dorms? That’s nice! A fresh convo!” Carter hoped back into a new conversation.

Ace looked up from his food, “ I wanna know about our Dorm first and foremost. What the heck is that Rule Number something of something of the Queen of Hearts?”

You could only imagine what Ace was feeling for only being in the dorm for one day and already being kicked out for rules that he knew nothing of, “Yeah, it seems kinda of counterproductive, those rules.”

Trey explained to your group, “I’m sure you’re all familiar with the legendary Queen of Hearts, right? In order to establish absolute law and order, she made severe rules in order to oppress the eccentric citizens of Wonderland.”

Cater added, “And out of respect for the Queen of Hearts, our Heartslabyul Dorm wears red and black in order to represent the dress she wore. And it’s part of our traditions to adhere to the Queen of Hearts’ rules.” He shoved more of his food into his mouth and grabbed his phone out of his pocket to check it.

Grim exclaimed, “Sounds rough!”

“Adhering to the rules is the present Prefect’s whims.” Cater checked his phone again, “The previous one was kinda chill about it.”

Nodding, Trey agreed, “Compared to the other Prefects, Riddle is just a little bit more serious. That’s why he’s trying so hard to keep the traditions.”

“Ugh… How annoying..” Ace hissed out.

Grim tapped his paw to his chin, “Hey, what kinda places are the other dorms?”

“Again, I’m still curious.” Thinking about the style of the first dorm, you could only imagine how planned out the other dorms are.

Your kindhearted green haired upperclassman started to tell you the details of the dorms, “Just like Cater said a while ago, this school has seven dorms dedicated to the Great Seven.”

Your mind flashed to the seven statues at the front of the school you had to take care of on the first day of classes, “Those statues in the front?”

Trey nodded, “Yep, those are the Great Seven. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“Eh, I guess I just forgot,” You did not want any odd attention to be on you, so you tried and continued the conversation, “But they are all related to a specific dorm?”

“Yes. First, we have our dorm that’s grounded on following the Queen of Hearts’ Laws with our entire being: Heartslabyul Dorm.”

The Queen of Hearts were not laws that you wanted to follow, but you were still very curious about why people would commit themselves to it.

“Savanaclaw that’s grounded on the fortitude of the King of Beasts.”

Scar if you could remember correctly. And another dorm that you couldn’t understand why they would follow that leader, but whatever.

“After that, we have Octavinelle that was founded on the Sea Witch’s benevolence.”

Benevolence is not what you would call it; there had to be a mistake in the story.

“And then we have Scarabia that was formed from the careful planning of the Sorcerer of the Desert.”

A pedophile, of all people?? Jafar should not be considered anything near a great person.

“Pomefiore, the house grounded on the magnanimous efforts of the Beautiful Queen”

Okay, but like she kinda cute; while we don’t condone actions… Of course, her name being ‘Beautiful’ trips you up, but all of this is an issue for later.

“Then there’s Ignihyde whose foundations lie on the perseverance of the King of the Underworld.”

Going off the Disney movie, yes, he was the villain. But going off of Greek Mythology. Never. Never.

“Lastly, we have Diasomnia that was founded on the gracefulness of the Queen of Thorns.”

She kinda cursed a child, but we all have our petty days.

“There wouldn’t happen to be a book in the library about them. Would there? I would like to refresh my memories on them.” As much reading as you did in the past, you knew this had to happen. Your only chance to figure out anything in this world was in that library.

“Of course,” Your new upperclassman was the kindest, “I can show you if you would like.”

Grim brings you two back to the other conversation with his announcement, “All of their names are friggin’ long! I can’t remember all of that!”

Giggling into his hand, Cater winked at Grim, “That’s completely okay. You’ll remember them even if you don’t want to.”

Trey continued, “Just like you’ve witnessed during the ceremony, the Mirror of Darkness decides

what Dorm you’ll belong to after looking into your soul. I guess you could say that the dorms really reflect the student’s character.”

“That’s true.” Cater agreed, “I totally get it!”

Deuce could not agree, “Character?”

You snapped your fingers, “Like personality and maybe like talents?”

Trey guided your group’s attention to the wolf boy you met in PE, “For example… Look over there.”

“That’s the guy who wasn’t dying after the torture session in PE,” You pointed out.

“Judging by appearance, he looks like he’s from Savanaclaw.” Trey concluded.

Cater now had his phone in his hand and was scrolling through something before looking up to join the conversation, “Totes! They look like a dorm that’s got a lot of athletes and guys that’re good at scuffles! They’re pretty brawny? Or I guess you could say, they’re all pretty buff? Either way, Savanaclaw’s colors are yellow and black.”

Grim signaled to a male with a beauty mark on his chin and silver-blue hair and glasses, “Oh~ Then what about that one with the gray and uh… Light purple on their sleeves?”

(Seemed like a little pretty boy was your only thought about the glasses male)

Trey replied, “He’s from Octavinelle. The two sitting on the table beside him with the dark-red and gold colors are from Scarabia.” The table he was talking about held one person who you are positive you have seen before and another taller boy who just gave you a bad vibe.

“It’s been said that both are dorms full of smart people,” Cater added, “When it comes to written tests, nothing can beat those two. Ah, but Scarabia’s Prefect’s only so-so when it comes to studying.”

Ace huffed, “Alright, I sense a red flag here.”

You bet, “Yeah, as if. If anything I wouldn’t think that test scores are the only factor of a prefect.”

“You adapt pretty quickly, huh, Ace. You not so much,” The male sighed at you.

“That was rude.” You huffed and ate more of your food, and then, mumbling, “It’s not like I know shit about this world.”

Trey rolled his eyes to look up and puffed out, “Going back to the topic, those bright and sparkling ones over there are from Pomefiore. Their colors are purple and red.”

Grim bursted out, “Wha–!! There’s a really cute girl over there!”

You smacked the back of Grim’s head and scolded him, “Hey, don’t assume anything about them.”

“Eh!?” Deuce questioned, “Even though this is an all-boys’ school!?”

“Idiot.” Ace mocked, “As if they’d let a girl pass the sorting ceremony of an all-boys’ school.”

While Grim and Deuce were freaking out, you turned to Trey and Cater and asked, “I’m assuming gender expression is all over? What are your pronouns?”

Cater seemed delighted to be asked and replied with a simple, “That is true. Oh, he/him is fine, but I’d rather you’d call my cell.” With a wink at the end.

Trey responded, “Same as him, besides the last part. Though I don’t think many people here ask that even if the expressions are all over the spectrum.”

“Just wanted to make this a safe place,” You didn’t really know much about this world. Like maybe it was more acceptable here? Or it could be the opposite…

Cater nudged Ace and those two began a talk about a portrait in the school. It seemed to be some of the only girl contact some of these boys got.

After Ace gagged in his throat, Cater waved his hands and turned back to the group, “It doesn’t matter, does it? Well, in any case, Pomefiore’s full of pretty faces who take their beauty routines very seriously. Their Prefect’s a pretty famous influencer who’s got over 5 million followers.” Cater boasted while holding up five fingers.

Trey shook his head, “ Don’t judge them based on face value alone. Pomefiore’s got a lot of students who excel at alchemy and charms.”

“If I knew what that was a little more than I know now I feel like I would be more impressed.” You guessed, but with your luck anything could happen. It did remind you of the Evil Queen though.

Cater chuckled into his hand and threw up a thumbs-up, “That’s right!” He, then, directed everyone’s attention to look at the cafeteria, but he could never direct everyone’s attention to a specific person, “Then, there’s Ignihyde, and they wear blue and black, but… I don’t see them around anywhere.” All of the group’s attention was given back to Cater since there was not a single student, “The students from that dorm are all sorta private, so I don’t have friends there either. I guess you could call them the complete opposite of Heartslabyul.”

Grim slumped and dragged his food into his mouth, “You mean, they’re pretty gloomy?”

Trey scolded, “Hey, now! Don’t be rude. Though, it’s true that they all seem pretty behaved and quiet. They’ve got a lot of members who have great magical energy and they’re pretty techy, too.”

It made you think about all the technology in this world and how different it was definitely going to be in this world.

Deuce inquired, “Then there’s… Diasomething Dorm, correct?”

You nodded, “Dia-what-ya-call-it.”

“Stop acting like you got it right.” Ace puffed out his chest, “It’s Diasomnia, got it?”

Deuce sputtered, “I just bit my tongue.”

Cater pointed, “Diasomnia is… Oh, there.” There was a table full of odd balls from what you can tell, “The guys who are sitting by the cafeteria’s exclusive tables.Their colors are light-green and black. They’re kinda—How do I put it? Super popular?They’ve got an aura that makes it hard for us commoners to approach them. Their Prefect is super difficult to grasp.”

“Difficult to grasp,” You titled your head, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Ace shoved your shoulder, “Shut up and look. They’ve got a kid with them.” He pointed toward a young looking male with black and pink hair. He really reminded you of a pretty boy from anime.

“I bet you ten bucks he’s one of the oldest ones here. And besides I really don't think we should be judging by appearances at this place of all places.” You pointed to Grim who had so much food shoved in his mouth he looked like a chipmunk, “we lit have a cat.”

Trey sighed, “Grade-skipping is allowed here, so that’s possible. But, he’s not a child, he’s a 3rd year like us. His name is” Trey was cut off by another voice.

A much deeper voice appeared behind you, “Lilia is my name. Lilia Vanrouge” And the child who was definitely not a child to you appeared upside down in the air. You knew that you should be surprised, but at this point in time you didn’t have the effort.

Grim shot up from his seat, “Th..uh.this guy teleported here!”

You stared up at the male with wide eyes, but then, shook your head, “You are surprisingly not the oddest person I have seen today, but I have to applaud you for some of the nicest hair. And it is real cool how you can just float upside down. Like a bat... Or something.”

Lilia bowed while still hanging out upside down, “I thank thou for such a genuine compliment. Pray tell, are thou interested in mine dorm members?” He raised his hand to cover his mouth when he chuckled, “Fufufu, it is true that I might resemble a sprightly and endearing young boy. However, just like that man in glasses has said, I am a child no longer.”

“How the fuck did he say “fufuf” out loud?” You gasped out, “Also pay up Ace.” You made ‘give me-give me’ motions with your hand.

“Sprightly,” Trey smiled widely.

Lilia quizzed, “Prithee, why not approach us instead of simply watching from afar? Are we not comrades from the same school? We from Diasomnia will welcome you anytime.” While still upside down, he threw his arms out into his full wing span.

You were scared of this dude, but at the same time not, “Perfect, totally next time, dude.” You threw a wink and a thumbs-up.

Deuce covered his mouth and whispered something to Ace.

Lilia chortled, “Fufu. Pardon me from appearing from above while you dined. I will be taking my leave now.” The male waved his hand and disappeared.

Ace muttered something back to deuce.

Trey stammered, “W-well… That’s how it is.” Trey closed his eyes and smiled before opening them back up, “Diasomnia’s got a lot of very special students.Their dorm has a lot of members that are pretty gifted. Their Prefect, Malleus Draconia, is said to be one of the five greatest sorcerers of our world.”

“TBH,” Cater was scrolling through his phone, “Malleus is sorta like, the awesomest of the awesome.” He turned off his phone and tossed his hair back, “Well, our Prefect’s pretty dangerous, too.”

You paused, eyes squinted and mouth agape, thinking, ‘How would you even measure that?’

Ace snorted, “You’re telling me! He puts a collar on someone just for eating his tart? He’s the worst, no doubt!” He pointed his spoonful of food at Cater for emphasis on his words.

You noticed that a male was behind Ace when was in the middle of his statement. He had bright red hair with two cow-licks on his head and gray eyes. What you found adorable, however, was how his tie was tied like a bow and had a little crown on the side of it. The male was crossing his arms with a wide grin on his face.

His mouth began moving and a smooth voice came out, “Hm? I’m the worst?” The grin grew.

Cater froze while slowly shifting his eyes to look at Ace and not the new person. Deuce and Trey just froze in shock for this new person to join the conversation. You paused and realized that this was probably the prefect.

You softly sang out, “You're screwed.”

Ace was not perceiving anything at this moment and only continued, “Yeah. Only a tyrant will keep up with those kinda rules. Gimme a break.” He puffed out and drank the rest of his drink in one swish back.

“Ace...,” Deuce whined, “look behind us!”

Ace shouted, “GEH! Prefect?!” and jumped in his seat.

You could only hope Ace would survive for the rest of the day.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #grim twst

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

OK! I promise (kinda) that this is the last one (maybe). Eldritch Knight nearly dies protecting essek form something (assassin, Rouge kryn soldier, etc) and essek's mom kinda pick up that like s/o has saved her son so much that she invites them over for dinner as a thank you, they accept the invite -cause why not- and chaos ensues, Verin is there and teasing his older brother/jokingly challenging s/o to a battle. Thank for everything you are by at my favorite writer on here, have a beautiful day!

Booooooy this is turning into a long one so I'll have to split it up in two parts for the sake of readability 😅. Here comes the first part. Enjoy 😘.

It’s a lovely day out. The moon’s shining bright, the stars sparkle like millions of crystals in the night sky and you and your favourite drow wizard had the opportunity to get away from your busy lives and spend some time together not on official business; an opportunity not often found in these days. You were grateful to spend your time on a walk outside in one of gardens reserved only for the higher classes of Rosohna and their guests. A nice day indeed.

Well, it would have been a nice day if it hadn’t been ruined by a rather rude interruption. Was it truly too much to ask for some peace and quiet and alone time to just relax? Apparently so. Neither of you seem to be able to get a break from the chaos.

You’re flung into the pillar of the gazebo-like structure at the centre of the gardens, feeling the cracking of your ribs as you hit it and drop to the ground with a loud thud. Hitting the stone with your fist you get up with a growl. That hurt. A lot. You hook your foot kicking up your sword catching it in your hand.

“I’ve had it up to here with these mages!” You duck behind the pillar to avoid a firebolt being thrown at your face. You see Essek struggling with the other Volstrucker. If you keep this battlefield divided much longer both of you might not make it out and since these gardens aren’t as public a space, guards don’t regularly patrol. You can only hope someone has noticed something because this is not liking good. At this rate you might need an accomplished cleric and a pretty good amount of diamonds on site sooner rather than later.

You look around the corner and send a bolt of blue crackling energy to your Volstrucker hitting them square in the chest. A firebolt is returned and strikes you in the shoulder singeing at the fabric of your clothes and your now exposed skin. You shrug off the pain in your chest, shoulder and the struggle breathing and release another witch bolt drawing closer to your opponent.

Taking some good hits and as difficult as it may be you’re close enough to the Volstrucker to strike. So is the Volstrucker. This was never going to be an easy fight and no matter how clever you are, so are they and one mistake is deadly. Keeping your injured arm close to you you move around quickly trying to exhaust their reserves enough to get a proper hit.

Your plan works. The movements get sloppier ever so slightly and just barely enough to get through the Volstrucker’s defences. A slash sends them stumbling holding the new wound and a hit with the pommel to the face takes the Volstrucker down bleeding. You turn your attention back to Essek and his attacker to see him cornered and on his last leg, a blow breaking through the shatters of a shield spell.

Kicking off and rushing over you use the momentum kicking off a stone bench to grab onto the neck of Essek’s opponent, wrapping your arms around and elbow down until they throw you off into the bench you jumped off. Feeling your already burning chest you’re forced to cough leaving an iron-like taste in your mouth. Not good. But this is life or death. You choose life.

Getting between Essek and the Volstrucker you cast a lightning bolt using your current space to your advantage. Not much places to dodge to from this side. The Volstrucker lands within a bed of flowers unmoving. A wave of relief comes over your as you see Essek back on his feet. While a little worse for wear, he’s alive.

“Next time you ask me to go out with you can we please go somewhere without your admirers trying to horribly murder you?” You joke between coughs, the taste of iron growing stronger.

“Perhaps it’s just the Luxon trying to intertwine our fates through making me admire you even more?” Essek places a hand on your back but quickly regrets it when you wince in pain.

“Perhaps we should find you a healer.” Essek suggests and you couldn’t agree more.

“Looks like we both can use a healer, or several.” You refer to the injuries the both of you sustained biting back the pain coming through the adrenaline from the fight.

Then it happened. You heard before you saw. Movement. Turning to see what it was you see the Volstrucker you knocked down first standing with a bow, string just released arrow flying, second one following in you and Essek’s direction. You quickly try to cast warding wind but you’re not quick enough. The first arrow strikes you in the gut. The second one is stopped, trajectory changed and sent into the bushes.

White hot searing pain. You’ve been shot before but never have been so rough already. The sensation is a new one entirely making you hyperaware of your body, your surroundings to the point you can hear every breath you take and the beat of your heart as you fall back from the impact. The warding wind drops as you do and you’re fighting to stay awake, a sudden fatigue and fog enters your brain.

Essek sees you fall, you can barely make out his expression; changing from worry to anger when focused on the Volstrucker. The next thing you see is darkness and for a brief second you think you’ve passed out and this is the Raven Queen beckoning you. Instead it’s a darkness summoned surrounding the Volstrucker until it disappears leaving nothing but a pile of dust.

There’s a constant ringing in your head but you’re still awake. Awake, bleeding and in pain. Essek, now the Volstrucker is dead and dealt with kneels down next to you, worry returning to his face as he’s unsure what to do. He reaches for the arrow shaft sticking out of your stomach but you stop him with what little force is left in your body.

“Don’t! Not unless you want me to bleed out. Just go get help. I’ll be fine.” You try to stabilise your breath as much as you can. To be honest, you don’t know for sure if you’ll be fine but that won’t change anything. You don’t hear his reply over the ringing in your ears but Essek strokes your cheek before he rushes off gods know where.

Next thing you know the face of a blue tiefling appears in your vision, behind her a green cloak. The arrow is pulled out and the burning pain is quickly replaced by a cool pressure until it disappears along with the majority of the pain in your chest. The sense of tunnel vision disappears and you see Essek looking worried waiting for anyone to say anything. You give him a weak smile.

“You owe me big time, dear.” You cough as Jester helps you sit up. Still a bit lightheaded you manage. Essek returns your smile but you can see the guilt in his eyes.

“And I’ll do everything in my power to make it up to you.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s nice and all. Can you guys please stop flirting?” Oh, Beauregard. Way to interrupt the moment. Doesn’t she know you could have gotten all the Mighty Nein’s favours owed to Essek erased in a snap of the fingers now? Jester and Beau help you to your feet and begin to support carry you back to the Xhorhaus.

The next few days you’re on bedrest as demanded by well, everyone around you, until you’re fully recovered and no longer feel like you dived off a cliff missing the water. Essek’s been a frequent visitor to the extend where he must be neglecting his responsibilities by how much time he’s spending with you.

Essek makes a surprisingly good nurse, making sure you’re always comfortable, getting you whatever you need or ask for and of course good company to fight the boredom from being confined to one space for days where night and day do not differ.

Then finally the day came along where your clerics had declared you fit enough to leave the confines of your room. Another few days and you were good to go back to your usual routines. While Essek was forced to return to his duties sooner rather than later he still tried to spend as much time with you as he could, sticking to your side like glue.

You had to reassure him many times but finally did get it through his thick skull this wasn’t his fault and he couldn’t have done anything about it. He may still blame himself partially but he’s not beating himself over it which is all you could ask for. Besides, you’re very persuasive when it comes to Essek so perhaps in time you could get him to see it the way you do.

#essek x reader #essek thelyss x reader #critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader

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imagine-that · 4 years

Text

Snowball

Warnings: absolutely none, just a super cute, fluffy, wintery fic

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

AN: this is for @potterverseimagine ‘s 300 writing challenge, I used prompt #11 “You look freezing. Let me warm you up.” This is honestly one of my favourite ones I’ve written so far so I hope you guys like it too. Also, Fred is one of the main loves of my life right now so I kind of write a lot of him (yes all of them are fictional.)

As class is finally dismissed, you run through the halls, quickly making your way outside to the courtyard where your boyfriend had asked you to meet him.

Then again, when you really thought about it, he hadn’t so much asked as he’d told. From what you remembered, which was most of it, it was more like he’d said “You, me, the courtyard after class.” And winked in an overdramatic manner, his typical move.

Obviously you’d agreed, your curiosity getting the better of you.

As you spot his red locks of hair, you quietly tiptoe through the snow behind him, putting a finger to your smiling lips as one of his brothers notices you. You excitedly put your hands over his eyes, suppressing your giggles as his brother watches in amusement.

“Guess who.” You sing song, masking your voice awfully.

“Hm I wonder who it could possibly be?” He says sarcastically, a grin on his face. “Could it be y/n?” He asks thoughtfully, making you giggle.

“Afternoon Freddy.” You greet, confirming his suspicions as you peck him on the cheek and he removes your hands and turns around, grinning proudly at you.

The snow is falling in big, fluffy flakes all around the three of you in a beautiful manner but you’re too focused on the look across your scheming boyfriends face.

“I know that look... What’re you up to?” You ask with an eyebrow raised, arms crossed over your chest.

He looks over to George for permission to share, though you know he most likely would’ve told you anyways and his brother nods towards you, telling him to continue.

“What would you say if I told you we were going to start the biggest bloody fight Hogwarts has ever seen?” He asks with a mischievous grin, his brother showcasing a matching one.

“I’d say that you’re crazy and need to reconsider your choices.” You respond with a sigh.

They look between each other, both glancing back at you with a shrug and an apologetic smile.

“Merlin... why do I spend so much time with you two gits?” You ask, shaking your head with a smile tugging at your lips.

“Because you love me? And tolerate him of course.” George says, coming over and slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“Ah yes, how could I forget.” You respond sarcastically, laughing and rolling your eyes at his joke.

Fred scoffs in amusement. “As if. We all know I’m the better looking one.” He says, pulling you away from his brother and back into his arms.

You chuckle to yourself, squeezing him in a hug tightly.

“True, true. Now, please explain what exactly you two did?” You ask, almost scared to know what the answer to that question may entail.

“Well...” Fred says, grinning the way he did whenever they were up to something.

Before he can say anything more, students come flying through the doors to the grounds, some on brooms and some on foot, a bit of every house included. They’re all wearing their winter coats and gloves and hats and scarves, clearly prepared to spend time outdoors.

You stare at the students flooding through the doors, completely confused. You obviously knew that the majority of them were meant to be in a lesson, the twins and yourself included. The only reason you’d opted to come and meet him rather than get to class early was because you didn’t take much of a liking to potions.

“For Godric’s sake what did you two do?” You demand, pointing an accusatory finger at the boys.

“Something wicked of course!” Fred smirks, looking around at the chaos.

“Something bloody brilliant!” George adds.

Soon enough, you can hear Filch running anxiously down the hall, if you can call what he does running.

“Students out of class! Students out of class!” He cries to any staff member who will listen.

“We’re well aware you idiotic ninny!” Professor McGonagall exclaims, rolling her eyes as he stops to catch his breath, looking disappointed by the lack of action being taken.

“What’s happeni-.” You start but you’re quickly stopped as a ball of white goes flying past you, smacking Cormac McLagen directly in the face.

His face contorts in shock, clearly having not expected it.

A second later, another few whip through the air, one hitting a younger Slytherin boy and one hitting Cho Chang on the shoulder.

Everyone starts frantically forming balls out of the snow, tossing them at their friends and foes. The air fills with laughter as students get hit and dodge.

“Now I see what you mean by fight!” You shout at Fred, smiling from ear to ear as you throw one of your own at Fred. To your dismay, he easily dodges it and the ball instead hits George.

He gives you a look that makes you instantly regret the toss.

“Oh no....” You squeak, running over to Fred and hiding behind him, holding on to his arms to keep him there. “Protect me Freddy!” You order, squealing as you start getting pelted with them at least three or four at a time.

“Oi! I thought we said no wand tricks!” Fred says to his brother with an eyebrow raised teasingly.

George merely shrugs in response, continuing his previous tactic.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you love!” Fred declares, staying his ground in front of you.

Still, George manages to hit you with every last one he sends your way, your hair practically white from all the snow falling into it.

You adjust your hat, pulling it even further onto your head to cover your already rosey ears.

“Harry! We draw the line at the cloak, no one else has one it wouldn’t be fair!” George shouts as one flies at him out of nowhere. Thankfully, no one else around seems to hear him but you laugh to yourself as Harry appears out of midair with a defeated look across his face.

You all spend the afternoon pelting the snowballs at each other, some using their wands to do it in multiples, some flying around in the air on their broomsticks and dropping the snow on unexpecting students on the ground but no matter how everybody is doing it, you’re all having fun. You could swear you’d even seen Professor McGonagall throw a snowball or two, though you knew she’d never admit it if asked.

Even Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy seem to be enjoying themselves, even if they were mostly attacking the first years. Seeing as it was only snow, no one seemed to care.

The one time anyone almost gets in trouble is when the twins throw a snowball each at Filch, in nearly perfect sync with each other, both of them landing on their target. He grumbles on and on about detention or expulsion but professor Dumbledore winks at them, waving them back over to the fun.

Some students grow bored of the snowball fight but no one heads in, finding other ways to enjoy the beautiful winter day. You catch glimpses of snow angels, watch the younger students use anything and everything the can find to go tobogganing with, shooting down the hill at high speeds and several others figure out fun games for everyone to enjoy.

As the sun begins to set and the sky grows darker, more and more students make their way inside, all either tired of the snowball war or too cold and hungry to continue. Only when professor Snape is hit across the face by one thrown by one of the Gryffindor quidditch team members on their broom are students ordered back into the castle, of course by the potions teacher himself.

But that isn’t before Oliver Wood, fly’s overhead, dropping an oversized ball of snow directly over you. You shriek as the rush of cold hits your body, soaking you even more than every other one combined.

“Wood!” You cry, glaring up at him.

He shrugs with a playful smile. “It was requested.” He says simply, waving and flying off before he has to face your wrath.

“Let me take one guess who requested that...” You say as you turn to face Fred, the two of you happening to be two of the only ones left outside apart from the odd Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw passing by to get to their dinner.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He says innocently, coming closer to you and playfully tugging your hat down over your eyes.

You scoff, leaning into his chest and wrapping your arms around him, using one hand to push the brim of the hat back up.

“Mm you smell good.” You murmur into his jacket.

He chuckles, gently pulling you off of him.

“Let’s go back inside you nut.” He says, holding your hand in his contently.

As others file into the great hall, famished from the afternoon of fun, you and Fred push your way through the crowd and he gently pulls you along behind him as he says the Gryffindor password, only having to repeat it a few times as the lady insists on singing even louder. Finally she gives up and lets you two inside.

“You and your brother sure know how to make a scene.” You tease, grinning over at Fred as he smirks.

“Yes, yes we do. And we have bloody good fun doing it.” He responds.

You laugh. “And how did you come up with this particular idea, might I ask?” You question, head tilted to the side as you wait for an answer.

“Figured everyone could use a way to enjoy themselves before their O.W.L.S and their N.E.W.T.S. Or at the very least, make a few people laugh when we get the chance to hit professor snape or filch in the face with a snowball of course.” He explains.

“I don’t think I even want to know how you managed to pull it off either.” You say with a grimace.

“We partially got Dumbledore’s permission! That should count, even if it is only partially.” He counters, letting go of your hand and walking over to the boys dormitory entrance.

“Wha- hey! Where are you going?” You ask, your brows furrowed and your lip jutted out in a dramatic pout.

“Y/n, I don’t know if you realize but I’d rather not eat in soaking wet robes.” He laughs, smiling at your slight neediness.

“But Fred!” You whine, giving him a look you hope is just adorable enough to work, your y/e/c eyes twinkling hopefully.

He chuckles, giving you a sympathetic look. “I’ll be back in just a moment darling.” He promises. Before you can protest even a little bit, he’s walked away to his dorm, leaving you with your mouth wide open in shock.

You sink into the couch, waiting for him to return. A moment later, he hops into the spot next to you, coming to wrap his arms around you but immediately pulling away as he notices your overly rosey cheeks and your chattering teeth, your figure shivering heavily.

“Merlin y/n, You look freezing. Let me warm you up.” He exclaims, using a simple fire charm and starting a roaring fire in the fireplace in front of you, the lights dancing around in the darkened room.

You try to argue but he ignores you, pulling off his sweater and forcing it over your head.

He stares at you admiringly for a moment, making you smile like an idiot.

“What?” You ask through giggles.

“Nothing just that I think I might need a new sweater because that one is clearly better on you.” He compliments and your lips curl upwards, his words making you feel warmer already.

He runs back into his dorm before you have the chance to actually tell him so though, and comes back with his entire comforter trailing across the floor behind him.

He goes behind you, draping the blanket over your shoulders and wrapping you up in it in a hug from behind.

When he finally sits back down, he wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you over to him and onto his lap, blanket and all

“There. You don’t look nearly as blue as you did. Only a hint of the colour that I can see.” He says, grinning as you give him a pointed look, still shaking from the cold. “Might just help if you changed out of these sopping wet clothes love.” He adds, knitting his fingers in and out of your own.

“Oh fine.” You grumble, standing up and trudging off to your own dorm, quickly peeling off your clothes from earlier and changing into a fresh set of robes, pulling Fred’s sweater back over your body once you’re finished.

You eagerly head back, jumping into his arms and snuggling up to him in his lap.

“You were gone for a moment!” He states with a laugh.

“Yes but it was a moment too long.” You murmur into his chest.

“Ah yes well, I suppose a moment away from me must feel like an eternity.” He responds and you gently jab his shoulder with a roll of your eyes.

“Yeah yeah. I love you you idiot.” You giggle, moving your head up and placing your lips on his, kissing him deeply.

“I love you too darling. Really missed me that much though eh?” He teases with a grin and you laugh again.

“Always.” You whisper, resting your head back down on his shoulder. He pulls the blanket over both of you, pulling you even closer to him, your body pressed up against his chest.

“I suppose this is one good way to warm up.” He jokes in a hushed tone, the feeling of his breath tickling your ear.

“It’s the perfect way to warm up.” You correct softly, nuzzling your head up to him even closer and shutting your eyes.

Even though neither of you had eaten anything since lunch, you both drift off blissfully in each other’s arms, staying warm and cozy by the firelight of Gryffindor tower with wide and content grins practically etched on your faces.

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padfootmadfoot · 3 years

Text

Teddy Lupin - Thinking Out Loud

Thinking Out Loud By Ed Sheeran (Year 2014)

Ps- Didn’t know the years would coordinate perfectly, I love it!

Word Count-3.1K

Send Requests Here

Teddy sat in McGonagall's classroom for the third time today, first cleaning up the glass he shattered well running away from Agrus Flitch, and having to report to Mcgonagall since it was at her hands dealing with him, the second was bringing McGonagall a apple for a sincere apology and the third was learning about Transfiguration his favorite class

But his ears or eyes were concentrated on what McGonagall had been teaching that day but a long brunette haired girl who sat across the room from Teddy, writing her notes down and concinderating on the lesson.

Teddy felt his best mate Louis Weasley, nudge his shoulder, causing him to lose concentration of the girl and look over at McGonagall who had her hands on her hips.

“Mr Lupin, care to show the class how to turn that teacup infront of you into a rat,” McGonagall stammered, shaking her head at the boy who was not near the level of concentration he should be at in his sixth year at hogwarts.

Teddy picked up his wand, thinking to himself for a second, gosh he was a metamorphmagus, he should know this stuff. His flicked his wrist, pressing his wand against the teacup, nothing happened for a couple seconds then teacup drew a tail, then a face, soon after turning into a full rat.

“Perfect see, look at him, i’ll call him Flameboy,” Teddy joked touching his wand against the rat that looked around, slowly turning him back into a teacup.

McGonagall went back to teaching, when Teddy went to look back at the brunette girl he noticed that she had been looking at him, causing the pair to blush out of control.

Mila Abbot, a shy girl was nearly a outcast to the school, a Ravenclaw, her best friend Victoire Weasley was her only friend, and summer came by with a quick jolt, ending their sixth year at hogwarts.

“Your saying your parents are gone for the whole summer, and you’ll be home alone, no one home, and celebrating your birthday alone!” Victoire complained as her and Mila walked down the halls with bags in hand, ready to board the Hogwarts Express home.

“Thats what i’m saying Vic, all alone,” Mila smiled, knowing where the conversation was heading, Victorie and her became friends shortly after coming to hogwarts. Her a Gryffindor and Mila a Ravenclaw didn’t matter.

“Then why don’t you come over, my whole family is celebrating my uncle Harry's promotion, and I don’t think your parents would mind,” Victorie said swinging her arm around Mila back. “And Teddy will be there, don’t you fancy him now,”

Mila’s face turned a bright red, not helping herself to smile. “I don’t fancy him, it’s merely a little crush and I guess, if your parents are okay with it,” Her face calmed a bit, feeling her blood blushing inside of her.

“That’s great, my parents will never mind they love you like a daughter, and plus Teddy won’t either, I hear he fancies you as well,” Victie chuckled making Milas face return back to her red state. “Plus Plus, i’ve got us tickets to the Quidditch Championships on my dresser at home mom says,”

Milas eyes widened with every word that came out of Victorie mouth. “No you don’t are you serious!” Her voice was excited. “I love you Vic!” If her bags weren’t hanging out of her hand and the grass wasn’t wet from the fog she’d have her hands wrapped around her best friend.

Victorie and Mila borned the train, filled with first years trying to excitedly find a seat, seventh years pushing and shoving, boys and girls snogging left and right.

“Come on, you can sit with us,” Victories took Milas hand, pulling her around everyone and placing her in a cart, Dominique, Vics sister and Louis, her brother sat chatting, then a blue haired boy sat beside Louis, laughing.

“Look at trouble roaming in,” Dominique smiled, pushing herself over to fit Victorie and Mila down. “You both excited for summer break?” She asked, Dominique was the oldest of the children, then Vic then Louis, all a year apart.

“Actually, Milas family is gone and i’ve invited her to stay with us for a couple weeks, isn’t that great,” Vic smiled wrapped her arms around Mila, pressing their cheeks together, once again making Milas face turn red with embarrassment.

“Teddys coming over tonight too, since Harry's coming over with his kids and Teddy lives with them, Mila i’m glad your coming over, i’ll write to mom and let her know,” Dominique had been a older sister to Mila, maker her as close as family.

Teddy and Louis were having their own conversation, whispering to each other, with the occasional laughs and snickered from the two.

“Anything from the trolley dear?” A little plumped woman asked, stopping at the cart door with a smile.

Louis and Teddy stood up, walking passed the woman, leaving on Dominique, Victoire and Mila. Victoire moved to the other side, grabbing a couple of pasties from the cart.

“What are those twos problem?” Victorie asked placing her feet on the seat and munching down on her pastie, passing one to her sister and Mila.

“They’ve been like that all day, Teddy was a real trouble maker, sliding out of detention, i’m sure the sorting hat made a wrong decision with him, been acting out recently according to Louis.

“Yeah in class he couldn’t focus, you guys wanna know why,” Victoire stammer with a mouth full of dough. “Because he was two busy looking at Mila.

Milas thoughts were blown up as her head shot towards Victorie, shaking her head. “He was not!” Mila defended herself, knowing what she was saying was the truth and she was to, looking at Teddy in Transfiguration class.

“We both know you two fancy each other, since year four, why don’t you guys just admit it, you both are gonna be at the same house tonight anyways,” Dominique chimed in, ebowing Mila playfully.

“Hello Ladies, we’ve brought some snacks,” Louis shouted walking into the cart with Teddy, both carrying food in each hand.

“I’m not moving to comfortable,” Victoire said, only moving her legs for one, Louis knowing full well the connection between Teddy and Mila.

“I guess i’ll sit here,” Teddy awkwardly smiled, Mila pushed over for the boy, moving almost on top of Dominique to give Teddy room, her face a bright pink color, her whole body felt flustered and warm all over.

The train ride home was filled with lots off food, Mila and Louis fought over who could catch more marshmallows in their mouths, Mila winning by a lucky shot, Teddy turning his hair different colors with the flavor of Bertie Botts he ate. Victorie fell asleep soon after the train took off and Dominique sent out the letter for her parents about Mila.

London grew dark as the five arrived at platform nine and three quarters, Louis face was pressed up against the window, looking for his parents.

“Look look, I see mom and Dad, and I see uncle Harry, come on!” Louis was a excited boy when he came to seeing his parents, being just like his father, his orange hair was a mess at most times.

Louis left the cart with Teddy behind him, Dominique walking out and leaving Victoire and Mila to walk alone.

“Are you sure your mom let me stay, what if she says no and i’ll have to sleep on the streets cause my home is to far away,” Mila said nervously, rubbing her fingers together as the pair walked through the train, coming to the door.

“Guess i’ll just have to sleep on the streets with you,” Victoire joked jumping off the train, followed by Mila. “My mom and dad love you, and you’ve stayed at my house more times then I could remember,”

Victoire and Mila came into the sights of Fleur first, who took the pair of girls into a hug. “it’s so good to see you both, i’ve already got your bedrooms all set up, we’re going to grimmauld tonight so i’ve hope you’ve brought something nice to wear Mila,” Fleur let the pair go, she was a mom to Mila, since her parents were never around, traveling for a job she’d stay wherever she could, mostly at the Weasleys.

“Ahh girls,” Bill smiled, walking over with Dominique, Louis, Teddy and Harry Potter beside him. “Come on, we’ve got to be going home, we’ll see you tonight then Harry,” Bill smiled placing his hand on Harry's shoulder.

“You will indeed, thanks to Ginny who insisted on having everyone over, it’s nice to see you two girls,” Harry smiled looking at Mila and Victorie. “Come on Teddy, Ginny’s waiting for our arrival, she’s made your favorite,” Harry and Teddy walked off.

But all on Teddys mine on the moment was the conversation Louis and him had, how he was going to ask Mila out tonight, he had to make it perfect, Louis was in charge of getting the pair alone, getting his siblings along with it. His head was filled with ideas, some tossed right away and others sounded to ridiculous and more like pranks he could pull at school.

“Come on girls, your fathers leaving,” Fluer called out, taking Mila out of her thoughts, she followed the Weasleys out of platform nine and three quarters and to the magical car that was parked outside.

Louis sat in the front seat with Bill and Fluer, well Dominique, Mila and Victorie all squished into the back, magainging themselves, their bags all sat in the trunk that's to Bill.

“So Mila, where are you parents gone now?” Bill asked pressing the invisible cloak around the car and taking off into the sky.

“Scotland, site seeing I think, their job took them their, I just don’t ask cause the answers aren’t always spectacular,” Mila smiled, knowing her parents weren’t coming back for her just yet and that she had to learn to live by herself next summer.

“Well you know your always happy to say with us love, we’re home,” Fleur smiled looking out her window, we quickly came down to a little driveway, a cottage.

“I never get over the fact that your house is perfect,” I chuckled bracing myself for the landing, since Bill wasn’t always the best as landing the car.

“Why don’t you guys go settle yourself in your rooms, when your done we can leave for the Potters, that sound good?” Bill commanded as the car hit the ground, landing in the driveway, surrounded by sand.

“Come on then Mila, i’ve got new things to show you,” Victorie excitedly said opening her car door and grabbing Milas hand, they walked to the trunk, only pulling out their trunks only and rushing inside.

“What do you have to show me,” Mila chuckled as the two girls ran downstairs into Victories room and shutting the door.

“Dresses for tonight, and a early early birthday gift for you,” Victorie dropped her things, walking over to her closet and opening it up. “It used to be Lily and Marlene's but my aunt gave them to me when cleaning out the house,” The girls admired Lily and Marlene, how the two were best friends, almost reminding them of themselves.

Victore turned around holding two dresses in her hand, two short cut ones, one a bright red color in her left, in her right a bright white.

“Lily and Marlene wore those,” Mila said with a smile walking over to Victorie and pulling her into a hug. “Thank you Vic, i’m sure we’re going to look wonderful tonight,”

Victoire knew of Louis and Teddys plan, overhearing the two boys talking before Harry and Teddy left, determined to make Mila the best girlfriend ever.

“Go try on the red one, it’ll match your eyes, i’ll change in my room, you can take the bathroom,” Victoire pressed the red one against Milas chest and walking away.

“You know my birthdays not tell December right,” Mila chuckled as she walked into the bathroom, keeping the door open just a bit to continue their conversation.

“That's why it’s called a early early birthday gift, you’ll thank me when in six months for it,” Victoire chuckled slipping her clothes off quickly and slipping the dress on from the bottom.

“Thank you Vic, for being a good friend, can I tell you something,” Mila smiled walking out of the bathroom, her school clothes dripped over her arm and her red dress on, just stopping bellow her knees. “I do fancy Teddy, but you can’t tell anyone okay,”

Victories face lit up, wanting to tell her best friend of the plan, but not wanting to spoil the fun she was going to have tonight. “The first step is admitting it, we all know you do, all you do is look at him, I even swore you were drawing hearts with his name in them,” Milas face went red.

“That is not true, I don’t know what your talking about,” Mila gushed placing her clothes on top of her trunk.

“Girls we’re leaving with or without you!” Fluer called out, her english getting better and better by the days going on, moving from France to London and staying here for years really helped.

“Come on, i’m excited to see everyone!” Victore called out, grabbing Milas hand and dragging her upstairs. “Wait wait,” Victorie stopped at the top of the stairs, running quickly back down to her room and coming up with two hair ties in her hand.

“Smart thinking,” Mila smiled, they continued walking to the fireplace, only Bill left waiting for the pair.

“See you two there,” The scared faced man smiled at the two, taking pounder into his hands. “Grimmauld place!” He shouted tossing the sand down, green fire came up and Bill was gone.

“Together?” The girls said at the same time, simultaneously laughing, squeezing themselves into the tiny fireplace.

Mila grabbed the pouder, looking at Victoire, since forever the pair did everything together, this was their favorite thing, starting at Molly Weasley's and now here.

“Grimmauld Place!” Victoire shouted, Mila tossed the powder down and the girls disappeared, appearing in a almost dark room, a blue haired boy sitting at a table.

“Thank you for coming to the party, the living room is filled with people,” His voice was bland and clearly bored.

“Where is the energetic funny Teddy we saw only a hour ago,” Victoire chuckled stepping out of the fireplace first, followed by Mila, Teddy's eyes nearly almost couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

“I have to greet the guests, but I guess since your the last ones here energetic Teddy can come back,” Teddy's hair turned into a brownish color and stood up. “Shall we?” He asked opening the door, Victorie gave the boy a wink before walking through the door, shutting it quickly behind her, leaving Mila facing the door and with Teddys.

“She's a funny one,” Mila smiled awkwardly, pushing the door open and walking into a party scene, spotting Hermione, her godmother sitting down, she quickly walked over with a smile.

“Mila daring, how are you doing?” Hermione asked patting a seat beside her for Mila to sit down with her.

“I’m good, about to graduate in a year, how are you doing?” Mila asked, looking around and spotting Rose and Hugo running around the room with James, Albus and Lily.

“Very good, Rose turned eleven in august and Hugo nine in september,” Hermione chuckled placing her hand on her forehead. “Gosh I feel so old sometimes, I can’t believe you’ll be graduating, do you know what you’ll be doing after hogwarts?”

Mila was honest with herself, she wasn’t sure what to do, she wanted to open a little clothing shop in diagon alley, it was her dream, but she didn’t think she’d be worthy enough.

“I wanna open a little shop for myself, my parents left me some money and I think that’s what i’ll use to get started,” Mila let out a sigh, expecting disappointment.

“I know two boys who did the same thing, i’m sure George could help you, if you talk to him about it,” Hermione started to say but her eyes drifted off. “Oh gosh Hugo, don’t touch that,” Hermione shouted, standing up and walking away from Mila.

“Mila, i’ve got to show you something, Harry told me about it,” Louis whispered in her ear making her jump, she looked at Louis confused, a bit smile was on his face.

“Later Lou, I just wanna relax, I have a lot on my mind,” Mila huffed, leaning back into the couch but the boy was resistant, grabbing her hand and pulling her up.

“It’s the first room on the left, we’ll all be up their waiting for you,” Louis took off causing Mila to be more confused then she was this morning when Victorie jumped on her back causing her to fall to the ground.

MIla took a look around the room, everyone seemed to be chatting away, so Mila pushed herself off the couch, took one more look around the room then walked out, the placed smelt nice, like fernwood and ivry water on a warm day.

The stairs crept with every step Mila took, until she got to the top, looking left then right, tempted to open the right door but choice the left, walking into a bright room.

“What are you doing in here?” Mila jumped at the noice, then looked at Teddy who stood up from one of the beds he was sitting on.

“Louis told me to come up here, said everyone was up here but,” Mila was cut off with the door slamming behind her and the sound of it locking, she turned around, placing her hand on the doorknob, her head fell on the door knowing what her friends had done, her face going bright red.

“Mila,” Teddy stuttered, causing Mila to turn back around, and look at Teddy who had flowers in his hand, and a smile on her face.

“What are you doing Teddy,” Mila chuckled walking towards the boy, he handed her the flowers.

“A early birthday present,” Teddy smiled, getting the line from Victorie when they first got into the party.

“Victoire told you that didn’t see,” Mila smiled looking around the room. “She told you I fancies you I suppose?” She knew her best friend so well that she knew even if Teddy denied it.

“She also told you that I fancy you I supposed?” Teddy took the flowers out of MIlas hand, gently placing them down on the bed. “I like your dress, and your hair,” He stumbled his words, getting nervous. “I actually like everything about you, I think you're really pretty, and,” Teddy was cut off by Mila stepping up and planting her lips on Teddy.

His hands soon gravitated to her back, pulling her forward, their bodies touching, Milas hand were wrapped around Teddys shoulder, she couldn’t help but smile with every kiss.

“You two are so adorable!” Victoire squealed from the door, the pair turned around and looked at Victorie, Dominique and Louis smiling, with James Potter and Albus Severus hanging out behind them

“Disgusting, i’m going to tell dad!” James chuckled, grabbing Albus and dragging him down the stairs.

“Told you it would work,” Louis winked at Teddy, making him nervous laugh, Mila faced Teddy, resting her head on his chest and smiling, her whole body felt flustered, and so happy.

#TeddyLupin #teddy lupin x reader #Teddy Lupin x you #Teddy Lupin x y/n #HarryPotterFanfic #Mila Abbot

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greenygreenland · 4 years

Text

Liar: Lloyd Garmadon & Sister! Reader

-you're the elder sister of the one and only Lloyd Garmadon

-tell me if you want a pt 2

Summary:

You're Lloyd's sister and would do anything to keep an eye on him, even if it's sneaking into the darkest, most evilest school for boys.

(Y/n) heard terrible stories of the school down the lane. From teachers murdering their students if they weren't up to their expectations to students locking their teachers in their own classrooms and torturing them until they begged for mercy.

Kids were said to grow up to be the worst of the worst, but never would (Y/n) have guessed the people there to look so...normal. Some students dressed incredibly well with uniforms complete with suits and ties while others slipped on sweatshirts and sweatpants instead.

The school had the classic tiled roof of any old building in Ninjago complete with various sparkling windows, stories, and creaky doors. From the outside, the school actually looked peaceful.

The garden out front gave off a feeling of freshness as she passed by with the vibrantly coloured petals swaying in the gentle breeze. The grass tickled (Y/n)'s ankles as she heaved out a deep breath she didn't know she held.

It's not too late to turn back, she told herself.

"No." she interjected. "I have to take care of Lloyd." At the mere mention of taking care of her brother, memories bombarded her like an air strike from above.

The soft, caring smile of her mother. Her warm hands holding her tight. Her words of comfort in her ear.

"I'm so sorry my daughter."

(Y/n) imagined her mother's arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Lloyd has a destiny laid out before him I can't allow."

"What kind of destiny?"

All those years ago, her mother had smiled again with those sad eyes of hers.

"He is destined to be the Green Ninja. He will bring balance, peace. But in order to do so, he must fight and defeat your father."

(Y/n) recalled the feeling of helplessness settling in her gut that day. Her father may have been evil, but he loved (Y/n) and Lloyd more than anything in the world. They could have been a happy family, but he was banished to the Underworld.

"No. He--he can't. Not father, not Lloyd. They can't fight!"

Her mother had frowned with tears in her eyes.

"That is why I must leave."

"Why can't I come with you?"

"Because it's too dangerous. While I'm gone, all I ask of you is to take care of each other. Can you promise me that?"

"Yes, mum. I promise."

(Y/n) shook away the memories with a frown. She was only about eight at the time. Now, she was in her teens. She couldn't back down, not after she dyed her blonde hair black and cut it short like a boy's. Not after she promised her mother to take care of Lloyd, and not after she had done all the paperwork herself.

(Y/n) stared at the documents in her hand with a shake of her head. They were forged at the local library and looked rather professional, but how far would looks go? "This is never going to work." she grumbled to herself.

---

"I can't believe that worked." (Y/n) whispered as she closed the principal's office door. She stuffed her school schedule into her green hoodie and made her way into the first class. She paused when her fingers latched onto the doorknob.

If this were a school for bad boys, then wouldn't that mean she could do whatever the heck she wanted? She could skip class! She wouldn't have to do her homework! She could actually talk back to people!

No.

(Y/n) couldn't do that. She'd willingly brainwash herself into being the villain the staff wanted her and so many others to be. She'd be just as much of a sheep as the children around her.

Like Lloyd.

Her mother said keeping him here would protect him and help avert the prophecy, but (Y/n) didn't understand that. Darkley's was a terrible place to grow up in because of the competitive and dark environment. People weren't nice here (she could tell that much), and it effected even the nicest kids.

(Y/n) released the doorknob and made her way down the hall. When lunch came, he decided to skip and hang out in one of the quieter halls. She didn't have much of an appetite after seeing a group of kids throw bags of fire ants down each other's shirts.

"First Spinjitzu Master is this place insane." she grumbled. A familiar chuckle caught her ears and she jumped to her feet so fast that a book almost fell out of her open bag. A cloaked boy smirked at her as if he told the world's best joke. "Tell me about it." he admitted. "Say, you're the new kid right?"

(Y/n) inwardly smiled. What a wonderful coincidence. "What about it, kid?"

"You may be older, but you're new. You need someone to show you the ropes. What do you say we team up together?" (Y/n) crossed her arms and stared her baby brother down with a firm look. "What's the catch?"

"'Catch'? Uh..."

(Y/n) almost smiled. If Lloyd were one of the other kids, then he would have thought up something to benefit himself on the other end. But he wasn't. He was Lloyd Garmadon, the destined Green Ninja, so of course he wasn't as evil as the other kids. He was an angel in disguise.

"You don't sound so evil, kid." she suddenly said. The confidence on Lloyd's face simmered into a deep frown. "That's what everyone says. The teachers told me they're thinking of kicking me out soon...but I'll show them! I'm Lloyd Garmadon, bringer of evil and son of Lord Garmadon!" As if to prove his point, he let out an 'evil' laugh.

(Y/n) cringed a little. "Great," she said through her teeth, "that's wonderful Lloyd. Now, why don't you show me the 'ropes' of this place?"

"Sure, uh..."

"Jason." she replied. "Jason Le."

True to his word, he showed (Y/n) all the ins and outs of Darkley's, as well as the basics of being 'bad'. She skipped classes with him, ran through the halls, and pickpocketed coins out of her peers' pockets. But along the way, (Y/n)'s morals kicked in and she felt bad about all the stuff she did.

ONE MONTH LATER

The sun slowly sunk over the horizon, casting the empty classroom in a hue of oranges and reds. Lloyd laid flat on a set of desks, arms behind his head with a satisfied smirk. "You're not so bad at this Jason. Maybe one day, you'll be as good as me."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I will be, Lloyd." There was a moment of silence before he sat up on the desks. "You know, you remind me of someone." (Y/n) shifted in her chair with a nervous chuckle. "Is that so...?"

"Yeah. My sister. But she'd never do anything as evil as us. She couldn't pick up twenty dollars off the street even if it stared her in the face!" He sighed to himself. "Goody two shoes."

(Y/n) snorted. "What's your sister like?"

He shrugged. "She's a liar who pretends to be nice. We were supposed to meet at Buddy's Pizza, but I haven't heard a word from her in four weeks! What a snake." (Y/n) winced, but Lloyd didn't seem to notice.

"Not only that, but she's a total two-face!"

(Y/n) winced again.

"One second she's nice and the next she's gone like my parents! I thought she cared about me, but apparantly not."

Lloyd's words piecered (Y/n)'s heart like a knife.

Two-faced.

Liar.

Snake.

Was that really what her baby brother thought of her? After all she sacrificed for him? All the times she showed up to hang out with Lloyd, the day before she'd scrap by to earn enough money to buy him lunch. All the times she brought him to the arcade? She used all the allowance in her pockets.

There was a weird burning sensation in her chest. "What if," she quickly said, "your sister was just busy? What if your sister was going through something she didn't tell you?" Lloyd placed a hand on his chin. "I didn't really think about that."

"Maybe you should, because no family should leave each other behind." (Y/n) abruptly stood. "It's getting late, we should head to the dorms."

The walk to the dormitories was silent. Lloyd could tell just by the crinkle in (Y/n)'s brow that she was angry, or at least annoyed with him. He wasn't sure how he knew just by a single glance, but the tension was beginning to freak him out a little. "Did I...say something?" he muttered. (Y/n) frowned a little. "No."

"Then why do you look so..."

"So what?"

Lloyd shrugged. "I don't know...annoyed?"

(Y/n) froze in her steps, and it was so quiet that Lloyd heard every squeak her shoes made. The rays of sun shone on her pale face, illuminating her bright eyes and silky hair. From her hair part, Lloyd noticed a few golden strands peeking out.

Wait a minute.

Gold? Since when did Jason have golden hair?

Lloyd could have sworn this guy looked familiar. The almond-y round eyes, the sparkle that never seemed to dim, the hair like liquid gold that could only be possible if he were related to his grandfather. This wasn't a boy standing before him. No, no, it was....

"(Y/n)?"

The name slid off his tongue before he could stop himself. (Y/n) tiredly sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She knew he would have figured it out eventually, he was smart like that. "The dye must have been cheaper than I thought," she quietly mumbled.

"Dye?"

"I spent the last of my monthly salary on the cheapest hair dye I could find."

"You've been here the entire time and I didn't even notice?!" exclaimed Lloyd. (Y/n) nodded. "Yes, I have." Lloyd squinted at her tired eyes with an angry frown. "But--but why?"

(Y/n) laughed so coldly that Lloyd shivered. "Why else? You're my baby brother. You've been stuck at Darkley's, and I haven't been able to keep an eye on you. When I heard you might be kicked out, I wanted to make sure I wouldn't lose you for good."

Lloyd was speechless.

I spent the last of my monthly salary on the cheapest hair dye I could find.

He had just bad-mouthed his elder sister.

You're my baby brother.

How dishonourable of him.

I wanted to make sure I wouldn't lose you for good.

A wave of guilt hit Lloyd like a tsunami. He ran at (Y/n) like a bolt of lightning and jumped straight into her arms. How could he have thought such terrible things about her? She would never abandon him because she was the best person he had ever met in all of Ninjago even if he were too blind to see it.

She cared about him more than she cared for herself, and now Lloyd understood. All those times she showed up late to pick him up on the front lawn of Darkley's. All those times she let Lloyd eat whatever he wanted while she sat at the table with only a glass of water. All those times she snuck in to hide handmade cards or gifts under his pillows. That wasn't her pretending to act nice or being two-faced, that was her sacrificing all she could to be the best sister in all of Ninjago.

Lloyd almost cried then and there out of guilt. "I'm sorry I called you two-faced." he croaked out. "And I'm sorry for calling you a snake and saying you were fake to me. I didn't mean that, I promise. I just--I didn't know." (Y/n) wrapped her arms around Lloyd's tiny body with a sigh far beyond her years. "I know you're sorry, I forgive you." Lloyd let go of (Y/n) with a sad frown. "I really don't deserve you."

(Y/n) mimicked his sad frown. "Maybe...maybe it was destiny that knew you needed someone like me in your life. You need a guide to keep you on the right track, and that's what I am." Lloyd smiled a little. "You're more than that." He hugged (Y/n) again. "You're the best sister in the world."

#ninjago lloyd #ninjago masters of spinjitzu #ninjago #lego #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #reader insert

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kitkat1003 · 3 years

Text

On the issue of Mortality

AO3 Link

MK chose to be mortal, to be vulnerable, for the time being, and Monkey King is fine with that.

On the surface, at least. Now he has a successor, one that he likes, and he’s vulnerable????

Yeah, he’s never going to sleep easy again.

(Or, 11 chapters through season 1 about Monkey King, and anxiety his successor gives him. Who knew being a dad teacher would be so hard?)

Chapter 1: Picking a successor

(Or “Look, I’m gonna come clean. Um...I’ve been kinda watching you”)

When Sun Wukong—the Monkey King—decides he needs a successor, it isn’t an easy decision. For one, he refuses to admit why. Because that would mean confronting it all and he doesn’t want to.

He needs a successor because he wants one. Who doesn’t want to retire? It’s not like he’s spent hundreds of thousands of years in technical retirement, waiting for the Demon Bull King to return. No, he’s been...super busy. Yeah. Turning Flower Fruit Mountain into a paradise has totally taken him…forever, and, like, he’s got lots of stuff to do. He watches TV, once humans get electricity figured out. Gets a computer too, once those things start popping up. He gets a lawyer or two, yknow, keeping up with the times.

He’s...super busy. He definitely deserves a retirement.

So all that’s left is find a successor. Easy, right?

Well....

He actually starts looking when he hears whispers that the Demon Bull family is starting to get close to figuring out how to lift his staff. So about a hundred years before Demon Bull King actually escapes.

He finds a few kids he thinks might work, but nothing happens, anyway, so there’s no point in interrupting their boring normal lives for nothing. Besides, he doesn’t really see any of them with the spark of...something that he wants in his successor in any of them

He watches them grow. Child to teen to adult, he watches, and then he leaves before they get too old because he doesn’t want to see the headstones.

He doesn’t understand why they have to be human. Why they have to be mortal. Why they have to be able to die.

Why he has to watch them die.

Years and years pass. He gets lax, when looking for a successor. Lax when it comes to keeping an eye on the Demon Bull family.

He does, on occasion, watch the town where his staff is. It’s a pretty populace place, always buzzing with some sort of activity, which is both fun and boring.

One night, he watches a kid—no older than 13, he thinks, since he’s gotten used to watching humans grow and can gauge it pretty well—sprint down the street in the rain, wearing nothing but a ratty old hoodie, a shirt, shorts, torn up shoes, and a headband so dirty that even he can’t discern the original color.

There are three other figures chasing him, and he ducks into an alley as they sprint past. Monkey King watches as the kid settles down, sitting in the alley, and pulling something out from beneath his hoodie.

A puppy.

“Hey there, little guy,” the kid’s voice is soft, and he scritches the tiny pup behind the ears. “Sorry I couldn’t get your siblings, but they’d already been thrown in the lake—” the look on the kid’s face is nothing short of heartbreaking.

Monkey King has plans for the group of thugs he saw earlier, if that’s what they were doing. Humans.

“But hey, managed to save you, huh? I’ll bring you to a shelter in the morning. Someone will take you home and you’ll get loved to death.” Monkey King rolls his eyes at the saccharine display, but he wonders.

There isn’t a lot of crime in this city, with its advancements. What’s a kid doing outside this late at night?

“I’d take you home with me, but mine’s more of a hovel than a place to live. You can still see it, though! C’mon,” the kid gets up, stumbling a little, and Monkey King notices that he’s favoring one leg, that the elbow of one of the sleeve’s of his hoodie is wet.

He follows.

The kid’s house is literally a shack made of a metal sheet wedged between an alley wall. There’s a ‘bench’ that’s a slab of rock placed on top of more rocks, where a well loved sketchbook sits.

The kid sits on the bench, setting the puppy down beside him as he flips open his sketchbook.

“I’m gonna draw you, so I don’t forget, kay?” He pats the pup on the head, and then, using the smallest, most worn down pencil Monkey King has ever seen, he slowly carves out the puppy’s features, getting the soft tones of fur. He keeps squinting, but Monkey King thinks that’s because all he has is the light of the lamppost for his vision.

This kid...is pretty darn good.

Monkey King watches for way longer than he would like to admit, and then watches as the kid pulls out a very worn blanket-substitute, curling around the puppy beneath it.

He frowns, but isn’t sure what to do about it.

So he leaves, and makes sure those thugs learn a thing or two about treating animals with respect.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This kid just keeps popping up in Monkey King’s peripherals.

He likes to people watch, and the kid will just appear from nowhere. He’ll be running down the street, hanging out with this girl who looks about 3 economic classes above him. They’ll go to the arcade and play for hours, and she’ll pay for practically everything.

He decides he likes her, if she’s nice enough to do that for the kid. Plus, he feels a familiar energy coming off of her, something he trusts.

They typically end their day at a noodle shop. Pigsy’s? The kid always pays there, with coins of various sizes. The girl, when the kid isn’t looking, will slip the cook some more money. They get steaming hot bowls of ramen, harass the cook, and eventually get half chased out, laughing all the while.

“You know you can stay with me, right?” The girl says, one day, when Monkey King is people watching (read: eavesdropping on their conversation. It’s like his new favorite TV show, at this point). Kid rolls his eyes.

“Mei, c’mon, your relationship with your folks is as strained as mine! I wouldn’t want you to end up like me. Besides, I’m fine!” he insists with the grin Monkey King has grown accustomed to seeing on Kid’s face.

The information Monkey King gains from those two sentences is certainly something, and he ponders on Mei, the girl who spends her days as far away from home as possible.

Mei frowns.

“You still won’t show me where you’re staying. Or explain why your clothes are all torn up!” She pokes him in the chest, and the Kid shrugs.

“Cause you wouldn’t like either of those things! I can take care of myself! Promise.” He rocks back and forth on his feet, all smiles.

Mei fixes him with a glare, before she sighs, relenting. “Fine. But, if you won’t take my hospitality, you get my undying loyalty and free stuff!” She whips out a brand new red winter coat.

Kid takes it slowly.

“It’s getting colder out!” She explains. “And red just isn’t my color, you know?”

Kid slowly pulls the jacket against his chest, like he doesn’t know what to do with it, and then he smiles. This one is smaller. Less performative. Monkey King didn’t realize that he’d been watching the kid to be able to tell the difference, but it’s not too hard to see. Kid uses big smiles like a cloak, to hide what’s underneath. The smaller ones-those are like the slivers of sunlight shooting out from an eclipse. Wukong finds he prefers the smaller ones.

Kid wraps his arm around Mei’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Mei.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The days get colder, and Kid is still in that shack. Monkey King finds out that Kid doesn’t steal for money. Instead, he does little odd jobs for short change, and then looks for coins people have dropped. Apparently, the city’s wealth has made people more loose with their change.

Mei drags him to warm places as often as she can, but apparently this time of year she has a lot of responsibilities, or “social events,” as she calls them, so she can’t be around as much.

Kid doesn’t seem to mind, shivering through the nights, curling himself as tight as possible with that jacket and shitty blanket, and Monkey King doesn’t know why he even cares, but...

He’s not cruel. It isn’t pleasant to watch a kid suffer.

And then, Kid gets sick. Like, delirious, fever sick, and he’s not getting better.

And Monkey King has told himself, a million times, that he would let Kid figure his own life out, but he ends up picking Kid up anyway, depositing him at the ever familiar noodle shop.

The cook drags the boy inside, and Monkey King doesn’t see Kid on the streets after that.

Good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kid starts working at the noodle shop, apparently, and he lives above the shop. Slowly, he accrues random objects. Sketchbooks, games, figurines, Monkey King comics? He watches the show near religiously, and Monkey King is both flattered and weirded out.

A super fan, huh? Okay then.

And when he isn’t working, or watching “Monkey King: The Animated Series,” or reading Monkey King comics, he’s begging the resident bookworm, Tang, for stories, which he then sketches out.

Monkey King actually goes through the sketchbook once, when Kid’s asleep. Yup, Kid’s really, really good at this. Monkey King actually thinks about stealing a drawing, but that would be both very obvious and also stupid.

So he lets it go. He ought to look for his successor, anyway. He hears the Demon Bull family is getting close.

He leaves Kid to his life and moves on to his own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He can’t find a successor. Somehow. It’s like every person in this city (and it would have to be in this city, because you need to be close to the staff in some regard if you want to have a connection with it. Being born near it, living near it-makes it easy for the energy, the chi, to find you) doesn’t want anything to do with hero business. The kids he considers are too small, the adults too...boring.

And he’s getting pretty frustrated here, because he thinks he might just have to fight the Demon Bull King all over again, which, ugh.

And then, it clicks.

He’s watching Kid drive around town, delivering orders, and somehow the kid steers towards the construction site. Toward the staff.

Of course.

God, it was literally staring him in the face. He feels kind of dumb, now that it hits him, but whatever. Not like anyone’s around to tease him about it.

He watches Kid waltz towards danger, music in his headphones too loud to notice the literal demon family, until Kid opens his eyes and sees the whole demon army there, and hoo boy, is this comical.

Monkey King wonders if they’ll succeed this time, in lifting his staff. They certainly seem confident. He’s kind of curious, kind of bored. The whole ‘take our rightful place as rulers of this world’ schtick is super annoying, and Red Son’s voice is grating.

The light show is pretty nice, though, and then.

Then.

Demon Bull King’s a lot smaller than he remembers, but his voice is the same, as is his attitude. Monkey King can feel Kid shaking and takes a quick sweep of the area. Seems his successor is right above Red Son.

He smirks to himself, not that anyone can see considering he’s a bird right now.

This is going to be hilarious.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Kid touches the staff, Monkey King isn’t prepared for the feeling he gets.

It’s like he’s been the single Sun in an endless galaxy, surrounded by darkness, when suddenly another star appears from nowhere, throwing him into orbit with it. The galaxy shifts, the light doubles, the darkness recedes.

Monkey King’s own center, his sun, feels red hot, warm, and tempered by years of life, with a spark of yellow and white in its center. Kid’s is bright, brilliant golden yellow, more white than any color, bursting with energy.

That energy gets put to work pretty quickly, as the Kid fumbles his way out of the demon’s den, and Monkey King soars after him, watching the escape with a smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He doesn’t properly meet Kid until he gets shot all the way to Flower Fruit mountain. After Kid escapes Red Son, he panickedly tells his friends what’s going on and tries to get there on his own.

Well, all the way is a bit much. Maybe Monkey King had to catch Kid and fly him there, because Kid was looking half dead and Monkey King was a little worried, but that’s beside the point. He leaves Kid on the shore, and follows him when Kid gets up.

He isn’t expecting the frustration, when he can’t be found, but he supposes that’s his cue.

Getting stepped on is unpleasant. Guess Kid doesn’t like bugs.

God, the look on Kid’s face, when it hits him that Monkey King’s been watching him! If he could frame a memory, that would be it. Hoo, boy, is that going to be replaying in his head for a while. Kid seems more bewildered than anything else, and the idea of being Monkey King’s successor doesn’t sit well with him.

Which, Monkey King doesn’t get that. Who wouldn’t want to be taught by him?

But maybe he overestimates the kid’s spunk, his confidence, because waving off his worries doesn’t spur him on; rather, it seems to deflate him.

Ugh. Why is being a teacher difficult? It’s not like his teacher had a hard time with him, right?

Distantly, he thinks he can hear his master shouting at him. He hops off his cloud, says just the right thing to get Kid pumped up, and watches him race off.

He considers just sitting back and not watching, but then, that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He isn’t actually sure what having a successor means, really. How much their powers, their lives, would mirror his own. A part of him was terrified by the prospect—could he even be known as anything special, if he was no longer one of a kind?

But there’s also something quite exciting about this. The idea that your life is being rewritten, the story unfinished and yet also repeating itself. The Demon Bull King is on the loose, with his army and family, trying to take over the world.

And only one person can stop him. The Monkey King.

Kid’s powers are volatile. He can feel them flare up from time to time, wildly flickering out of control. A lack of self confidence, that might be causing it. A part of him is annoyed by that, a part of him is relieved. Far better to have to teach someone to believe in themselves than teach them humility. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t learned that latter lesson all the way yet.

Kid vanishes into the Demon Bull King’s chest, where the staff lies, and for a moment, the new sun vanishes. Monkey King feels the cold rush of space in its absence, and feels panic, even though he’s only known this warmth for a few hours.

But then, it bursts back into existence, as a familiar stone drops from the Demon Bull King’s chest, cracking open, and, well, it’s history being written the same way over and over again, isn’t it?

Kid has a flair for silliness, childish maneuvers. He likes to have fun, and that’s the best part of the powers they share. To be invincible, to have fun while saving the day.

It’s a repeat, until, well, it isn’t.

The blow Kid takes makes Monkey King wince. The body becoming invulnerable takes time. It doesn’t just immediately show up. Every second, Kid’s body is absorbing and meshing with the powers thrust upon it, but that doesn’t mean getting hit a mile by a guy twenty times your size doesn’t still hurt, at this point.

But Monkey King knows this is what has to happen. Because heroes aren’t heroes if they never feel pain, never get hit.

Heroes, he thinks, as Kid tears himself from the wall he’s embedded in, as Kid stands, eyes ablaze, are heroes when they get hit and they get back up.

And Kid sure as hell does.

“I’m the Monkey Kid!” He shouts, like a battle cry, like a challenge, and Monkey King smirks. Monkey Kid, huh? It suits him. And then, Kid slams the staff on the ground, and the world shifts.

A part of him is kind of jealous. How come he never got a mech?! Has that been a thing this entire time? Another part is in awe of this Kid’s creativity, ability, at such a young age.

And seeing DBK get trounced again certainly keeps the jealous part of him quiet.

Kid’s got a nice group of friends. Reminds him of his journey days, him and a rag tag group of idiots going around wreaking havoc and learning moral lessons at the end of it. He’s glad Kid isn’t alone or on the streets anymore. A strong foundation leads to a stronger ability to grow.

Well, he’d better get some sort of training regimen ready. Or, at least, start thinking of some things to do to train this kid. He’s sure at some point Kid is going to bug him for a lesson or two.

Somehow, the thought doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it should.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid mk #monkie kid monkey king #sun wukong #kitkat1003 #monkie kid mei

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magicalforcesau · 3 years

Text

Fragments of the Garden - Origins - part 2

A companion collection to Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden

(ao3 link)

Hogwarts was better than Satine could imagine. They’d been in school for just about a week now and she loved nearly everything about it. It was a Friday and she’d just wrapped up her charms lessons and was heading outside to meet with Cody who was coming up from the dungeons. He’d been promising to teach her how to play wizard chess and she’d promised to read over his essay for history if he’d meet up with her today. It had nothing to do with Satine avoiding the Ravenclaw common room and one Obi-Wan Kenobi at all, she was simply interested in learning more things. That was all.

“Potions is a drag!” Cody complained as soon as he caught up with her. The sun beamed down on them as they headed out the castle doors.

“It’s not all that difficult,” She considered, leading them to the edge of the lake.

“That’s because you spend all your time studying in the library,” Cody complained, “If all I did was study, I’m sure I-” He paused suddenly, squinting at something across the grounds, “Is that Kenobi?”

“Kenobi hasn’t left the common room for anything, but class all week,” Satine complained, “It can’t be him,” but as she turned to look, she realized it could be no one else.

He was still dressed head to toe in his perfectly pressed uniform, despite even Satine leaving her cloak in her room on such a hot day. As usual he looked almost out of place with all the other students milling around.

“He’s got a broom,” Cody said in awe, “That’s the newest Starsweeper model,” Satine squinted at the broom, but couldn’t see anything special about it.

“But aren’t first years not allowed brooms?” Satine’s eyes narrowed into a frustrated glare and Cody nodded.

“All the more reason to follow him and see what he’s up too,” Cody gave her a wide grin, “Maybe it’ll be enough to kick him out,” Satine nodded. She wasn’t sure being around Kenobi was their best use of a Friday, but she followed Cody regardless.

Obi-Wan led them to the Quidditch pitch and Cody and Satine snuck under the Hufflepuff section in order to eavesdrop.

“I must thank you again for allowing me to try out,” The way he spoke grated on her ears, it was that effortless sophistication that she remembered from his parents.

“How could I say no after Professor Dooku approved,” The girl he spoke to, Satine guessed, was the Quidditch captain. She was dressed in robes that she hadn’t seen before, but they were still the Ravenclaw colors.

“Ah, yes,” Obi-Wan trailed off, and Satine and Cody shared a glance.

“Well let’s get on with this, tryouts for 2nd-7th years will be next week, this doesn’t ensure that you get the position, but we can’t have you trying out in front of a crowd. It’s not fair to the other first years,” She ran a hand through her hair and Satine noticed with a bit of anger that he didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish.

“I understand,” He answered instead and they moved to begin try outs. Once they were in the air and out of earshot Cody grabbed Satine’s shoulder.

“He bribed his way into the team,” Cody looked angry now, “The captain’s right it’s not fair,” He stood up and Satine followed him out from under the tarp, “I’m going to Professor Windu with this. No, maybe I’ll go to Professor Dooku himself,” Cody had started walking towards the entrance.

“Cody!” Satine rushed to keep up with him, “Are you sure it’ll do any good?”

“I don’t know, but I need to find out,” Cody stopped just before the doors, “I’ll have to raincheck on our chess lesson,” Satine rolled her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” She started walking through the doors and he followed, “I can accompany you to Professor Dooku’s.”

“Actually, I think it might be better if I go alone,” He hesitated, “Everyone knows you hate Kenobi,” Satine paused.

“But if Professor Dooku-” She started.

“What seems to be the trouble here?” Coming down the stairs was Professor Qui-Gon Jinn. He raised an eyebrow at the first years, “I’m no Professor Dooku, but perhaps I could be of assistance?”

“It’s about Kenobi,” Satine spoke up before Cody could stop her, “He’s only a first year, but he’s being allowed to try out for the Quidditch team,” She looked to Cody so he could put in his own thoughts.

“This isn’t fair to the other first years, both Ravenclaw and the other houses,” He added. Qui-Gon stroked his beard a moment before answering.

“I didn’t think news would get out this fast,” He sighed, “Mr. Kenobi being allowed to try out was approved by the heads of houses, as well as Professor Yoda,” Cody’s eyes widened in surprise.

“He must have bribed you all big time,” He hissed, “Better have been worth the money,” Qui-Gon hummed quietly in thought before replying.

“Mr. Kenobi’s case is… well, I’m afraid I will not be discussing it with you,” He continued, “First years are technically allowed to ask to try out, they’re just usually denied, if you Miss. Kryze, wish to try out I would allow it,” Satine wrinkled her nose, and Qui-Gon chuckled, “As it stand though, there are no openings on Gryffindor, Slytherin, or Hufflepuff’s teams, so I’m afraid the other houses are out of luck.”

“Should I even mention the fact that Kenobi has an illegal broom?” Cody asked stiffly, and Qui-Gon only smiled.

“It’s temporary unless he makes the team, I’ll be keeping it in my office no need to worry,” He nodded to them and started to walk again, “I appreciate the drive for fairness so I can offer you 10 points to Gryffindor and 10 to Ravenclaw. Enjoy your weekend, Mr. Fett, Miss. Kryze,” And then he rounded the corner and was gone.

��Professor Jinn’s a bit nutty,” Cody finally said, not sure how he felt about the situation.

“He’s technically right though,” Satine said slowly, “The heads of house can approve or deny requests, I suppose asking the other houses was just a nice courtesy,” She stewed over all the rules she could think of and couldn’t come up with any others they were breaking.

“Still it does beg the question. Why was he approved?” Cody asked, but Satine didn’t have an answer.

***

All anyone was talking about today was the results of the Quidditch tryouts and one, Obi-Wan Kenobi, being chosen as their 2nd Keeper. As all things Kenobi related, it was getting on Satine’s nerves and she’d caught up with Cody between classes to complain, but for some reason he hadn’t been as invested as she’d thought.

“Cody? Don’t tell me you’re not still cross about this,” Satine tried to provoke him into joining her rant fest, but he just hesitated.

“I’m still a little upset about it sure,” Is all he gave her and she threw up her hands in frustration.

“You’ve gone from storming the professors to calm acceptance, what did I miss,” And at that Cody just looked away.

“I mean you said it yourself, technically if it was approved it’s allowed, so no rules were broken…” Cody made an attempt.

“Cody Fett? Caring more about the rules than justice?” Satine prodded again.

“Look I just, maybe he’s not so bad,” Cody suggested and it hung in the air between them, “I’ll admit, the Quidditch thing hurts, I’ve wanted on that team since I was born and for a first year to get on it? Well it doesn’t sit right,” He admitted and Satine raised an eyebrow.

“But?” She pushed.

“But, have you noticed how he hasn’t been going to lunch?” Cody asked and Satine furrowed her brow, but nodded.

“He skips breakfast and dinner too sometimes, but I suppose he is gone from lunch more often than not,” She allowed and he nodded a few times.

“Well so did I, so one day I skipped class to follow him,” That got her attention.

“And?”

“And well,” Cody hesitated, “I think you should go and see for yourself,” He handed her a slip of parchment with a classroom number on it, “Just trust me,” Satine looked down at the number and then stuffed it in the pocket of her robe.

***

Hogwarts was not what Obi-Wan had been expecting at all. The classes were great and learning new spells was really the only reason he was still here at all. Ok well perhaps not, he couldn’t have left, it would have dragged the Kenobi name even farther through the mud. His parents had not been happy about his joining Ravenclaw house as expected, and had promptly forced him into trying out for Quidditch, something he had been told would be in his plans for next year, but they were clear in their letter,

“You will make the Quidditch team early so you can lessen our disappointment of your actions.”

Yes, they’d been quite clear indeed. Obi-Wan was trying very hard to forget the fact that he was not interested in the sport in the slightest, his father had been a chaser so Obi-Wan had been selected to be a Keeper, he had written to them this morning when the results came out, but hadn’t heard from them since.

It wasn’t just his parents or Quidditch that had him down, but the overall feeling he got from the rest of the students. Their first day of classes he’d raised his hand and answered questions, but he had started to be stared at by both Hufflepuff and his own house of Ravenclaw. The second day he’d experimented a bit and on the third day he kept his head down and tried to not draw any further notice to himself. He spent a lot of time in the common room, but the few students he’d tried to interact with hadn’t quite given him the time of day. They’d been polite, sure, but Obi-Wan was good at knowing when he wasn’t wanted. Meal times were much the same, so he’d taken to finding a secluded classroom during the lunch period and just, wait for classes to start again.

Today he was debating if it was worth it to even attempt the dining hall at dinner, surely the other students would be rather cross that he’d made it on the Quidditch team. He really just wanted to avoid the stares.

“Kenobi! There you are my friend!” His regularly scheduled brooding was interrupted and Obi-Wan turned to glare at the newcomer.

“Hondo,” He greeted, “Still trying to make a profit off of me?”

“Well sure!” Hondo sat down at the desk in front of him and slapped a plate of food between them, “I have an even better proposal this time see? I charge students fees for their papers to be edited and you edit them for me!”

“What would I even get out of that,” Obi-Wan sighed, grabbing the extra roll off of the other student’s plate.

“Oh, so you are interested,” Hondo leaned forward, much too close and Obi-Wan reflectively leaned back.

“I’m not, but if you’re going to negotiate you may as well do it right,” He complained, and Hondo sat back with a laugh.

“Fine, fine! If you do it, I’ll provide you my own company! Pretty good deal, right?” Hondo grinned and Obi-Wan just raised an eyebrow, “Ok, ok fine! I could share the profits with you, you could have say, 10%?”

“Hondo you’re possibly the worst negotiator I’ve ever seen,” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but smiled and Hondo gave a dramatic groan and grabbed up his bag from the floor.

“One day Kenobi, you’ll have need of my services!” Hondo warned him with a pointed finger.

“Not likely,” He mumbled as Hondo made his way out the door.

He decided to not call after him about his forgotten plate of food, instead eating the other roll off the plate.

“Um, excuse me?” A voice called from the doorway and he looked up to see a Gryffindor first year standing in the doorway holding her wand and a textbook.

“Hello,” He greeted, “Is there something you needed?”

“I have a friend in Hufflepuff who said you’re really good at transfiguration,” The Gryffindor explained, “I’ve been having trouble in class and I was wondering if maybe you’d show me how?” That cleared up the confusion. He knew a few Hufflepuff first years that would stop by to ask him questions from time to time, they never approached him outside of lunch hour, but he didn’t really mind helping them out even still.

“Oh, of course, come in,” Obi-Wan moved Hondo’s plate out of the way and waved her over, “What are you having trouble with?”

***

Satine was starting to think this was a waste of time as she’d been hiding in the storage cupboard watching Obi-Wan sit quietly by himself in an empty room. She’d started to think Cody had gone mad when that Slytherin boy Hondo had come slinking into the room. When the Gryffindor student had entered the room though, she started to see maybe what Cody had been talking about.

The two had been practicing transfiguration for around 15 minutes now and Obi-Wan had seemed to slip into the role of teacher very quickly. He’d shown a few examples and then helped gently as the Gryffindor made her own attempts. After they tried the very basic task of turning a candle into a newt and back, they started having a little conversation and Satine leaned close to the door to listen.

“Are you sure you’re just learning this now?” The student asked a little accusatory, “No one else in my house can do that quite as well,” Obi-Wan gave a hesitant smile before responding.

“Transfiguration is about focus, if you can hone your focus on something and really picture it in your head,” He paused and readied his wand pointing at the plate of food, just as he was about to say the spell Satine accidentally knocked her foot into a broom which knocked a metal cauldron off a shelf. The clang rang out from around them. Obi-Wan jumped at the unexpected clatter, wand misfiring and exploding chocolate pudding all over himself.

Satine tried not to giggle at the absolutely dumbstruck look on his face, his perfect hair was no longer perfect, sticking up at odd angles and a little fried, and the parts of his face that were not covered in pudding were bright red in embarrassment.

“Well I suppose,” He spoke after a long moment, “If you lose focus, it will explode,” The Gryffindor girl, who had barely managed to avoid the blast, giggled.

“Thanks for the tip,” Suddenly the sound of students started to reach them and the Gryffindor girl gathered up her book and wand quickly. She said another quick thank you before running out of the room to her next class. Obi-Wan took another moment to be covered in chocolate pudding, before he flourished his wand and with a quick charm, he was pudding free and back to perfect. Well, aside from a still red face.

Satine waited a few more minutes as he left the room before she followed quietly after him to their next class. She wasn’t sure what to make of him, but she realized she wasn’t thinking of him as just “Kenobi” anymore.

***

It was breakfast and Obi-Wan was hungry. He had skipped dinner the night before in order to avoid the comments about his new status as Keeper, but he knew he’d have to brave the dining hall today.

He’d gotten up extra early and had gone down right at the start of breakfast. He found that this was the most ideal time to go, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff house always slept as late as possible and there weren’t even many Ravenclaws willing to get up that early. His Slytherin “friend” Hondo always got there with 5 minutes to spare before classes started so he could avoid him too.

He sat down at his usual spot, in the very, very far corner of the table and grabbed a serving of eggs and toast. He started planning his day out in his head, zoning out to anything else going on around him as he pushed the eggs around his plate.

He, however, wasn’t as out of it as he thought, because he was very suddenly aware of someone sitting down right next to him. Warily, he glanced over and saw wavy light blonde hair and he was now stuck trying to figure out what Satine Kryze, who had spent much of their first few weeks glaring at him, was doing sitting next to him.

“If you’re going to bother to show up at breakfast, perhaps you should eat your food,” The words were similar to the first she’d spoken to him, but there wasn’t as much bite behind them. Cautiously, he looked over at her again, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was pouring syrup on some French toast and he looked back at his eggs.

“Perhaps,” He said carefully. Taking a bite of egg. He knew she was a kind person, so he figured that would be all, maybe she’d just been concerned.

“What are your opinions about the Goblin Uprisings of the 1600s?” The question caught him completely off guard, he sat up straight and looked over at her for real. Perhaps that wouldn’t be the end of their conversation then.

“The, Goblin Uprisings of the 1600s?” He repeated slowly.

“It’s our next unit of study, I was reading ahead and I assumed you did too, gaging that you’re halfway through the textbook,” She added, still not looking at him. He slowly turned back to his eggs.

“Well, Urg the Unclean was a strong leader,” Obi-Wan started cautiously.

***

By the time they showed up to herbology they were having a full blown argument, Satine wasn’t even fully sure what the argument was about, but just as she was sure to have thrown the final barb class had started and they’d been tasked to trimming the leaves off of some feisty plants, which needed a fair bit of concentration so she didn’t bother restarting their conversation. She watched her hands carefully as she maneuvered the shears, but found her mind wandering to Obi-Wan. She’d ended up right next to him, bypassing her usual spot for the opportunity to debate.

Arguing with him had been fun as well as educational. He hadn't been snotty about his points, as she would have expected days prior, just direct and calculated. It was clear he knew the subjects well enough for a fierce debate. In fact she had been rather disappointed that they couldn't continue on during class, but concentration was pretty important when dealing with magic she'd come to learn. When he argued with her he didn't look as dull and stuffy, his eyes had held a gleam that she hadn't seen on him before.

She thought back to his parents in the alley, they’d immediately been cruel people. They had icy dispositions and Satine had definitely seen their influence on Obi-Wan. He was normally blank faced and his presence often felt cold. Now that she was looking for it though, she could almost see the cracks in his mask. He was focusing and his eyes were clear, like the dark blue of the ocean, but not like his fathers which had seemed like a bottomless pit in the sea floor. He was fighting to not stick his tongue out, which she wouldn’t have noticed if she wasn’t shoulder to shoulder with him.

She hated to think Cody might be right, because that meant she would be wrong and she hadn’t been the nicest to him since they met.

“Miss. Kryze!” The professor called her name and she blinked back to reality noticing quickly the vine wrapping tightly around her arm.

One quick trip to the hospital wing for a check-up (apparently those plants can crush bones, she was lucky they were babies) and she found herself waiting for Cody between classes.

“Satine?” Cody broke away from a pack of Gryffindors.

“You were right,” She admitted, and Cody looked surprised.

“That’s a compliment coming from you,” He joked and she shook her head in exasperation.

“The real reason I wanted to talk to you though, is what should we do?” She asked him and he just stared at her so she continued, “We’ve been really judgmental to him, about who his parents are, he’s always alone, I just feel kind of bad,” Cody shrugged.

“I guess we just, stop being judge-y?” Cody recommended, “It’s a simple strategy, but it’ll probably be effective,” He was pulled away by his classmate then, but sent a last wave in her direction.

Cody was probably right, that’s what they should do, but Satine considered that’s not all they could do.

#satine kryze #obi-wan kenobi #commander cody #cc-2224 #obitine #star wars #prequel trilogy #clone wars #magical forces au

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tessiete · 3 years

Text

Yeah, yeah, yeah another prompt fill that came from DMs. And also was my fault. @treescape asked for prompts and I um, offered this, and immediately took it back, and didn’t even do a very good jobby on it so. *shrug*

Anyway! A vague continuation of The Punishment of Silence, post Order 66

THE HOPE OF ORPHANS, AND UNFATHERED FRUIT

He wakes to silence. There is nothing except the sound of his own breath being scraped from his lungs like wax under fingernails, the beating of his heart against his ribs, and the creak of his bones. There is nothing else. Even his cry of terror has died upon his lips, unfledged and unrealised in this void. He is all alone.

“We’ll be coming out of hyperspace soon.”

He hardly recognises the voice, hardly hears the words as he reaches for the only source of warmth and light in space. Beside him, tucked securely between his chest and the wall, is a heavy bundle of coarse wool, and worn linen. Within it, the weakly struggling flesh of new life.

“Hush, Luke,” he whispers, and even his voice is absent.

But Luke...Luke is here. With him. Luke is golden. Luke is the sun, and he shines so brightly that for a moment, the absence of stars is obscured by the break of dawn, and he turns his face to meet it. Luke cries, his voice wet with the sorrow of Obi-Wan’s soul, and he weeps where Obi-Wan cannot.

“Master Kenobi?” The voice calls again. It is young, too, and threaded with uncertainty as it seeks a mooring in this black new world. “Master Kenobi, I need your help.”

He must answer it.

But he is wrung dry, having wasted it all in the desert of affection.

“They’re asking for a landing code,” the boy says. “They want to search the ship.”

“Let them,” he replies. “We’ve nothing for them to find.”

He adjusts the swaddling around the babe, pulling the folds up higher until the little face is barely visible, and drawing up his hood until his own face is shadowed and obscured.

The pilot fumbles for the comm, but hesitates before he makes the call.

“Master, we haven’t got the clearance,” he says. “I tried Republic codes but they’re all invalid, and I daren’t use a - a Jedi -”

“No.”

“Master, they’re waiting.”

Outside the viewport, Tatooine looms larger, and larger, round and golden, like the husk of a burnt out star. Just endless swathes of sand and stone. A barren rock. The twin suns watch, and Obi-Wan feels his hackles rise, as though he were prey under the baleful gaze of a predator in the night.

“Tell them whatever you must,” he sighs. His shoulders slump, and his eyes close. He is weary.

He cannot see the way his pilot stares at him, hopeful, and waiting. He doesn’t want to. The weight of his need is punishment enough. Luke is light in his arms, and he rocks him gently.

“This is the pilot of The Slip, Corellian class YT-1300 AUX requesting permission to land.”

“Airbase to Slip , have you got those docking permits yet?”

A single, shimmering breath, and the pilot answers, “No. But we - I can pay you.”

Obi-Wan does not object.

“What sort of payment we talking?”

“What do you care, so long as you get your money?”

“I don’t know,” replies the man. “You bargain like a pirate, but you sound like a kid. I ain’t convinced you got anything I want.”

He can feel his eyes upon him, but he cannot tear his own away from the babe. He is preoccupied with this one last precious thing. The pilot grits his teeth, and replies with all the arrogance of his past life. “Well, how about this - if you don’t like it, you can shoot me when I get there?”

There is silence on the other end, then the comm crackles back to life. The deck officer’s voice rasps with laughter. “Alright, kid,” he says. “You got a deal. Hope you ain’t got family to miss you. We’ll see you at Dock 3, on the south side.”

“Dock 3,” says pilot. “Copy that.”

“And kid? Don’t try anything stupid.”

He takes the ship in with a steady hand, but as they get closer and closer Korkie feels his breath quicken in anticipation. They haven’t got anything to pay with. They have no credits, no valuables, nothing personal which might tie them back to the Core, or worse, to the Temple. He doesn’t worry so much for himself, having no particular training in the Force, nor any distinctly Jedi affectations. His borrowed robes he discarded on Polis Massa, but his father…

Obi-Wan is unmistakably a Jedi in his sand coloured tunics, and thick, wool cloak meant for all terrains but a blazing desert. However, there is one appurtenance which may work in their favour -

Everyone knows that Jedi have no children, and he will not relinquish Luke.

“Slip to base: Docking clamps locked, and pressure restored to atmo baseline. Please advise.”

There is sweat beading upon his upper lip. Obi-Wan rocks Luke as he fusses, awakened by the sounds of noise outside. People are waiting for them.

“This is Squaddy Redsun. Lower your ramp, and prepare for immediate boarding.”

He looks to the Jedi, and gathers himself. There is nothing on the ship, and so there is nothing to pack or take as they leave, but still, he casts one last look at the cockpit. Then, he ushers his father forward, through the main hold, and to the head of the ramp. He presses the pair to the side, leaving them just out of plain sight, and so wrapped up in the folds of Obi-Wan’s cloak and each other as to be indistinguishable from shadow. He steps back. He strikes the button to lower the ramp with an open palm. Sunlight floods the hold, and he is left blinking and blind as a rough voice calls to him.

“You the captain, then, kid?”

“Yes, sir,” he replies, a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare. He can see a man clad in worn leathers, and decorated in the gleaming white bone of some fearsome beast. Beside him, two others with wrist guards, and pikes. He makes no attempt to resist as the guards approach, and does not fight as he is grabbed by the elbow and shoved down the ramp by the first.

But the second has discovered Obi-Wan, and grabs at him with the same barbarity. The Jedi flinches away, and curls around himself. One pale hand reaches back, and Korkie can feel the air turn electric.

“No!” he cries, startling both the guard and Obi-Wan, the warning clear in the fraught timbre of his voice. “He has a child,” he says. “He’s harmless. But there’s a child. Please. I am the pilot. This is my ship.”

“And who is he then?” Redsun demands.

“No one,” says Korkie. “A refugee of - of Mandalore.”

“He don’t look like no hunter.”

Korkie shrugs, watching closely as Obi-Wan descends untouched, the guard at his elbow. “I don’t know that he has enough left to look like anything.”

“Ha,” chortles Redsun. His men laugh, too. “Then I suppose it’s you what has my payment. Docking codes don’t come cheap.”

“No, sir,” says Korkie. “I - I haven’t any credits.”

“That Republican dross is no good out here, any way,” Redsun spits. “Now, where’s my pay?”

The guards edge closer, and Luke chokes on a feeble cry.

“Hush, dear heart,” murmurs Obi-Wan. “Hush, sweet thing. And sleep.”

“The ship!” says Korkie. “You can take the ship. It’s in fine working order, and the hyperdrive is good for your smaller jumps. I -”

His neck snaps, his teeth snap together, and he can taste blood as a fist connects with his cheek. It leaves him staggering, and spitting into the sand. Luke begins to wail. The sound rings out around him, but he struggles to place its source. Nearby, he knows. They must still be beside him. He reaches out and catches the edge of heavy wool in his grip.

“None of that banthashit, boy!” shouts Redsun, and he is near as well. He can smell the man as he comes closer, still. “That ship ain’t worth half the trouble you’ve caused. What else you got?”

“Nothing,” he pleads, struggling upright again. The guard at his side restrains him. “Nothing. But take the ship, and I can - I can work for you. You can garnish my wages -”

“Garnish your wages? What kind of -” A blaster primes. He hears the pitch rise with the charge until it disappears. “Now, we had a deal,” says Redsun. “You pay me now, or I take it out of your hide. Right? You pay me, or I shoot you.”

“Yes, sir,” whispers Korkie.

The barrel presses against his forehead.

“So you decide,” says Redsun. “Give me my money, or I kill you where you stand. You, and that screeching brat.”

Korkie tries to swallow, but all his tastes is the sour, metal tang of blood. It roils in his stomach. He feels faint. Luke screams, and screams but Obi-Wan only tries harder to sooth him, singing some sad lullaby. A Mandalorian lullaby.

Korkie recognises it. His...his mother used to sing it to him. He clenches his hand into a fist, tracing his thumb over the ring he wears, as a reminder. And he remembers -

“My ring,” he says, slipping the jewelry from his hand. It is a simple band, but thick and completely unblemished by age or use. “I can give you this,” he insists, holding it so that the suns set it ablaze, glittering like fire in his hand.

“And what’s that?”

“Pure beskar,” he says.

Redsun lowers the blaster. Korkie can see his interest pique, and greed replace fury in his cold, black eyes.

“Beskar,” he says. “And how’d you be coming by that?”

He nods at one of the guards, who swaps his pike for a techscanner. The ring is plucked from Korkie’s fingers, and the green light of the machine washes over it.

“Like I said,” says Korkie. “Mandalorian refugees.

The guard looks up. “It’s as he says, Squaddy. Beskar.”

Redsun regards him for a moment. He shifts his jaw, and rolls his tongue over his teeth. Korkie holds his gaze, even as blood drips from his chin. At last, Redsun gives the sign, and his man lets Korkie go.

“I’ll be taking the ring,” he declares. “And your kriffing ship, for all the good I’ll make of it. And you get off with a warning.”

“Yes, sir,” says Korkie. “Thank you, sir.”

Korkie gathers Master Kenobi in his arms, and pushes him towards the exit. Through the wide, rusted blast doors, he can see where the dockyards end, and the streets beyond begin. Their escape is at hand, but Obi-Wan is slow to move, fearful of jostling Luke who has settled tentatively once more. The guards make no move to assist, but Korkie is determined. He keeps between Redsun and the Jedi, he keeps him moving forward, and they are hardly ten steps from freedom when blaster fire rings out across the docking bay.

There is a blaze of fire along his side, and Korkie falls in a heap of fine, yellow dust. Breathing hard, he presses a hand to the source of heat, and cries out as agony is awakened by his touch. His fingers come away bloody, but he sits up, then stands, then stumbles on towards the exit, leaning on Obi-Wan, urging him to go, to move, to keep pushing forward. Step by step. He can hear the guards and Redsun laughing behind them.

“Don’t you try playing games like that round these parts, son,” shouts the man. “Not everyone’s as kind as Squaddy Redsun.”

The crowds are easy enough to get lost in, and soon Squaddy Redsun and the Mos Eisley docks are far behind them, but Korkie feels their ruin is closer than ever. His side aches, and bleeds sluggishly where the bolt hadn’t instantly cauterised the wound. He is hot. He is thirsty. But worst of all, he cannot speak or read a single word of Huttese.

“Please,” he asks of a woman hustling by with an armful of black fruits. “Please, can you tell me where to find shelter? An inn?”

She cuts him a glare, and hurries on.

“Sir, if you could - I need to find a place to stay.”

The man flicks his lekku, and shakes Korkie off.

He cannot tell if they’ve tried this street already, or not, all the architecture looks so similar to his unfamiliar eyes, and all the people are one massive murmuration of a society he is not part of. Then suddenly, a child stands before him. A little boy, with hair the colour of the sandstone walls of the city, and eyes like the sky reaches out a grubby hand.

“We need food,” says Korkie. “And a place to sleep. Please.”

The child nods, and Korkie takes his hand, fisting his other in the folds of Obi-Wan’s robe to be sure he doesn’t lose him in the crowds. They follow the child through innumerable streets, and darkened alleys before they are abandoned in front of a low building on the outskirts of town.

“Can we stay here?” Korkie asks. The child nods. The door slides open at his touch, and he is swallowed up in warm yellow light while Korkie hesitates on the threshold.

But it is getting dark, and he can think of no other alternatives. So he knocks.

“We’re all full up.” He hears the voice first, but it is soon matched by the scowling countenance of a woman worn old by the suns. The little boy clings to her skirts, now shy and retiring after his brazen rescue. She looks at Korkie and his charges from the doorway, and nearly turns away.

“Wait, wait, gedet'ye, jatne vod, vi linibar taap at nuhoy.” He’s slipping, and he only notices when her brow crinkles in confusion. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just - please, we need a place to stay. Just for the night.”

“We don’t have any more rooms,” she says.

“We have a baby.”

He clutches at Obi-Wan’s arm, until he steps forward, and the light falls across Luke’s sleeping face. The woman sighs.

“It’s five wuipui,” she says.

“I haven’t any money,” he says.

“Then I haven’t any beds,” she replies. He catches the door before it can slide shut.

“Please,” he says. “Please.”

And at that moment, Luke wakes and begins to weep. The woman stills, and Korkie thanks the stars for timing.

“One bed,” she says. “I won’t have a babe die on my doorstep. Bad business. Bad bly is what it is. But I can only afford to take the one of you with it.”

“Him,” says Korkie, shoving Obi-Wan forward. “He’s his father.”

“And where’s the mother?”

“Dead,” says Korkie. “It’s only - they only have each other.”

The woman nods, and reaches out to pull Obi-Wan into the shelter of her home. The wool slips from his fingers, leaving them clammy and sticky in the rapidly cooling night air.

“Thank you,” he says, and they disappear behind the door.

At once, the strange euphoria of a desperate flight deserts him, and he collapses in the sand against the wall. His side aches, though the bleeding has mostly stopped. He supposes that is the result of dehydration as much as anything. His lips are cracked. His tongue feels thick. His own blood sits uneasily in his stomach. The streets empty, the second sun slips below the horizon as he watches, and soon he begins to shiver. It’s difficult to stay awake, but after so many hours of preternatural vigilance it feels impossible that he should sleep. There is always some danger, now. They will always be hunted. He blinks, and sees three moons. Perhaps he is concussed, but then Coruscant had four moons, and Mandalore had two, so that is no measure of his injury.

He’d travelled once to Concordia, when he was a child. It was a beautiful place, and it felt, at the time, as though he’d been transported to some ancient world. There were trees. And grassland. There was water you could swim in, and could drink, and it ran freely over rock, and silt in unpredictable patterns, like the veins on the back of his hand. Though he’d been born in Sundari, there was something about Concordia that felt viscerally his. He recognized himself in the wildness of it all, as though it were a sort of mirror, as though if one were to pull up all the grasses and the plants they might pull up all his roots as well. The moons of Tatooine are white. They shine like stars, but there is no warmth to them. He doesn’t think he’ll ever see Concordia again.

Warm light illuminates the dark, turning the sand golden again.

“Alright, none of that. Can’t have Core soft boys dying on my stoop, either.”

“‘M not from the Core,” Korkie mumbles.

“That posh accent of your father’s could’ve fooled me,” she says. He feels her prop him up against the wall, and wonders when he’d laid down. She taps his face with her hand on the cheek that isn’t hurt. Water touches his lips, and he opens his eyes. “Drink up,” she says. “Heat’ll kill you faster than a blastoh will out here, lapti wermo.”

He drinks as quickly as she lets him, and until the vessel is empty. The clay cup is cool against his skin, and he presses his swollen eye against it, grateful for the relief.

“Now,” she says, taking it from his hand, and standing it upright in the sand. “Let’s see about that blaster wound.”

“It’s not bad,” he insists. She ignores him, and tugs his jacket down one shoulder, and slides his arm free. He hisses in pain, and she cuts him a look that says she has absolutely no confidence in his ability to self-diagnose.

Blood stains his close-fitting sark, and she draws back.

“I’m going to get some vibroshears,” she says. “I’ll need to cut this off.”

“No,” he protests. “Just lift it. I haven’t got anything else.”

“You haven’t got this , you stupa,” she grumbles. Korkie makes no reply, but leans forward and begins to tug at the hem of his shirt. In response, she leans forward to help him, and launches into a vehement stream of Huttese that makes no sense to Korkie. He comprehends the spirit of the words just the same. “Bolla rass tata, u beggybeggy brite lapti wermo.”

“On my world, we’d say ‘slanar nek gar shabuir’,” he says, grimacing as the shirt comes off. “Or something like.”

“Shabuir?” she says, letting the word bubble on her lips. “I like that one. I’ll keep it.”

“It’s yours.”

The fabric lifts away, heavy with dirt and grime. She is careful not to tear it further as she lays it flat to dry in the sand, and Korkie does appreciate that. Such a small measure of care, and yet already so coveted in this drought.

“I’ve a poultice,” she offers, withdrawing from the darkness a little bowl of sludge. “It isn’t bacta, but it’s better than nowt.”

Her fingers are cold against his side, or the wound is hot, but either way, he finds her ministrations soothing, and it’s not long before he finds his eyes slipping closed again. He fights it, and thinks he wins, but when wakes to her carefully tucking the ends of his bandages, the moons are much higher than they were before.

“There now,” she says, brushing back his hair, and giving his cheek a kind caress. “Let’s get you inside. Give you some food. Put you to bed.”

“I thought you said you had none,” he mumbles.

She smiles, and throws his arm across her shoulders. “That was before I saw how pretty you were. Now, come on.”

He grins, though it hurts, and rises to his feet when she pulls him. He staggers to the door, his feet made clumsier with exhaustion more than injury this time, and doesn’t fight when she leads him to a room, and drops him on a bed, and urges him to rest his head upon a thin pillow of sand and dry grass. The light goes out, and the door slides shut behind her. In the dark, he cannot tell if his eyes are closed, or not. But he is not alone. There is a voice.

Someone is singing a lullaby nearby. A Mandalorian lullaby. It is an old call and response. He used to sing the answers with his mother when he was very young. He hasn’t heard it in years. But when the singer gets to the end of the verse, he joins in.

“A ner kar'ta cuyir gotal ciryc, bal ni kar'tayl gar darasuum nayc or'atu...O meg, o meg, kelir ni vaabir?”

The voice answers back on a sigh, though the words are different than they ever were before.

“O, ner Kiorkicek,” it sings. “Ni kelir ratiin yaimpar bal cuyir saanyc be gar.”

A baby sniffles in the dark. There is another bed. And he recognises the voice.

“Buir Kenobi,” he says, his voice hardly more than a thought. “Cuyir gar pirusti? Cuyir gar morut'yc.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replies. “We are well. You have saved us. Now, sleep. We shall all begin again in the morning.”

There is a warm hand upon his brow, and the irresistible temptation of sleep, and Korkie drops off into dreams.

#my fic #prompt fill #star wars #obi-wan kenobi #luke skywalker #korkie kryze #korkie is a kenobi #gffa #tatooine #post-order 66 #idk #whatever friends

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panda-noosh · 4 years

Text

back to the bad days {Sirius x Reader}

Words: 12.8k

Summary: You made a bad decision the last time Sirius saw you. Now that bad decision has come back to haunt you.

Genre: angst

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions!

---

You stopped using magic the day you killed someone.

An accident. Of course it was an accident. You were young, just starting your sixth year, didn't know what you were doing. Sirius was the one who convinced you to come back, but he was never there, too busy with his classes, or making an idiot of himself and his friends to pay much attention to the lone wizard he dragged along with him. You were left navigating the life of a legal wizard all on your own, and it was scary. The world was scary.

You remember the day clear as crystal, and part of you knows you always will. It's not the kind of thing you forget. Blue eyes losing life, hands gripping your shoulders, lips uttering words of mercy that didn't need to be uttered, because already you were desperately looking around for something – anything – to stop the life draining from your victims eyes.

And that's what he was – a victim. A man who said a few choice words under the influence of Firewhiskey, a man who happened to cross you on a particularly bad day, a man who didn't deserve what he got.

The spell wasn't illegal, just harmful, something Severus Snape had taught you during your many potions lessons together. The man – you hadn't even learned his name – had approached you, and his words were slurred and you knew he was drunk, could see it in every step he took, but his flirtations still infuriated you. You uttered the spell beneath your breath, and suddenly he was grabbing you, howling out for help as blood poured from wounds now slashed into his skin, ripping his white shirt to shreds. He shook and tugged and tried dragging you to the floor with him, but you were stiff in your shock, unable to move or help, do anything useful.

People grabbed you, asked you if you were alright, and you couldn't understand why. You weren't hurt. You weren't on the floor, slowly bleeding to death.

You were let go without question. In fact, you were given pity. A spell gone wrong, something that happens to even the best of young wizards; nobody thought for one second that an innocent little Hogwarts student such as yourself, so hard working and determined, would ever utter a spell meant to harm another human being. It wasn't possible. They sent you back to the castle, and it was three days later that news spread of the man's untimely, brutal death.

Sirius tried so hard to get you out of your own thoughts.

Long nights spent sat in the Gryffindor common room, you curled up in blankets by the fire, not talking even as pain thrummed beneath your ribcage. Sirius watched you from across the room, the fire dancing in his dark eyes, arms folded over his chest, neither of you saying anything because everything that could be said had already been spoken so many nights before, when you had crashed into his arms and sobbed into his chest, repeating over and over that you would never perform magic ever again.

Sirius called you crazy. He said that was dangerous. He said you were innocent.

But he hadn't been there. He didn't see you, didn't see your anger, your quick-fire decision to hurt this complete stranger. You knew you were guilty, and that was all you needed.

“How long has it been?”

His voice was both soft and gruff. You never figured out how he could do that, soothe you and put you on edge at the same time.

“Y/N, how long?”

“Three days.”

Sirius closed his eyes, tilted his head back against the oak door frame. Upstairs, fellow Gryffindors bustled back and forth, getting ready for bed.

“You can't keep this up, you know,” he said. “It's gonna eat you alive.”

“Maybe I deserve it.”

“Maybe you should stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself.”

You didn't react to his anger., keeping your gaze fixed on the flames.

Sirius sighed, running his hands through his dark locks before he pushed away from the wall and stomped over to you. He grabbed your shoulder, pulling you to look at him. His eyes were black holes, jaw set, mouth a thin line. “Tell me what I can do. Tell me what you need, and I'll do it.”

“I need you to leave me alone, Sirius.”

“You're not using your head. You've heard Dumbledore's warnings-”

You shrugged his hand off. “I don't care! If Dumbledore had been there that day, he would probably want me dead!”

Sirius dropped to his knees then, grabbing your hands. “Don't say that. You're one of his most special students-”

“How can I be special when I accidentally killed a man with one of my spells?”

Sirius flinched back. He flinched, and that was when you knew it was all over, that you had lost everything. Family, gone. Friends, gone. Mental stability, gone. The one thing you thought you could keep was Sirius, and he had flinched.

You pulled your hands out of his, eyes watering before you could stop them. He looked to the floor, letting his hands drop into his lap as strands of hair fell over his eyes, his forehead, shielding you from what you knew was a look of disgust.

“I'm not special,” you whispered. “I'm not even good. I shouldn't be able to do magic if I can't even – can't even control it how I'm supposed to.”

“Y/N-”

You reached into your pocket, and you remember this part so clearly. The hesitation, the tug in your chest, like a chord was being severed. In seconds your wand was in your pocket, and you were twisting away from Sirius, turning to the fire-

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping round your wrist, your name yanked from his throat in desperation, but it was too late by then. Already you had thrown your wand into the flames. The wood splintered, crackled, tiny sparks shooting from the hearth. Your hands trembled, tears slipping from your eyes as Sirius bounced up and dashed forward, pulling his own wand from his pocket, trying and failing to utter a spell that could save the precious object you had just completely obliterated.

“Stop, Sirius,” you said as he uttered his seventh spell in quick succession. “It's pointless. I don't want it.”

He span. “Are you fucking insane?”

“It's not-”

“We have to get you a new one.” He stuffed his wand in his robes, grabbed your hand and dragged you from the chair. “Dumbledore will understand this is an emergency. I'll get the map, and we can dodge Filch – or I'll just send Ollivander an owl, but fuck, that might take too long. We need to get you one now. It's already been three days-”

The desperation in his voice had killed you. For just a second, you were ready to stand up and go with him, go along with whatever plan he had in mind, because he was Sirius – your Sirius – and the thought of hurting him had been unbearable.

That man, though. His eyes, his grip on your shoulders, his buckling knees, the blood that pooled around him as he lay in the grass. That wasn't something you could just forget. The image haunted you, kept you rooted to the spot.

“Sirius,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear you.

He paused, fingers tangled in the robes he was trying to pull apart so he could slip them on and head off to Ollivander's.

“Sirius,” you repeated, louder this time. “I'm not going. I'm not using magic any more.”

His hands had trembled. You remember staring at them, the veins bulging from them as he gripped the robes a little tighter, mimicking the tendons protruding from his neck.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “You know the risks. You know wizards can't just. . . they can't just stop.”

“I killed someone.”

“You didn't mean to-”

“You weren't there. You don't know.”

Sirius span around, hair wild, eyes even wilder. “I know you! I love you, for Gods sake! I won't just sit back and let you waste away!”

That was the first time Sirius Black had ever said I love you, and you were too far into your own thoughts to even pick up on it.

“It's not your decision to make, Sirius!”

He scoffed. “Oh, don't start that shit. Tell me it's none of my fucking business, like you really expect me to sit back and let you do this to yourself.”

“And what are you going to do about it? Force the magic out of me? Use the Imperius Curse?”

Sirius shook his head, trailed nimble fingers through his hair. “You're ridiculous.”

“Go to hell.”

And to this day, you don't know why it was that particular comment that made him snap. Something inside him shattered, you could see it happening as if in slow motion. His eyes dulled just a fraction before he swung his arm, a wide arch, and slammed it into the wall on his left. His fist darted through it, plaster crumbling around his arm before he pulled it out, grabbed his cloak and stormed upstairs to the boys dormitory, all without saying a single word in response.

You could only stare, stood in the darkness with nothing but the flames to illuminate the damage. Upstairs, people bustled around, tiredly asking each other what happened, if they had heard the commotion, if they should go down and check.

You could have fixed it with a simple Reparo spell, but your hands trembled when you tried, and the words wouldn't come. So instead, you turned on your heel and left the scene before anyone saw you, casting one look at the boys' staircase before disappearing along your own.

Dumbledore knows something is wrong.

The moment you step into his office, you see the recognition on his face, your symptoms screaming. You don't even have to explain yourself, not when you stumble towards his desk, clap your hands upon it and say, through gritted teeth, “Please help me.”

He tells you to wait. You tell him you can't move. He grimaces, exits his office and comes back fifteen minutes later, MadEye Moody in tow.

“What's going on here then?” Moody asks. By now, you're doubled over Dumbledore's desk, groaning at the pulse in your stomach; it doesn't even hurt too bad right now, but it's there, it's present, and it shouldn't be. It's a warning signal, each thump yet another countdown to another outburst, another outburst you cannot afford.

“I need you to accompany Y/N to Grimaulds Place,” Dumbledore responds.

Moody swivels round. “Have you finally gone mad, old man?”

“This is serious, Alastair. We can't wait much longer.”

“You won't even tell me what's happening.”

“I'm dying, is what's happening,” you croak out, finally willing enough strength in your body to lift your head and glare at the two men behind you, both of whom seem to think you're no longer in the room, or that you've gone deaf. “I don't know h-how much longer I can hold back. We need to leave now.”

Moody raises a brow, still sceptical, but he's always sceptical, so it doesn't matter.

Nonetheless, he sighs, grabs your arm and says, “I want answers as soon as you can give them to me.”

You can only nod. With a final goodbye to Dumbledore, Moody Disapparates out of the office, and in seconds, the two of you are landing on the front step of a house you do not recognise.

Moody grabs your arm when you stumble, dragging you into his side. “Keep still while I find the damn key.”

You press your forehead to the door, closing your eyes at the coolness. The house is small, a thatched roof, oak door, a front garden littered with beer cans and moulding pizza boxes; to the untrained eye, it looks abandoned, falling apart at the seams, not even safe enough to live in.

However, Moody pushes open the door after a few seconds, and you can see it is far from it.

It's dusty, yes, but it's clearly habitable. Stepping inside, you are engulfed by warmth that tells of a fire blazing nearby. Multiple paintings are covered up, wallpaper torn and moulding at the edges. There's a staircase to your right, rickety and dangerous. You wonder where the bedrooms are.

“Welcome to Grimauld Place,” Moody says. “Sirius! Sirius, get your ass down here now!”

Your head swivels round so fast your neck cricks. You ignore the sharp pain, eyes widening. “Sirius? Sirius Black?”

“The criminal, yes,” a smooth voice responds, one that certainly doesn't belong to MadEye.

You whirl around just as Sirius appears on the second landing, a glass of wine in his hand. He's wearing a black trench coat that hangs to his knees, his black hair dishevelled, poking him in the eyes. He's got a beard now, if you can even call it that, and he truly looks like he hasn't slept in years.

He's still awfully, awfully handsome, though, just as he has always been.

“This is a surprise,” he says. “I wasn't expecting guests. I would have cleaned up a little bit.”

“You would have got that house elf to clean,” Moody corrects, still gripping your arm. You're still staring, unable to tear your eyes away from Sirius. “Get down here, Black. We need to talk.”

Sirius sighs dramatically, like he's being put out, before gliding down the stairs. He stops right beside you, shoulder brushing your own, because he knows. He fucking knows, and it's driving you insane, and you're not well enough to deal with his bullshit today, not well enough at all-

“Wine, anyone?”

“Y/N needs a place to stay.”

Sirius sips the red liquid, staring right at Moody as if expecting further explanation. When Moody doesn't offer any, he claps his lips together and says, “And that's my problem. . . Why?”

“They're staying with you.”

He stiffens, glass still resting against his lower lip. “When was someone going to tell me about this?”

“Dumbledore only made the order about five minutes ago,” Moody replies. “And no arguments, Black. We don't have time for it, not these days.”

“So you want me to just sit back and take whatever Dumbledore throws at me, huh?”

You scoff. For the first time, Sirius looks down, and it may be a mistake, a trick of the light, but you swear his eyes soften when they rest on you. “I promise, Sirius, this isn't going to be a tea party for me either.”

“Why are you even here?” he demands.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words abandon you. How do you tell him the truth? It's been years, and so much has happened since the last time the two of you spoke, but that doesn't change the fact you're dying, that Sirius was the love of your life a few years back, that you two have history. Time apart doesn't make this news any less difficult.

You glance at Moody, a silent plea for him to take the reigns. His glass eye swivels to look at you before he sighs and says, “Y/N's magic is coming back against their will.”

And Sirius knows what that means. Every wizard in the wizarding world knows what that means. Slowly, his eyes widen, eyebrows furrowing, lower lip jutting out like he's going to start crying. Your heart leaps at the sight, the sudden and unexplainable urge to pull him in for a hug overtaking you. You have to remind yourself it's been years, that it will be most strange if you were to give in to those urges now.

“So you're dying.”

He says it so simply, and even though the thought has been in your head for ages, it's painful hearing it come from someone else – especially Sirius.

You shrug, tucking your hands in your pockets. “I might be.”

“Have you not used magic since-”

“I told you I wouldn't.”

“Sorry. I just thought you were a bit smarter than that.”

Moody pulls breath through his teeth, a sharp hissing noise making you and Sirius step away from each other like a pair of children just caught doing something naughty. “I didn't come here to listen to you two argue like an old married couple, alright? Dumbledore's sent out the orders, and it's my job to make sure they're followed; Y/N, you're staying here with Sirius until the boss says otherwise. Sirius, you're going to suck it up and make sure they don't kill themselves.”

Sirius scowls. You attempt a scowl right back, but a coughing fit grips you and you instead double forward, wheezing into your hand. Moody pats you on the back, uttering things like, “Get it out,” and, “Better out than in,” under his breath, like that is a comforting tactic.

You recover soon after, body deflating as it always does when this happens. You just feel so tired. All the time, you are left drained and trembling, but it's embarrassing to be in that state in front of Sirius. He just stares at you now, slowly blinking, like he's in a state of disbelief that this is really happening. You straighten up, pull your shoulders back and ask, “Where can I sleep?”

---

Sirius leads you to his bedroom once Moody is gone. He can't take his eyes off you. He isn't sure it would be safe if he did. He can't be sure he won't turn back around to see you tumbling down the stairs, unable to hold your own weight.

You just look so fragile. Sirius thought for sure he had gotten over his protective streak when it came to you, but apparently not.

With one hand on the small of your back, he uses the other to push open his bedroom door. He leads you inside, wincing at the bareness of it all; he never got round to redecorating, too busy lost in his own head to think about doing something useful around here. The concrete walls are bare, his posters torn down besides a picture of him and the others, his arm looped around James's shoulders as the others file in around them. They are all in their school uniforms, and it brings Sirius back to the times when you and him used to hide under the stairs after curfew and make out, just because you could.

It's no surprise when you head straight for that very picture. Sirius watches you from the doorway, the way a small smile appears on your face, strained and tight, but present nonetheless. You trace your fingertips over James's face before, without turning, you say, “I miss him.”

“We all do.”

“Little shit that he always was, I thought he was a pretty decent bloke.”

Sirius chuckles, slowly approaching. “He was. He would have done anything for anyone.”

“And Lily...”

Sirius closes his eyes. It's too late at night to be reminded of such things, too late to be grieving passed-on friends. Gently, he takes your elbow and leads you to the bed pressed against the far wall. You sit down obediently and look around. Sirius can't help noticing how your eyes seem to sink into your skull.

“It isn't much, but I wasn't expecting guests,” he says.

You shake your head. “It's just good having a place to sleep.”

“Did you not have a place to sleep before this?”

“I had a flat in London.”

Sirius raises a brow playfully. “Muggle London?”

You groan. “Yes, Sirius, Muggle London. There was no point in me staying in Hogsmeade if I wasn't even practising magic.”

“Which I still think was a very idiotic decision on your part.”

“As you've said,” you grumble, and Sirius can't help the quirk of his lips, your tone so childlike.

He folds his arms across his chest and leans against the door frame. “So you abandoned the wizarding world for good, huh? Does that mean you haven't kept up with everything going on?”

He knows it's a shot in the dark. Even those wizards who distanced themselves years ago would have heard of his imprisonment, his break-out. The government made sure everybody heard about it, that everybody was keeping a look-out.

You purse your lips and look to the floor.

Sirius sighs. “Ah.”

“I didn't believe any of it,” you say quickly, like there's something to defend. “It just. . . didn't make sense, but even the Muggle Prime Minister was talking about you.”

“Flattering.”

“But I never believed any of it.”

Sirius stares. You say that so casually, fingers plucking the edge of a blanket, eyes darting around the room as you continue your subconscious little inspection. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, so forcefully he thinks you might be able to hear it, and you're just sat there like nothing is going on, like you're not dying, like Sirius hasn't got the biggest price on his head.

He slumps down on the bed next to you, and it feels like he belongs there. Calm, soothing, natural, just you with your shoulder pressed to his, like all them nights in the common room where you would be so absorbed in your studies, and Sirius would just sit and watch you work in silence.

“Thanks,” he says. Simple.

You glance at him. “You're welcome.”

“You know who I met the other day?”

“Who?”

“Harry.”

He feels rather than sees your shock. Against him, your body tenses, head snapping round as if checking to see if Sirius is joking. He just smiles, sipping his glass of wine as you continue to gawk.

And then suddenly you're latching onto his arm like an excited school child, twisting around, forcing Sirius into eye contact. His grin of amusement breaks the surface, a chuckle escaping him as he latches onto your forearms to stop you tumbling on top of him entirely.

“Really?”

“He looks just like James,” Sirius replies.

“Oh my God, Sirius, that's amazing!” Your smile is wide, glowing. “Does he know who you are? Does he know you're innocent?”

“He does now.” Ever so gently, Sirius nudges you back to his side, though he keeps his fingers wrapped round your arms, so frail and fragile with the state you're in. “A lot happened the night we met. I tried to kill Peter-”

“Huh?”

“I tried to kill Snape, too-”

“Understandable.”

“Peter admitted to being the one who told You-Know-Who about James and Lily's whereabouts.”

No comment.

Sirius winces, sheepishly looking up. Your expression has shifted dramatically, smile melting into a gawk of horror, mouth open and eyebrows furrowed. Beneath his fingers, he feels the tendons in your arms tighten.

He swallows. “Yeah.”

“Did you know-” you snap, suddenly standing up. “I never liked that little fucker. Never liked him. Every time you invited me to sit with you at lunch, I would sit as far away from that little rat as the table would fucking allow.”

Sirius stumbles up after you, tries reaching for your arms but you pull away before he can make contact. Your teeth are gritted, eyes alight with something Sirius has never seen before – it's anger, yes, but it's different, murderous.

“Y/N, calm down,” Sirius says. “You're not well enough to be-”

“Did he get away?”

Sirius falters. “Harry didn't want me to kill him.”

“Harry didn't want-” You inhale, closing your eyes in your attempts to calm down. “Harry didn't want you to kill him.”

“He's a good kid. And besides, I was being irrational when I made the threat; I couldn't kill a man in front of three high school kids.”

Your hands tremble as you lower them to your sides. Sirius takes his chance, setting his wine down and taking your hands in his own, pulling you back towards the bed. You go without resistance, staring into space.

“Harry Potter is probably the only reason I didn't get shipped off back to Azkaban,” Sirius continues. “I owe him everything.”

You nod slowly. “I would. . . I would like to meet him if that's possible.”

Sirius draws back, raising a brow. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with the wizarding world?”

“Well, I'm here now, aren't I? It's a bit late for that.”

Sirius chuckles and nods, pulling you into his side, just because he can, because he missed the feel of your body against his. He hasn't checked to see if you're single, if you still have feelings for him like he has feelings for you – honestly, right now, he doesn't care. You're not pulling away. In fact, you almost seem to nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes so your eyelashes flutter against his skin, sending goosebumps stampeding.

“I'll send an owl,” he says. “I'd love for you to meet him.”

----

Harry Potter.

The world knows him as The Boy Who Lived. You know him as James and Lily's son.

There is no secret surrounding who the boy belongs to. The sharp green eyes, the ruffled black hair, even a pair of glasses that sit askew upon his face – it's like seeing them again, after so many years.

Sirius stands beside you when Harry appears in the doorway, two friends following close behind. You recognise the red hair of a Weasley the minute Ron steps through the door, but the other girl has to introduce herself as Hermione Granger, a Muggle born, apparently very smart when it comes to all things wizardry. Neither Ron nor Hermione are familiar with you, but Harry gives you the shock of your life when he meets your eyes and says, “You must be Y/N.”

Before you have a chance to get over your shock and reply, Sirius places a hand on your shoulder, gently drawing you back into him. “I might have told Harry here a little bit about you.”

“Oh?” You narrow your eyes at Sirius, to which he merely grins. It's one of those rare occasions where Sirius Black actually looks sheepish, as if prepared for a telling off. “What did you say?”

“Only good things,” Harry interjects, stepping forward and offering a hand.

The action is James. It's James, and it's Lily, and it makes your heart squeeze at the sight of it. You remember the first time Sirius introduced you to his friends – the Marauders – and how James had shaken your hand like it was some kind of formal meeting. You remember giggling, asking him if he was this formal with everyone, and he had replied with, “Only the people who can put my Padfoot in his place.”

You grab Harry's hand and say, “Are you this formal with everyone?”

He smiles. “Only the people who can make Sirius flustered. Seems like a hard skill to master.”

“Alright, enough of that!” Sirius exclaims, cutting between you and Harry with a flourish of his trench coat. “Introductions are awfully boring – who wants a drink?”

“Have you got water?” Hermione asks as Sirius herds all of you into the dusty, run-down kitchen.

“I have wine and white wine,” Sirius replies.

“I'll have white wine,” Ron says casually, though you don't miss the child-like, giddy smile he tosses to Harry at the idea of being given an alcoholic beverage.

You roll your eyes, sitting at the table. Sirius bustles back and forth like a madman, and it's obvious the reason why. Though the three kids don't seem to pick up on it, you have known Sirius on a much deeper level than them, can recognise the excitement glittering in his dark eyes, the way his hands move like there's a time limit. He's been locked in this house on his own for so long, it must be a relief of the greatest kind to finally have someone to cater too.

“So, when did you get here?”

You turn and look at Harry. He sits beside you, nimble fingers brushing against the tabletop, wiping the dust off and onto the floor. He does it so casually, without a care in the world that he has to, keeping his eyes trained on you the entire time.

“Yesterday night,” you reply. “Alistair Moody brought me.”

“Oh, he's mental,” Ron chimes in.

Hermione hisses, slapping Ron's arm.

Harry doesn't waver. “Sirius told me a bit about you before, you know. Just in passing. I know you had a history with him.”

“A little bit. We went to school together.”

“That all?”

You raise a brow. “Nosy, aren't you? Just like your mother – needs to know everything.”

A blush sprinkles his cheeks, a tiny smile forming. “The way he spoke about you just made it seem like there was something else going on.”

“Well, you're right,” you say, resisting the heat that claws at your neck. It's not like you and Sirius had a scandalous relationship – you were together for three years, held hands in the hallway, snuck out after curfew because you felt like it. It was a normal, beautiful high school relationship.

Harry glances over his shoulder to ensure Sirius is still busy with the wine before he leans forward and whispers, “Were you together?”

You stay quiet.

Harry groans under his breath, kicking the leg of your chair. “Come on. He won't tell me anything about it. Says it's personal.”

“Personal?”

“I think it was special to him, so he wants to keep it to himself,” Hermione suggests. “Even in his letter inviting us over here, he called you his special friend. It's obvious you mean a lot to him.”

“Oh, give me a break,” you scoff, leaning back in your chair, though you can't help but glance over at him. He's humming to himself, running a hand through his black hair, tipping wine into glasses, messing about with bits of bread that he tries to butter without magic and fails miserably in doing so. “Sirius and I used to. . . we used to fancy each other a little bit back when we were at Hogwarts.”

Hermione gasps, claps her hands to her cheeks. “You did?”

“Well obviously,” Ron grunts. “But we want details.”

“Mind your business.”

“Did you go out with each other?” Harry asks.

“For three years.”

The three kids go silent. You purse your lips, tilting your head back so you can call out to Sirius. “Is that wine ready yet?”

Sirius scoffs without looking at you. “You're not getting any. You're ill, remember?”

“Not ill enough that I can't have a drink.”

“I'm not risking it.” He looks over his shoulder, flashes a dazzling smile. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

Your heart leaps at the endearment, though you hide it by sticking your tongue out at him. Around you, the three kids share knowing glances, though none of them have a chance to tease before Sirius is marching over to the table, placing five glasses down along with a plate of bread.

He sits down next to you, claps his hands and says, “Well, isn't this lovely?”

“You've really lost the plot, haven't you, Sirius?” Ron says, picking up the bread. “How long has that butter been in the cupboard?”

Sirius scowls. “Just eat it, you ungrateful git.”

“We were just talking to Y/N about Hogwarts,” Hermione cuts in, giving Ron a glare that he responds to with a shrug. “Three years you two went out?”

Sirius stiffens. Neither of you have spoken about your history just yet – the conversation felt a little too heavy after last nights endeavours, after Sirius had seen you basically doubled over in pain.

“Were you in love?” Harry asks, aiming his question at Sirius with a polite little smile on his face.

Sirius scowls. “Just like your bloody father, aren't you?”

“Well, it's an honest question,” says Hermione. “James and Lily fell in love at Hogwarts, too, didn't they?”

“James and Lily were different,” says Sirius, though he shoots you a glance at the same time, as if testing the waters to see if this line of conversation will upset you. You don't look back, instead taking a sip of the milk he has placed in front of you. “Besides, Y/N left Hogwarts in the middle of our sixth year.”

Three sets of eyes swivel on you. It's Ron who exclaims, “You did? Why?”

“I got sick,” you reply.

“With what? Surely the safest place for you to be if you're ill is Hogwarts,” says Harry.

Sirius sips his wine and says, “That's what I said.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” you snap before turning back to Harry. “There was a lot to it. I don't expect you to understand.”

Sirius scoffs around his wine glass, leaning back oh-so-casually. “Don't pretend the boy is stupid, Y/N. You can explain yourself.”

“I don't want to.”

“Why not? It's nothing to be ashamed of.”

Why is he doing this?

You don't know. You can't pinpoint the moment his demeanour changed, the moment he seemed to think you were just being rude. You look over at him, an eyebrow slowly raised as your hands tremble in your lap, a silent plea for him to just shut his mouth and stop whatever hostility he has rising to the surface.

He raises his brow right back, waves a hand as if to say Well? We're waiting.

You swallow, turn back to the three kids who all stare at you with wide, expectant eyes. “I'm – uh – dying. Slowly. Very slowly. It's why I'm here.”

It kills the mood. Of course it does. It always does. People don't know how to handle death, the implications that come with it. As soon as you mention it, you are no longer a person, a friend, a relative. You're just. . . someone who is dying, someone who won't be there in a few years, someone people have to say goodbye to, detach themselves from so they don't get hurt.

Hermione is the first to make a move. Awkward, frigid, her hand slides across the table and rests upon your own. Beside you, Sirius hollows out his cheeks and looks away.

“It's fine,” you say, even though nobody has said otherwise. “It's. . . controlled at the minute. I plan on sticking around for a bit longer.”

“Blimey, Y/N...,” Ron mutters. “That's awful.”

“This is what happens when wizards suppress their magic, kids,” says Sirius, and he sounds so cheerful, so condescending that you nearly draw back and punch him in the side of the head. Even Harry, Ron and Hermione look at him like he's gone mental.

“Alright, Sirius,” Harry says. “There's no need for that.”

Sirius shrugs. “I'm telling the truth. It's unnatural, isn't it? Magic isn't just stored in our bloody wands, or else Muggles would be causing havoc left, right and centre – it's inside of us. It's who we are. Suppressing that is dangerous. It eats us alive.”

“As I'm sure they already know,” you snap, and that's when you feel it. The shift in your stomach, the sudden fire ignited in your veins that makes you jump, knee slapping against the underside of the table. Sirius doesn't seem to notice your sudden shift, as he continues casually making comments about something he doesn't understand, something he will never understand.

“Personally, there is absolutely nothing in this world that will make me stop using my magic,” he says. “And I recommend you lot adopt the same mindset. Life runs so much smoother when you don't fight who you are. Not only does it take a bloody enormous physical toll, but a mental one, as well. I know all about mental tolls, I'll tell you now, and they aren't good. Not good at all. Sometimes I'd rather take a kick to the bollocks than sit and steep in my own pity-”

“Alright, Sirius!” you exclaim, gripping the tables edge. “We get it! You're a fucking hero!”

His eyes flash, darting to you. “You get it? Finally! Just eleven years too late, huh?”

And that's when it breaks.

You make to stand, but your knees give out. Magic bursts from your fingertips, and it's not meant to be there, it's meant to be in your wand, it's meant to be in your body, stored away for when you need it. But it bounces off the walls now, red sparks slamming into the wooden cupboards, knocking down plates and doors and cutlery that sprawl across the floor.

You crumble along with everything else in the kitchen, gripping the cupboard door as you try to regain yourself, to draw back the magic. It hurts. It hurts, and you want to scream, but your throat is suddenly too dry, and your brain is working at a thousand miles per hour, so you don't even know what you want to cry out.

Harry, Hermione and Ron are by your side in seconds. Harry grabs you under the arms, hauls you off the floor. He's yelling at his friends, but you focus in on Sirius, now stood up, staring at the scene with his mouth open, a trembling hand covering his forehead. It makes you angrier, which only makes the magic flare up even more; he stands there and acts surprised, as if he wasn't ridiculing you only seconds before, as if he wasn't the god damn catalyst for all this.

You want to yell at him. You want to tell him to go to hell, but you can't get the words out. Soon, you settle into Harry, head falling back as he guides you up the stairs. Behind you, Hermione chastises a silent Sirius, but you can't hear what she's saying, not over the thrum of your blood and your magic and your anger.

----

Sirius hates himself.

He doesn't understand why he does the things he does. He never has. Even before Azakaban, he would sit in the principals office and wonder why he couldn't just. . . behave. Why he couldn't just get on like the rest of the kids. Why he always felt the need to stand out and make himself look like a tosser.

But he has never felt such regret than he does right now.

It burns in the pit of his stomach, definitely not the alcohol. He sits alone in his kitchen, one foot propped up on the rickety chair Hermione was occupying only a few hours prior. To his left is a glass of wine, which he downs as a way to drown out everything else; it's easier that way, especially considering he has nothing else to occupy his mind with. He's not allowed out, he's not allowed communications, and the one person he has to talk to now most likely hates his guts.

And he can't even blame you.

He was just angry, that's all. He's angry a lot these days, a default reaction to the simplest of things. You were just sitting there, talking amongst these students so casually, as if your magic wasn't eating you from the inside out, as if you weren't dying, and something about it just set him off. The memories, watching Ron and Hermione awkwardly sneak around their feelings – it brought Sirius back to his own Hogwarts days where you would act so bloody oblivious to every single thing he was trying to say to you. God, he could have kissed you on the lips, outright, in front of everyone, and you would still act surprised when Sirius finally confessed his feelings properly.

But he'll never get that chance, will he? Not after what he did today.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. His flesh is warm to the touch, the fire crackling in the room behind him not doing him any favours. He doesn't dispel it, though, enjoying the atmosphere it brings. The crackling has the ability to distract him for seconds at a time, and he takes those seconds with greedy hands. He'll take any distraction at this point.

“You look a right state.”

Sirius doesn't flinch, simply tilts his head to catch a glimpse of Remus Lupin as he strolls through the hall towards the open kitchen door. Dressed in rags, pulling his gloves from his fingers, a lopsided smile on his stubbled face. Sirius raises his wine glass and chants, “Moony! Moony! Moony!”

“Shut up,” Lupin says, knocking Sirius's chin so his mouth snaps closed. He takes a seat, shoving Sirius's foot onto the floor. “Harry told me what happened.”

“Did he? Shame on him.”

“Christ, Sirius – what's gotten into you? This is Y/N we're talking about, isn't it? The one you used to snog under the stairs at school?”

Sirius grins, hides it against the rim of his glass. “Maybe.”

“You used to be head over heels for them. Why would you say all that?”

Sirius's grin drops. He sighs, placing the wine glass back on the table, turning to face his friend fully. “It's complicated.” Lupin stares. Sirius rolls his eyes. “And it's not like I don't regret it, Moony, because I certainly bloody do. I just. . . . I was in a bad mood. The heat in here is woeful, and-”

“And you're scared.”

Sirius raises a brow. “I'm not scared of anything.”

“You've been in Azkaban, faced Death Eaters, are the most wanted man in the UK right now.” Lupin tilts his head, examining Sirius with those eyes that have always managed to unsettle everyone – it's why he makes such a good teacher. “And it's the thought of losing Y/N that has you getting drunk on your own at ten at night.”

Sirius scowls, glancing at the wine glass – empty, refilled multiple times, a Muggle drink, to top it all off. Since when did Sirius ever enjoy Muggle drinks?

“You know, I think James and I always knew this was how it was going to end up,” Lupin continues.

Sirius's eyes snap up; James has always been a sort of unspoken presence between them, something they acknowledge, something they don't technically avoid, but will admit it is easier to just. . . ignore for as long as possible.

Lupin smiles softly. “We always said Y/N would be the one to mess you up.”

Sirius groans, throwing his head back in exasperation. “I'm not messed up-”

“The alcohol would beg to differ.”

“Y/N is dying, Lupin.”

The words are out before he can stop them, before he can even comprehend why he thought they would be a good idea in the first place. He isn't sure if Sirius knows, isn't sure if this is some big secret he should be keeping to himself – but it feels wrong letting Lupin tease him when he doesn't even know the severity of the situation. Hell, Sirius barely knows the severity of the situation, but he caught a glimpse of it earlier when he drove you to the point of collapse with his stupid passive-aggressiveness, thinking he was being funny.

Lupin stares, almost pityingly. “I know. That's why I'm here.”

Sirius lifts his head, brushing curls out of his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Dumbledore thinks he knows what to do.”

Sirius blinks, certain he's hearing wrong. “Come again?”

Lupin rolls his eyes and leans forward, taking Sirius's hand in his own; they're trembling, only slightly, and it's this movement that reminds Sirius that Lupin knew you just as long as Sirius did. Lupin saw you grow up just as much as Sirius did. Lupin probably cares for you just as much as Sirius does.

“Don't joke around, Moony,” Sirius whispers, shaking his head. “Don't give me hope. That's cruel.”

“None of this is a joke,” Lupin replies. “Dumbledore's sister, Arianna – you remember hearing about her, don't you?”

Sirius nods, dazed.

“She died of the same thing Y/N has right now.”

“Oh, charming.”

“But that just pushed Dumbledore to spend his life finding a cure. That's what he does in his spare time, for crying out loud – he sits in that office and he researches. He's found something that has worked on everyone he's tested so far. He's found the cure, and it's more simple than you might think.”

“Will it hurt them?” Sirius asks, because he can't help it, because he needs to make sure you'll be okay before he throws you into anything so uncertain.

Lupin looks down, and Sirius's stomach twists.

“Moony...”

“I don't know the details, Sirius,” Lupin says quickly. “But I know it has saved people's lives. I have hope it will do the same for Y/N.”

“I need more than just hope,” Sirius spits, and that anger is there again, puncturing the surface before he can catch it, shove it back down along with all the other sour emotions Azkaban planted in his brain.

“I know,” Lupin corrects. “I know it will do the same for Y/N, because Y/N's one of the strongest wizards I've ever met. Smart, capable-”

“Dying.”

Lupin purses his lips. “Dumbledore wanted me to fetch you both, but I thought I should give you some pre-warning before we leave. After what Harry told me...”

Sirius blushes and glances up the staircase, as if imagining you standing on the landing, staring right back at him, ready to forgive him for the shit he put you through.

He turns back to Lupin and says, “Give me till tomorrow afternoon. I'll talk to them.”

Lupin smiles, pats Sirius's hand once before standing up. His patched jacket gets caught on the chair before he pulls it loose, turns and says, “Have you two had a quick snog yet?”

Sirius throws the wine cork at him. Never changed.

----

It's light outside, but the house is dark when you finally wake up.

You know how long you've been asleep, because you've been in and out of consciousness, checking the time, ever since Harry and Ron tucked you into bed a few hours prior. It was dark outside then, definitely past their bedtime.

You get out of bed at long last; Sirius must be asleep by now, passed out drunk from the Muggle wine he was sipping all night. You will go downstairs, grab your stuff and leave – that's your only option. You can't live like this, under the same roof as the man who has never forgiven you for a mistake you made when you were seventeen years old.

Under the same roof as the man you never really got over.

It's hard admitting it, because you thought for sure life moved on. You certainly felt like you had, reading reports of Sirius's murderous tenancies, how he was the most wanted man in the world. Back then, it was easier to believe it all. You weren't by his side, had nothing to disprove the lies, so why would you think any different to what the newspapers were trying to convince you of?

But now you're back, and he's with you, and it's so difficult to look past the friendly, flirtatious smile he always has for you, the back and forth banter you have with each other that feels so . . . unavoidable, like you couldn't turn it off even if you wanted to. It's like you're school kids again.

The creak of the wooden floorboards sound eerie when you think no one else is around to hear them. Kreacher mutters to himself behind a closed door just down the hall, but you duck your head down and scramble past before he takes notice of another filthy wizard out of bed. The pain in your limbs is only minimal now that you've had your rest, so it's easy to dart downstairs and into the kitchen, where you switch on the light and-

“Fucking hell!”

You scream, can't help it.

Sirius stands up abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor when he spins around and stares at you. You stare right back, at his dropped jaw and wide eyes, the half-finished bottle of wine sat on the table behind him. His trench coat is gone, so now he's dressed in only a thin black shirt and low-hanging jeans that make him look so, so good, and you're positive he's doing it on purpose, trying to make you-

“When did you wake up?” he demands.

“For gods-” You make a break for the door. It's the panic that drives you, settling in your stomach, forcing you to move before you can properly comprehend what's happening. Sirius curses and rushes after you, so much faster with his legs being so much longer than yours, and his health being so much cleaner.

He skids on the wooden floor, scrambles back up and claps his hand on either side of the wall, blocking you in entirely. You growl, take a step back, get ready to dart for the fucking kitchen window if you have to, but Sirius grabs your wrist before you can move. His fingers are soft against your pulse, and sweat beads your forehead from the effort your weak body has just put in.

“Where are you going?” he asks, panting.

“Away. I don't know. Somewhere else.”

“Don't be ridiculous. Dumbledore sent you here for a reason.”

“Dumbledore sent me here to die comfortably,” you spit, taking no pleasure in Sirius's wince. “Let me go, Sirius. You're drunk.”

“No I'm not. Not drunk enough to let you go out there on your own.”

“You think you can stop me?”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, mumbles something along the lines of, “You've always been so stubborn...,” before he seems to remember you're still there, standing in front of him, though you don't even know why you are – you should be running away, getting as far from this place as possible, as far from him as possible.

“I have something to tell you,” he says.

You draw back. “What-”

Before you can finish your question, he tugs you forward and wraps his arm around your waist, lifting you over his shoulder. You scream again, thrashing your legs as much as possible with the grip he has around them, but he barely even grunts at the contact; months in Azkaban have really paid off in the strength department for him.

“Settle down, love, settle down,” he says, all-but-tossing you onto the sofa. You immediately snatch a pillow from behind you and lob it at him; he catches it with one hand, reminding you that he was indeed an avid Quiddith player at one point.

“That was uncalled for,” you mumble, folding your arms over your chest. “I want to leave, Sirius – you can't hold me hostage.”

“I'm not holding you hostage,” he scoffs, slumping down beside you. “Just sit still for two bloody seconds, alright? Moony came to visit.”

Your eyes widen. “He did?”

Sirius grins. “I love that you remember who that is.”

You slap his arm, turning your body to face him. “What did Remus want?”

“He just popped in to inform me that you might not have to die after all.”

You pause.

And then you're angry.

Angry, because Sirius can't be telling the truth. He's saying this to get under your skin, to make you stay a little bit longer so he can continue chastising you for the thing he hates so much – that you didn't listen when you wanted him to, that you made your own fucking decision back in the day, and he's never got over it.

You stand up. His smile falls, hands immediately reaching out to grab you, but you pull away before he can make contact. You're crying, fucking crying, and it's so stupid, because he's literally just said one thing, one thing, and you can't handle it.

“Fuck you, Sirius. That's a brand new fucking low.”

He shakes his head, dumbfounded. “What are you-”

“Why do you have to do that?” you exclaim. “That's just cruel. I've come to terms with death already, mate, so whatever little lie you've got rehearsed in that sick fucking brain of yours isn't going to work. It's not!”

Sirius stands so quickly. His face is all hard lines, nostrils flaring, hands snapping out to grab your arms before you can even comprehend he's moved. You've seen him like this only a few times before, but you were always the one dragging him back, always the one pushing him into a chair, kneeling in front of him, whispering to calm him down. Now you're the one who's made him mad.

And what right does he have to be mad at you when he's the one doing everything in his power to make you miserable? That's what it feels like. He's trying to make you feel bad, trying to make you regret your decision.

Doesn't he understand that you've lived with that regret since the day the pain started?

“I'm not lying,” he says. Simple. Easy. Like you should believe him. “I wouldn't – Jesus, Y/N, why would I lie about something like this?”

“You tell me.”

He groans, running his hands through his hair. “Just listen, alright? Just listen. Dumbledore has a cure. He told Moony about it, and he wants you to go and get it done. Dumbledore said this, not me. Dumbledore. If you can't trust him, who the fuck can you trust?”

You blink. You've heard it before, of course, the hope and everything that comes with it, but never from Sirius. Sirius Black, who was always so genuine, who never lies to anyone because he believes life is too short for that kind of thing.

Your heart thunders. “There's a cure?”

Relief floods his face. He stumbles forward, grabs your hands, pulls you into him, and you don't even fight him this time. You just stare up into his eyes, so dark and tormented, but so familiar, too.

“There's a cure,” he says, and it sounds like a prayer, like the first gulp of air someone takes after being submerged in water. “Moony's coming for us this afternoon. He'll take you to Dumbledore.”

You nod, can only nod. And then his words settle, and you draw back, narrowing your eyes. “Us?”

Sirius frowns. “You didn't think I'd let you go on your own, did you?” “Sirius, you can't leave the house,” you say. “The Ministry have eyes everywhere, all searching for you.”

Sirius scoffs. “I didn't become an Animagus for nothing, love.”

“It's too dangerous.”

He groans, throwing his head back like a child having a tantrum; you nearly laugh at him, just manage to swallow it down. “Fuck that! I've already made up my mind.” He looks at you again and taps the tip of your nose. “You're not the only stubborn one in this relationship, I'm afraid.” Before you can reply, he drops your hands and skips towards the staircase. “I'm off to get my nice robes on! This is a celebration, Y/N! A celebration!”

It would be so easy to sneak out as he skips up the stairs and leaves you on your own – but you can't. You stare after him, a tiny smile tugging at your lips. He looks so happy, happier than you've seen him in a while. Hope is not an emotion many wizards have these days, so it's a nice change to see it now. An even better change to see it in Sirius.

----

Lupin leads you to Hogwarts. Of course he does.

The grounds are familiar, even now, so many years later. You remember all of it, from the Astronomy tower to the Womping Willow, Filch's voice forever echoing angrily through the hallways for no reason anyone could pinpoint. It's all the same now as Dumbledore leads you to the infirmary, where a group of robe-clad wizards stand around a single bed, hands folded, waiting for your arrival.

All of it is very formal, and you find yourself reaching for Sirius's hand despite yourself. He's right beside you, having turned back to his human form as soon as you were safely within the walls of the castle. He squeezes your fingers, pulling you that little bit closer to him as you finally stop in front of the group of professionals, all of whom bow their heads, saying nothing.

Dumbledore turns. “Y/N, meet the Mute Brothers.”

You nod, unsure if that is greeting enough. Nobody complains, so you think it's decent.

Dumbledore opens his mouth to continue the introductions, but Sirius cuts him off. At his side, Lupin rolls his eyes, and you have to bite your lip to stop from laughing.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sirius says, stepping forward. “I don't mean to interrupt-”

“But it seems like you will anyway,” says Dumbledore.

“Who are these people? I've never heard of them before in my life.”

“Well,” you mumble, “you were in Azkaban for a while; there's a lot of things you haven't heard of.”

Sirius shoots you a glare. Lupin snickers.

Dumbledore sighs, placing a gentle, bony hand on Sirius's shoulder. “Mr Black, I understand this is a very nerve wracking situation for you; everyone who had the honour of being amongst you during your time at Hogwarts knows just how deeply you care for Y/N-”

“Yeah, so I want to make sure there's no funny business.”

“I have entrusted these men with my life on multiple occasions,” Dumbledore says, even as your cheeks heat up from the oh-so-casual way Sirius said he cared for you. “I would not dream of putting anyone in danger by throwing caution to the wind with something like this. Y/N is in the best hands right now.”

Sirius purses his lips. You step forward, grab his arm and gently draw him back until his back is hitting off your chest, and he's settling into your grip. He keeps his dark eyes trained on the Mute Brothers, all three of whom stand tall, heads ducked down to the point where you can't even make out the shapes of their eyes. They are awfully scary looking, but you trust Dumbledore. You know he would never put you in harms way.

“Now, Y/N,” the headmaster says, motioning to the bed. “If you would like to make yourself comfortable-”

Sirius whirls around and cups your face. You gasp at the sudden contact, find yourself melting into it almost immediately, like it's reflex. His dark eyes bore into yours, and it's only then do you notice the crease between his brows, the slight tremble to his fingers. You cover his hands with your own, giving him a watery smile despite the pain screeching along your spine; it's getting worse. You feel it getting worse just standing there, your body shutting down for no reason at all.

“I'll be okay,” you whisper.

Sirius leans his forehead against yours. “I know you will. I know. Just. . . be brave, okay? I'll be here when it's finished.” He looks at Dumbledore. “Will they be asleep?”

Dumbledore nods.

Sirius closes his eyes, releases a breath before opening them again, giving you a smile that is so forced but so appreciated anyway. “I'll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

You squeeze his wrists. “I know you will.”

And you do. For a reason unclear, a reason that probably makes no sense to the people who know Sirius Black only on the surface, you know he will be there when you open your eyes, that he will be the first face you see, that it will be a moment of bliss after whatever you have been through.

You let go of each other haltingly, fingers lingering on hip bones, eyes refusing to detach until absolutely necessary. You slip past him, slip past Dumbledore, pull yourself onto the bed and do just as Dumbledore requested – you get comfortable. The Mute Brothers glide towards you, robes brushing the squeaky clean floor, and then their hands are on your face, tracing your jaw with fingers made of bone, no flesh, staring down at you with eyes black as pitch, seen only from the vantage you are being granted.

Part of you wants to scream when they touch you, because they're so cold. So unnervingly cold, like they've been dead for centuries. And maybe they have been. With Dumbledore, you never know, can never tell. He gives only the most minor of details and expects you to follow along, and maybe you're dumb for falling for it, again and again and again, but right now, you don't want to die. You will do anything to not die, even if part of you thinks it's what you deserve.

The whispers start shortly after. The room is cast in eerie silence, but it's interrupted by those whispers, sharp and loud in your head. It's weird, how whispers can be the loudest thing in the room when you're the only one listening to them. They bounce around in your skull, words making no sense, spoken in a language you don't know. They're talking about you, about Sirius, about magic and dead men. You snatch words from thin air and translate them as best you can, but your eyes are getting heavier, heavier, heavier, and there's something heavy resting upon your chest, driving you into the mattress until you feel your ribs crack and break beneath the pressure.

You want to scream. You should be screaming, because never before have you felt such mundane pain – and that's what it is. This isn't the pain that comes with a spell, or a flick of a wizards wand. This is the pain a Muggle would feel, and it's weird, unbearable in a different way to anything you've ever felt before.

The whispers get louder, a chant now, like you're in a cult circle, listening to it from the sidelines. You try turning your head, try reaching out for Sirius, try telling him to make it stop, make it stop whilst you're still conscious, but you can't move, and your body isn't cooperating, and then crack, something inside of you snaps.

So mundane. So unbearable. You're being drained.

The pain slides into your chest after a while, and you are still yet to make a noise. Maybe you are asleep. Maybe this is all a dream, and any second now you're going to wake up in bed back at Grimauld's Place, or in Heaven – whichever. At this point, you'll take anything, anywhere over Hogwarts.

The pain in your chest is like an inferno. It burns, burns, burns, smoke rising in your throat, clogging your senses.

And then the darkness floods in.

Maybe the pain gets too much, and that is where it comes from. Maybe you're passing out from blood loss, because even for a wizard that is possible. Maybe this is all part of the spell.

Whatever it is, you let it take you. Anywhere would be better than Hogwarts.

----

“You're gonna make an indent in the floor if you don't sit down.”

Sirius continues to pace, back and forth, back and forth. His thumb nail is lodged between his teeth. His hair has been tugged and combed through with trembling fingers too many times to count. His trench coat has been abandoned; being worked up makes him sweat.

Lupin sighs, head tilted back, legs crossed. The two of them were dismissed to the hallway as soon as you went under, and Sirius hasn't been able to sit down since. He doesn't know how Lupin does it, how he can remain so calm and collected when something like that is happening in the next room over.

“Y/N is going to be absolutely fine, Sirius. Please just have a sip of tea.”

“We don't even know what they're doing,” Sirius replies, shoving Lupin's outstretched arm out the way. “I didn't even ask.”

“You trusted Dumbledore.” A loud sip of tea. “That's all anyone can ever do.”

“Bullshit,” Sirius snaps. “Did you see how creepy them Mute Brothers were? Just standing over us, looking like that fucking Christ the Redeemer statue.”

Lupin sighs. “Dumbledore wouldn't put Y/N in danger. I really think you're looking too much into this.”

“They were on their deathbed a few days ago, Moony,” Sirius grumbles. “Excuse me for being a little on edge.”

Lupin is silent for a moment. Sirius continues to pace, shoving his fingers through his hair yet again. It's the only thing keeping his hands busy, save for punching a wall, which he promised Dumbledore he wouldn't do before he left the infirmary.

“You still really love them, don't you?”

Sirius growls. “Of course I do. You know I do.”

Lupin smirks into his tea, looking at Sirius through lowered lashes; it's his cocky look, his I always knew it look.

Sirius rolls his eyes, flipping his best mate the finger.

“I think it's nice,” says Lupin. “You need a companion.”

“Nobody needs a companion.”

“Well, no, but you certainly need someone keeping an eye on you. You were going mental stuck in that house on your own.”

“Y/N drives me mental, too.”

“But in a good way.” Lupin smirks. “In a way you enjoy.”

Sirius glares at him, hates that he's right. He always felt a little ridiculous not moving on from you – it just felt weird. He read the online articles, locked up in the dorms after you left Hogwarts for good. James would tell him to go to sleep, and Sirius would throw the covers over his head and continue searching the web – yes, the Muggle web – for remedies to heartbreak. Slughorn had already denied him access to all forms of Emotional Numbing potions, so Sirius really was on his own.

The articles always told him time would heal.

Time never healed him.

But now you're back, and you held his hand earlier, and maybe that's enough. Maybe that's a sign. If you get through this, maybe there will be something to salvage...

“Do you remember when you two had your first kiss?”

Sirius closes his eyes. “Why would you bring that up?”

Lupin idly points down the hallway. “It happened right down there, if I remember correctly.”

“I'd prefer if you didn't remember at all. Peeping Tom, are you?”

“Well, neither of you were very subtle about it. I believe James called it desperate.”

Sirius scoffs. “James was always good with his adjectives. The perks of going out with the smartest girl in school.”

“What James and Lily had was beautiful, but what you and Y/N had was necessary.” Lupin pauses. “You were what each other needed.”

Ouch.

Sirius turns away, hiding his face. He doesn't like the cheesy stuff. He hates it, even, finds it difficult to comprehend. His life has been complicated from the moment he was born, dealing with a family that hated everything he loved, then going to school and being known as the idiot troublemaker, then being arrested for something he didn't do – Sirius has never had it easy. It feels weird – wrong, almost – to have you just fall into his life like that, so easily, with no fight whatsoever. You liked Sirius and he loved you, and it was as simple as that – you were his for as long as you allowed, and it kind of felt like Sirius was cheating the system somehow.

But Lupin's an outsider. He saw it happen. If he says it was necessary, then it probably was.

“I can't lose them again, Moony,” Sirius mumbles, voice just above a whisper because he isn't even certain he wants Lupin to hear what he's saying.

Lupin stands, places a timid hand on Sirius's shoulder. “You won't. You've got a tough one there, mate. And promise me, as soon as this is over, you won't fuck it up. I'm not pulling you out of that hole again.”

Sirius punches Lupin in the shoulder. Lupin laughs, makes to punch him back, but the two of them stop dead in their tracks when the door to the infirmary opens and Dumbledore steps out, the Mute Brothers gliding along behind him.

Sirius pulls out of Lupin's grip so forcefully that Lupin stumbles back and has to catch himself on the wall. Sirius doesn't even care, dashing up to Dumbledore, trying to run right past him until Lupin catches his arm and drags him back.

“How are they?” Lupin asks, panting.

Dumbledore nods, solemn as always. “Resting. All was well.”

Sirius could cry. He could genuinely cry, can feel the tears rising in his throat. He should say something, a thank you or a good job, offer them a fucking chicken curry or something – anything to express his gratitude right now, but he can't bring himself to talk. He turns, buries his head in Lupin's neck. Lupin laughs heartily, clapping a hand to Sirius's shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you so much.”

“You should know, however,” Dumbledore begins, and Sirius stiffens, doesn't lift his head, “that their magic has been drained.”

Sirius looks up. “What?”

Dumbledore sighs and steps forward. Sirius takes a step back.

“What the fuck do you mean their magic has been drained?”

“Sirius-”

“What the fuck do you mean!”

“Y/N was dying because they suppressed their magic for too long,” Dumbledore replies, and the calmness to his tone makes Sirius see red. Only Lupin's hand on his arm keeps him from jumping forward, ripping the heads off the creepy bastards standing like palace guards behind Dumbledore. “It was eating them from the inside out. The way to cure that was to drain them of magic completely.”

Sirius's stomach twists. You promised never to use magic ever again. It was pointless having it, and he knows that, he can understand that, but a wizard is what you are, what you have always been. In use or not, magic was once who you were; what person can hear that part of themselves has been ripped out of them without feeling heartbreak?

“They might be a little shaken,” Dumbledore continues. “Most people who wake from this procedure take a few hours to fully come back around.”

“What did you actually do?” Sirius whispers. “I want the truth, Albus, or so help me-”

“Sirius.”

He closes his eyes, inhales deeply, tries to keep himself sane. It's getting more and more difficult these days. He isn't sure he wants to keep trying.

“You can go and see them right away if you like,” Dumbledore continues. “Just be wary.” He glances over his shoulder at his comrades. “Thank you, fellows. I'll lead you out.”

And then he walks away.

As soon as he's out of sight, Sirius breaks free of Lupin's grip and dashes into the infirmary.

There you are, sweat dribbling down your forehead, skin peaked, hands trembling. Your eyes are cold, but you're not sleeping, just resting, just gathering your wits.

Sirius drops to his knees by your bed, whispering words even he doesn't understand. You flinch.

“Please don't whisper. Please speak up.”

Sirius brushes your hair from your face, tangled in sweat. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should never have left.”

“Where's my magic?” you ask, eyes still closed, a hint of desperation in your voice. “Why do I feel so light?”

Sirius closes his eyes. “They took it. They drained you. They – they said it was the only way to keep you alive.”

“It hurt. It really, really hurt.”

“You were asleep, love. They put you under-”

“I was asleep, but I felt everything.” You open your eyes, bloodshot, dark, haunted. “Am I going to live now?”

And that's just it, isn't it? That's what you came here for, and that's what you were given, no matter how you acquired it. A life for. . . .well, a life, because that's what magic is. Life. A way of life. A different way of life.

Sirius leans forward, forehead brushing your palm. Your fingers twitch, uncertain for only a moment before you raise your trembling arm and brush them through his hair. When he glances up, you're smiling softly.

“Am I going to live now, Sirius?” you repeat.

He nods, tears springing to his eyes. “Yes, my love. You're going to live.”

----

“I never thought you'd end up with a Muggle,” Ron says to Sirius. “Bet your great-great grandfather or whatever is turning in his bloody grave.”

You throw a can at him, hitting him in the forehead. “Don't call me a Muggle.”

“I believe the definition of Muggle is defined by 'non-magic folk.” Ron pops a grape in his mouth. “Which is essentially what you are.”

“Shut up, ginger,” says Sirius. They are all sat at the table this evening, Lupin, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sirius and yourself. The moon has risen, and Sirius declared it was time for a game of cards. As of yet, no cards have been served, and all that has gone down is arguing.

“Will your kids be magic folk, then?” Harry asks, and he seems genuinely interested; Harry always seems genuinely interested when it comes to things about the wizard world, like he wants to absorb as much information as he can, make up for those eleven years he spent with the Dursleys.

Sirius shoots you a glance over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “Would you prefer magic kids or non-magic kids?”

You smirk, looking right back at him. “Let's worry about kids when you're not the most wanted man on the planet.”

Sirius pouts, standing up and waltzing over to you. Behind him, the four at the table get into a conversation of their own, though you have the tiniest suspicion that none of them are awfully interested in what the other has to say now that they have the chance to peek you and Sirius being affectionate. It's still so new to them, besides Lupin, who only cares because he feels half-responsible for the fact you and Sirius are currently engaged.

You're leant against the counter when Sirius reaches you. He wraps his arms around your waist, tugs you forward until your hip bones clip with his own, chests nearly touching. You look up at him and grin, tongue peaking from behind your teeth. Sirius beams right back.

“Do you wanna leave these lot to clean up on their own?” he asks, voice low, probably not low enough.

You chuckle. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because that would be mean. Half them cans are yours, anyway.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, pushing his forehead into yours. “But we gave them a place to stay. The least they can do is throw my cans away whilst I take my beautiful fiancée to bed.”

“What are you implying, Sirius Black?”

“That I am very exhausted, and I kind of wanted to spend the night with you before these brats decided to ruin it.”

“Oi!” Harry exclaims. “We can still hear you!”

Sirius flicks his wand. The kitchen door slams shut, making you jump at the volume. Sirius pulls you back into him and nuzzles his head in your neck, black curls scratching your cheek. Even after everything that's happened, pressing your hand to his chest still lets you feel the magic thrumming through his body, so familiar as you once held it yourself.

It's gone, but you don't mind. In fact, you find yourself happier, doing things you used to love now that your body isn't attacking you from every angle.

“Are you seriously not going to come upstairs with me?” Sirius mumbles against your neck. “I got you to sneak into the boys dormitory back at school, I can get you to come upstairs to our shared bed.”

“You can't make me do anything.”

“You've never been able to resist when I ask nicely.”

You roll your eyes, slapping the back of his neck so he pulls away, pouting. “You're such an idiot; I'll go upstairs with you, but you have to explain where we disappeared to.”

Sirius grins, already dragging you towards the staircase before your sentence is even finished. “That's fine. That's perfectly fine. I can do that.”

“I'm sure they know anyway,” you mumble.

“Yes, we do!” Lupin calls. “Have fun, you two!”

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