#riddle's line about not wanting to keep standing in front of a door that's never going to open...

[imaginechishiya]

Precautions

Pairing: chishiya x reader (no pronouns mentioned)

Summary: chishiya becomes colder, more distant, even though you thought the two of you had developed a friendship

Warnings: angst, a whole lot of fluff at the end

Word count: ~2.4k

gif credits

The first time you met Chishiya was in a game of Diamonds. It wasn’t particularly hard, just a test of logic, deduction and manipulation. The perfect kind of challenge for both of you.

You noticed him early. The platinum-blond hair, the sharp eyes that watched everyone like they were part of a game even outside the arena. He didn’t speak much during the challenge, only enough to make a few biting observations. But when you spoke, pointing out inconsistencies in the game design, subtle traps meant to fool the overconfident, you caught his attention.

After the game, when the two of you emerged victorious, he approached you. Calm. Almost bored.

“You seem to have a brilliant mind,” he said simply.

You blinked at him.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Ever consider joining the Beach?”

You hadn’t heard much about it, only whispers. But you were looking for answers. Solutions. Any clue to what this place was and how to escape it.

What you didn’t know then was that his offer wasn’t kindness. It was strategy. He wanted to keep you close. Not because he liked you. Just because he thought you’d be useful.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

The Beach was chaotic. Loud music, bodies, laughter tinged with desperation. But in the quiet hours, when insomnia crept over you like a second skin, you’d find Chishiya wandering.

He never explained where he was coming from but his clothes smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and strategy meetings. The first few nights, your conversations were tentative. But over time, you talked more. About the games. The patterns. The people. Even a little about yourselves.

You never expected to find something so steady in a world this broken. But with Chishiya, you did.

And he... He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to.

So he pulled away.

You tried to talk to him in the days after but he deflected with sarcasm or silence. A part of you wondered if you’d imagined the connection. Maybe it was all in your head.

But then came the next game.

Game: 6 of Diamonds – The Labyrinth of Reason

Time Limit: 60 minutes

Players: Teams of Two

Rules: Navigate through the maze by solving riddles that unlock each door. Wrong answers result in penalties. Repeated failures trigger deadly traps.

The maze wasn’t physically intimidating. Just long, dimly lit corridors lined with steel doors, each one stamped with a number and a riddle carved into a panel. You and Chishiya had already cleared two chambers. The path behind you locked after each success, the path forward still unknown.

Riddle three awaited.

“I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body but I come alive with wind. What am I?”

A) Whisper

B) Thought

C) Echo

D) Dream

You crouched slightly in front of the panel, frowning as your fingers hovered near the buttons. “Okay. ‘Comes alive with wind’ that’s the tricky part. Thought doesn’t make sense. Neither does dream. Whisper… maybe…”

“It’s echo,” Chishiya said flatly from behind you, arms crossed.

“Hold on,” you replied, not turning around. “If we get this wrong, the penalty will cost us time. We’re not in a rush.”

He sighed, impatient. “It’s echo. The riddle is practically textbook.”

You looked over your shoulder, brows knit. “How do you know for sure?”

He tilted his head. “Because it’s obvious.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the right answer.”

You rolled your eyes. “If we’re wrong, we lose five minutes. That’s one-twelfth of our time limit.”

Chishiya stepped forward, now standing beside you, close enough that you could smell the clean cotton of his white jacket and something faintly sharper, clinical, like antiseptic. It made your heart beat faster for reasons you tried to ignore.

“You know I’m right,” he said, eyes narrowing, daring you to challenge him.

You hesitated a second longer, then pressed C) Echo.

Correct.

The door slid open with a low hiss.

“Told you,” he muttered.

You followed him into the next corridor, muttering under your breath, “Still doesn’t mean I like it when you act like a smug bastard.”

He didn’t reply, not even a hint of amusement on his face.

Riddle four:

“I am taken from a mine and shut in a wooden case, from which I am never released and yet I am used by almost every person. What am I?”

A) Gold

B) Lead

C) Pencil

D) Coal

“Lead,” you both said at the same time.

Then blinked at each other.

“Did you just-" you began.

“Don’t make it weird,” he cut in quickly, already stepping toward the keypad.

Your footsteps echoed in the tight space. You watched him, carefully. His expression was focused but there was a tension in his jaw you hadn’t seen before. His fingers tapped the button.

Correct.

You didn’t speak again until the next chamber, the silence stretching between you like wire. It wasn’t like before. This was sharper. Fragile.

Riddle five:

“A man is looking at a photograph of someone. His friend asks, ‘Who is it?’ The man replies, ‘Brothers and sisters, I have none. But that man’s father is my father’s son.’ Who is in the photograph?”

A) His son

B) His nephew

C) Himself

D) His father

You blinked. “Okay, this one’s a trap. They want us to second-guess ourselves. Let’s parse it out.”

Chishiya’s fingers twitched. He could already feel it, the right answer crawling to the front of his mind. It was your voice keeping him rooted. Your voice, always too certain, too careful, drawing him in like a magnet.

He was trying not to look at you. Trying not to breathe you in, not to think about the way your eyes lit up when you dissected logic. But you were right there. And you made his head noisy.

He hated noise.

“‘That man’s father is my father’s son.’” You paced slightly. “His father’s son… that’s him. So that man’s father is him. That makes the man in the photo his son. It’s A.”

“Yes,” Chishiya said quietly. “It’s his son.”

He didn’t move to press the answer.

You looked over. “You okay?”

He blinked. “Fine.”

He was lying. Every second in this room with you was a battle. Because the more time passed, the harder it became to keep the barrier up. The one that kept you out. He needed to finish this. Not just the game but whatever was happening in his mind.

The closer he was to you, the more it cracked.

He stepped forward and hit A).

Correct.

The sixth chamber was a long corridor, dimly lit, lined with mirrors. The next riddle appeared only after both of you stepped inside. The second the door sealed behind you, it lit up:

“What breaks yet never falls, and what falls yet never breaks?”

A) Silence and Wind

B) Morning and Night

C) Light and Shadow

D) Ice and Water

You stopped walking, your voice soft. “This one’s poetic. Which means it’s psychological trickery. Designed to make us think literally.”

Chishiya stood still behind you but his eyes weren’t on the riddle. They were on your back. On the way your shoulder blades moved when you breathed. The way your fingers tapped your thigh when you were deep in thought. He tried not to memorise it but he already had.

He hated this. He wanted out. Out of this room. This game. This feeling.

“Morning and night,” he said coldly. “Morning breaks, night falls.”

You stared at the panel, jaw tight. “Right. That fits.”

“Then choose it,” he snapped.

You looked at him, brow furrowing. “Why are you rushing me?”

“I’m not.” But he was.

He needed distance. From this room. From your scent. From your voice and the way your logic danced with his like you were designed for it.

You reached out and pressed B).

Correct.

The final door opened. The safe room ahead.

You turned, but Chishiya was already stepping past you.

The silence in the safe room was suffocating.

You stood at the edge of the room while he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He didn’t look at you. Just stared ahead like you weren’t even there.

“What happened?” you finally asked.

He didn’t answer.

You walked closer. “I’m not stupid. Something changed. Something shifted. Why won’t you just say it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You stepped right in front of him, eyes blazing. “Don’t lie to me, Chishiya. I thought we were friends."

He looked down at you with that cold, unreadable stare. “You thought wrong. You were never anything more than an ally.”

It shattered something in your chest.

You didn’t speak again after that. And you didn’t wait for him when the timer ended.

You ignored him the following days, avoided him. The Beach was never truly quiet, not even in the early hours of the morning. Music still buzzed faintly from a half-broken speaker somewhere near the pool.

But in the kitchen, the world was still.

You hadn’t seen him since the game. Not really. He was there, of course, he was always there, slipping through rooms like a shadow. But he never looked at you. Never acknowledged your presence. And you were done trying. You had been humiliated. Wounded. You didn’t need a reminder of how wrong you’d been.

You stepped into the kitchen, barefoot, clad in an oversized hoodie and nothing else. You only wanted water, something cold to clear your head and cool the heat burning behind your eyes every time you remembered his words.

You were never anything more than an ally.

But the moment you stepped in, you stopped dead.

He was there.

Chishiya sat on the counter, one leg dangling, the other bent up as he toyed absently with whatever device he had just built in his hand. His blonde hair was slightly tousled, like he hadn’t slept and he wasn’t wearing his usual white jacket, just a plain black t-shirt that clung to the sharp lines of his frame.

He looked up the moment you entered and your breath caught in your throat.

He looked… tired. Haunted. But his eyes, those calculating eyes, snapped to you like a lock turning in a door.

You spoke first, your voice cold, clipped. “I just came to grab some water. I’ll be gone in a second.”

You moved to the sink, avoiding his gaze, focusing on the glass, the tap, the rhythm of filling it, anything but him. You didn’t expect a response. So when it came, it stopped you mid-sip.

“Don’t.”

You froze, lowering the glass slowly. “…What?”

“Don’t go.”

His voice was quiet. No trace of sarcasm. No coldness. Just… soft. Fractured.

You turned around slowly, glass still in hand. “Why?”

He didn’t move. Just stared at the floor like it had answers. Then, after a pause, he looked up.

“I miss you.”

Your heart twisted, violently. Rage surged up to meet the ache you’d buried.

You set the glass down with a loud clack. “No. No. You don’t get to say that.”

Chishiya blinked, unreadable.

“You pushed me away. You said we were never friends. You made me feel like I was the idiot for believing in something. And now, now, you want me to stay because you miss me?”

He didn’t answer.

Your voice cracked, your hands shaking at your sides. “What the hell do you want from me, Chishiya? Why are you doing this?”

Still, he said nothing. His eyes moved over you slowly, your face, your trembling fingers, the defiance in your voice.

And then something shifted.

You watched it happen. The fracture line in his armor finally giving way.

He moved. Fast. With a sudden, deliberate urgency that stole the breath from your lungs.

In one stride, he was in front of you, too close and before you could think, speak, breathe, he grabbed your face and pulled you into him.

His mouth crashed against yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful.

It was desperation, poured into the press of his lips, the way his hands slid to your jaw and held you there like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. He kissed like a man drowning, like he needed your mouth to breathe.

You gasped against him, caught off guard but your body moved before your brain could. Your hands fisted in the front of his shirt, dragging him closer, pulling him into you like you’d been waiting for this, aching for it.

He groaned into your mouth, low and guttural and the sound sent heat coursing through you. His fingers tangled in your hair, lips moving against yours with a raw hunger he couldn’t contain anymore.

He pressed you back against the counter, hands roaming now, urgent, greedy, like he was trying to memorise the shape of you beneath his fingers. Your hoodie slid up slightly as his palm found your waist, your hip, dragging you closer until there was no space left between you.

When he pulled away, you were both breathing hard, lips swollen and eyes wide.

He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I was scared,” he whispered.

You were still dazed, your hands clutching his shirt. “…What?”

He closed his eyes, his voice hoarse. “I don’t… I don’t feel things. Not for people. I don’t let myself. Because people get in the way. They break your logic. They make you weak.”

You stayed quiet, watching him.

“And you..." he exhaled shakily, “...you’re brilliant. You think like I do. You move like I do. You challenge me. And that should make you just another pawn. Another piece on the board.”

He opened his eyes again, and they burned with something you’d never seen in him before.

“But instead, you made me want to burn the whole game to the ground.” Your breath caught. “And that scared the hell out of me,” he said.

The silence that followed was thick, electric.

You stared at him for a long moment. Then, finally, your hand came up, gently brushing a strand of hair from his eyes.

“Next time,” you whispered, “don’t run from me.”

His lips twitched, just barely. “I won’t.” And when he kissed you again, it wasn’t desperate. It was deliberate. Deep. A confession.

And for the first time in this twisted world of games and death and strategy, Chishiya let himself feel.

And this time, he didn’t pull away.

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cause of Action 5

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is a bit of a longer chapter so thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

The world seeps in through the slits of your fluttering eyes. The car, the street, a door you don’t recognise. You hang from a thick arm, feet clumsy as you try to match the gait that guides you forward. Your head feels like a rock and it isn’t long before you sink back into oblivion.

Only for a moment. You see a lightly, a fuzzy glow above you, the hazy shapes that crowd the room. You’re sat down on a cloud and as you’re let go, you fall onto your back. A heavy sigh gust through the space like a storm swirling in.

You bring your hand up as you try to steady your spinning vision. You smack yourself in the face as your eyes twitch. You furrow your brow, putting all your strength into pinpointing the figure standing above you. He moves, back and forth, pacing ominously as you languish in confusion.

“Where…” your lips form the single world but you can’t finish the question.

You don’t know this place. You’ve never seen these walls or laid on this bed. You don’t know where you are. You’re scared but something keeps your fear from piquing. The shell of numbness that paralyses you adds to the brief spell of horror before just as quickly petering out.

“Lloyd,” a growl permeates the fog of your existence, garbling as the tones hiss lower. You know that voice, your mind clings to it, unwinding the riddle; Andy. “...you give her…” You feel a pulse from within as your ears scratch and buzz, “...do I do?”

The words don’t make sense. You can’t piece together their meaning or who he’s talking to. You let your eyes roll back and weakly drag your arms up to rest across your stomach. Your breath catches in your nose and throat, a snore rising as you toe the line of consciousness.

The world shifts. Your eyes snap open and see the thick trim of Andy’s beard, his arms around you as he moves you up the mattress. You throw your arms out to feel the cushiness all around you. You want to sleep forever. It’s the only thought you can discern; you need to sleep.

“Sweetheart…” a tickle on your cheek as his voice fizzles to a dulled echo.

You close your eyes again, a warmth cocooning around you. You plummet into the depths, spinning on your way down, a distant tugging that follows you down. The lights of the club flicker in your head, then the hum of an engine, capped by the sullen tones of your boss. They all mingle to a muddled drone, a ringing in your ears that underlines your blank unconsciousness.

🎀

The faint smell of something woodsy tugs at your nose, an underlying hint of lemon that rouses your swampy mind. You squirm and fight the weight resting at the base of your skull, the limpness in your shoulders and spine. You groan as it takes effort to just open your eyes.

The sight of your awakening would make you scream if you had the ability to. You don’t know if you can do much in the state you are. Your head pounds, your muscles ache, the light of the sun slipping through the window makes you want to puke. You don’t move or think as you conserve your energy, first clearing away the cobwebs.

You stare at the stubble along Andy’s neck and how it thickens along his jaw. His cologne wafts into your lungs with each breath as you watch the pulse beat in his throat. You don’t understand how this happened. 

Are you so stupid that you got blackout drunk in front of your boss? You’ve never drank more than two drinks at a time. So why that night?

You remember the man with the mustache and his special way of coaxing. You grit your teeth as you focus, trying to delve past the shallow layer of your memories. You barely remember what he and Andy were talking about. Something about a lawsuit but you could guess that given your line of work.

You plant your hand on the mattress between you and Andy and push yourself away, rolling flat on your back with a whimper. You draw your arm up and sling it over your face, blocking out the assault of sunlight. The bed shifts subtly and you wince as a small cough rises from his throat.

“You’re awake,” he says bluntly.

You moan and let your arm slip away from your eyes. Andy sits up as you blink at him, vision glossy at the edges as you focus on the dark tee that strains across his bicep. He leans forward and rubs his eyes.

“What… what happened?” You croak, voice hoarse and painful, “I don’t…”

“You don’t remember? Anything?” It’s almost an accusation.

“I’m sorry… no…”

You look down, noticing how the blanket is wrapped awkwardly around you. The edge of it lets the cool air tickle your side as it appears you fell asleep atop the covers and he pulled the hem over you from the other end. The pure white strap of your bra peeks up above it and the glimpse of your naked side, your panties slightly crumpled around your hip.

Mortified, you pull the blanket to cover yourself fully. Andy raises his head and stretches his neck as he turns his back to you. The tension laces the air and winds around your neck. Oh no, you’ve done something horrid.

“I must’ve drank too much…” you murmur.

“You think?” He stands and rests his hand on the night table, “what you did could get us both in a lot of trouble?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why– I don’t usually drink that much–”

“Sure, you don’t. A girl your age, I’m sure you never touch the stuff,” he says dryly, leaning so his arm cords with tension, veins bulging beneath his skin, “it’s a conflict of interest, to say the least.”

“I don’t… did we–”

“I didn’t do anything. I put you in the guest bed. I was trying to do the right thing but you wouldn’t stay out. You crawled in and I couldn’t get you to leave,” his voice is rough, unlike you’ve ever heard it. You’ve messed this all up. “I laid awake all night. I made sure nothing happened and that’s exactly what you’re going to say if anyone asks; nothing.”

You quiver and try to sit up. You whine at the agony of doing so and you keel forward, bracing your tamping temples. He sighs and shifts his weight. You feel him looking at you.

“Look, I’m all about second chances. Lloyd can be a bad influence, he wasn’t exactly subtle last night. And you were obviously not in your right mind,” he mulls his words and clucks, “you’re obviously suffering the consequences of your behaviour so I won’t add anything else to it.”

“I’m so sorry,” you eke out, your insides churning violently as you struggle to still reality.

You raise your head, bobbling as you fight to get to the edge of the bed. The blanket falls away as you forget all modesty. There’s something wrong with you. Is this really what a hangover feels like? You don’t know, you’ve never had one.

You fold over and heave onto the floor between your feet. You nearly slip off the bed but you feel it dip and Andy’s hand catches your shoulder. He eases you back and lays you across the mattress. His large hand brushes your cheek and he touches your forehead.

“You’re in rough shape,” he tuts.

“I’m sorry,” your tears leak out as you shiver, hugging yourself as his warmth sends a chill through you, “I didn’t…”

“We can move past this,” he says as he moves you gently, laying your head against a pillow, pulling the blanket around you once more. His fingertips graze your stomach and you swear you hear a purr. Does he have a cat? “I can’t in good conscience let you go yet, and I don’t think you could if you tried.”

“But…”

“I’ll work from home. You can bank the hours from last night towards today,” he says matter-of-factly, his hand lingering at the top of the blanket, just above your chest, “I’ll get coffee going.”

“Andy,” you sniff, “Mr. Barber,” you correct yourself.

“We’re moving past it,” he looks you in the face, blue eyes stern but smoky, “right?”

You consider him, not quite sure at first what he’s asking. That you want to forget this or that you want something else? That your drunken actions were more than mindless mistakes? No, he can’t want that, he’s made that obvious.

“I’ll be better, sir.”

His throat bobs and his cheek ticks. His brow slants just slightly and his gaze falls to his hand. He retracts it and backs off the bed. He mutters as he gets to his feet, “coffee…”

He turns and marches away. You watch dumbly, helplessly, as you wallow in his bed. How could this have happened? No, how could you have done this?

[rateelism]

hiii this goes out to my beloathed @traumxrei-archive <3 /p I don't actually MAKE twst content on this blog--that's @hunting-season--but that's for platonic/familial stuff!! anyway don't send me requests here or there for rom stuff lol this is a Mikey Friend Special <3

Househusband!Azul x GN!Reader

romantic fluff, drabble, azul's pov, set in future

Azul startles when he hears the front door open. Were you home already? Great Seven, dinner isn't ready yet! You absolutely can not see what he's making, though you might be able to smell it already. Hurriedly, Azul lowers the heat on everything and wipes his hands on a nearby dish towel before rushing out to greet you at the door.

Luckily, you were still tiredly kicking off your shoes at the front door. Azul clears his throat, calling your attention to him.

"You didn't tell me you were on your way home yet," he says, miffed at how close you were to discovering his surprise. "If you did, I would've been sure to open the door for you, considering how tired you looked this morning. That was your own fault, just so you know. If you hadn't stayed up so late for that game of yours, I wou--," Azul pauses mid-sentence, staring at your expression. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Azul watches your mouth twitch and your eyes flicker down. He follows your line of sight and-- Oh. His face turns extremely red--later you'll say it reminded you of Riddle--and Azul makes a mortified yelp. He just realized he is still wearing the gag gift the twins had bought for him during your and his anniversary--a frilly, light purple apron that had a heart-shaped top. It was speckled with oil and flour, proof of Azul's cooking. While tacky, it was still practical, though he never wanted you to find out he actually uses it.

"This!" Azul squeaks, trying to keep his composure. "It's because you came home unannounced! I was just frying up chicken, and-- Stop laughing, would you?!" He brings his hands up to his face, knocking his glasses up into his hair as he attempts to cover his. Azul whines as he hears your approaching footsteps. He feels you grab his glasses with one hand and your attempt to pry his hands away from his face.

"Azul, baby, look at me?" you ask, and you even call him baby. Sevens, Azul should've never told you how weak that pet-name makes him. Pinching his lips together to keep himself from pouting, Azul tries to glare at you. Tries being the keyword here, because you two have done this song and dance before, and your smile is just too nice for Azul to get mad at.

"What?" he asks, trying to keep his voice sharp and level. An intimidation tactic from the younger years, though it's been far too long for you to be intimidated by Azul. You've seen him at his worst and softest moments, after all. You laugh and bump your forehead against his after you successfully manage to grab hold of his hands.

"I haven't gotten my 'welcome home' kiss yet," you tease. Azul feels his cheeks warm, and he's not sure if it's from how close you two are standing, with your breath hitting them; the absurd amount of love he's feeling for you; or both. Probably both. You and Floyd have called him a sap before.

"Well then," Azul says breathily, his tone similar to one he's had many years prior, back when a restaurant was in his name and so many people were under his contracts. "We'll have to rectify that before I break our contract."

"What contract are you talking about?" you ask.

"Our wedding vows," he says, and Azul finally lets go of his pride and embarrassment to kiss you.

[noriakihunny]

CORPS X FAMILY (The Beginning)

now, now - listen. with the popularity of spy x family, i thought i would do a bit of a crossover with AOT. this idea came to my mind & i really wanted to entertain the idea of a certain circumstance where erwin and you had to adopt the child. anya is still anya, (mind-reader, loves peanuts) but in the AOT world. all art is created by me as well. this is my female AOT OC i’m using as a (visual) placeholder for the reader. hope you guys like it!

disclaimer: all rights go to the respective owners, studios, creators, writers of both the AOT manga + anime, as well as the SxF manga + anime. there are also some elements/quotes from the shows/manga which i have incorporated into the story so it makes sense/relevant to the story. this crossover is simply for entertainment purposes.

_

Erwin is set to trial after the Scouts were (falsely) accused for murdering some of the Military Police. He is brought over to “King” Fritz and in some twisted way, they come to the decision to spare his life and retain his position as Commander of the Scouts - under ONE condition: he is to adopt a child. If he cannot take care of a mere child, what hope would humanity have in store under his direction? After the decision, you retrieve Erwin from Capital Mitras and make your way back over to the local orphanage in Trost where there is only one child who awaits.

main cast:

• Y/N | she/her

you are a captain within the survey corps. very smart, strategic. s-rank soldier.

• erwin smith

commander of the scout regiment. also your husband. typical dad. (yes, dad jokes for days.)

• anya (no last name until adopted) smith

adopted daughter. mind-reader. eccentric. kawaii. adorable as fuck. loves aunt hange & uncle levi. loves peanuts. simple backstory, she was part of some titan experiment and somehow she ended up having mind-reading powers.

• levi ackerman

he is your baby brother. you are only a year older than him, as well as taller. the cool, chill uncle. (is mean to everyone but his niece)

• hange zoe

your best friend, also the crazy, fun aunt. (is more of a child than the actual child)

note: name colors will also represent their thoughts :)

—

Part 1: The start of it all

After almost a week long travel back home to Trost after retrieving Erwin back from Sina, you two finally make your way over to the small little orphanage where the future awaits. Although, you never opposed to having a child; you and Erwin had this discussion long ago, that when the time was right you two wanted to have a family of your own. Not only did you feel that it was too soon, it wasn’t the ideal way you two wanted to have a child, considering it had to be done in order for Erwin to avoid execution.

"Y/N." Your husband nudges your arm as you're completely out of focus, feeling your entire body riddle with anxiety as you stand before the main doors. "Are you alright?" Much to your surprise, Erwin seems more optimistic about the entire situation than you are. You’re practically disturbed by his cheerful disposition.

"I-I'm sorry, honey. I'm just a little nervous." You look down to the ground as you twiddle your thumbs, kicking into the dirt.

"Don't be nervous. It's just a child."

"Well, it's not that.. I mean, do you think we'll be good parents? It's a little nerve-wracking that everything lays on the line.. depending on this child's welfare under our care. The moment something goes wrong, you could be--"

"Darling, calm your nerves. Everything will be just fine. This is for the sake of humanity. We can take care of a child. Just think of it as a little soldier."

You couldn't help but snicker. Even in times of strife, Erwin manages to keep calm and reserved, like the true leader he is. "If I catch you giving the kid some ODM gear, I'm kicking your ass."

-

"Hello, Commander. Captain.” You are immediately welcomed by a gentleman standing by the front desk, who seemed to be the head honcho of this place considering he was dressed more nicely than the other caretakers who passed by. "I'm Ackley Watts, the owner of this orphanage." (i literally used a name generator for this lmfao) He shakes both yours and Erwin's hand. "I did receive word that you were looking to adopt a child under the request of the King. I'm sorry to say, we only have one left, so we don't have much of a variety to provide."

"That's alright. May we meet her?" Erwin nods.

"Right this way."

The orphanage was small and quaint, almost drab looking with how out-of-shape a few things seemed to be. The floor was creaking with every other step you made. A few walls were worn down from what seemed to be water damage. "How long has this kid been here?" You nuzzle next to Erwin as you walk down the main hallway, the feeling of anxiousness creeping back up again.

"She's been here for a few months. We've had children arrive after her who still managed to get adopted before her."

"Hmm, so it's a girl. Is there anything wrong with her?"

"Nothing that we're aware of. She's never posed as a problem. She may just not be.. well, for a lack of a better word, as desirable as the other children. She does look a little off due to her pink hair."

"Pink.. hair?" You were surprised that anyone within these three walls possessed such an odd hair color. Could that be it? Her hair that makes people skip right over her?

"She's quite the unique little girl. She's very smart. Eccentric. You'll like her. Especially when she's warmed up to you." He laughs, taking a stop before the last room at the end of the hallway. "Anya?" He pokes his head through the open door. "Come, let's meet her. Anya, this is Mr. and Mrs. Smith, they're here to see you."

As soon as you enter the room, the pink-haired girl looks over her shoulder, flushed at the sight of both you and Erwin. She was sitting down at a small table, reading a book. "Huh?"

"Hi, Anya." You greet the little girl, who suddenly jumps out of her seat to stand before you like a soldier.

I know these two!! They're the grown-ups of the Scout Regiment!

"Commander Erwin! Captain Y/N!" She screams out, startling both you and Erwin. The Commander only has one arm and the Captain is so pretty..!!

“How did you know who we are?” You’ve never seen Erwin turn so red before.

“The Scouts are awesome! Me and my friends used to talk about them all the time. They’re our heroes and protect us from the Titans.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re a fan.” He chuckled.

"Are you here to recruit me?" There was a tinge of fear in her voice as she retreated back over to her seat.

Hmm, I wonder how old she is.. she has to be at least 4 or 5 years old, but speaks like she's much older.

"I'm six!" She calls out to you. Whoa, what? How did she..?

"Well, Anya.. actually, we're here to adopt you." Erwin kneels down beside her. "We want to, uh, well.."

"We want you to be part of our family. Besides, you're way too young to be in the military." You laugh, standing by Erwin as you rest your hand on his shoulder.

"I see you have a book here. What do you like to read?" The Commander glances over to the table where her book was.

"History. I l love learning about new things!" Her demeanor shifted so quickly - she started jumping up and down, throwing punches in the air as if she was fighting with someone. "Stupid Titans!"

You glance over to Erwin, who seemed quite deep in his thoughts. Hmm, she's certainly smart for her age, but.. we've been here for only a few minutes and she's gone through several mood changes. Deep down, I hope she doesn't end up driving us crazy.

"I-I promise I won't drive you crazy!" You're surprised by her reply. Why did she say that so suddenly, specifically towards Erwin? "I can be a very good, behaved girl."

"We'll be happy to have you, Anya. Would you like to be our daughter?" She certainly is.. eccentric, I'll give her that. But, if this is what it takes to keep Erwin alive, we'll have to commit to this. The fate of humanity is on the brink.

Fate of hu..man..i..ty? How cool! My parents are now.. the Commander and the Captain of the Scout Regiment! Without hesitation, she runs into Erwin's arms, taking him in an embrace. "Can I call you Papa? And you.." She looks over to you with her chin buried in his shoulder. "..Mama?"

You and Erwin nod in agreement, without saying a word as you both come to the conclusion that this decision is final. You have officially adopted Anya as your daughter.

BONUS: how did papa lose his arm?

"Papa?" Anya tugs at Erwin's pants, as you all come to a complete stop before entering the house. "Why do you only have one arm?"

"Hmm, well your mother tore my other arm off." Erwin joked, looking at you with a devious little smirk on his face. "Isn't that right, darling? She said she needed a hand with the dishes and ripped it right off my body." (yes, the dad jokes are starting)

Anya began laughing hysterically, running over to your side as she grabbed your hand. "Mama seems too nice to do that."

That does remind me of the time I did rip off the limbs of a Titan with my own bare hands because I was bored and out of spare blades..

WHAT?! You look down to see Anya running away from you, hiding behind one of the bushes near the front door.

Erwin stared at the door with a blank expression, watching your newly adopted daughter hide in the bushes. "Was my joke really that bad?”

-

Hope you guys like! Part 2 will be coming soon; meeting Uncle Levi and Aunt Hange!

[n0bamak1s]

clueless - maki zenin x reader

request: “I was thinking Maki Zenin x Fem reader where y/n is really intimidated by Maki and has avoided her since they first met each other. Despite that, they both have feelings for each other and after a while Maki gets annoyed with y/n and confronts her to figure out why she keeps avoiding Maki. And then the reader accidentally confesses and says something like “how could I not feel intimidated by someone so hot!?”” - @wh0legrain

summary: it’s difficult for you to read maki’s intent when she tries to become more approachable to you, which throws of your plan of trying to avoid her at all costs. alternatively titled: maki zenin is terrible at flirting (genre: fluff, attempt at humor, idiots to lovers)

warnings: like one or two swear words, mentions of bruises/scrapes from training

word count: 2.6k

a/n: i honestly had so much fun with the dynamic between maki and reader here! i love the idea that maki would have no idea how to flirt lmao

“don’t look now, but she’s looking at you again.” panda, your current sparring partner, peered at her over your shoulder as you got into a fighting position. of course, out of curiosity you immediately turned around, and unluckily for your own ego, you made direct eye contact with maki. she seemed to have no intent of backing down from your impromptu staring contest, intense black eyes remaining on you, and had you not been so focused on trying to figure out what had caused this sudden interest in you, you’d have noticed the amused glint in her eyes.

did she really have no shame in being caught staring at you?

before giving yourself any more time to process her expression, you whipped your head back around to face panda. at least you were able to take note of the amusement on his face.

“i don’t get why she keeps glaring at me.” you huffed annoyedly, still feeling her gaze burn into the back of your head. shouldn’t she be busy sparring with inumaki? “if it’s about that one time i borrowed her uniform skirt because mine was in the wash, she should be more mad about inumaki and gojo taking it every time she’s on a mission to try it on.”

panda had a shocked expression on his face, as if to ask why the hell you knew about the boys prancing around in the girl’s skirts whenever the opportunity arose, but it was quickly wiped off to be replaced by a knowing sort of smile.

“no, i doubt that’s why.” his voice rang with the sing-songy sound of knowing something you didn’t, but you simply chose to raise an annoyed eyebrow at his annoying little game rather than question him.

even as you ran at him, fists raised defensively, you swore you could still feel a pair of sleek eyes trailing your movements. you slid to dodge panda’s swing at you, leaving a layer of dirt on the hem of your shorts. despite succeeding in avoiding sparring with maki, which admittedly sounded absolutely brutal, you felt extremely ungrateful for panda’s strength as he lifted you up by the wrist. somehow he managed to end up with you flipped onto your back, despite your best efforts to sweep his legs out from under him. if losing to a literal panda in a fight wasn’t embarrassing enough, it didn’t help that this was the moment maki had decided to suddenly start paying attention to you, a fact you became acutely aware of as she hovered over you, her figure shadowed by the sun behind you.

“you okay?” she cocked an eyebrow, extending a hand to pull you to your feet, making you suddenly conscious of how her legs were positioned on either side of you, so you laid beneath her. when you were unable to sputter out a response, she sighed softly, leaning down so she knelt with her knees resting on the dirt on either side of your thighs. a hand waves in front of your face, and makis brows furrow slightly. “did you hit your head or something because of that idiot?” she cocked a thumb at your sparring partner.

something about her sudden proximity seemed to shock you out of your distracted daze, making you push yourself up so you held yourself by palms flat on the ground. taking note of how close your face was to hers, the corners of her mouth turned up in a smirk, her lips parting slightly to show her teeth. you weren’t even sure if she was aware of the fact that she was smiling right now, or the effect she was having on your already embarrassed state as she leaned over you, her figure shadowing yours.

why was she so intent on making fun of you?

“i’m fine!” you managed to blurt out, pulling your knees close to you to escape the compromising position she’d put the both of you in.

her eyes remained playfully narrowed and her lips turned up, but as she opened her mouth to say something, you practically sprung up from the ground as if you weren’t bruised and tired from fighting, turning on your heel to go back to panda. you flashed an awkwardly apologetic smile, before shrouding yourself in panda’s shadow.

you found yourself grateful for the shadow panda cast on you, as it shielded your eyes from the sun, and the glare you knew was inevitably resting behind maki’s glasses.

the four of you remained sparring until the first glimpse of heavy gray clouds masqueraded the blistering sun. you helped panda up from where he’d laid on the ground, spotting out of the corner of your eye none other than gojo, who looked almost comical inspecting the state of the sky with his usual dopey smile while still adorning his iconic blindfold. had you not known any better, you’d say he looked like a complete idiot.

on the other hand, maki, who did know better, seemed to have no problem stating that he did, in fact, look like a complete idiot.

“so are you just gonna stand there all day, moron? or do you actually have something important to say for once.” maki crossed her arms over her chest, making her jacket taut over her muscles, catching your attention for the briefest of moments. you quickly averted your eyes back to gojo in hopes of not being caught staring as she had earlier, as if you were a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. though you couldn’t see gojos eyes, you could sense a sort of mischief from him as he smiled at you. was today just some weird holiday where people stared at you for no reason that no one had informed you about?

“you guys seem to have the sky on your side today.” gojo smiled widely as his gaze flickered between the four of you lined up in front of him. “since it seems to be about to rain, you guys can get off a little early today, just go clean up in the bathrooms if you need to.” he waved his hands at you all, in a motion that seemed to be shooing you away.

you begin to feel the beginnings of drizzling rain hitting the tip of your nose, and the top of your head, and take that as your cue to leave. letting out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in, you unzipped and shrugged off your hoodie, throwing it over your shoulder as you turned towards the heavy doors of the school building. you’d only gotten a couple steps closer than you’d been before you heard the familiar sound of your name, called from the less familiar source that was maki zenin.

“wait up!” she called, taking long strides to catch up to you. “if we’re cleaning up now, i’ll come with you and i can help you if you got scraped or anything.” her hand rubbed the back of her neck, and a soft smile cracked onto her lips, egging you on to respond.

you furrowed your brows slightly. she had never bothered to help you out like this before, so what made it different. “i think i’ll be fine.” you hoped your embarrassment at the idea of the situation didn’t show on your face.

“tch, it’s not like i’m planning to kill you in there or anything.” honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had been. “it’ll just be weird if we’re both patching ourselves up in silence when there’s clearly a more efficient way to do it.”

screw her for always being correct.

you nodded your head in agreement in a way that was comically defeated. she motioned for you to follow her, and so you trailed behind her like a lost puppy.

though you had no way to prove it, you could’ve sworn that gojo winked at you from underneath his blindfold as you passed him.

the two of you walked in silence that seemed comfortable for you, but maki seemed clearly impatient.

“i wanted to check on you and ask if you were alright.” she broke the silence, pulling off her rain stained glasses to wipe them on the edge of her shorts. “you seemed really frazzled earlier, so if you hit your head or something we can take you to shoko, i wouldn’t want you to get seriously hurt or something.”

you were somewhat surprised by her words, but feigned indifference as you smiled reassuringly. “i’m fine, was just kinda lost in my thoughts earlier. guess you kinda just caught me off guard.” you were telling the truth, so why did it feel as if you were lying straight through your teeth?

as she swung open the girls bathroom door, she gave you an incredulous look, as if she was trying to recall the events of the day that could have made you so tense. you hoisted yourself up to sit on the sink, leaning back with a sigh of relief from finally relaxing your muscles. maki grabbed the small first aid kit, positioning herself to stand between your legs,a position that was oddly reminiscent of when you’d been on the field earlier. she caught your wrist in your hand, causing you to jump slightly as her eyes scanned your forearm, riddled with some bruises from training, but nothing that really needed cleaning.

“what could i have possibly done to catch you off guard?” her words sounded concerned, but contrasted the teasing smile playing at her lips. under the fluorescent lights, you could make out the flush tinted on her cheeks from being outside all day, as if she’d been kissed by the sun herself.

suddenly you felt very shy, twiddling with your thumbs in your lap, and willing your eyes anywhere but where they’d meet maki’s. to her, your current flustered state was an amusing contrast to how you were when fighting curses, your usual confident and strong willed demeanor had been replaced with the attitude of a bashful school girl. still, you knew you’d have to be confrontational in this moment.

“please stop teasing me, maki.” you looked her dead in the eyes, wiping the amusement from her face, and swapping it with a mixture of shock and worry.

“i’m not making fun of you.” she shook her head, her already pink dusted cheeks turning more red. “what makes you think I am?”

you chucked humourlessly. “well if the glaring at me wasn’t enough, you seem to keep trying to embarrass me. if it’s because of that time i borrowed your skirt without telling you, i really am sorry, but stop trying to make fun of me.”

“when did you borrow my skirt? i always just assume it’s the boys being idiots. you can borrow my skirt anytime you want.” you wished you could be mad at her for her nonchalance. “besides, YOU’RE the one who’s always avoiding me, panda told me i should try to be more approachable, so i thought eye contact might help.” she shrugged exasperatedly, placing her hands flat on sink, resting on either side of your thighs.

“well, you don’t exactly have the most approachable face when you’re making ‘eye contact.’ you had me thinking you were plotting my downfall in your head or something.” she stifled a laugh at your overdramatization. “it was totally intimidating.”

“oh?” her smile was dopey, one that only you would be flustered by. “does that mean i make you nervous?” her voice was hushed as she tilted her head downwards toward you, looking satisfied with herself.

“well you’re gonna make anyone nervous if you’re sending them death glares one second and offering to clean their wounds the next.”

her only response was a laugh as she buried her face in her hands. it wasn’t a mean laugh, not one directed at you, more so just her laughing at what idiots the both of you were being.

“you really thought i hated you?” her words were spaced apart by involuntary giggles, her mouth was stretched into a wide grin, almost like one from gojo. “man, i thought i was so obvious!” she turned to hoist herself next to you on the sink, leaning her head on your shoulder as her whole body shook from laughter.

you said nothing in response, just processing if this moment was real. you’d hardly seen maki smile before today, let alone laugh.

“you mean to tell me you’ve spent all this time avoiding me because you thought i hated you?” admittedly, when she repeated it back to you after her outburst of laughter, it did sound rather ridiculous. but to be fair, she should’ve considered the possibility before her sorry attempt to be more approachable.

“it’s not my fault you scare the crap out of me, i mean, how could i not be intimidated by someone so hot!” your mouth moves faster than your brain, and she lifts her head from your shoulder, making you hyper aware of both your words and your sudden proximity to her face.

shit.

your eyes are wide as saucers as you stare at her, convinced that, like a dinosaur, if you don’t move, she won’t even notice you’re there. much to your dread, she smiles yet again (seriously, today alone make up a solid 90% of the times you’d ever seen her smile.)

“you’re such a dumbass, you know?” you can hear the laughter threatening to bubble up in her voice. you wish you could come up with a clever comeback, but you just stared back, moth gaping like a fish out of water. “the reason i was asking panda for advice was because i like you. in hindsight, i suppose he’s probably not the most reliable when it comes to relationship advice.”

“all you really got out of following his advice was making a fool out of me.” you looked down at your feet. “but i guess i kind of did that myself anyways.”

“don’t beat yourself up about it. it’s cute.” she leaned forward so she was in your peripheral, willing you to look at her. “plus if you weren’t such an idiot, i’d have to keep sending you ‘death glares’, as you like to call them, to get your attention.” she chuckled, and you lifted your hand to shove her playfully, before she caught your wrist effortlessly, tugging slightly so you could feel her breath fan on your face.

once again, your mouth moved before you had time to think. “maki...can i kiss you?” you’d taken note of how her eyes darted between your eyes and your lips.

it was her turn to be bashful now. she nodded slowly, her eyes half lidded, as she dared to close the small amount of distance between the both of you. without second thought, you press your lips to hers tenderly, letting your arms loop around her neck, hands meeting between her shoulder blades. her eyelashes tickle your face as they flutter closed, with her hands balancing her, palms flat on the sink counter. the pitter pattering sound of rain from outside echoed in you ears.

the kiss is messy and awkward, but in that moment, you felt on top of the world, smiling into it without a care in the world as your fingers played with the ends of her ponytail. you break away reluctantly for air, taking in the dopey smile on her face, and the way her hands reached to grab yours to hold in her own, rubbing small circles in the back of your hand with her calloused thumb. her breathing is soft and steady, clearly still readjusting after your kiss. wordlessly, she leans forward to rest her head on your shoulder, so you can feel her breath hit the crook of your neck, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“thank god you’re such an idiot.”

[dracowars]

LOVED YOUR TOM RIDDLE. Can I please request a arranged marriage au where yn is in love with him but he hates her so when she decides to let him go or someone else wants to marry her, Tom finally realises he’s in love with her. happ ending :))))

my heart belongs to you | tom riddle

pairing: tom x black!reader

word count: 3,3k

summary: where tom and y/n are in an arranged marriage

a/n: i'm so sorry for being so inactive recently, uni is taking its toll on me.. i had to do a bit of research for this one and also tom is a pureblood here!

warnings: toxic relationship, violence

universe: harry potter

“Get out of my sight, will you?”, he angrily snaps at you out of nowhere, for the third time already on this still very early day. Furiously, he stomps past you, pushing you to the side harshly, the filled glasses on your tray swaying dangerously. Knowing that you should just leave him alone, you stand there completely frozen at the door, still feeling the breeze on your skin after he stormed past you.

The glasses clink on the serving tray as you try to keep your trembling hands under control, but you terribly fail while tears shoot into your eyes. A lump forms in your throat and you gasp in desperation, losing your composure after hearing the front door slam shut.

Slowly, you slump down and therefore with a loud rattle let happen what could have been foreseen already: a thousand shattered pieces of glass scattered across the floor around you while you cower against the wall, your elegant dress pulled over your knees, your forehead leaning against it. Heavy sobs rock through your body and tears find their way down your cheeks, dripping from your chin onto the expensive fabric of your dress.

You just wanted to spend some time with him. Together, in the house of your parents, who went on a daily trip with their close friends early in the morning, all part of the most notorious popular pureblood families in the wizarding world – the Nott’s, the Macmillan’s, the Malfoy’s, the Lestrange’s. And if his parents were still alive, probably with the Riddle’s as well.

This is primarily the reason why you even are in this position right now; crying and huddled in the living room because your fiancé hates you profoundly.

After graduating from Hogwarts last year, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you, descendant of the pureblood Black family, got engaged to Tom Marvolo Riddle, the last living heir of the Riddle’s. He would offer you a good future, they said, and you would never have to worry about anything again.

But nobody knows that in reality, your own beloved fiancé really does not want to have anything to do with you. He does not even want to stay in the same room as you.

You can’t explain why he acts like this towards you. You do not know why he harbors such an abysmal hatred for you and any clear-headed, rational person would have done something about it long ago. Unfortunately for you, you feel the exact opposite for him.

Your heart belongs to him and only to him.

You have liked him since you first met him at Hogwarts, back in 1938, when the two of you were sorted into the Slytherin house. This initial friendly liking has quickly evolved into something more than that over the years and lead you to where you are now, at a point where you would have never seen yourself back then.

You have already tried everything to convince him that you are not as bad as he seems to think. Every morning you bring him his breakfast, you give him everything he needs. Even when you were still at Hogwarts, you always looked after him, finished his homework for him when he was too busy to do it by himself, and helped him pass all of his exams.

And not once did you hear a thank you. Not then and not now either.

Slowly gathering your thoughts together again, you rub the long sleeves of your velvet dress over your damp face, wiping away all of your tears before you get up on shaky legs and begin to clean up the mess that you have created. After you went back to the kitchen with the broken pieces and some injuries on your hands, your gaze longingly slides out the window.

Outside, the sun stands high over the magnificent garden of the mansion, making the clear water in the fountain shimmer in its bright light. A gentle breeze blows through the air and rustles through the perfectly cut trees that line a small path through the garden.

The loud, excited voices that suddenly roar through the house snap you out of your daydream and you quickly wipe the blood from your fingers before you step into the huge marble entrance hall. You arrive at the front door just in time to open it for your parents, who, to your surprise, did not come back alone. You are amazed to find not too familiar faces in front of you as they climb up the stairs to the door where you are still standing.

“And that has to be Y/N. Oh, how you have grown!”, an older man smiles friendly at you and you return his smile with a certain uncertainty in your face.

“Darling, we brought guests over for dinner today. You surely remember the Lestranges?”, your father announces happily and only now do the faces that you have seen at numerous balls and celebrations seem familiar again. Especially one.

“Reinhard?”, you ask in amazement when you spot him standing behind his parents, a big smile on his face when he sees you.

“Y/N, how nice to see you again”, he grins, carefully pushing his way past your parents in order to slightly bow venerably to you, taking your hand in his to place a kiss on the back of it. “It has been some time.”

“I am sure you have a lot to tell each other”, your mother mentions in a sweet voice, but before she can continue, she watches how your facial expression changes from one second to the other as you look past them, out into the yard.

Next to the carriage with which they have returned, Tom is standing now, petting one of the splendid noble white horses before he joins all of you.

“Tom! There you are, I was already wondering where you went”, your father says, visibly pleased when he too spotted his future son-in-law, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“Reinhard?”

“Tom?”

Within a few seconds, the two former best friends lay in each other’s arms, obviously happy to finally see the other again.

“Let us go inside. We want to show you our newest masterpiece of art in our wonderful collection, come on”, your mother announces happily and leads the Lestranges inside, but not without turning around to you once more. “The children can catch up on what they have missed.”

“I can’t believe it! You are really here, Tom. Man, you look even better than at Hogwarts”, Reinhard laughs, playfully pushing Tom to the side while you watch them in silence. “What are you doing here with the Blacks?”

“They kindly took me in”, Tom lies to him and for a moment you think he threw you a glance out of the corner of his eyes after uttering these words. His statement makes Reinhard realize that you were still there with them, who had apparently completely forgotten that you were even there.

“I am so happy to see you again, Y/N!”, he grins and takes a step closer to you, probably to be able to take a closer look at you. “Still just as beautiful as I imagined. And just as smart, I guess?”

Reinhard’s sudden compliments make you blush and your cheeks glow, which is why you nervously avert your gaze from him, directly falling on Tom, who looks at the scene in front of him with incredible resentment.

Unlike Tom, Reinhard was always there for you. You spent a lot of time together in your school days and if your parents had known about your close friendship, you are sure that he would have been your fiancé by now. Which, to be honest, does not sound bad anymore right now.

And yet your heart still belongs to Tom.

When you all sit together at dinner later in the evening, where your parents are talking about irrelevant things like Ministry of Magic, you keep making eye contact with Reinhard, who seems to be staring at you.

“Is there something on my face?”, you ask uncertainly and put your glass back on the table when you can no longer bear his piercing gaze.

“No, no, not at all. I was just wondering how a beautiful witch like you could have become so much more stunning”, Reinhard winks at you, causing you to swallow hard. You are not used to getting compliments, especially not from a handsome young man like him. Before you can answer to him, however, there is a loud clink and you startle, your eyes immediately fixed on the cause of the noise.

The glass, which you have certainly placed far away from the edge, is now lying in your lap, the little liquid that was still inside now spread over your elegant evening gown. You move your chair back in shock when, in the corner of your eye, you see how Tom puts away his wand. And not only did you notice Tom just now, but the rest of them follow your gaze.

“Tom, darling, how about you tell our guests how you and our daughter got to know each other”, your mother suddenly prompts him, not even realizing that he has just deliberately spilled your drink on you. But why did he in the first place?

„I would love to“, Tom puts on a really believable smile that no one but you questions and starts telling them how you met and fell in love with each other. He tells one lie after another, explaining the web of lies that you have spun around you over time to make your relationship as credible as possible, at least in front of other people. And suddenly nobody cares about you or your still soaking wet dress anymore.

“What a wonderful story”, Mrs. Lestrange applauds and everyone else seems to be completely enthusiastic about Tom’s fairytale. To top it off, he then reaches across the table to take your hand in his, just like a real affectionate couple would do.

You lower your gaze as he gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, trying your best to not show how uncomfortable you are. Oh, how much you wish that this were real, that Tom would actually treat you like this when you are alone, the same way as he does in front of your parents.

But he does not and deep down you know that he will never do.

“So, you are engaged?”, Reinhard scrutinizes the statement of his former best friend, his eyes focused on you suspiciously, as if he is expecting an answer from you and not from Tom. A slight pressure on your hand makes you flinch and look up.

“Y-Yes”, you force a smile onto your lips, whereupon Tom seems satisfied with your answer, letting go of your hand again with a - what seemed to you like a – disgusted expression on his face.

An uncomfortable silence spreads between the three of you, which is drowned out by the loud conversation of the adults on the other side of the table. Finally, making up your mind, you clear your throat loudly and get up from your chair, gaining everyone’s attention in a matter of seconds.

“Excuse me, I have to go freshen up for a moment”, you explain with a slight polite bow before turning away to leave the dining room.

“Reinhard, would you be so kind and help Y/N”, Mr. Lestrange asks his son, who stands up with furrowed brows, apparently just as surprised about this sudden request as you, but then follows you out into the hallway with no further objection.

“I really do not need any help, thank you”, you try to get rid of him as you walk up the large staircase leading to the first floor together, only wanting to be alone.

“Dinner like these are totally boring anyway”, he chuckles softly and shows no intentions of leaving your side any time soon, which is why you do not even try to search for further arguments. He follows you to your room where you are able to tear yourself away from him to put on a new dress while he waits outside in front of the door.

With an equally elegant burgundy red dress you step out of your room after a few minutes, Reinhard’s eyes greeting you with a sparkle.

“Wow”, he breathes out barely audible and takes you hand without asking to swirl you around, causing your dress to fly around gorgeously. Unintentionally, warmth rises in your face again and your hearts makes a barely noticeable jump inside your chest when he looks deep into your eyes after catching you back in his arms.

The loud clearing of a throat behind you makes you turn around in shock, only to see that Tom himself is now standing at the end of the corridor, not seeming very enthusiastic.

“We did not see you there, Tom”, Reinhard disguises his obvious nervousness with a laugh, acting like Tom had just caught you in doing something he should not have seen. Tom, however, does not even react to his words, but looks past Reinhard at you, his eyebrows raised meaningfully.

But when you do not move under his piercing gaze, his facial expression changes and he quickly approaches you, Reinhard instinctively pushing you behind him so that you can only see Tom approaching further over his shoulder. Before neither you nor Reinhard can say or do anything, Tom has already pulled out his wand and aims it directly at Reinhard, who flies back through the air only a few seconds later, hitting the hard marble floor at the end of the corridor with a thud.

“What the-?!”

“Come with me”, Tom orders, now standing directly in front of you. When you stubbornly refuse, he suddenly grabs your wrist to pull you away from there. No matter how much you fight against his firm grip, you cannot tear yourself away from him as he pulls you into the closest room, which turns out to be the library.

Once there, you can finally free yourself from his tight grip, but before you can reach for the doorknob to leave immediately, he locks the door with a spell. Angrily, you turn to him, despair written all over your stunning face.

“What is this supposed to be, Tom? Let me out of here, now!”, you command him in a loud voice, not caring if anybody can hear.

“What did he want from you?”, he asks you urgently and steps closer to you. Since the door is in your back, every possible escape route is blocked, and you are caught.

“We just talked to each other, you know. Like normal people do”, you answer irritably and cross your arms in front of your chest, not in the mood to justify yourself, especially not in front of someone who does not care about you at all and not after what he has done.

“But that did not look like it.”

“Tom, stop it.”

“You belong to me and nobody else!”

These words coming out of his mouth echo loudly through the dark library, his face wrapped in an eerie candlelight. Before you can even control yourself and fully process what he said, you severely slap him.

Frightened by your own horrible deed, you immediately pull your hand away, your gaze filled with fear, but the anger that keeps building up inside of you winning the upper hand after all.

“How dare you call me your property?!”, you scream in rage and tears form in your eyes because of your uncontrollable anger. However, Tom needs a moment to collect his thoughts after your heavy smack before he can answer you.

“You are my fiancé”, he spits out coldly, a touch of shock in his voice, apparently not expecting you to react like this.

“And that does not make me nowhere near your property! You never treat me like your fiancé anyway, so why now all of a sudden?!”, you bicker at him, your voice loud and constant, even though you would like to flee from this situation right away if you were able to.

But Tom does not have an answer.

“Fine, okay. If you have nothing to say to me, like you never have, then I will go back now and ask my parents to end this damn failed engagement and engage me with someone else who truly cares for me!”

Suddenly, without letting you time to catch your breath after your outburst, he presses you with your back against the door completely, his hands tightly grabbing your wrists, a little too tight for your personal liking.

“You mustn’t do that”, he softly whispers, his head lowered as if he does not dare to look you in the eyes.

“What is stopping me?”, you hiss, still full of anger and – probably for the very first time – hatred towards him.

But when you feel his lips on yours all of a sudden, all of these emotions evaporate and all that remains is your racing heartbeat, which is being repaired at this very moment. You never would have thought that at some point in your life the moment would come when Tom Marvolo Riddle, who absolutely loathes his fiancé, kisses you.

After kissing you, he looks straight into your eyes, and the Tom you met in 1938 is standing in front of you again. The Tom you fell so deeply in love with.

“I can’t explain it to you”, he finally breaks the silence, his gaze directed to the floor as he moves away from you, giving you enough space to breathe regularly again. You, however, do not say anything but just stare at him.

“I was not aware that I am capable of feeling such feelings for someone. I am unfamiliar with this feeling and I did not know how to deal with it, Y/N. I treated you badly because I did not want it to be true, I did not want to accept it. I could not imagine having feelings for the little nuisance that has always been running after me”, Tom explains, choosing each and every single word very carefully, trying to put his emotions into words which does not really work the way he would like it to. But that is how you know him. You know that this confession must be extremely difficult for him, but you can’t help but feel a sense of relief inside of you.

“When?”, you ask and manage, with this tiny little word, to make him look up at you. “When did you know?”

“Since I have been here. You served me every day and took care of me, even though I wanted to push you away from me with all of my might. You have already helped me so many times in the past without me even asking, you have always accepted me for who I am”, he desperately tries to but his feelings into words, asking himself what he is even doing right now.

“Tom..”

“No, I have to sincerely apologize to you. I had no right to treat you the way I did. And also today.. when I saw you with him and how well you got along, it finally became clear to me. Reinhard has felt something for you since our school days, I know that even though I could never understand, but now I do. I understand why he fell in love with you”, Tom continues without breathing, pouring out all of his feelings that he has hidden for so long.

“I understand if you want to dissolve this engagement and I will not stop you if that is what you want”, he quickly adds, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. He already prepares himself for the worst when you are the one getting closer to him this time.

“Idiot”, you smile slightly and place a gentle kiss on his lips while he looks at you puzzled. “I love you, I thought you knew that.”

“I know, but-“

“But nothing”, you interrupt him and take his hand to lead it to your fast pounding heart. “It always belonged to you.”

[heliads]

The Issue of the Dance

You’re best friends with Draco Malfoy, that much is a given. When you’re asked to the Yule Ball by a Durmstrang student, however, Draco seems oddly irritated.

masterlist

You may be trying to do your homework, but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel your best friend’s gaze burning away at the back of your head. Draco Malfoy has been trying to get your attention for the better part of ten minutes now, but you’re not any more likely to give up and look over at him than you had before. This essay is due tomorrow, you have better things to do then respond to your friend.

Eventually, Draco resorts to more advanced measures, and seconds later, you feel a piece of crumpled paper hit your arm. You don’t spare it a second thought, merely turning over the page in the textbook in front of you. You can hear him sigh in irritation and smile to yourself. You can only mess with him for so long, so you pick it up, carefully uncrumpling the paper to see what is written inside.

It’s blank. Forgetting your forced silence, you turn around and give Draco a look. He’s sprawled in one of the mahogany and viridian silk armchairs sequestered around the fireplace, and he looks up triumphantly when he sees he’s finally made you glance away from your homework. You hold up the paper in one hand. “Really? You’re throwing parchment at me? I thought it could at least be something interesting, like a note.”

Draco grins. “I can give you a note, if that makes you feel better.” You roll your eyes. “It will not. I’m going back to my essay.” Draco leans forward, snapping your textbook shut with one hand. “No, we’re talking. I’m bored.” You reach for the textbook, which is being held out of your reach. “No, we’re not. I have things to be doing that don’t involve entertaining you. Go talk to Crabbe or Goyle.”

Draco sighs. “They wouldn’t know how to have a conversation unless I guided them through it by hand.” You do your best to hold back a laugh. “They’re your friends. You’re so mean.” Draco raises an eyebrow. “I’m not wrong. They’re idiots. That’s why you’re my closest friend, darling, because you actually have the ability to think.”

This time, you can’t stop your laugh. “Darling? That almost makes up for the fact that you think we’re friends solely because I don’t have the brain of a five year old.” Draco smirks shamelessly. “Do you have a problem with that?” You shrug. “I guess I do.” With that, you turn back to your essay at hand, grateful your turned back hides the smile on your face as you hear Draco groan in annoyance behind you.

“Fine, we’re not just friends because of that. Now can you stop ignoring me? It’s going to be a long night for both of us if you do.” You point your quill at him without turning around. “Fine. Will you please stop ignoring me?” Draco asks, and your smile grows. “Fine, I guess I will. Happy?” You turn around once more, and Draco matches your smile. “Very.”

There’s a sound of approaching footsteps behind you, and seconds later, your friend Blaise Zabini slumps down into an armchair next to the two of you. “Honestly, Malfoy, you’re making me sick. Can’t you two stop flirting and just go out with each other? You’re ruining my evening.” Draco gives Blaise a look riddled with disdain. “We are not dating, Blaise, we’re friends. Just that and nothing more.”

Blaise raises an eyebrow. “Then why do you bother her more than anyone else?” You flash him a grin. “Because we’re best friends. I’ve earned the title.” Blaise rolls his eyes. “You’re both terrible.” You shrug. “Is that why you’re also our friend? You’re the one who came over here.” Blaise points at you in agreement. “Exactly. I’m not here to bicker about Malfoy’s questionable habits, I’m here to talk about the Yule Ball. If we want to have a good showing we’ll have to form closer alliances with the Durmstrang students.”

You roll your eyes. “Honestly, Blaise, it’s just a dance. You’re making it sound like a council of war.” Draco glances over at you. “He’s not wrong. Having international ties could never hurt. This would be the best place to do it.” You groan, slumping down onto the table in front of you and burying your face in your arms. “Both of you?” Blaise folds his arms in front of his chest. “What, you don’t like the Durmstrang guys? They might seem a little intimidating, but they’re students like the rest of us.”

You shake your head. “Not from the way you’re talking about them. They might as well be businessmen.” Blaise waves this away with his hand. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Look, there’s a group just coming back from the library. You could talk to them, make some friends.” You sit up, a slight smile crossing your face. “I don’t need to. One of them has already asked me to the Yule Ball.” Blaise stares. “Which one?” You return his gaze, feeling an air of victory. “Henrik Rybar.”

Blaise leans back against the chair. “He’s one of the best in the class! How’d you manage that?” You give him an affronted look. “My natural charm, obviously. Do you still want to make conversation with them tomorrow?” Blaise rolls his eyes, but a grin flickers across his face when he glances over at Draco. “You alright there, Malfoy? You look a little distressed.”

Sure enough- Draco hasn’t said a word all this time, just stewing in something that looks almost like malice. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was jealous. “No, nothing’s the matter. Say, I think I left something in the dormitory. I’d best go get it.” He stands up hurriedly and leaves just as quickly. You and Blaise are left to sit alone, an expression of intrigue growing on Blaise’s face.

“Just friends, my arse.” You swat him with the edge of your parchment, but even this can’t seem to get you back into high spirits. You had assumed Draco would be impressed or at least not angry over the fact that Henrik was taking you to the dance- he’s of a prominent magical family, and Draco’s been trying to get the three of you into his good graces for a while. So why is it that he seems so unhappy now?

By the time the Yule Ball rolls around, you’re almost thinking that the dance is more trouble than it’s worth. Draco has been pretending that he wasn’t affected by this at all, that you’re still nothing more than friends, but you can see mute vexation simmering away behind his eyes. The Durmstrang students all sit at the Slytherin table with the rest of you, so it’s not like tensions are eased at all. When Henrik sits next to Draco, the platinum blond boy’s jaw seems to clench. When Henrik sits next to you, well, Draco seems about to punch the guy himself.

However, it’s not like he’s alone in feeling unhappy. Barely a day had gone by after you revealed that you were going to the dance with Henrik that Draco found himself a date- none other than Pansy Parkinson. You suppose you’re not surprised- Pansy has been eyeing Draco for practically her entire life. She’s a Slytherin just like you, so she shares your cunning, your drive to get what you want. Is it really that much of a shock that she would manage to get her hooks in Draco somehow?

You don’t know why you keep thinking of Draco asking Pansy to the ball like it’s somehow Pansy’s fault. Pansy couldn’t have made him ask her any more than another Slytherin girl short of drugging him with a love potion, and he isn’t exactly besotted enough for that. You know that Draco must have asked Pansy for a good reason, a legitimate reason, yet you keep thinking of it like this is Pansy’s decision, not Draco’s. Like if you just phrase it the right way, Draco won’t have feelings for her, like he didn’t ask her to the ball because they were more than friends. Friends is, of course, all that Draco and you will ever be. You would do well to remember it.

Finally, it is the night of the Yule Ball. To be honest, you find yourself a little relieved that it will all be soon over. Draco’s been stiff and wordless with you as of late, like he’s trying to hide something. It only started after Henrik asked you to the dance and Draco asked Pansy, and you have a sinking feeling that this sudden avoidance has something to do with it. If only the dance were over, you could finally go back to what you had before.

Even with all of this, you can’t deny that this night feels magical. You’ve spent days talking about it with your friends, planning out outfits and hair and makeup until you practically felt exhausted. Now, staring at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but feel a glow rush to your cheeks. You look, to put it simply- 

“Amazing. You look gorgeous, Y/N.”

You smile up at Henrik. He looks nice too- like the other Durmstrang students, he’s donned a crimson dress coat with dark fur lining. You suppose it’s traditional for the Durmstrang students, but it does suit him. You yourself wear a gown of deepest indigo, with a skirt of swirling silk that swishes around your ankles until you feel like you could spin for hours and never stop. Even so, his compliment brings a smile to your face.

“You look wonderful yourself.” Henrik returns your smile. “You are too kind. Shall we go in?” He offers you an arm, leading you through the halls and into the stone atrium leading to the Great Hall. Pairs of students mill about, exchanging compliments on dress robes and hair styles whilst secretly checking out what everyone else has decided to wear or do. Yule Balls are out of the ordinary in a school that specializes in the peculiar, so of course everyone who’s anyone is talking about it.

After a few minutes of waiting, the doors open, and the pairs of students begin to file into the Great Hall, led by the Triwizard Champions and their partners. They, of course, are given the first dance, and then everyone else takes to the floor. You are pleasantly surprised to find that Henrik is an excellent dancer, but for every perfect turn and step, you realize you’re looking for someone else, someone with a shock of platinum hair who is not here dancing with you at all.

You don’t realize you’re searching for him until you see him. Draco is dancing with Pansy across the room, laughing formally at a joke she must have said. She’s dressed in emerald green- Slytherin colors, what a surprise. Draco has always felt shielded by his house pride, so of course she would know to dress in that color for him. They look practically perfect together. 

“He is your friend, no? Malfoy?” You jerk back to reality, realizing you must have been staring. “What? Yes, we’re in the same house.” Henrik nods. “He was looking for you earlier, I think. Before you came down.” You smile despite yourself. “I’ve known him for a while.” Henrik starts to open his mouth, presumably to ask you another question about Draco, but you find you don’t want to speak about him right now, so you hurriedly ask him a question about Durmstrang. Henrik’s eyes light up, and he begins to speak in earnest about his school. At last, something to distract him.

When you look back, Draco and Pansy are gone, swallowed up by the crowd. If you were smart, you would turn your attention back to your date, back to the boy who actually asked you out in the first place. Yet you keep looking for the one who didn’t, for the one who’d looked at you with something like betrayal in his eyes when he found out you would be going to the dance with someone else.

After a couple more songs, Henrik excuses himself to speak to a friend, and strides off across the Great Hall. Now that you’re alone, the noise and action of the room seems to echo off of the walls, the sound of the band playing and conversation reaching an ear-piercing din. You make your way through the crowd to reach the doors, slipping into the grateful quiet of the hall outside. You’ve barely taken a few steps, though, when you sense that you’re not alone.

“Y/N?”

You turn to see Draco, silhouetted against the bright lights still seeping out of the Great Hall. His eyes linger on you. “You look nice.” Somehow, these few words manage to outrank a hundred compliments from Henrik. “So do you.” You’re not just adding pleasantries this time- his black suit jacket is a crisp contrast to the white lines of his dress robes. Henrik’s robes almost look garish in comparison. 

You clear your throat. “What are you doing away from the ball? I thought you would be dancing.” Draco gives you a rueful smile. “I could say the same thing about you. Henrik’s a prestigious wizard, he would be a good partner.” Somehow, you get the feeling he’s not just talking about a dance. “He’s not exactly my type. I don’t know him well enough.” Draco smiles now, a real smile. He holds out his hand from where it had been pressed at his side, and you realize that he’s been holding a necklace in his hand. It has links of gold looped together to support a pendant in the middle, one shaped like a teardrop.

“I was going to give this to Pansy, but it doesn’t really match her dress. She went more along the lines of silver. Would you mind if I give it to you instead?” You shake your head quietly, unable to say anything lest you disturb the quiet peace that hangs over you. You turn around, and seconds later you feel the pendant settle against your throat, Draco’s hands inches away as he fastens the clasp behind you.

When you turn around, his eyes linger on the pendant for just a second longer. At last, he speaks, and he has the rushed energy as if he’s not entirely sure that he’s saying the words until he does. “I wanted it to be you, you know. I was going to ask you, and then he did. I didn’t know what to do.” You stare at him. “You-”

Draco cuts you off. “I know we always joked about just being friends, but I wouldn’t have minded if we were wrong this once.” You feel a laugh bubbling to your chest, incredulous and utterly happy. “You could have said that earlier, you dunce. All this time, we’ve been tossing the same lie back and forth. You could have asked me.” Draco grins, the same cocky, impossible, utterly lovesick grin you’ve seen before. “Guess I was waiting for the right moment.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what exactly is the right moment?” You’re almost expecting it when he kisses you. It feels like closure, like you’ve been waiting for this for a while. It feels like home.

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All (dark!Loki x reader)

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping.

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: I wrote another one! No idea where this came from, but it was fun to write. Still working on improving my smut, huge thanks to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for some tips and editing the shit out of it. 😘 also I know there is a creepy clown in the pic but I feel like I have to say there aren’t any clowns in the fic. I hate clowns.

Chapter 1:

It was the kind of summer night you dream about, warm enough to keep you comfortable in your shorts and peasant top, but with a light breeze that keeps you cool enough to fight the flush of alcohol in your veins. You look forward to these moments when you are able to go out with your girlfriends and let loose, forgetting about all life’s responsibilities, if just for a single night.

“Come on!” Ash calls over her shoulder, her hand tight around your wrist pulling you impatiently.

“Aww but that looks so good” you groan as you press your face longingly against the glass barrier of the hand dipped corn dog cart.

The sweet scent of the frying corn dough wafts tantalizingly through the air making your mouth water. You friends laugh at your theatrics, having just helped you scarf down a large sugary funnel cake and a platter of nachos, the evidence of which still stains the corner of your mouth. Really, it was their fault for getting you tipsy before taking you to the county fair, everything just smelled heavenly and if you could you would try one of everything.

“Just a slushee?!” You beg as Jen steps behind you and pushes you out of the food court, giggling the entire time.

“Come on, fight the drunchies! You promised you would try that new funhouse,” Jen whines, looping her arm through yours, Ash doing the same on the other side.

“Oh yeah,” you grumble.

“Oh stop it” Ash scolds playfully. “Everyone at work keeps talking about it - it’s like a mini escape room! And I’ve always wanted to do one, please.” She rants excitedly before giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh that’s cheating. No one can resist those big brown eyes” you pout, but yield as easily as they knew you would.

“I know” Ash smirks, tossing back her long silky black hair over her slender shoulder.

“This is gonna be so much fun, I promise” Jen bumps your hip, giving you a wide encouraging smile.

You manage a strained grin as you let them lead you through the crowd. It’s not that you don’t like funhouses or the idea of doing an escape room, having always loved solving riddles and doing puzzles. It’s just you don’t like clowns, and every funhouse in your experience has at least one.

“Oh damn there’s a line!” Jen moans as you all stop in front of a large structure covered in flashing lights, the ominous ‘Tricksters Trap’ bathing your face in a violent red glow.

Garish contrasting colors somehow both attract your eye and make it hard to look at. Your pupils dilate with the lines of fluorescent bulbs burning into your retinas. The stereotypical circus music blares through the cheap speakers, reminding you of one of those old Jack in the box toys. And of course, without fail, was the obligatory clown statue hanging over the entrance, like some creepy sentinel there to guide you to your inevitable demise.

“Ugh fucking clowns” you grimace as you pass by the entrance, heading toward the end of the line.

“Yeah they definitely nailed the creep factor,” Jen agrees, her eyes shining with nervous excitement.

“I know isn’t it great?!” Ash squeals.

You stand there taking in the horrific detailing painted on the side of the metal structure. You are thankful when Ash explains there is a time limit, only ten minutes to complete the puzzle or else they kick you out and you have to try again. If you figure out the puzzle you get to leave through the mirror maze and you earn the coveted “I tricked the Trickster” sticker.

“Gotta get that sticker, or else that bitch Katie at work will never let me forget that she got one and I didn’t” Ash complains, causing you and Jen to share a look and snicker.

“Hey! Don’t laugh, this is serious! We gotta be smart and figure this out, failure is not an option” she urges dramatically before collapsing into drunken giggles with you and Jen.

“You ladies seem eager to prove yourselves,” slithers a low voice.

Startled you gasp and spin around quickly. The three of you look up at the tall lean figure standing behind you. He wears a perfectly tailored black ensemble, that matches the color of his slicked back hair. His eyes practically glow green against his alabaster complexion. His sharp cheekbones and angular jaw make your breath hitch, causing his thin lips to curve into a sinister smirk. He is stunning.

“Um, yeah. Well this place has the whole town buzzin’. Seems like everyone is talking about it” Jen is the first to speak.

“Ah I see. Wouldn’t want to miss your chance to take a stab at it” the mysterious man surmised, eyes focused on you.

“We got this shit. Right guys?” Ash assures him as she playfully smacks you and Jen.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out. Good luck,” he challenges with a raise of a brow.

You stare after him as he saunters away without another word. His hips and shoulders sway smoothly, his soft footsteps giving him a dangerous almost feline vibe, like he could rival even the most deadly of predators. As he turns to round the corner of the ride he takes one last look over his shoulder at you. Your eyes lock for only a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.

“That was weird, right?” You mutter, eyes still transfixed where he disappeared.

“Eh, just another creepy dude. If I had a nickel for every weirdo who tries to chat me up…” Jen jokes.

“You’d have like a whole 50 cents,” sasses Ash.

You are finally broken from your daze when Ash is pushed into you. You laugh and try to brush off the lingering effect of the handsome stranger, shifting your focus back to your friends. The line goes by quicker than expected, with only one group out of the three ahead of you making it out with stickers. The losing groups return to the line from a back door, bickering about where they went wrong.

Finally it is your turn. Ash claps her hands excitedly, dancing up the metal stairs to the costumed man at the entrance. His red and white stripped suit is expertly torn and painted with fake blood to make him look as intimidating as possible. With a tip of his top hat he welcomes the three of you and begins to explain the rules in his well practiced accent.

“Come one come all to the Tricksters Trap, if you’re feeling lost, just go find the map.” He sings with flair and a perfectly timed bow, directing you to the inauspicious black door.

Taking a deep breath you follow your squealing friends into the darkened hallway. Pausing to look back as the door creaks shut, cutting off the jovial sounds of laughter and chatter with a sudden slam. You flinch at the loud noise and turn back to the dim hallway. The short corridor is lined with wall to wall green velvet curtains barely visible with the green rope lights running along the ceiling.

“Guys?” You whisper when you don’t see them next to you, causing your heart rate to quicken

You call for them again, this time louder, your feet unwilling to move from the spot. It has only been thirty seconds and you are already about to call it quits. Get a grip. You take a hesitant step forward.

“You guys?!” You call shakily.

“Hey! Come on we found the map!” Jen pokes her head from around the corner at the end of the hall.

She disappears just as quickly, waving her arm for you to follow. You breathe a sigh of relief and rush after her. You enter a large room filled with all sorts of random objects. It’s as if it is designed to overload your senses. The green from the hall carried on into the room, more velvet green curtains hung on the walls that were not obstructed by shelves of books or other oddities. You saw everything from perfectly aligned glass jars filled with alien looking creatures, grandfather clocks, to treasure chests overflowing with grizzled toys.

Jen and Ash are hunched over a table with a map spread out smoothly. It was easy enough to see it was a map of the room and hallway, with what appeared to be three small rooms hidden along the wall behind the heavy green drapery. You go over and pull back a curtain and find a locked door, the other two also hiding a locked door.

“Ok so it looks like we gotta find a way to open these doors” you offer, your anxiety calming a bit as you focus on the mystery at hand.

“Hey look there is some sort of code over here by the lock on the door.” Ash hollers excitedly.

You each pick a door code and frantically search the room. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out you need to use the books on the large shelf along one wall. The first number tells you the book the second refers to a specific page. You find a slip of paper in the book with a riddle written in a blood red ink.

“I make two people out of one” You read aloud.

“You can hold me in one hand, but I’m used to fill the room” Ash reads hers, her face twisting in concentration.

You both look to Jen, “I have two hands, but I can’t clap.”

“Damn no wonder so many people failed, definitely wish I wasn’t drunk right now” Ash laughs.

“No no we can do this, it’s probably items in the room so let’s just focus. We’ll do one at a time.” You assert, pacing the room and trying to take in all the random objects.

“Two hands…” you mutter as you stop in front of a large grandfather clock. “Clocks have hands!” You yell excitedly and open the narrow door.

The heavy pendulums swing inside and you see a shining silver glint off the rounded golden end. You pull off the small silver key, stuck on by a tiny magnet, and jump in excitement.

“Holy crap! You’re a genius!” Jen exclaims running over to take the key and try it in the door.

The key slides in smoothly and the door opens with a gratifying click.

“Woo! Keep going, you are on a roll!” Ash claps as she cheers you on.

“Ok, ok” you giggle before taking a deep breath. “Two people out of one… maybe a camera? Or wait…” you realize as you stare at Ash currently checking her makeup in an antique mirror hung between two curtains.

“Ash! Try pulling on that mirror!” You yell pointing frantically at the mirror in front of her.

Her brows knit together briefly before understanding, grabbing the frame and tugging gently until it swings open, revealing a key hung on the wall.

“Yes!” You all shriek together.

Suddenly, the lights flicker and a loud maniacal cackle reverberates through the surround sound speaker, turning your elation into yelps of surprise.

“Two minutes left” a familiar polished voice echoes forebodingly throughout the room.

“Shit, that scared the crap out of me” Jen laughs clutching at her chest.

The warning gives you pause, managing to shift the spirit of the whole room. Ash giggles nervously as she watches the lights of the room transition from their previous dim yellow light to a menacing red hue. The mood lighting in addition to the increasing volume of the horror soundtrack playing over the speaker helps to put you back into your initial anxious state.

“Seriously? Is this fucking necessary?” You curse, shaking your head.

“Ok let’s get the last one guys! We can still do this!” Jen yells through the cacophony of sound effects.

“Yeah what can we fit in our hand but somehow also fills the room?” Ash reiterated the final riddle.

“These red lights make it so much harder to see” Jen complains bitterly as she rummages through the items inside a large chest.

“Lights… Jen that’s it! A lightbulb!” A smile breaks out on your face as you figure out the final clue.

“Look up there!” Ash points to a solitary darkened light bulb screwed into the ceiling.

“I got it.” Jen jumps onto the table and reaches up, unscrewing it quickly. “There is a key inside!” She shouts.

She unscrews the bottom of the fake lightbulb and received the key before handing it to Ash. Each of you run over to the corresponding doors and turn the key, squealing in delight when they all slide open.

“Is that it?” Jen asks looking into the cramped dark space behind the door.

It was little more than a closet. Barely enough room for each of you to stand in. You were at a loss. You could have sworn that would be the end.

“Guys there is a lever here on the back wall of mine, how about yours?” Ash’s muffled voice calls from inside her closet.

“Oh yeah mine too!” Jen replies.

“Do you think we have to pull them at the same time? ‘Cus mine did nothing when I tried it” Ash says poking her head out to look at you.

“Thirty seconds!” That haunting voice booms again as a tick clock sounds through the speakers, counting down your final moments.

“Ok let’s try it together!” You nod at both of them, before stepping into the tight dark space.

“THREE! TWO! ONE!” You shout, mirroring your friends calls, pulling down your lever with a snap.

There is a moment of silence as the lights of the room behind you suddenly go dark, the music and sound effects cutting off instantly.

“Did we get it?!” You yell.

You don’t get the chance to hear your friends response as the wood door slams behind you, locking you into the small space.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[miracleonice87]

1,000 Nights

a/n: in honor of Sid’s 1,000th career game. congratulations, SPC. you’ve come a long way, baby. story set in a non-covid-riddled universe.

warnings: swearing, alcohol

word count: 3.5k+

“I’m sorry I won’t be there tonight,” you sighed into the phone with a frown, tossing a stack of media briefings on your desk. “I just… I feel awful.“

“Baby, please, don’t apologize,” Sidney said softly, but so sincerely, on the other end. “Trust me, I get it. I mean, look, I wasn’t there for the thousandth press release you wrote, eh?”

You chuckled lightly, appreciative of your boyfriend’s efforts to make you feel better about missing the one thousandth game of his NHL career — a milestone that would come only once.

“It’s not quite the same,” you mumbled. “I just hate to miss it. But Kelsey promised me she’d FaceTime me the whole time.”

You heard the smile in Sid’s voice at the mention of his teammate’s wife, one of your closest friends, as he replied, “That’s nice. Listen, I don’t want you feeling bad about this, okay? We’ll celebrate when you come down next weekend.”

You drummed your fingers on your desk, then spotted your boss, Brendan Shanahan, quietly knocking before wincing, realizing he had interrupted your phone call. You shook your head, signaling it was no big deal, and waved him in.

“You got yourself a deal, Crosby,” you said as Brendan sat down in the chair across from you, a grin on his face.

“Alright, baby,” Sidney spoke. “I’ll let you get back to it. I love you, sweetheart.”

A weak smile crossed your face at his words, but you were certain you felt your heart splitting within your chest, the sting of missing him more painful today than most days.

“I love you, too,” you replied softly. “Call me after the game. And, hey, Sid?”

“Yeah?” Sid prompted.

You paused, knowing tears would likely be streaming down your cheeks if not for your friend and colleague seated on the other side of your desk.

“Congratulations,” you said solemnly. “I’m so proud of you.”

Your chest swelled at Sidney’s appreciative hum in response.

“Thank you, my love,” he said. “I’ll call you tonight. Bye.”

You said your own goodbye and dropped your phone to the oak desk, tipping your head back, emotionally exhausted.

Brendan gave you a sad smile. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

You heaved a deep breath, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your desk while rubbing at your temples.

“I guess so,” you began unconvincingly. “Just basically feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world today.”

Brendan offered an understanding nod, pausing before sitting straighter in his chair, sniffing casually. You’d known him for years now, since you started as an entry-level social media team member with the Leafs following your graduation from Pitt, before working your way to communications director three summers ago. The two of you had formed a near-instant bond, and now, you could read him like the back of your hand.

Which is how you knew he was up to something.

You folded your arms in front of you and narrowed your eyes at him.

“What?” was your only question.

Brendan couldn’t keep the smirk from his lips as he cleared his throat and reached into his inside suit jacket pocket for a stack of papers, folded together in thirds. He placed the parcel in front of you and nodded toward it, signaling you to open it.

Your eyes never leaving his, you reached for the papers and pulled them toward you. Your gaze eventually dropped to the stack and swiftly fell to the Air Canada logo printed in the upper corner. The breath left your lungs in a flash.

“You didn’t,” you whispered, looking back toward Brendan, who was now smiling widely.

“I might’ve,” he admitted.

You attempted to restrain your emotions, but your eyes burned with tears as you looked more carefully at the papers, scanning them furiously for more information.

Toronto (YYZ) to Pittsburgh (PIT) - First Class

Saturday, February 20, 2021 - Departs 1:38 p.m. EST

You shook your head repeatedly, blinking back the wetness that now blurred your vision.

“Brendan, I can’t-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he warned, pointing sternly at you. “Consider this an executive order. I already told the Pens staff you’d be there, and they’re emailing you over a pass. Family comes first here — you know that. That man is your family. You need to be with him tonight to celebrate.”

Tears fell freely down your cheeks now, and you quickly stood from your chair to round the desk and wrap your arms around Brendan’s neck.

“Thank you,” you whispered simply.

Brendan patted your back affectionately before you stepped back, standing up straight as you dabbed at the fallen tears on your cheeks.

“You’re welcome,” Brendan replied as he stood. “We’ll handle things here tonight, and we’ll see you back here for tomorrow night’s game, eh?”

You nodded furiously, a stupidly big smile on your face as you returned to your desk.

“Absolutely,” you confirmed. “And don’t worry — I’ll finish what I have going now and I’ll brief the interns before I go.”

Brendan nodded once and sent a wink your way as he neared the doorway.

“Please give Sidney my best, and congratulate him on behalf of us all,” Brendan requested. “He’s one hell of a player and one hell of a man. I’m glad I have the opportunity to know him better because of you.”

Overcome by emotion once again, you opened your mouth to respond, but decided against trusting your voice. You closed your mouth and nodded at Brendan one last time before he patted the doorpost and left you to finish your tasks at hand.

_____

“Shit, shit, shit,” you muttered upon realizing that traffic had stopped completely in the two blocks leading up Center Avenue to the arena.

You’d come through two airports in two countries, but the most vile threat to your seeing Sidney’s recognition ceremony was now two measly city blocks of Pittsburgh traffic.

Your Uber driver groaned. “Sorry, dear,” he said. “Looks like we’re gonna be backed up for a while.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” you assured, glancing at your phone to realize that it was already 6:42, giving you about ten minutes to get inside if you wanted to witness your the pregame festivities honoring your boyfriend.

You had only one option.

“You know what?” you began, unbuckling your seatbelt and reaching for your bag. “I’m just gonna run. Thank you so much for your time. I swear I’ll leave you a nice tip. ‘M sorry for leaving you stuck.”

You watched your driver’s eyes widen in the rearview mirror. “Miss, I don’t think that’s a good idea!” he tried to protest.

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I know my way. Again, thank you.”

With that, you jumped out of the car and set off toward the arena, walking briskly up the hill leading to the entrance. Your breath created small white puffs in the frigid air, and you pulled your coat around your waist more tightly, thankful that you had grabbed the woolen scarf hanging on the back of your office door at the last second before departing. You rushed up the sidewalk, burying the bottom half of your face within the warmth of the fabric, and retrieved your phone to pull up the pass that the Penguins’ front office had sent over earlier in the afternoon. You sighed in relief when you found it, and once more checked the time — 6:47.

You just might make it.

As you finally approached the arena doors, you made a beeline directly for the club level entrance, smiling when you saw a familiar face.

“Hi, Manny,” you said to your favorite arena attendant as he pushed the door open and welcomed you in from the cold.

“Well, look who it is!” Manny exclaimed, hugging you briefly. “I didn’t think you’d be here!”

“I didn’t either,” you panted, smiling. “But I made it.”

Manny patted your arm and looked toward his colleague.

“Joey, I’m gonna escort this young lady down to the tunnel so she can get a better view of tonight’s little event,” Manny said with a wink, pressing the button on the elevator in front of you.

“No, no, that’s okay,” you protested, shaking your head as he ushered you into the elevator. “Really, I can just go up to his suite and watch from there. I don’t need to go down to the tunnel.”

Manny laughed and shook his head, nodding to the elevator attendant. “I don’t think so, hun,” he chuckled. “Not on my watch. We’ll get you down there and give you an up-close view.”

You sighed, shrugging off your jacket and scarf and folding them over your arm.

“Thank you, Manny,” you said with a grateful smile. Manny nodded, just as the elevator doors opened to reveal the depths of the arena.

“Come on,” Manny motioned toward himself. “Give me your things, and you go.”

Acutely aware that the clock was really ticking now, you didn’t put up a fight and passed your belongings to Manny, who silently pointed toward the tunnel outside the home locker room, where you caught a glimpse the tail end of the line of Sidney’s teammates, with Geno bringing up the rear as the men made their way to their bench for the presentation.

At that moment, Geno happened to look to his right, spotting you immediately.

“You’re here!” he exclaimed, still walking behind his team. He threw his hands atop his head and laughed in disbelief. “Oh, my god, Sid will be so happy you’re here!”

You smiled at Geno’s excitement, nodding as he pumped his fist once before disappearing from sight.

As you reached the locker room doors, you took a deep breath, knowing that only one player was still behind them.

Sidney stepped out of the room, and you noted that his shoulders sagged slightly, his eyes downcast as he sighed softly, turning in the direction of the ice before pausing as the PA announcer started his introduction, rattling off Sid’s lengthy list of accomplishments.

You took that as your cue.

“Hi,” you uttered quietly.

His head whipping toward you, Sidney’s eyes found yours after the briefest of moments, wide and gleaming. He breathed your name; you only grinned.

In a heartbeat, he was in front of you, gathering your face in his hands as he kissed you feverishly.

When he eventually broke the kiss, he hurriedly whispered, “What are you doing here?”

You smiled, resting your hands on his shoulder pads. “Same thing everyone else is doing,” you answered. “Celebrating you.”

Sidney giggled incredulously. “God, I can’t believe you’re-“

“And now, please welcome to the ice, your captain-“

You shoved at Sidney’s chest with a gasp, pushing him toward the ice where the announcer’s voice echoed and the crowd roared.

“Go!” you shouted.

Sidney immediately reached for your hand, pulling you along as he passed the spot where you had planned to stand and watch, hidden from view.

“You’re coming with me,” Sidney said firmly even as you shook your head. He firmly nodded his own.

“Yes. My family’s out there already. Stand by them,” he instructed, eyes glimmering with joy.

Your ears began to ring — not just because of the crowd noise, but because of the intensity of it all. Parading you in front of the entire Penguins organization and 18,000 of his fans was not something Sidney took lightly, and you knew that. You’d been in attendance for milestone games before, sitting in the stands with his family, or with Mario in the suite. And, of course, you were aware that you’d been spotted in public by Sid’s side before — at dinner dates on Mount Washington and at bars on the North Shore — but this incredibly public gesture was something entirely new in your relationship with him. It was overwhelming, but somehow still felt right. And if Sid felt ready, then so did you. You’d do anything to make him smile the way he had when he first saw you tonight in the tunnel — especially on a night that was so sentimental, one that you’d look back on together for a lifetime.

And even if you had been hesitant, it didn’t much matter, because without a second to resist, you were walking out onto the unrolled carpet while Sidney skated alongside you, parallel to your path, as fans applauded. Troy, Trina, and Taylor were visibly stunned as they watched Sidney enter with you at his side. The crowd cheered Sidney louder and louder with each passing moment, and he waved and nodded in acknowledgement, while you reached the end of the carpet and were embraced by each of Sidney’s family members.

“When did you get here?!” Taylor asked through clenched teeth as she tried to remain composed, despite the signature Crosby laughter bubbling from her lips.

“Literally minutes ago,” you answered in the same manner as Trina murmured your name tearfully, shaking her head in astonishment.

Troy smiled warmly down at you, squeezing your shoulder.

“This is gonna mean the world to him,” Troy spoke softly.

You nodded in acknowledgement, incredibly thankful to be able to share in Sidney’s special moment next to the people who raised him.

When the crowd’s volume eventually faded enough for the PA announcer to begin the recognition, you still barely heard the words echoing from the loudspeakers. Instead, you focused on the man standing next to you — the one you’d loved since the day you met; the one who left you in awe each day, not because of his unmatched talent on the ice but because of the resolute goodness of his soul; the one who would, in time, surely be the person you decided to step away from your career for, to settle down beside, and to start a family with. Before him, you were sure that you would never slow down for long enough to get married and have children; after him, you thought about doing so every single day, and you were surprisingly thrilled by that very thought which used to send you into a panic.

This man meant so much to so many — this night was proof of that — but he meant the most to you, and you knew without a doubt that he would be the one with whom you built your forever.

But, for now, on this night, he continued his own building, that of his hockey legacy — a fairy-tale story that started in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia, and continued more than a thousand miles away in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, with a thousand chapters so far and much still to be written.

_____

“A little birdie told me you might be here this evening,” a distinct French-Canadian accented voice said softly as his fingers curled around your shoulders.

You snickered, finishing your sip of merlot, and turned to face Mario’s towering figure. You leaned into his chest and were immediately wrapped into a warm hug.

“Was that little birdie named Shanny by any chance?” you asked with a grin. Mario simply shrugged coyly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“In all seriousness, sweetheart, I was so glad when I heard you were coming,” Mario said, his voice even and serious. “He wants to share it all with you, especially the big stuff, like this. I can’t imagine how happy he was when he saw you.”

You smiled, cognizant of the common sentiments coming from the two most influential men in Sidney’s life. You knew how much you meant to your boyfriend, but hearing that Sid let both Troy and Mario know the same brought a warmth deep within your chest. 

“It was pretty incredible. I’m just so pleased that it worked out,” you said fondly. “I want to share it all with him, too.”

Mario nodded, squeezing your bicep softly.

“Come on,” he encouraged with a smirk, nodding toward the bar at the back of the suite. “Let’s get another drink and celebrate.”

_____

“What a night,” Sidney murmured warmly into the dim master suite, lighted only by a few candles on the end tables that you’d lit upon returning home, signaling that it was time for your and Sid’s own private celebration in the comfort of his home.

You hummed in acknowledgment, circling your fingertips on his bare chest.

“I’m so glad you were there,” he added, placing a kiss in your hair.

You smiled up at him and reached to peck his lips.

“Me too,” you said. “This day couldn’t have been more perfect.”

An ornery smile tugged at the corner’s of Sidney’s plump lips.

“You don’t think so?” he began, making you furrow your brow in question. Seeing your confusion, he added, “I can think of one thing that would make this day even better.”

Leaving you lying in his bed watching him, propped up on your elbows, Sidney pulled on his sweats at the foot of the bed and crossed the room to his chest of drawers, reaching into the top one, his fingers moving all the way toward the back of it.

And there, even in the darkness, you knew exactly what he’d retrieved.

You sat straight up, pulling the red velvet-shaded sheets around your bare form. Tears already formed in your eyes, and you covered your mouth in utter amazement as Sidney walked toward you with a look of determination and knelt at the side of the bed.

“Sidney,” you whispered, splaying your hand across your chest.

“I was gonna wait until you were here next weekend to do this, but I honestly can’t wait anymore,” Sid began, his serious expression giving way to a joyful one. “This day has been all about me, and don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful to be where I am in my career,” he continued. “But the whole day, knowing you weren’t going to be there, I just felt... empty inside. It felt like a waste. I was just plastering on a smile and saying all the right things, but in my heart, it just felt meaningless if you couldn’t be a part of it. That’s how every day feels when I can’t be beside you.”

You were sobbing unabashedly now, your hand resting on Sidney’s neck as you listened to him.

“And I know you love your work, and I would never dream of asking you to give that up. But someday, in the not-so-distant future, my days of playing hockey are going to come to an end. And the second that happens, I can promise you this — I’m going to come to wherever you are, just to be near you,” he spoke, his voice quivering just slightly as his emotions became evident. “Because someday, whether it’s ten years from now or five years or a month or tomorrow, I wanna marry you, baby. I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. So...”

Sidney cleared his throat and lifted the box he held so that you could see it, flipping open the top to reveal the loveliest marquis-cut halo diamond ring you had ever seen. Your breath caught in your throat, and before Sidney could ask the question, you let out a firm “yes!”

Sidney threw his head back in laughter — your favorite song.

“How do you know what I was gonna ask?” he teased, leaning closer to you with one brow quirked.

“Sorry,” you muttered halfheartedly. “Okay, okay. Ask me.”

Sidney beamed. “Sweetheart, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you confirmed the second he finished the sentence, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him urgently. Both of you smiled into the kiss and continued your embrace for several moments, parting only to stare at each other and giggle incredulously.

“I love you,” you whispered. “And trust me, it won’t be ten years or five years from now. I’ll be ready very, very soon. I promise,” you assured.

Sidney’s smile grew even wider, and you knew he was somewhat taken aback by your assertion.

“Really?” he asked, smoothing his hand over your hair. You nodded.

“Give me a season or two,” you replied. “I know I can always go back to it. But this... us... nothing is more important to me, Sid. I want to spend all of my days with you, too.”

With that, Sidney grasped your jaw and kissed you with a fervor that told of not only his passion for you but the relief he felt in hearing your statement.

“I love you,” he panted when he finally pulled his lips from yours. “Can I put the ring on you now?”

With a laugh, you joked, “Well, I suppose so.”

Sidney shook his head in amusement and pulled the ring from the box, sliding it onto your left hand. You wiggled your fingers and admired the perfect fit of the ring, not to mention its exceptional beauty.

“Wow,” you whispered, looking back to Sidney. You held the back of your hand up to him and teased, “A bunch of 1,000 game gifts and a fiancée all in one night. Not bad for you, eh?”

Sidney reached for your hand and left a long kiss on your knuckles.

“Not bad at all,” he answered earnestly.

[mooshys]

the silver lining of bad first dates

summary: a date gone wrong. a walk in the rain. a simple conversation in a ramen shop. mundane slice of life and mutual pining with kuroo.

word count: 2.1k

author’s note and warnings: curse words galore. set in time-skip. pure word vomit. kuroo’s one of those characters that I’m so scared to even consider writing for because I feel as though I’ll never truly be able to “get” his character. whatever though, I tried.

This date fucking sucked.

Point-blank. No sugarcoating because the dude sitting on the opposite side of the dinner table was more interested in the JASDAQ than your name. Seriously, he couldn’t even be bothered to listen to you talk about your alma mater before he swooped in and started blanketing his insecurities with his recent Bitcoin investment. 

Talk about lame.

Wine and hors d’oeuvres be damned, you were making an escape before he started mansplaining the economy. Even wagyu couldn’t save this candlelit disaster.

Making no attempt to be discreet, you whipped your phone out of your bag and typed up a quick text:

Mind picking me up? Shitty date.

Ping! 

Seriously? Again? What’d this guy do this time?

Ping!

Send the address

Ping!

I swear, this is the last time I’m picking you up

You smiled at the screen, thumbs moving fast.

That’s what you said last week

A bubble with three dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared.

Ping!

Five minutes.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Like every cliché bad first date, the weather made sure to mimic the mood. The rainfall was nothing less than dreadful, a downpour that left the streets empty as most people kept indoors to avoid getting soaked.

“You’re so lucky that I didn’t have to work overtime tonight,” Kuroo began, standing close to you in an attempt to shield you both from the shower with his janky umbrella. “Otherwise, you’d be walking in the rain or sitting there having your dinner ruined from hearing that guy talk about his gains in the market.”

You laughed at the truth of his words. There really was no one else who knew you like Kuroo. 

“And you know I would’ve walked in the rain out of the two options. I can’t believe someone so dick-ish exists that I’d bail out on a free meal,” you said, raising your voice over the heavy pelting.

Without any warning, a trio of college kids rushed past you two, not paying attention to the other pedestrians walking the sidewalks as their only priority in mind was making it back home before catching a cold. They had their backpacks held up to cover their heads, but it wasn’t much help as their clothes were completely soaked.

“See that?” Kuroo jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “You would’ve been running like those kids all the way back to your apartment if I didn’t show up.”

You lightly elbowed him and rolled your eyes. Rain fell on your shoulder from the sudden movement, but Kuroo repositioned the umbrella to prevent you from getting wet. “As if,” you murmured, hugging your body in an attempt to keep warm. “Thanks for picking me up. Again.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re oh so welcome,” he waved off your words and then cackled when you narrowed your eyes at him. Sometimes he really knew how to push your buttons. “Anyway, are you trying to date a bunch of crappy guys on purpose? Because I feel like that’s what you’re trying to do.”

“It’s not like I ask to go through a bunch of crappy first dates!” you said, letting out a huff of hot air. The past month had been riddled with unsuccessful first dates. Statistically speaking, you were an outlier; the average person probably went through a handful of bad first dates in a single year: you went through that number in a mere month. Multiple standard deviations past, you were way out of the norm. “Maybe I’m just a magnet for awful guys who only have a thing for themselves.”

Kuroo scoffed. “Or maybe you just like to make my life a little bit harder.”

You smiled at his words.

“Maybe.”

Besides the realization that you were like a honeytrap to flies when it came to bad first dates, another constant came from the start of it all: Kuroo. You weren’t expecting much from the first SOS call; really, just someone to walk you back home when it was late and the taxi fares were jacked up. But you would never forget the first time he waited for you outside that overhyped bar with a bag of take-out, his tie loosened and hair messy because he had just left the office and rushed to the nearest place that sold yakisoba for a decent price.

Maybe you did make his life a little bit harder. It was selfish, but whenever you had a bad date, you actually started to anticipate your escape because that meant Kuroo would be there for you.

He was your silver lining for the past month.

Red brick walls came into view once you two rounded the corner into a more secluded alley, revealing a familiar site that made you hungry. A neon sign which turned brighter due to the haze of the rain drew you in like a moth to a flame. It flickered, but still kept its light. Another constant.

Underneath the awning of the restaurant, Kuroo retracted his umbrella and shook the excess water off of it. He shoved it in the small bin filled with umbrellas belonging to the other patrons and dragged the soles of his shoes on the mat before pulling the door open. 

“Let’s just get some ramen,” he said, ushering you inside. You took the first steps and situated yourself at a lone table. He followed and a waitress quickly took your orders, soon rushing back to the kitchen to help with the line of tickets pinned to the wall. 

“Ramen on a rainy day,” you said, giving a low whistle. “You know your stuff.”

“Duh, ramen tastes best when you’re freezing,” he replied, pulling on his necktie to loosen it. He grabbed two pairs of chopsticks along with a pair of spoons, placing a set in front of you. “And it tastes pretty good after bad dates too.”

“You’re talking to the queen of bad first dates.”

“Oh, I’ve had my fair share too, Your Highness.”

As if on cue, two bowls of ramen were brought over from the kitchen along with an extra soft boiled egg as soon as he finished his sentence. The soup had small ringlets floating at the top from the fat of the broth along with bright green scallions acting as a garnish to offer a vibrant and appetizing color. Wasting no time, you both gave thanks and started to dig in.

“You know,” he started, breaking his chopsticks apart and dipping them into the broth. He pulled up a nice amount of noodles, the steam rising up higher than before. “I really think you should quit dating guys who suck.”

Following Kuroo, you did the same and blew at your noodles. “You say it like it’s easy.”

“It is. It’s so easy.” He ate a mouthful and swallowed before speaking again. “You have your top tier guys, your average guys, and then your totally shitty guys. I mean absolute trash—these are the guys you’re dating. Avoid them and all your problems will be solved.”

“Ugh, I feel like we go through this conversation after every single mishap of a date.”

Translation: Kuroo, you sound like my nagging mother.

“Because you never learn.”

Translation: I will nag at you all I want.

You sighed. “Love’s a lot more complicated than you make it.”

“Whatever. Just find a guy who isn’t an asswipe, and then we can talk.”

As you two continued to eat, the kitchen staff remained lively. The sounds of ceramic bowls clattering together along with the static hum of an old radio buzzing some city pop tune your mom would have listened to in her youth acted as background noise while chatting. 

“So... what kind of guy do you think you are?” you asked, curious to hear his answer. Kuroo was in the middle of slurping his noodles and held a hand up to signal you to give him a second.

“Me?” He pointed at himself and you nodded. Who else would you be asking? “I’m your average guy.”

You frowned. “No way.”

“What, you think I’m an absolute trash kind of guy? Harsh.”

“No, I think you’re definitely top tier. Average guys don’t go out of their way to do stuff like this.”

Kuroo raised a brow at you and set his chopsticks down. His bowl was half finished, but he was more interested in what you had to say. “Stuff like what?”

“You know,” you motioned the space between you two, “doing this awful-first-date-rescue-at-the-drop-of-a-hat kind of stuff. No questions asked. Average guys don’t do that. Average guys just pay for your meal and maybe give you their jacket when it’s kind of cold. And sometimes they call you some gross pet name like...” You shivered at the thought. “Kitten or something.”

He looked slightly taken aback. “You don’t like being called kitten?”

“No, something about it sounds gross.”

“That’s just because you haven’t found the right guy to say it to you when—“

Not wanting to hear the rest of what he had to say, you quickly crumpled up a napkin into a ball and tossed it at him. He threw his head back, putting on an act as if you actually did any damage to him.

“Stop. Please. Enough. Don’t even finish what you’re going to say.” You went back to devouring your bowl, the noodles more soft than before. Still tasted great as you shoveled in mouthfuls. “I don’t wanf tew heur et!”

Sporting a disgusted look, Kuroo grabbed a few napkins from the dispenser and slid them to your side of the table. “Jeez, you eat like that whenever you’re on a date? Maybe I saved that guy from you.”

“Well, you’re the one stuck with all of this now,” you motioned a hand to your entirety and wiggled an eyebrow. “Consider yourself lucky.”

He held his chin in the palm of his hand and stared at you from across the table, eyes still holding a glint of amusement under the low lighting of the restaurant. His bowl was nearly finished, yet he focused his attention on you, allowing a small smile to grace his lips as he pondered your words.

You eyed him, his gaze feeling a bit different from before. “What are you doing?”

“Considering,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“...It shouldn’t take you that long to,” you mumbled and ate another mouthful of noodles. He kept at it and soon started to crack up. When you narrowed your eyes at him, he shook his head and pushed another pile of napkins your way. 

“There’s a scallion at the corner of your lips,” he tapped a hand on his bottom lip and cackled when you rushed to grab a napkin and wipe it away. Heat rose to your face and you sucked on your teeth.

“You know what? Forget about me calling you a top tier guy. It never happened.”

He placed a hand over his heart, wounded by your words. “It was kitten, wasn’t it?”

Unable to contain yourself, you laughed into your hand, shoulders shaking. You had to set your chopsticks down as you fanned your face, trying to get rid of the tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. “If I ever heard that from another guy, I would walk out. The second the word came out of his mouth, I would pack up my things, leave, and never look back.”

“But you’re not right now.”

“I’m not.”

“Because I’m a top tier guy. Admit it.”

Because it’s you.

You shook your head and waved the white flag. “Right, that’s exactly it.”

Kuroo crossed his arms in front of his chest, satisfied with your answer. Like he won something from this conversation. He liked the way your lips tugged into a smile, not too tight, but enough to showcase the apples of your cheeks; he liked these nights when he could unwind after a long day of work and laugh about stupid pet names; he loved how easy it all was. 

Consideration done and over with, he went back to finish his bowl, the steam from the broth no longer visible to the naked eye.

“Eat up or it’ll get cold,” he said and sipped on the broth. It was still warm, much to his surprise. “I’ll walk you back home when we’re done.”

You took small bites, prolonging the meal in any way possible: listening to him talk about his lazy cubicle partner, ordering another side of gyoza, folding a napkin to tell him his fortune through grade school methods. Both your bowls were empty, pushed to the side with a sliver of broth left as the focus was neither the food nor the JASDAQ jerk from hours before, but rather mundane conversation that went in circles until the shop emptied out.

A hundred dates could go wrong only for Kuroo to show up and make things right.

Maybe it was time for him to become more than a silver lining.

[beigehearts]

kayokayokayokaoakoa I love this so much, uuuugh I literally would do anything for poly hisoka and illumi

CW: drugs

Sometimes they can be so annoying, so hurtful. They never intend to hurt your feelings but after they ganged up on you during your argument... Poly relationships has its troubles. For example, two people thinking one thing and the one person thinking another. You just needed to get away from it all. You just needed a few days to yourself without worrying about anyone else.

Luckily your friend let you stay at her house. Another thing you needed was to be away from men for a little while. You told her you wanted to hear nothing about your own life, you just want to party. The two of you drank, and watched scary movies into the dead of the night. During the day you would sleep in with a hangover and wake up to take Advil.

But of course, it can't last forever, you do need to go home to your boyfriends. They must be worried, you left without a word. In the middle of the night before their mission the next day, you packed a bag and jumped out of the window of the guest room. You just wanted to leave without any discussion, and any more argument.

The three of you live in a house in the woods. It's not too far from a main road and town. You decided on this house because of the scenery. It's so beautiful, especially during winter and spring.

As you walk up towards the house, you see the window you jumped out of is no longer open. You pass the car that's parked on the pebble driveway of your house. You wouldn't be surprised if they put you in the 'dog house' tonight. If anyone gets mad at someone, they sleep in the guest room instead of the shared bedroom. And if we're all mad at each other, someone sleeps in the bedroom, the guest bedroom, and on the couch. But that's a rare occurrence.

You stand in front of the door and take a deep breath. Anxiety riddles your body, just, act natural. Right?

You step inside and call out, "I'm home!"

It's silent, but only for a moment. Hisoka comes rushing to the door and grabs your face tightly, looking into your eyes. You can see the worry lines that have been creased on his face.

"Where were you? We were so worried." He drops his hands behind your back and hugs you tightly. You can see Illumi leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. He doesn't show any physical signs of being upset or worried, but you know he is.

The rest of the day goes by with a bit of tension. You don't answer to why you disappeared, and you try to move back into daily life. While you do think it's unfair to them, this is easiest for all of you.

You're surprised when the three of you sleep in the same bed. You lay in the middle with Hisoka spooning you and with Illumi's arm wrapping around both of you. Their concern is heard by their actions.

It's 8 am when the sound of birds outside awakens you. God damn birds. You sit up and stretch your arms in the air with a yawn. The bed is empty, and the bedroom door is open. The smell of bacon and eggs waft through the air, and is quickly overpowered by coffee. Illumi doesn't particularly like meat, so he'll probably just eat the eggs.

You leave the room, not bothering to change out of pajamas. Hisoka smiles at you when he sees that you've woken up. He's drinking a cup of coffee and leaning against the kitchen counter while Illumi is cooking on the stove. Before sitting down at the table, you kiss both of them and grab a cup of coffee. These kind of mornings are the best, when all three of you are home.

Hisoka begins talking about the news, and criticizes their commentary. The quiet sound of the radio playing serenades you; it's classical, which Illumi likes.

Finally all three of you sit down, Illumi is eating just eggs and drinking tea, and Hisoka is eating just bacon and drinking coffee. They're polar opposites.

They seem to be watching you, but you pay no mind. It's not uncommon. You take a bite of eggs and then Hisoka begins talking again.

Something about how what the woman telling the news' dress was ugly... something about a dead hunter... something... Man, you're a lot more tired than you thought.

You interrupt Hisoka and stand up, "Hey I don't feel well." You slur your words. "I think I'm going to..." You fall back into your chair and lay your head on the table. It's too much effort to keep your eyes open any longer, so you shut them and succumb to the darkness.

---- Ahh... It's so dark, it's just as dark with your eyes open as with them closed. Are you dreaming? No it can't be, this is too real. You can't move either, maybe it's sleep paralysis. Something is digging into your stomach, your legs, and your wrists. It feels like you're sitting in a chair. But how did you get here?

There's an electrical buzz and then you're blinded by light. You squint until your eyes adjust and look around. It's your basement. You scan the room and- Illumi is standing by the lights, and Hisoka is sitting on the couch.

"What's going on?" Your voice is hoarse and your mouth is dry.

Illumi studies you intently before saying, "Your behavior has been very problematic."

"My... My behavior has?" You ask, baffled.

Hisoka clears his throat, "We thought it was best that you stay home for a while."

"I- I don't understand."

"We're making sure you don't run out on us." Illumi adds.

This is all very confusing.

Hisoka stands up and makes his way towards you. He squats down in front of you where you're sitting. That's when you realize you're tied up by rope.

His hands travel up your thighs and he smiles, "We can't trust you." He stands up and leans forward until his lips are by your ear.

A cough escapes you when suddenly a hand is wrapped tightly around your throat. "So we have to teach you how to stay, pet."

[let-me-write-shit]

imagine like riding harry and he’s choking you and mocking you bc you can barely move your hips bc it feels too good. and then you have to beg him to fuck up into you 🥵🥵

Word Count: 3,021

A/N: This was also partially inspired by another anon request I got that read :

‘one where Harry and yn doing a painting with a twist or bob ross painting together but making it a bit smutty’

Warning: SMUT!!!!!!!!! lots of smut!! Choking, dom behavior. Just nasty.

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

And don’t forget to let me know what you think! Enjoy.

CLICK HERE TO READ OTHER COMPLETED STORIES

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Loving You Is Art

Quality time with Harry was few and far between these days. It seemed that the two of you were constantly being pulled apart in every which direction, what with him preparing for a new album release and your career finally gaining momentum. You were lucky if you were even able to sit down at the end of the day and eat a meal together without interruption. You should be used to it by now after two years of dating, but it never got any easier.

He tried his best; leaving a note for you on the kitchen counter in the morning next to a pot of coffee, sending little texts throughout the day, and calling to warn you if he’d be late. Communication was important to you and he made an effort to show it. But sometimes that wasn’t enough. You missed him. 

So, you decided to surprise him. You’d planned tonight for two weeks now, making sure to get caught up on your work, calling Harry’s manager to ask him if he could please not plan too much on this particular Friday without tipping your boyfriend off, and order in all the supplies for your date night. You wanted to make it extra special so when Harry walked in the door he’d not only be surprised, but excited.

He had texted you when he left his meeting and you knew you had about fifteen minutes to get it ready. Quickly, you spread an enormous tarp across the floor of your living room, dragging in two chairs, two easels, two canvases, a large canvas sheet that you spread over the floor, and a table with paintbrushes, a cup of water, and various paints. Lastly, you stripped out of your clothes and put on only three items. A black, silk robe, a pair of black strappy heels, and Harry’s pearl necklace, twisting your hair up into a clip and letting the strands drape back down. As you poured two glasses of wine, you heard the door open and close, heavy footsteps making their way further into the home you both shared.

“Baby? What’s all this?” you heard his voice echo down the hall. 

The clacking of your heels caught his attention as you made your way in, wine glasses in hand, and the confused smile on his face shifted, replaced with wide eyes and his mouth falling open.

“Hi,” you smirked, pecking at the corner of his mouth. He leaned into you as you pulled away, disappointed that you parted from him so quickly, taking the glass of wine that you offered. “Strip,” you simply said, sitting on a chair that was positioned in front of one of the easels, taking a sip of your wine.

He didn’t need any further explanation, quickly doing what he was told. You giggled under your breath at his eagerness as he kicked his shoes off and practically tore the shirt off of his torso, exposing his black ink-riddled tattoos, undressing until all that was left was his boxers. Your smirk grew, placing your wine glass on the table beside your easel and standing up. Keeping your eye contact, you lifted the end of the strap that had held your robe shut, looping it through your fingers, teasingly. His eyes darted from your face, down towards your hand, and back up again as you shifted your weight on your heels. 

“All the way,” you nodded towards him, your voice low and sultry, and with one hard tug, you ripped your sash away, letting your robe come undone and flitter to the ground at your feet. 

Harry froze for a moment, staring at your naked body, the way your legs looked in your heels and noting how his pearls looked against your bare chest. He gulped, speechless, unable to move until you sat back down on your chair, crossing your legs, leaning back, and pulling your glass of wine back to your lips. If you blinked, you would have missed it. His boxer briefs were halfway across the room a second later, his cock large and erect, bouncing as he hustled to his chair and sat. 

He seemed to understand what was going on as you each grabbed a brush, but you explained it anyway, “Paint me,” you grinned, making him smile.

“I won’t be able to do you justice,” he looked you up and down with a smirk, looking at the color options, “Especially with only three colors.”

You giggled, dipping your brush into the black paint, “Do your best.”

You lightly began blotting and stroking the color onto the canvas, occasionally looking up at him in an attempt to get a general outline first. You weren’t a great artist, he knew this. That’s why you didn’t even bother getting a large selection of colors. Most of the artwork in your home was more modernized with a combination of abstract and contemporary, anyway. So you decided to stick with the theme and colors which were black, white, and hints of a baby blue. 

You tried to focus your painting more on his torso, from his chin down to his pelvic area, just where his pubic hair began to form. You peered at him through your eyelashes and bit your bottom lip at the sight of his abs tightening and relaxing as he went to town on his canvas, widely brushing his paint onto his canvas.

“Done!” he exclaimed, throwing his brush into the cup of water.

You snapped out of your trance, your mouth opened wide in indignation, “There’s no way!”

“I am!” he declared, a confident smirk on his face, “You told me to paint you, so I did!”

“Let me see!” you demanded, gripping your paintbrush in hand, black paint beginning to drip down the handle.

Confidently, Harry picked his painting off the easel and turned it around to face you. Your eyes rolled wildly when you saw what he had done. He painted the background black, and in baby blue paint drew a childlike version of tits that looked like two u’s with dots for nipples.

“Great. Well done, you twat,” you joked, flinging the paint that was on the end of your brush in his direction which splattered on his painting, also hitting his chest and thigh.

He shrieked, staring at the paint that hand landed on him before looking up with a mischievous smile. “Oh, is that how we’re playing it? Sabotage?” he gaped, head tilted as he reached for another paintbrush, dipping it into the white.

“Harry!” you threatened, giggling, hands up in defense, “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I?” he mocked, holding his paintbrush back in ready, “Last I checked, you were the one who threw the first punch.” And he launched the paint towards you, white paint splattering across your neck, chest, and arm. 

You yelped, quickly standing up in shock that he had done it. Harry cackled at the expression on your face as you slowly looked up at him, mouth ajar. Your eyes flickered to the bottles of paint that sat on the table in between you and he noticed, watching you as a light had clicked in your brain. 

“No!” he warned.

But you were too quick. In a split second, you had managed to grab the bottle of black paint and began squirting it in his direction, splattering it on his torso and watching it drip down the front of him. And you laughed wildly as he grabbed the blue and white paint bottles, pointing and squeezing them in your direction as the two of you circled each other, using your easels as fruitless efforts in attempting to shield yourselves.

Paint was everywhere. Your bodies were the canvas now, dollops of blue and white running down the arch of your back and the curves of your breasts, down past your bellybutton, dripping onto your feet. When you attempted to swipe the hair our of your face, you inadvertently left a smear of black paint on your cheek and forehead, making Harry laugh.

Black paint had managed to drip in the creases of his newly defined abs that he had been working so hard on these past few months, his hands having smeared most of the paint on his chest which somehow made him look even more toned. You laughed, tossing your empty paint bottle to the side as harry stepped closer, grinning, and dumping the last of the white and blue paint on your chest, his pearl necklace now smeared in color and barely recognizable. 

He booped you on the nose with his index finger, leaving a trace of blue on the tip of your nose as he pressed his body closer to yours, making the black paint on his torso mix with the blue and white on yours and whispering, “You look a little wet.”

“You have no idea,” you held your breath, tingling wildly throughout your body like you always did when the sexual tension began to build. 

His lips twitched, his face was so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath starting to dry the paint that smeared on your face, legs starting to feel weak. His mouth hovered over yours, lips grazing, taunting, until finally he pressed his against yours, hungrily pulling you closer to him, both of your hands roaming each other’s bodies. No grip was tight enough to pull your bodies closer together.

The two of you slowly began to guide each other to the ground where you stood, on top of the fabric canvas that you had set aside to attempt to do some sort of line art of the two of you. That idea was ruined as it had now been splattered in paint and riddled with black, blue, and white footprints. He laid you down on your back, situating himself in between your legs that straddle his hips, pressing his hands on the canvas beside your head while your fingers ran through his hair, leaving streaks of paint in his browl, curly locks. 

He pulled away to give you another look, smirking at the mess of color on your body and tracing a heart around your naval before he bent back down, crashing his lis on yours again. Normally, as a part of your foreplay routine, you’d share turns going down on each other, tasting each other’s juices and letting Harry play in your pussy for a bit, but with the paint, that wasn’t an option. Luckily, the need for foreplay wasn’t necessary. The past twenty minutes of teasing was enough to get you ready and his tip prodded at your cunt for a minute before slipping right in, warm and wet, just like he liked it.

You gasped at the abruptness, arching your back as he started to pump, clasping your legs tighter around his waist, “Fuck, Harry,” you managed.

Your little moans of delight always reassured him, gaining more confidence as he pumped harder into you, “Ya like that, do ya?” he ran his hand down your breast and to your hip, pulling himself back slightly and pulling you up higher so that your butt was off the ground and he could see your tits bouncing as he railed you, “Let me hear it, y/n. Let me hear how much ya like it.”

His thirst for you always got you heated for more and your voice got louder for him, screaming out his name, “God, your cock is so fucking big, Harry! Fuck! That feels so good!”

“You’re so wet,” he grunted, gritting his teeth and going faster now. His force began to lessen and you could tell he was starting to get tired, so you pushed him out of you and sat up, seeing the mess that was being made on the canvas below you.

“Lay down,” you demanded, moving aside.

He licked his lips, panting, and laying back down on the canvas like he was told before you straddled his hips once more, lowering yourself onto him. His hands naturally went to your heps, but you grabbed them, pinning them above his head which always drove him crazy. He let his head fall back, eyes fluttering shut and mouth agape as you bounced your ass onto him, his cock rock-hard inside of you.

“Oh my god,” you heard him whisper under his breath before he forced his head up to see your breasts bouncing in his face, desperate to take one into his mouth and flick his tongue over your paint-riddled nipples. 

“You like that tight pussy?” you breathes into his mouth, biting his lip before pulling away and placing your palms on his chest, using him as leverage to ride his cock, bouncing on him faster.

With his hands now free from your grasp, he snaked them up your body, giving your tits a quick squeeze, before firmly wrapping around your neck. Your body tensed for a moment. He smirked, knowing what he was doing. Choking was your kink. Not too tight where you couldn’t breathe, but firm enough on the sides of your throat where you could feel your pulse more clearly underneath his grip. You let out a loud moan, attempting to ride him harder, but your pace slowed, hips barely able to move. You were close. Too close. 

Your body shook, trying to force your thighs to do their job and move, but they wouldn’t budge. Harry sniggered, “Gonna cum, are ye? My cock too much for you to handle?”

His hands loosened their grip around your neck, and you cried out, “No, don’t!” Grabbing his hand and forcing it back to your neck. Out of breath and shaking from pure pleasure, you kept trying to go faster, but you only slowed down.

He raised an eyebrow, taunting you, “Need me to fuck you?” he snickered, earning a  pleading nod from you. His hand lingered around your throat, running his thumb on your jaw and he smirked, “How bad do you want it?”

You glowered down at him, attempted to readjust, trying to see if there was another position that could get you the right amount of momentum, but your efforts were futile. With every movement you made, a small gasp escaped your lips. You were teetering on the edge of climax, unable to move, and it was agony.

“Harry, fuck me!” You begged, forcing your own hands around his throat, “Please, fuck me!”

His eyes grew more ravenous, jaw clenching and clutching the pearls that hung around your neck, tightening his grip on them so that they began to squeeze at your throat. Your begging was all it took. He forced his cock up into you so fast and so hard that you were practically being lifted up off the ground. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head in rapture, sounds you didn’t even know you could make being forced from your mouth.

His mouth puckered, eyes wandering from your head that flew back in pleasure, to your breasts, covered in paint and smeared to look more gray with specs of blue dotting down to your belly button. Your moans started to become shorter and more loud, body tensing and a chill running down your spine, “Just like that, babe! Keep going. Right there!” You panted until you let out one long, loud scream. 

Your screams sent him over the edge, letting gown of the pearls around your neck and gripping on your hips harder, pulling you down onto him as he pushed up into you. His grunts getting faster and his lower jaw jutting out. “You’re so-fucking-sexy!” he grumbled in between thrusts before his final, deep, long thrust into you, pulling you tight onto his cock as he came inside of you, letting out a low, deep moan. 

You collapsed onto him, the rising and falling of his chest matching your breathing, leaying their for a moment before you rolled off of him, both of you sprawled onto the tarp that covered the floor, naked and covered in paint. The two of you laid there for a moment until you started to feel the paint beginning to dry on your leg, and before you could say anything, he turned his head to face you.

Sweat beaded his forehead and he was finally beginning to catch his breath when he smiled at you, dimples evident in his cheeks, “You’re amazing.”

You grinned, forcing yourself up and attempting to hide the shakiness of your legs, “I know.”

The two of you helped shower each other off and clean up your mess as much as possible. Both canvases that were on the easels were trashed and you had to wipe the paint splatters off of the wooden chairs and tables, but for the most part, the tarp had done a good job at making sure paint hadn’t gotten on the floor. There was only one little spot of blue stain that gotten onto the molding of the wall from when Harry flicked paint at you, but it was barely noticable if you weren’t looking for it. 

As for the fabric of canvas, at first they were going to get rid of it. But, the more they looked at it, the more they fell in love with it. It was very abstract, black, white, and blue smeared all over, parts of it mixing into grey. If you looked hard enough, you could see the streaks from their handprints and the blue and white circles where your knees and feet had been when you rode him. You decided to attach it to stretcher bars and have it framed, putting it above the sitting room fireplace.

Harry loved having this huge canvas of art on display; knowing how it was made and how prominently it was displayed for everyone who came over to see turned into a little kink of his. Whenever someone commented on how cool it looked, the two of you would always share a look and smirk, and when you had a split second of privacy, he’d kiss you with such intensity that reminded you of that night.

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Taglist:

@odetostep

[liptonsbabe]

Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! Reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: Molly knows about the reader’s relatives and she’s not so sure to put her trust in a girl that had just betrayed her own family

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Hi! i’m so happy that you guys liked this thing! thank you so much for your support and, again, if you want to keep reading this let me know. Same note as ever, english not my mother language, so tell me if something’s is wrong.

Chapter 2: Not your family

The next morning turned out to be quieter than you imagined.

You slowly got out of bed and looked at everything around you noticing how quaint Bill's old room was. The ceiling was lined with grainy wallpaper with stacks of photographs of Quidditch players hanging from the reeds that moved from side to side, simulating the playing field; the right side of the room had a huge hole behind the small stool that tried to hide it, and from that hole a small garden gnome was sleeping peacefully with a small piece of cloth on top of his head. You stood up, walking towards the huge window that gave you a beautiful view of the Weasley's garden that at that moment was covered by a thin layer of drizzle that had fallen during the night.

Molly's fruit trees gleamed under the faint rays of the sun and you saw how a doxy from between the leaves poisoned Mrs. Weasley's apples, causing them to fall from the tree branches in a thick black mass with a foul smell coming out of it. You shook your head, excited to witness a very different way to wake up.

Even though several minutes have passed since you woke up, the house continued to remain in a strange silence that made you think that the family had decided to leave the burrow with the intention of buying more supplies or something like that. You knew that Bill wasn’t at home precisely for his obligations within the Order, so you didn’t worry about looking for him around the room, so you decided that a better option was going down to the dining room and know what was happening.

As you went down the spiral staircase, you cursed in a whisper when you forgot to put on your slippers before leaving the bedroom cause the floor was so cold that you slipped a couple of times. Back in the days, when you were still welcome in your parents' house, you had many servants who did all the things for you - putting on your shoes as soon as you woke up was one of those things - but now that your life had changed so much, you assumed that you would have to adapt and start taking care of your own needs.

Your curious eyes roamed the walls covered in family photos that caused a big warmth in your chest. In each of those photographs, all of Molly's children appeared along with their father, smiling for the camera and sending effusive greetings. A pic was hanging at the fireplace were Molly and Arthur were carrying a small white bundle crying his lungs out. You assumed it was Bill as his parents seemed too young back then and even as a small baby, you could recognize those tantrum features anywhere.

A giggle escaped your lips when you noticed a funny sequence from that same photo in which, even with Bill crying in his mother's arms, his father tried to carry him for a moment to calm him down, however the baby's cries didn’t stop. The baby was so annoyed that he ended throwing up  the milk ration that he must have had before the photo session on his father's neat shirt.

You laughed because you knew that William's impertinence was something he had carried with him for several years now.

"Bill hates those photos." You jumped in your place scared to see Molly standing behind you. Your cheeks turned red “He says that it’s embarassing but i think that’s nonsense. He was an adorable baby”

"he was," you answered, looking anywhere but into Molly's shrewd eyes. "but I guess displaying them in the fireplace isn’t the right thing to do."

“Is it not?

"No, they should be at the front door where everyone can see them”

Molly giggled as you watched the sequence of photos over and over again. A silence settled between you, but surprisingly it was not an awkward silence, but one that was allowing you to create a bond that neither of you expected. Mrs. Weaslsey brought up a rag, wiping it around the corners of the photo from the dust.

"Arthur and I had to save up for months to take those pictures," she mentioned wistfully, "we just had Bill and it seemed like a good idea to welcome him into our family with a gesture like that. Arthur was new in the ministry and wasn't earning too much, but we had that quirk and decided we could afford to skip certain things to pay for the pictures. It cost us ten galleons and it still took us four months to gather them”

“Oh” You didn't know what to say, but you just kept looking at the photograph feeling a bit uncomfortable. You never had those problems at home because your family was insanelly rich thanks to the inheritance in life that your grandfather Tim had left to his son and later to his grandchildren. Even the descendants of your grandfather's servants came to work in your house, reason enough for you and your siblings to grow up with no sense of responsibility other than your own wishes. Molly sighed remembering those times when life seemed to be easier.

"So when Bill asked me to remove it from the fireplace, I refused. He doesn't know how hard it was to raise that money, but I think he has nothing to be ashamed of, he was too adorable!

"I don't doubt it for a second, Mrs. Weasley."

"You can call me Molly," she said, walking back to the kitchen where you continued watching the way the pans moved back and forth preparing breakfast. You were not very good at cooking - in fact, you had never cooked before- however, that didn’t stop you from offering your help. So you took a pan, placed it on the stove, and decided that you would find a way to make a good mountain of strawberry-filled pancakes just like your dear nanny did. Molly observed you carefully. "I think that now that you are living with us it is appropriate to have a more cordial treatment.My son told me a lot about you”

“Just the good things, i hope”

“Kind of” You stopped mixing ingredients to look at her carefully” He told us a bunch of marvelous things about you and how you two met. Actually, what worries me the most is what he didn’t tell us”

And there was the recrimination you were waiting for. You were aware that it had to arrive sooner or later, however, you would have been grateful that it did it when Bill were by your side to give you the opportunity to defend yourself properly. You cleared your throat uncomfortably, knowing that what Molly needed to hear from your own lips was which family you came from. You continued your task with the pancakes, turning out as bad as you expected.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way, Mrs. Weasley."

"Molly," he corrected.

"Molly" you smiled slowly "But believe me when I tell you that it was me who asked William not to mention anything about my last name or where I come from. I know that in this case, with the war above our heads, it is necessary to be certain of the people who enter your family and I apologize for that, it's just ... Bill is very important to me” Molly's eyes narrowed “Since we met ... I have found a home in him and well, all that feels when someone is in love. "Mrs. Weasley shook her head, understanding the feeling." I have experienced the rejection before. When people know that Tom Riddle is my family ... they run away in fear, curse my family and even walk away from us, as if sharing a blood bond makes us as evil as he is.

“And it’s not like that?” Molly asked with a hand on her neck. She didn’t want to be like the others and judge you without knowing the full story, just as she had promised Bill the night before that she would, but it was so difficult not to remember the death of his brothers by Voldemort’s hands and to pretend nothing had happened in the past. You sighed because the eggs you cracked on the bowl got mixed with their own shell “ I've heard of the Grants before, they're all Death Eaters, including your siblings!”

“It is difficult to have to choose a side  when you don’t have your own convictions”

"And you have it?"

You looked at Molly in pain. Of course you expected those reactions from Bill's mother, she was within her right to be upset that her oldest son never told her that he was in a relationship with a girl who seemed to have the most fucking powerful and evil wizard in the world as a great-uncle. No, Molly wasn't mad, she was deadly angry, she felt like she was bursting!

Her hands became fists and without knowing how, you found yourself between the wall and Molly's big arms from one second to the other. The pancake batter was forgotten, as was the woman's promise to treat her son's girlfriend in a good way.

"How is it possible ..." Molly questioned in an agitated voice, pressing your arms against the wall, "... that a single deer leaves the nature of its own herd?" How can you ensure that one rotten apple even in a gold container doesn’t rot the others?”Your breath caught at the questions of the woman in front of you. Once again, you were aware that your presence wouldn’t be good news to them, but at least you hoped they understood your motives before judging you “Explain to me, (Y/ N) Grant, when have you seen a pig away from his equals?”

Your words caught in your throat at Molly's fierce question. Bill had talked a lot about the temper of his mother. Even if she could be really grumpy at times, she was in general a very sweet, pleasant and maternal woman with everyone; however, you didn’t fit into that generality because it seemed that the woman was determined to kill you with her own hands.

"If my presence bothers you so much, then you shouldn't have let Bill and I to stay here."

“He's my son! All I want for him is to be happy, and that's why I don't understand what he managed to see in you”

"Maybe the same thing you saw in your husband." Molly's lips twitched in anger, but you didn't stop. You hoped that she would at least understand what your words meant, because that would make it easier for both of you to try at least get along better, even if Molly seemed not to want to do it under any circumstances. How is it that this haughty little girl dared to compare herself with her dear and wonderful husband? "I'm sorry, but I don't think this conversation is going to take us anywhere."

"If someone betrays his own family ..." Molly stopped you before you walked out the front door. The others got down the stairs, seeing the scandal formed in the kitchen “The rest of us can't expect too much, can we?

Your eyes blured.

[wrathandgreed]

His Worst Sin

Simeon - Angst - 1.5K

TW: mild swearing, hints of abusive parents if you squint.

Was it so wrong to want more?

Of course, being an angel, Simeon knew the answer was yes. Yes, it was wrong to want more, because Father provided everything you needed. If you didn’t have it, you didn’t need it, and it’s very absence was important to your life or your growth. Wanting more meant you didn’t value what you already had.

But every time you sat next to him in class, every time you came over to bake with Luke, to learn spells with Solomon, every time you stayed for dinner or simply sat with him and read a book while he wrote, Simeon couldn’t help wanting more. Stay, he wanted to say so many times. Just stay.

But every time, he watched your demon come and pick you up from Purgatory Hall. A greeting with a kiss, your fingers laced together, a quick laugh at something he said as he walked you away from the angel and back to the House of Lamentation.

Simeon knew he wasn’t a very good angel. He had problems with his anger, problems he stuffed down with smiles and let slip with pointed statements. After the fact, he was always ashamed of himself, ashamed of his loss of control, ashamed of his temper, ashamed and afraid of what Father would think, afraid of where his anger would lead him in the end.

Lately, his anger, his worst sin, had begun to shift a little, and he felt himself on edge almost constantly. The fight to keep control, not to let go with irritated statements or annoyed observations, began to consume him. Meditation and prayer did little, and he was deeply confused by the worsening of his own weakness. Eventually he realized the only time he felt peaceful anymore was with you. But the moment you left, the minute your lover’s arm circled around your shoulder or waist, the anger would hit him so hard it sometimes left him breathless.

It was only after a period of introspection that he realized he’d succumbed to another sin: jealousy.

Heaven help him, he tried to control it. More prayer, more meditation, journaling, turning his feelings into fiction, he even started avoiding you in an attempt to bring his angelic nature back in line. Only when your confused texts and voicemails became hurt and bewildered did he give in.

Two sins to control now? Two? Wasn’t wrath enough, Father?

Love, this type of love, was forbidden to him.

I won’t fall. I won’t. Murmured to himself, over and over. Repeated like a mantra. Like a prayer.

His life in the Celestial Realm always felt like skating on thin ice (Father help me if I ever use such a cliché in my own writing!). He knew the other angels thought he was, well, strange. His anger, no matter how well hidden, was only part of the equation. His humor was never understood. He spoke about things best forgotten, voiced opinions better left silenced. He knew his creativity, his writing, was considered unusual and borderline wrong by the others.

His only saving grace, in their eyes, was the patience and care he showed the young angels.

He was pretty sure his shaky status was one reason he had been sent down to the Devildom on this exchange program. Not as an ambassador, but as a lesson. Look, Simeon, look at what could happen to you if you get any worse.

What they didn’t know was how good it felt to be understood, down here among the devils. To be praised for his cooking, to be helped with technology. To not only give, but to be able to take as well. The brothers didn’t exactly trust him (and the bangle incident hadn’t exactly helped with trust. He’d been so enraged at being used to essentially torture them - even if it had been an accident - that he’d had to hole up in Purgatory Hall for a few days to make sure he was fit to be around people) but neither did they shun him.

And you . . . You laughed with him, you read his latest writings with praise and gentle critique, you sat in silence with him, profound and welcome silence, until that comfortable silence felt more like home than home. You used your good heart to help counsel Luke, curtail the worst traits of the demons, and, somehow, heal all those around you.

You did so much already, cared for him so much already. Perhaps it wasn’t the way he wanted you to love him, but you loved him. So why did he want more?

And why did this bring out all of his worst traits? Why did he want to be petty - and worse, manipulative? He got chocolate all over his gloves the last time you baked together just so he had an excuse to remove them, an excuse to brush the skin of his bare hand against yours as you shared the beignets. Hours of his writing time disappeared as he dreamed about - and occasionally wrote about - ways to drive a wedge between you and your demon lover.

You were happy. Why couldn’t he be happy for you?

Why did he hate himself so much just for loving you?

Why was this love forbidden to him?

Perhaps he’d be better off just waiting. You were a truly good person; the odds of you ascending after death were far better than average. Perhaps he could approach you then, when you were alone . . .

What is wrong with you, Simeon? Get a hold of yourself.

You’d missed a step outside of RAD today and before you could do more than recognize that you were falling, he’d caught you. Hugging you to his chest until you regained your balance, he’d been unable to breath. Partly out of fear for you, but partly at how you pressed your hands to the skin of his arms, wrapped your hands around his biceps to steady yourself. And then, steady on your feet again, you’d looked up at him with bright eyes and laughed at your own clumsiness until he’d laughed with you.

And as he woke that night, sharply, from a dream full of forbidden ecstasy, he realized he’d slipped into lust as well.

Sliding out of bed, he padded, barefoot, to the communal bathroom. Locked the door. And instead of doing what a human or demon might do, he gripped the edges of the sink with both hands and stared, hard, angry, into the reflection of his own eyes.

He began, at last, to understand Belphegor. He couldn’t feel hatred towards humanity, he loved them too much, but he could (and did, if he was honest) feel anger and jealousy. They were given everything. Everything. Not just the ability to love, but the autonomy to love freely.

It was the last realization that almost broke him. Even if you came to him with words of love on your lips, he wouldn’t be able to accept them.

I won’t fall. I won’t. I won’t, I won’t, I won’tIwon’tIWON’T!

He broke eye contact with himself, lowering his head, gripping the sink so tightly his hands hurt, until he feared he might snap the porcelain. He wanted the pain to ground him, to focus his mind. How futile.

Could he? Could he accept you if you came to him?

He was so afraid that he couldn’t.

He was so afraid that he could.

He was so afraid of falling, and so, so afraid of Father . . .

His eyes snapped back up to meet his own gaze. Was he? Was he afraid of Father?

A long moment, a searching gaze, trying to read the answer in his own countenance.

Was he afraid of Father?

He was so afraid the answer was yes.

Why am I always so damned afraid??

A loud noise and his reflection shattered to pieces in front of him. Slowly, slowly, he looked down at his bleeding hand. He hadn’t meant to . . .

Whirling away from the remains of the mirror, Simeon walked over the shards on the floor, ignoring how they bit into his bare feet. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he slumped over, his head in his hands.

This was his worst sin, wasn’t it? Not wrath . . .but cowardice.

Why hadn’t he made a move on you before any of the demons? Cowardice.

Why hadn’t he stood up with Lucifer and the others during the war? He’d believed in them, believed in Lilith, believed in love. Why hadn’t he stood with his brothers? Pure cowardice.

He hadn’t even had the courage to stand and face them in battle, to face his former brothers with honor.

And where was he now? Where had his cowardice brought him?

Alone, afraid, riddled with sin.

His own face, fractured, made of shards on the floor.

He felt himself too much of a coward to grasp what was available right in front of him. Was it wrong of him to want more anyway?

Would he have to fall to have the courage to grab for what he wanted?

And…..would it be so bad, in the end, if he did?

He was so afraid of the answer.

[minor-solemnity]

To Be a Seer pt.5

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam @empath-bunny

You’re not naive enough to believe that Tom doesn’t have his own motivations, that he isn’t pulling the strings of public opinion for his own ends, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re interested. The mystery he presents, the truth of who and what he is… And maybe this is naive of you, but everything you’ve Seen has related to him and you refuse to believe that that doesn’t matter. Your finely honed instincts for self-preservation have well and truly flown out of the window when it comes to Tom.

He is, quite literally, your dream boy. Of course, you’re going to throw caution to the wind

There have been no new petrifications in the three weeks since you ran into Riddle outside the Prefects’ bathroom. You would have hoped that the lack of new attacks would do something to calm the student populace down a little, but it seems the opposite is true. The atmosphere in the corridors and the Great Hall is tense and uncomfortable. It’s as though everyone is waiting on tenterhooks for something to happen. Even the professors, who are all trying to put on a brave facade, are concerned. Your Heads of Houses have taken to sitting in on prefect meetings, reminding you all that it’s your job to make sure the rest of the students are safe. Despite the vastness of the castle and grounds, Hogwarts feels claustrophobic.

It’s at one of these meetings, on an otherwise nondescript Monday evening, that Dumbledore asks you to stay behind. You can’t quite hide the mix of surprise and reluctance that crosses your face at his request, though Dumbledore just continues to smile in that slightly unsettling way of his. You think of the way he’s looked at you in the past, as though he can see through all your defences and knows that you’re hiding something. He looks at you as though he doesn’t trust you. You’ve never liked being looked at like that, especially by someone for who you’ve never given any reason to doubt your integrity.

Next to you, Riddle stiffens slightly in his chair and you don’t like that either. Because this is real. Everything up until this point, you could minimise and justify. You’ve been tricking yourself into complacency for weeks, months even, why both telling the professors your suspicions about Tom when you don’t have proof?

You nod mutely and stay behind whilst everyone else files out of the room. Once you’re alone, Dumbledore smiles. “Please, take a seat, I wouldn’t want you to get sore feet, heaven knows that is an ailment that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.” You sit down and he stays standing, and, whilst his posture is casual, hands clasped in front of him, the height difference makes you feel anxious, like a small child about to be chastised. “Now, I imagine you’re wondering why I wanted to talk with you?” You nod and he smiles, “An easy question to answer, I’m glad to say. I’m wondering how you’ve been since the day we found poor Miss Wheatley. I apologise for not checking in on you sooner, though I daresay, young Mr Riddle has been making his shoulder available to cry on, should you need it.” You don’t miss the way his gaze sharpens at the mention of Riddle’s name.

Whatever he might say, you’re certain that Dumbledore doesn’t care about how you’re holding up. He suspects something, and his mention of Riddle makes you worry that he suspects that the two of you are in cahoots. The thought would be laughable except… Well, you’ve been keeping his secret for him, haven’t you? You could have gone to Dumbledore at any point and told him what you know. He’d believe you. He’s probably the only member of staff that isn’t fooled by the act that Riddle puts on.

This is your chance. Your chance to come clean and stop all this madness.

“Tom’s been very helpful,” Is what you end up saying. You don’t meet his gaze but your voice doesn’t waver either. “He’s, ahh, really made me feel quite looked after.” And the thing is, you’re not lying. Even if his motivations are suspicious, he has looked after you and made you feel oddly safe. You’re not sure what to think of it. Judging by the darkness that flashes ever so briefly across Dumbledore’s expression, he isn’t either.

There’s something about the way that he watches you - congenial and sympathetic - that you neither like nor trust. “Trust is a wonderful and strange thing - it can help build even the most difficult of bridges. You two have grown quite close, haven’t you?” You frown at the question and have half a mind to tell him that it is entirely inappropriate to ask about one’s students’ dating habits. More than that, it feels like he’s speaking in innuendo, every word out of his mouth has a double meaning and whilst you can’t figure out what he’s trying to tell you, you’re fairly certain that it’s nothing good.

“I guess you could say that, Professor.” You try to keep your answer as vague as possible because you know what people are saying, you know that the rumour mill has gone into overdrive regarding you and Riddle. There are plenty of girls in Hogwarts who would try anything to snag a date with him but until now, Riddle has shown little interest in anyone. The fact that he is displaying such outward devotion to you speaks volumes to anyone paying attention. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make your pulse quicken, didn’t send a fission of fire - too fierce and feral to be considered innocent, down your spine. You’d be lying if you said that there isn’t a part of you that enjoys the attention, enjoys the way he looks at you like he doesn’t quite understand you but wants to.

You’re not naive enough to believe that Tom doesn’t have his own motivations, that he isn’t pulling the strings of public opinion for his own ends, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re interested. The mystery he presents, the truth of who and what he is… And maybe this is naive of you, but everything you’ve Seen has related to him and you refuse to believe that that doesn’t matter. Your finely honed instincts for self-preservation have well and truly flown out of the window when it comes to Tom.

He is, quite literally, your dream boy. Of course, you’re going to throw caution to the wind.

Your brevity doesn’t seem to bother him and you’re unsure if that’s a good thing or not. You don’t have time to overthink the issue though, because Dumbledore asks, “Before I bid you goodnight, is there anything else you wish to talk with me about?” He lowers his head slightly as he talks like he’s trying to catch your gaze, and you’re not sure why but you feel goosebumps prick your skin and the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You keep your eyes averted, directed just beyond his left shoulder, counting the cracks in the stone walls as you attempt to keep your nerves in check.

You push yourself up from your chair and turn to walk towards the door. “No, Professor. Like I said, I’ve been doing alright and Tom is just looking out for me.” It feels foreign and strange, though not necessarily unwelcome, to refer to him by his first name. It feels like another one of your carefully erected barriers, designed to keep you safe, is in the process of being demolished with all the grace of a mountain troll on a rampage.

You’re half expecting Tom to be waiting for you, but he’s isn’t and relief wells in your chest. You have some soul-searching to do and you’re not sure if you’d be able to face him right now. It’s only once you’re back in the safety of your dorm that you finally allow yourself to fully comprehend what has just happened. Students are being attacked and you’re fairly certain you’ve just aligned yourself with their attacker.

***

Three days later, at seven o’clock in the evening, you enter the entrance hall in a hurry. You’d been caught up in a lengthy conversation with Lucas about whether or not he should ask Deliah Bowers on a date and now you’re running slightly late for your prefect rounds. As you skid into the entrance hall, you see that Tom is already waiting for you. He’s sitting on one of the benches by the entrance to the dungeons, head bowed over a small book which he’s writing in, his legs are stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles and you take a moment to admire the lean line of his body, the elegant curve of his neck, the way he taps the end of his fountain pen in thought when he pauses in his writing. You’re reminded of why he has the reputation that he does; sitting there he looks like the embodiment of a perfect student: smart, quiet and, dedicated.

If only they all knew.

He looks up sharply at the sound of your approaching footsteps and snaps the book shut. “Evening,” You say and promptly flush at the way your voice comes out a little higher than usual, a little uncertain. It’s ridiculous, Tom has treated you the same since your impromptu meeting with Dumbledore, hasn’t asked you about it at all, but you still feel nervous around him, as though you’ve given him a reason to distrust you, as though you’ve let him down somehow. You offer him a small smile, your gaze sliding to his hands and his slender fingers which are capping his pen with deft precision. It’s really quite unfair that he can make even the most mundane of actions look so refined. “What were you writing?” His expression shifts slightly, becomes perfectly clear and smooth and you wonder if you’ve overstepped a boundary when he shakes his head and raises the book to the light.

It’s a small, thin diary, bound in black leather with his name monogrammed on the cover. It looks well-used but cared for, much like the rest of his belongings you realise. Now that you think of it, his robes and textbooks all share the same tell-tale traits of hand-me-downs, but he hasn’t any siblings. For the first time since you’ve known him, you begin to wonder who Tom is exactly, who his parents are, what his history is. You’ve been so focused on uncovering his future that you’ve quite forgotten to pay attention to his past.

The diary looks fairly expensive though and you wonder if it was a gift or if he had saved up to buy himself something he could be proud of owning. “My diary,” He says at last, his voice shaking you from your train of thought. “I bought it over the summer and have grown rather fond of it.” He pauses and then adds, “I suppose you could say it’s the only thing I’ve ever bared my soul to.”

Something in the way he smiles suggests he’s thought of something rather amusing, but you’re stuck on his choice of words. Without knowing why dread coils tight in your stomach. You shake the feeling off as the pair of you begin patrolling the corridors. For twenty minutes or so, you make idle chit-chat, discussing the lessons you share and the finer points on an ongoing debate between two Ancient Runes academics.

“Why the fountain pen?” You’re honestly surprised to see him use one. Quills are standard practice in the wizarding world, and whilst you have your own thoughts on their practicality, you’re shocked that Tom might feel the same way. Given his feelings towards muggleborns, you’re a little confused that he would willingly use something so muggle.

He hums in response to the question and casts you a sideways glance, amusement writ clear on his features. You get the distinct impression that he knows what you’re thinking and finds the whole thing rather droll. “Do you take issue with my using one?”

“What? No, of course not. I’m just surprised.”

“That I would prefer to use an instrument far more practical than a quill simply because the person who invented it was a muggle? I wouldn’t have taken you for a blood purist.” You bristle at his words and he raises an eyebrow, evidently having fun toying with you.

“I’m not.” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Honestly, the nerve of him to accuse you of being a blood purist when he’s the one attacking muggle-borns. (You carefully don’t think about the fact that you are essentially condoning his behaviour by not stepping in when you have been given every opportunity to do so.) “I’m surprised that you’d see it that way because you’re the one who’s—”

“The one who has been what?” He cuts you off, and though his tone remains friendly, there’s a sharpness in his gaze and a tightness around the corners of his mouth that immediately puts you on edge. You swallow roughly, and the sudden desire to run away is almost overwhelming. When you don’t say anything, he stops walking and turns to face you fully. In the dim light, shadows dance along the dagger’s edge of his jawline. He is beautiful and terrifying and you can see the cracks in his visage where the boy becomes a man and the man becomes a monster. It probably says something about you that in this light, you find him all the more alluring.

He takes a single step towards you, graceful and predacious and you find yourself tensing as some primordial instinct overtakes you. Fight or flight except for the part of you that wants to run is diminishing by the second and the reckless desire to hook your fingers into the hollows of his collarbones and crack him open until you can see every part of him grows.

One thing is for certain: Tom is bad for your health.

“Don’t you think it’s time we stop this charade?” You lift your head to meet his impossibly dark eyes. You’re afraid but you’re past caring. “We both know what you’ve been up to. Why pretend that we don’t?” Something twists in his eyes, heat and anger and maybe a little bit of fear, but there’s also something else… Something bright and curious and pleased. You find that the most unsettling thing of all.

“You haven’t told Dumbledore.” It’s not a question, just a statement of fact and one that he obviously enjoys saying out loud. He stares down at you, smiling in a way that is not at all friendly. You’re reminded of the way Dumbledore had tried so hard to catch your gaze, though unlike with your transfiguration professor, you don’t look away from Tom. “Why is that I wonder? And, more importantly, how did you figure it out?” He’s so close that you can feel the warmth of breath fan across your cheeks, sending a bright spark of… something down your spine.

You don’t particularly want to answer either of his questions, but you know that he won’t let it go. He’s been being patient with you, you realise, waiting until a moment like this, when you’re alone and unguarded to interrogate you. The question is why? Actually, the question is how do you avoid answering him? It’s a little hard to think clearly with him so close to you and, judging by the small smirk that plays on his lips, you’re fairly certain he knows it too. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at me.” Which is the truth. It’s just not the whole truth. “As for your other question, well, I guess you’re not as difficult to read as you think you are.” Again, it’s not technically a lie, though how likely Tom is to agree with you is up for debate.

Tom’s stance grows stiff, a long line of barely contained anger and his eyes narrow. You wonder if it’s because you won’t tell him everything, or if it’s because the thought of being known and seen scares him. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither. Regardless, you feel as though you’re breathing water with how thick and heavy the air has grown around the two of you. “You don’t know anything,” He whispers, his voice is soft and low and you might describe it as sensuous if it weren’t for the way that he’s looking at you. Anger and fear coalescing and colliding in the dark pits of his pupils.

Something inside of you breaks. Tom is bad for your health. He makes you reckless and brave and that is sure to spell disaster. You laugh, and it’s not friendly. You’re not happy. You laugh and the sound is a bell toll, a chime of hysteria and disbelief. “Trust me, I wish I didn’t know anything.” And that… That is a lie. The more you find out about Tom the more you want to uncover. It’s a feral kind of hunger that overtakes and consumes you without you wanting it to. Just as he had ten minutes earlier, you take a step towards him and you’re so close that you can practically feel the tension that is rolling off of him. Your eyes trace the taught tendons in his neck, and clench of his fists, the pinched line of his lips. Something that could be glee flares deep inside you when his expression cracks, just a little, just enough for you to see surprise flit through his eyes.

He takes a step back. It feels like a victory. He looks wrong-footed, as though he is entirely unprepared for you to turn aggressor in this situation and you realise that Tom is probably aware of the effect that he has on people, has probably learnt how to wield his beauty and his intimidating personality in equal measure to get what he wants. You’re pretty sure that no one has ever called him on his bluff before. Because he was bluffing, you’re certain of that now. You can see the way nervousness plays in the barely-there shifting of his weight and in the way he’s leaning back ever so slightly. It makes you feel powerful. It makes you want to reach out and take and hold until you’re imprinted on his skin.

You don’t do any of those things. You let the tension simmer and you smile, something bitter and cynical and maybe a little taunting and then you push past him. You still have half a castle to patrol but you’re not sure you can stand to be near him right now, not until you’ve calmed down enough to sort your thoughts out. “I’ll meet you at the library,” You call over your shoulder and you’re only a little disappointed when he doesn’t follow.

***

Outside, the night air is cool against your flushed skin and you feel calmer before you’ve even lit your cigarette. You sit at the top of the steps that lead up to the castle and thumb your lighter impatiently, breathing in tobacco and nicotine and smoke. You’re not expecting to See anything in the smoke tonight - the inner eye doesn’t do well with an agitated mind and you’re too worked up to meditate. Which is why it’s all the more surprising when the smoke hangs in the air, unnaturally thick and still.

Tom is bad for your health. But you already knew that.

The phantom boy emerges from the smoke and this time, he’s clearer, more defined, a smokey apparition of bad omens to come. You watch in a trancelike state as the familiar scene plays out and the boy grows gaunt and haunted, breaking into seven until all that remains is a shade of a man, more ghoul than human. Each of the seven splinters begins to shake and you imagine that if smoke could make noise you’d hear screaming.

You’re startled from your reverie by Tom, who sits down next to you. The smoke collapses and you blink yourself back into reality. When you finally drag your gaze towards him you’re unsurprised to find that the full weight of his attention is focussed on you. He watches you with an intensity that makes the back of your neck prickle and your stomach drop to your knees. You see the instant that he puts it all together, you have a feeling he’s suspected for a while. And isn’t that a funny thing? You’ve been so focused on Seeing him, that you didn’t notice that he’s been seeing you the whole time too.

When he touches you though, his hands are tentative, like he’s unsure if he should, if he can, if he’s allowed. His fingers barely graze your skin, skittish and hesitant. But his touch is warm and human and you want him like this always. Whatever his future might be, you want him warm and human and whole.

“What did you See?”

(part1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)